Chapter 13: Jak
Jak decided it would be better if he went alone to contact the mobbies, but he was sure that neither of the women would agree to being left behind while he did the dangerous work of negotiating with the little monsters. Jak didn’t think of himself as weak, but standing up to the combined wills of Tessa and Kamura was probably more than he could handle. So, he decided to do what men in his situation had always done—sneak out and leave them both safely at Tessa’s place while he arranged transportation. One person could handle the transaction. There was no need to risk more.
They’d spent the remainder of the day hiding out at Tessa’s place, napping, eating, waiting, in a state of tense boredom that wore on them all. Through the afternoon, his mind kept twisting, trying to find some way to leave Tessa safely in Namdrik. Finally, he had to admit that there was no safety for her here. In truth, there was no safety for Tessa anywhere on Shadriss, but at least he could offer some protection so long as she was at his side. So, he’d do it; find a mobbie Alpha willing to work with them, and use some of Tessa’s credits to buy passage on one of the boats that worked on the river.
Jak glanced at his companions. Kamura was asleep on Tessa’s sofa, her dark hair a tangle against the ivory cloth. Good, she needed to rest and heal as much as possible before their journey. Tessa had been dozing in a hammock on the balcony where she could catch the afternoon breeze, but she came inside the moment he stood. So much for his plan to leave without her knowing about it.
Sapphire blue eyes, golden skin, shining dark curls; she was the most beautiful woman on Shadriss, the most beautiful woman anywhere. But she was no pretty doll. She had an iron will and a hard, calculating intelligence that kept her going no matter how tough things got.
"You’re not afraid of children, are you?" she teased.
"Right, children. Cute kids."
"You’ve dealt with them before." She reached out to straighten his pilot’s medallion so that it hung evenly on its chain.
"True. But not with so much at stake." Not with Tessa’s life at stake, he thought.
"You’re worried about the Terran, aren’t you?"
He glanced over at Kamura, still asleep on the couch. He kept his voice low so as not to wake her. "Sure. She’s dangerous. Hell, she’s a menace. She doesn’t know the rules, doesn’t even want to know."
Stepping away from Tessa before he gave in to the urge to take her into his arms, he reached for the door.
"You’re going now?" Tessa asked, blue eyes widening in surprise.
"Yeah. Time to see if this crazy plan will really work."
"Wait, I’m going with you."
"No. Stay here with Kamura. And try to keep her out of trouble."
"I’m going with you," she insisted.
"Please, Tessa, stay here. There’s no telling what she’ll do if she’s left on her own."
Tessa hesitated, but Jak knew he was right and the logical, practical Tessa couldn’t pretend otherwise.
"All right," she said at last, "but take care of yourself, Jak. And wear this." She reached into the cupboard next to her and pulled out a small locator, already tied to a leather thong that would let him wear it around his wrist. Jak felt himself flush. It was the sort of thing a woman might put around the neck of her pet.
"I don’t need that."
"You do if you want to leave without me," she said. "I need to know that I can find you. Is that so much to ask?"
The hint of pleading in her voice was impossible to resist. He’d do anything for her; even wear the damn pet locator. He’d just have to make sure everything went well so Tessa wouldn’t need to follow him. He let her tie the little tattletale onto his wrist and then crossed the threshold.
"Lock up after me, will you?"
"Jak?"
He looked back at her. What now?
Tessa walked to him and stood very close; her blue eyes were serious. "I’ll lock up for now, but if you’re not back by morning, I’m coming after you." And then she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on his lips.
Jak felt the flush on his cheeks at the same time that his mouth stretched into an idiot grin. He closed the door before he did anything stupid like take her in his arms and tell her how he felt about her. Leaving with her kiss on his lips was one thing; leaving with her handprint on his cheek was another.
The smile faded as he climbed the stairs. The door to the roof of Tessa’s building opened easily under his hand. Not much worry about thieves or mobbies in this part of town. He saw no one else as he emerged onto the flat rooftop deck, only an empty scattering of lounge chairs and tables. The warm air was thick as honey, sensual on the bare skin of his chest and arms. Heat lightning flickered in the distance, dancing across the Waste. Jak drew a deep breath and began moving across the flat roofs, jumping the gaps between buildings when he had too, climbing when that was necessary, but always moving north, away from the river and into mostly ruined section of the city.
