Chapter 14: Jak
Hours later, Jak woke to bone-aching cold and a head that seemed stuffed with fog. Strange to feel cold on Shadriss. Always, the nights were blood warm, and the days blazed with cutting heat. He opened his eyes to blackness.
Fear. Fear of the known, this time. Judging by the darkness and the rancid stink, he was still in the mobbies’ storage box. Stretching out his hand, his fingers encountered what felt like a pile of bones. He sat up. He could move again! The poison they’d used must have worn off. Was it supposed to do that? Was this another trick of his sometimes-unfamiliar body? Was he supposed to be dead now? Or paralyzed? More important, how long had he been here? He felt the narrow strap of the locator still tied to his wrist. He had to get out before Tessa came looking for him.
Still, the poison hadn’t been conquered completely, as he found out when he tried to stand and fell on his ass. He legs felt as if he were moving through thick, icy mud. He cursed the Lost Gods for laughing at him again. He’d recovered enough to feel pain, but not enough to fight. Maybe if he moved around, worked more of the poison out of his system, his strength would return. He ran his hands over his numb legs, pounding them and trying to massage life back into them. After a while, it did seem that he had more sensation in his body; but he was still a long way from fit for a fight, even with mobbies. Especially with mobbies.
He could stand now, if he braced his hands against the wall. The wall felt metallic, with rough places where bolt heads and metal seams protruded. The room had probably held machinery when the building had been a living system and not a ruin inhabited by feral children. Jak found could walk three or four steps before his outstretched hands touched the wall across from him. He turned around and walked the same three steps back the way he’d come. It wasn’t much, but he kept trying. The more he moved, the faster he’d recover. So, he hoped.
He’d long since lost track of time. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, and even awake, there was nothing to divide the minutes from the hours, no way to mark the endless moments of imprisonment. He worried about Tessa, but the tracking device she’d made him wear was just a simple signal emitter. There was no way to use it to tell her to stay away.
Finally, he lay stretched on his back, resting for the moment. He was thirsty, but there was nothing to drink. He was hungry, but he didn’t think he’d ever be hungry enough to be tempted to snack on the nameless bones that shared the darkness with him. And then one darkness shifted imperceptibly into another.
. . . alone in a room full of shadows. I wait, as all the others like me wait. No sense of self, no identity beyond the sounds and sensations of the body. No thoughts. No I. Then the other comes. I feel the probing, the sense of strength and purpose that are new to me. And finally, a new concept as the other thinks, "This host will do."
The sound of the trap door opening startled him back into the present. He had no idea where that memory had come from, but there was definitely something wrong about it! He shook off the alien feeling as a square of stars appeared over his head, and he heard scuffling and fierce whispers above him. The mobbies couldn’t see him. Even when the little hunters looked down, he couldn’t be more than a shadow. He still didn’t know whether they expected him to be mobile or not. Quickly, he sprawled out on the greasy smelling metal. Let them think he was still helpless.
Small silhouettes blotted out the stars as two mobbies looked down at him. He stared back at them with wide, unblinking eyes. It took all his self-discipline to resist the urge to leap for the opening above. It was too far away, and he was still weak. They’d slam the door shut before he could get to his feet.
"Looks like he’s alive."
"Kishee shot him. I saw."
"Not all Big Ones die when Kishee darts ‘em, Mice," the first voice explained. "Give me some rope, then. If this Big One’s still alive, I’ll talk to him."
"No!"
"Give me some rope!"
"No! He’ll hurt you."
"He won’t hurt me. He can’t move, yes? I’m Alpha, and I say give me some rope."
Despite muttered protests, a black snake of rope dropped from the opening. Jak’s night sight was conditioned to the total blackness of his prison, so it was now easy for him to see by the starlight. He watched as a large mobbie climbed down the robe. Still, he didn’t move.
"Close the door," the boy ordered. "I’ll call you when I want out."
"He’ll hurt you!" Mice protested again.
"Then come with me and guard! Just close the door. And keep quiet, yes? The whole pack doesn’t need to know everything I say."
Reluctance obvious in every move, the one called Mice climbed down the rope. With a grunt of effort, he pulled the trap door shut behind him. Once the door was shut, the Alpha switched on the small light-globe that he pulled from his pocket. After the near total darkness, even that dim light was bright enough to make Jak squint, his eyes tearing.
"He's awake!" came Mice's voice. "Watch out!"
"Huh. He can't move. He can't hurt anybody."
Jak saw the mobbie chief standing over him, looking down in speculation. The smaller boy stood beside the Alpha, also studying Jak. From his expression, he hadn't found his leader’s words reassuring. As Jak watched silently, Mice ran his hands over his long, greasy hair and shifted from one dirty foot to the other.
Mice was about nine or ten, Jak supposed. The mobbies were always underfed and tended to be small, so it was hard to guess his true age. The Alpha was much older than Mice, maybe as old as fourteen. For a mobbie, that was ancient. The Alpha’s hair was braided into dozens of tiny braids, and bits of trash and colored cloth were plaited into the mess in a mockery of the Shadriss dandy’s beads and ribbons. His tunic was just as ragged as the one Mice wore, but he had added a shabby leather belt with a familiar looking bone-handled knife tucked into it. Jak’s knife. When the Alpha saw Jak watching his knife, he grinned and drew it out.
"Look close, Big One," he said.
He held the tip of the blade near Jak’s eyes. Jak tried not to let his expression show fear. The Alpha frowned at the lack of response. He drew the blade long Jak’s cheek, cutting just enough to break the skin. Jak felt the trailing pain of the cut and the trickle of blood running down his neck. He forced himself to keep still.
"What’s the matter?" Alpha taunted. "You don’t feel it?"
Jak didn’t answer.
"Talk to me, you! If you don’t talk, you’re no good to me. I’ll kill you right now, yes? Talk!"
"What do you want?" His words were mumbled and slurred, but it was the best he could manage. He had less control over his mouth than over his legs. Yet, it seemed enough to satisfy the Alpha—for the moment.
"Good. You can talk. You’re not too sick to save." He laughed, as if at some private joke. "I can make you well, Big One. That’s good, yes?"
"Good," Jak replied.
"Let’s go now," said Mice, tugging at the Alpha's sleeve.
"Not yet. Not me. You go."
"I’m staying with you."
The Alpha reached to the younger boy and tugged his hair. "Good, Mice." He turned to Jak. "This is Mice. Mice likes mice," he said, laughing at the childish joke. "Chews ‘em up, yes?"
Mice grinned bashfully. Jak didn’t doubt that he was used to being the butt of plenty of rough humor. To Jak, now watching the boys side by side, the resemblance was clear—they were brothers.
"What do you want with me?" Jak asked, his voice stronger now.
"What do I want? An arm maybe?" The knife pricked his arm. "Or maybe a leg." He made a painful jab at Jak’s leg.
"Very funny."
Now, he had two more little flames of pain. How many more would there be before the mobbie chief told him what he wanted? His sense of his body was much stronger now; he could probably overpower both of the boys before the others could dart him again. Bu
t it sounded to Jak like the mobbie had some kind of bargain in mind, and that was what he’d come here for, to bargain. Jak decided to pretend to be paralyzed for a little longer while he heard the boy out.
"Maybe you’ll answer some questions, yes?"
"Ask away."
"This is our territory, Red Bone Pack territory. No Big One’s come here, but you came. Why?"
Good question, Jak thought. The mobbie packs had territories on the outskirts of the city that they considered their personal property, although this was the first time he’d deliberately ventured into such an area.
"I was looking for you," Jak said.
"For me? Ha!"
"Not for you specifically. I was looking for the leader of a mobbie pack. A strong leader, one willing to do serious business."
That tickled the Alpha’s vanity, as Jak had intended. The mobbie raised his chin and looked down at his prisoner, considering.
"What kind of business?"
"Credits for transport," Jak replied, feeling his hopes lift. At least the Alpha hadn’t rejected the idea out of hand.
"Sure. You think I’m stupid, yes? You think you can lie to me and live." But he sounded less certain than he had a moment before.
"We will pay," Jak insisted.
The light-globe was flickering, and it was hard to read the expression on Alpha’s face. He thought the boy was interested. Maybe . . . .
"We’re hiding from the Regent and from Bolon, too. If you help us, it will hurt them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?"
The Alpha just grinned. "Oh, they’d pay us for you?"
"They’d offer, but I doubt you’d collect," Jak answered honestly.
The Alpha scowled and touched the knifepoint to Jak’s face again, but he didn’t break the skin. He seemed troubled by something. Jak wondered what it was and whether he could use to his advantage.
"I’ll pay you six-hundred credits to arrange transport to Tekena for three people."
It was a generous sum, but he knew that Tessa had enough to cover it in her emergency stash. And she’d be paid back by her share of the Terran’s fee, if she lived to collect it.
"Everybody’s going to Tekena now," the boy objected. "There’s no room for more on the riverboats. No aircars, either."