Gradually, the lighted windows became fewer, the smells grew more rank, and Jak was forced to walk wide around patches of debris that had fallen away from the building cores. In the days of the Confederacy, when Shadriss had been a thriving colony, these buildings had housed apartments and businesses. Banks, bakers, beauticians, families, and social clubs. But the population of Shadriss had been shrinking for more than five hundred years. Now, these buildings were home to rats, to stray cats, and to mobbies.
Twice, he had to step wide over rusted beams. Once, a gaping hole in the wall led off into vile smelling darkness, and he heard a slithering, like claws on stone. He unsheathed his knife and gave the opening a wide berth as he passed it. He didn’t need rat trouble just now.
He thought briefly of dropping the tattletale down one of the holes, but he knew Tessa would be watching for the signal on her screen. If it were stationary for too long, she’d come looking. Best to keep it on his wrist.
Once he was well within the most deserted sector of Namdrik, he paused to stare into the deep violet shadows that lay across the flat planes of the roofs and parapets. Nothing moved. He was alone among the remnants of compressors and air-conditioners, alone among bones of steel and a dead skin of adobe sloughing away from plast-crete under-walls. Up here, the noises of the city—voices, the rumbling of ground-cars, the creaking of cartwheels—were softened, muted to a low murmur of life. On the rooftop, he heard birdcalls and the sighing of the wind. Knife in hand, he moved forward.
The building he was on had to be well within mobbie territory. Six stories up, deserted, but with a roof still intact enough to hold his weight as he padded across the cracked tiles toward the outer wall of the structure. The soft lamnan hide of boots made his footsteps nearly soundless; the cloth-against-cloth scrape of his trousers was lost in the whispering wind. Jak reached the parapet and looked over. All seemed clear. With a quick jump, he dropped over and onto the adjoining roof. Using the same caution he’d used to hunt moki in the Waste, he scouted the new rooftop.
It was common knowledge that mobbies operated on the fringes of the adult criminal organizations of Shadriss, but each Alpha jealously guarded the pack’s territory and connections. What Jak didn’t know was exactly where he could find an Alpha willing to do business. At least if— no when— he found an Alpha, he sure that information would be unlikely to get back to Bolan. But he had to speak from a position of strength, or the pack would take him down before the negotiations even began, and Tessa would be doomed.
This building was larger than most, and the gaping pits of open elevator shafts spread all across it. Jak skirted heaps of loose rubble and rusting machinery. Occasionally, more tiles cracked under his weight with a snap that set his heart racing. He rounded an air-conditioner housing and in the shadows, he saw the first mobbie. He drew a deep breath. He’d almost missed it. The mobbie seemed to be alone, and he came nearer.
Closing the final f
ew steps, he saw that this child would never move. The small bones were still covered with mummified skin. The wizened face showed a gape-toothed grin. This one hadn’t been more than six or seven years old when it died. The breeze fluttered the rags of clothing in a mockery of life. This was one mobbie who’d escaped the Regent’s sweep. He touched the body with the tip of his knife, lifting the ragged tunic away from its chest.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, low and shuddering. Jak glanced up as heat lightning flickered across the darkening sky, teasing the city with the promise of rain that wouldn’t come until the wet season, still weeks away. He looked away from the bright streaks of lightning, down to the small bones. They spoke to him of an isolation and abandonment that tore at some damaged place inside him. The mobbie had died alone, probably running for its life. The pain woke memories, flickering like part of the distant storm, more and more of them until something seemed to give way inside his head.
. . .and no one would listen to me. I run, desperate to escape. I didn’t murder our father, but my brother—my lying, cheating, gambler of a half-brother—swore it was so. I run through the library of our home, past the book disks, past the big mirror on the wall. I glimpse my face in the mirror, desperate and pale, sweating with effort. I hear the outcry in the distance. They’re looking for me. I run faster. There’s a ship, a small ship, my father’s own personal craft. She isn’t meant for long trips; but if I can just get to the spaceport, I’ve got a chance to get away.
Gasping for air as if he had indeed been running, Jak found himself still of the roof of the abandoned building. He crouched over the pitiful body, shaking. That face in the mirror, he realized, the face in the mirror had been his own.
Then pain, pain in his head. Falling. Something hard struck him again, and the side of his face scraped against the rough surface of the roof. Dry bones crunched under him, and old cloth disintegrated into dust. Groaning, he climbed to his hands and knees, his vision blurred, his ears ringing. Somewhere, he seemed to hear children laughing. He’d found the mobbies. Or, rather, they’d found him. In the unprotected moment when the memories seized him, they must have crept close enough to use their slingshots.