"We don’t want anything fancy. Just space on a cargo barge. You can find that."
Turning, the Alpha glared at his bother. Mice’s presence seemed to trouble him.
"Mice, your cover ears," he ordered.
"Don’t want to."
"Do it!"
The knifepoint now threatened Mice. It didn’t seem to bother the boy, however. Maybe he was used to his brother’s temper. Scowling, the Alpha waited. Finally, Mice gave in and raised his hands to obey, but he kept a steady watch on Jak. Clearly, he trusted no Big Ones. When the Alpha was satisfied that Mice wasn’t listening, the mobbie knelt down next to Jak. He took a small jar out of the pocket of his ragged tunic. It was full of a murky, brownish fluid. He swirled the fluid in the jar.
"This makes you well if I give you some to drink pretty soon. You want to get well, Big One?"
"Sure."
"Maybe I can find a barge, but I need more than credits." The boy paused, staring at the small jar as if it contained some important secret. When he looked at Jak again, his brown eyes were fierce and determined. "How old do you think I am? How many years?"
Jak was surprised by the question, but he gave it his best guess. "Thirteen? Fourteen?"
"Yes," Alpha agreed. "Something like that. Old. Too old. You understand? Some of the pack think I’m a Big One now."
The Alpha paused, as if appalled at what he was becoming. It was rare for a mobbie to grow up. Most died in the sweeps, or from hunger, or from a hundred other causes. Those few who survived kept very quiet about their origins. This Alpha was a freak among his kind.
"Can’t keep them in line anymore, huh?"
Alpha glanced at Mice, but the boy’s ears were still covered.
"Most times. But Kishee pushes. Kishee wants to be Alpha of the Red Bone pack."
"And she’s younger than you are."
Alpha nodded. "If I stay here, Kishee will kill me soon, yes? She tried twice already."
"Why haven't you killed her?"
"You don’t think I could? You think I'm afraid?" The knife came to Jak's throat.
"Just curious," he said.
"I thought about it. But if Kishee's dead, somebody else takes her place, and then I have to kill them, too. And the one after that."
"What do you want me to do about it? Kill her for you?"
"No, stupid! I just said that won’t work." He took a deep breath. "You want to go to Tekena, Big One. So, take me with you. And pay me the credits."
Jak had never expected anything like this. "You're joking. You want to come with us?"
The Alpha struggled to explain. "Can’t stay in this city. My pack will hunt me, yes? River traders take credits from mobbies, but they won’t take us on their boats. But if I go aboard with Big Ones . . . ."
The kid was right. He couldn’t stay, not if he wanted to live. It was true that he might pass if he went aboard with the three of them—if he cleaned up, if he could refrain from sticking his knife into the first person who annoyed him or from stealing anything not nailed down.
"What about your pack? Won’t they object?"
"They won’t know."
Jak glanced at the other boy, and Mice stared back at him. Was he really not listening? It was such a childish way to ensure privacy, and Mice’s hands no longer seemed pressed so tightly over his ears.
"What about Mice? Are you taking him with you?"
For a moment, the Alpha seemed torn. But if he did feel some form of affection for his little brother, it didn’t extend far enough to include Mice in the escape plans.
"No. Mice stays."
"All right. You can come with us. Now give me the antidote."
"Not so fast, Big One. You think I'm stupid? What about the credits?"
"I don't have it with me. I’ll go get it, and bring you back half. You'll get the rest when we’re aboard the barge."
"No. You give me all of it now!"
"Half. You think I’m stupid?" he asked, echoing the boy’s own words. "I don’t have it on me. I have to go get it."
"Get it all!"
"Be smart," Jak argued. "If you wait until we’re aboard the ship before you get the second half of the payment, you’ll have it all to yourself. No sharing with the pack. Those credits will go a long way toward helping you fit in with the Big Ones."
That seemed to seal the deal. Jak let out a breath of relief. Holding back half the payment would help ensure that the mobbie chief actually carried out his part of the bargain.
"And make sure you clean up before you join us," Jak added. "The traders will never let you aboard if you show up looking like you came straight from a pack."
"I can do that. I know how to look."
As Mice watched, Alpha unstopped the jar he’d been holding and held it to Jak’s lips. A spoonful of the stuff poured into his mouth, and Jak nearly spat it out again. If ever he’d imagined the taste of distilled from sewer water, with a good dose of dead rat added for flavor, this was it. But he forced himself to swallow it.
Within seconds, he was rewarded with a tingling, thrumming sensation that ran along his nerves. The pain from his cuts became acute as feeling returned. The bruises from the fall into the box woke as well, along with a throbbing pain in his head. He raised his hand to his face. The Alpha backed away, knife held ready, and so did Mice. Jak realized that both boys were afraid of him. Mice pulled the Alpha toward the dangling rope.
"Up. Now," he urged.
"Okay. We’ll go now. But the Big One goes, too."
"No!"
"I made a deal, yes? He brings us food and weapons for everybody. A knife for you, yes?" r />
"Kill the Big One."
Mice made stabbing motions with his little hands. Jak stood up, and Mice stepped bravely in front of his brother.
"I won’t hurt you," said Jak. "Not if you don’t hurt me."
"He doesn’t believe you," Alpha said, laughing. "Mice knows all about Big Ones."
The Alpha grabbed his little brother by the back of his tunic and dragged him toward the rope. Suddenly, the trap door above crashed open.
"What are you doing down there?" a girl’s shrill voice demanded. Then she gasped. "Look, the Big One is awake!"
"Get back! Get back!" the other mobbies warned.
"He won’t hurt you," the Alpha told them. "He works for me now."
Quickly, the boy told them about the deal to arrange transport upriver, although he put the payment in terms of food and weapons rather than credits. But Jak noticed that he made no mention of his plan to go on the journey with them, nor the money to be paid once they were aboard the boat. It looked like the mobbie chief really did intend to leave the pack.
"Are you crazy? You take a Big One’s word?" the girl said. The sneer in her voice matched the glare on her dirty face.
"You’re not Alpha, Kishee. I say, let him go."
But the Alpha was speaking from a bad position. It was difficult to dominate the pack from the bottom of the box. Yet, he almost managed it. They wouldn’t obey him, but neither would any but Kishee openly defy him. This mobbie boy was a natural leader, and he understood the nature of his problem all too well. Grabbing the rope, he scrambled to the top. Kishee’s hand went to the dart tube dangling from a cord around her skinny neck, but she didn’t quite dare to use it, not with Mice swarming up the rope after his brother.
Jak followed them up, fighting through the wave of dizziness the effort cost him. But he kept moving. He had no desired to spend any more time locked in the box. The mobbies backed away as he appeared on the rooftop among them, some stumbling in their haste to get away from him.
Jak stopped when he saw the limp bundle lying on the roof tiles and realized why Kishee and her friends had come. The mobbies had another prisoner for the box. The only illumination came from starlight and the flickering, almost dead light-globe, still below. But Jak knew at once who lay there.
"Tessa!"
He dropped to his knees beside her. He must have been in the damn box for a full day. This had to be the second night, and she’d come to find him.
Shouting, mobbies scattered in all directions. He turned Tessa over and lifted her head. Her beautiful eyes were dazed, and blood trickled from small scrapes on her face and neck. The mobbies had dragged her here with ungentle hands. Her skin felt very cold, but she was still alive—barely. He put his ear to her chest and heard a slow, weak heartbeat.
"Give her the antidote," he demanded.
"Why? What’s this Big One to you?"
"She’s my friend. Help her." The mobbie just shrugged.
"She’s one of the three I’m buying passage for. If you want to get paid, you’ll give her the antidote."
"Kill," Kishee demanded. "Kill both Big Ones!"
The Alpha didn’t like being told what to do by Jak, but he hated taking orders from Kishee even more. "I say what we do, Kishee, not you. I made a deal with this Big One." He turned to the others. "We get them to the river traders, and we get lots of food and knives for all!"
"Knives?" the mobbies murmured. Jak could all but see the idea percolating through their minds, with knives for everybody, they could do anything, even fight Big Ones in the sweeps.
"You’re crazy to trust a Big One," Kishee said. "You let him go, he won’t come back."
"He will."
"You’re stupid," Kishee accused. Then she added the unthinkable insult. "You act like a Big One."
The other mobbies murmured in fear. A battle for power was a heartbeat away. But that was the last thing Jak wanted, not now. He needed this boy in charge, and he needed the mobbie worried about Kishee. He touched Tessa’s face. Her lips moved as she tried to form words. The poison must have affected her much more than it had him, he realized. He had to get her the antidote.
"You are a Big One now!" Kishee hissed, hurling the insult as if it were one of the tiny, poisoned darts she used so well.
"Am not!"
"Then kill them now."
"No."
"Then I’ll do it. I’m not a stupid who makes deals with Big Ones." Kishee raised the dart tube to her mouth.