Jak struggled back to his feet. A stone bounded off the wall near him, and he jerked away falling forward. He crawled for cover behind the rubble. His left arm shot forward into nothing, and he found himself looking down a pit that dropped into blind darkness. He heard the clatter of gravel falling to the base of the building. Dizzy, hurting, he got a grip on the edge of the hole and backed away. He fell onto his face again, and rolled over onto his back. He couldn’t tell how many mobbies there were. His ears were ringing, and a white fog of pain pushed in from the edges of his vision.
This was bad. He’d meant to meet them from a position of power. He heard skittering among the stones, then the terrifying sound of children giggling. Jak knew the mobbies hated adults, and now they’d caught one alone and vulnerable. He didn’t want to kill them; he wanted to make a deal. But he was already in a position of weakness, and it was plain that these mobbies were in no mood to trade. He shook his head to try to clear it, and the pain nearly flattened him.
Something slid among the debris behind him. He looked up just in time to glimpse a small girl dressed in dun-colored rags before he felt an angry, burning on his chest. Looking down, he saw that his vest had fallen open, and a small dart protruded from the bare skin just above his breastbone. The dart was no longer than his little finger, with a needle-like tip stained with some dark fluid. Even as he looked, he felt the pain change to numbness. His knife seemed to float away from his fingers, and he heard it clatter on the tiles, far, far out of his reach.
Through blurred vision, he made out small, bare feet that stopped near his head. With a last effort of will, he rolled onto his side. He heard the high-pitched laughter of the mobbies as they surrounded him. One kicked him. He knew it because he saw the foot move. He felt nothing. He saw another pinch his arm.
"Look," the one who pinched him said, "Nice and fat."
The child who loomed over him was small, thin, and ragged, just as they all were. He thought this one might be female. Her dirty hair was scraped back from her face in a ponytail. She wore a necklace of small, polished bones. Finger bones, he thought, trying to focus on them, human finger bones.
"Yes, fat," another voice agreed.
"Let’s kill him now, before the others get here."
"We can’t!"
"No, can’t!"
"Alpha won’t like it."
"So? Who’s going to tell him?"
"We will. We’ll tell. You wait, Kishee. Wait for Alpha."
There were sounds of scuffling, pushing and shoving, the scrape hard bare feet sliding on the surface of the roof. He heard small grunts, curses in high-pitched voices, and gravel spattered past his face. The one they called Kishee lost the argument.
"‘Okay. Okay. We wait to kill him. But what do we do with him now?"
"Take him to the box," one suggested.
"Yes, to the box."
Jak listened as the mobbies agreed on how to dispose of him. Many pairs of small, dirty hands took hold of him. He couldn’t feel them, but he heard the grunts of effort, they rolled him from his side onto his back. They managed to raise him just above the level of the rooftop and dragged him forward. It seemed to Jak that he drifted for a long time, unable to feel, unable to speak. All he could see was the night sky of Shadriss above him, full of stars, the flicker of lightning, and the Twin moons low on the horizon. Now and then, a ring of children’s faces looked down at him, and hard fingers poked him now and then to see how fat he was. He felt like a huge, bumbling fly caught by dozens of tiny spiders. He had to get away before Tessa came after him.
At last, they seemed to reach a destination of sorts. He heard a door creak open. Again, many small hands tugged at him. He heard his vest rip and the clunk of his heels against stone.
"Yes. Put the big one in the box," someone said.
The voice sounded older than did the others, maybe fourteen or so. Old for a mobbie.
Then Jak was rolled forward and just glimpsed the mouth of a trap trapdoor as he fell through it. He landed on his back in the darkness, and he heard a gasping that he slowly realized was the sound of his own breathing. The trapdoor clanged shut above him. He recognized the sound of dura-steel, old Confederacy construction, and too tough for even his freakish strength to break. For an uncounted time, he floated blind, in blackness without sensation, without anchor. Alone in the darkness, the memory that had left him open to mobbie attack drifted back.
The face in the mirror had been his face. At least, it could have been his face as it might have looked before the scar had turned it into a demon mask. It wasn’t as if he’d had a chance to preen and stare. It had only been a quick glance showing red hair shorter than he wore it now, and desperate green eyes. But after so many strangers, was this finally a memory from his life? Had the man been a relative? Was it just a coincidence? He had no way to know. But the man in the memory had been on the run from murder and betrayal.