Jak rolled to protect Tessa, but the dart was aimed not at them but at the Alpha. The boy ducked, and it lodged among the braids and rags in his hair. He plucked it out with grimy fingers and snapped it in two. Frantic now, Kishee hurried to reload. Jak’s roll had carried him near the little rebel. He grabbed the girl by the leg and stood up. Snarling, Kishee lost her dart tube and writhed, trying to claw her way loose. Jak dangled the girl head down over the opening to the box. The mobbie squealed. She squirmed, but she couldn’t get loose.
"What do you want done with her?" he asked the Alpha.
There was a murmur from the other mobbies. Most backed away into the darkness. A few, more curious or braver than the rest, crowded closer. However, of one thing, there was no doubt—all were impressed to see a Big One treat their Alpha as leader.
"Make him put me down," Kishee begged.
She was terrified. All her short life, adults had been Kishee’s enemies. From them she met with nothing but cruelty and abuse. Death in the Regent’s sweeps was one of the kinder ways for a mobbie to die. Now Kishee was helpless in the grip of one of the evil giants. She twisted up, trying to bite Jak’s hand. He shook her, and she once more dangled like a rag doll.
"Please, make him let me go!"
Kishee’s sharp snap had changed to a frightened trill. She sounded so small and helpless that Jak was almost tempted to let her go even without the Alpha’s say so; but not until he had the antidote for Tessa.
"I am Alpha? I am the leader?" the boy demanded.
"Yes," Kishee squealed. "Yes, you’re the leader. You’re our Alpha."
"You’ll never try to be Alpha again?"
"Never. Never."
The boy hesitated. Now that he was in control, he seemed determined to play the scene for all it was worth. Jak looked down at Tessa’s white face. Her skin had a glistening, waxen look. There wasn’t much time.
"Put her down," the Alpha ordered.
Jak hesitated. "And my friend?"
The boy glanced around the assembled mobbies. His power over them was still tenuous; he couldn’t afford to make many concessions.
"She stays here."
"Then at least give her the antidote."
Still, Alpha hesitated.
"She’ll die if you don’t. If you want your payment, all of your payment," he added with a growl, "you’ll keep her alive."
"Okay then, I’ll give it."
The Alpha knelt beside Tessa and held the bottle of antidote to her lips. Jak saw Tessa grimace as the awful tasting stuff entered her mouth. As she swallowed, he swung Kishee away from the trap door and put her down on the roof. Spitting with fear and rage, the mobbie backed away from him. The other mobbies ignored Kishee. She’d lost a lot of face tonight. Well, that wasn’t Jak’s problem. All he cared about was the flush of warmth that had returned to Tessa’s skin and the life that had returned to her eyes. He knelt beside her.
"Jak . . . ."
"Be quiet. Just wait. You’ll feel better soon."
"Tried to find you," she whispered. "I couldn’t stand to wait any longer. They caught me . . . before I even got close."
"I was afraid you’d do that." He smoothed the dark hair away from her face.
"Kamura," Tessa said, her voice growing stronger already. "She’s still at my place, waiting."
Jak thought of grabbing Tessa and running. His legs were longer than the mobbies’. He could out run
them, but he needed the Alpha’s help to get them passage to Tekena. He wouldn’t let himself think beyond that.
"Enough talk," Alpha interrupted. "Put the Big One in the box."
Watching as Tessa went into the mobbies’ box was the hardest thing he’d ever done. At least, with him watching, they lowered her gently rather than tossing her in with a bone jarring drop.
"I want her alive and in good health when I come back with goods," Jak warned. If they hurt Tessa . . . . He tried not to let himself imagine that. To do so led to grief and anger like a kind of madness. "None of your games with the knife, understand?"
"We’ll wait two days," Alpha said, "and we don’t feed her."
That was to be expected. The mobbies didn’t have enough to feed themselves; they’d never waste food on a prisoner.
"But you’ll give her water? And leave the light?"
Alpha took a plastic water bottle from one of the mobbies and tossed it into the box. The dim glow of the light still shined below. Jak looked down at Tessa’s face, pale and frightened-looking in the guttering light of the almost depleted globe. It was almost more than he could do to leave her there. He told himself again that it was in the Alpha’s own interest to keep Tessa alive.
"I’ll be back," he promised her.
And he’d come with a blaster. If Tessa were hurt, he’d start a cleanup that would make the sweeps look like a playful game of tag. The trap door slammed shut, and Mice slid home the bolt. It looked as if they were going to let him go.
"Remember," Jak said, touching his bloody cheek, "don’t play any of your little cutting games with the woman."
"No games," the Alpha assured him.
Maybe he’d keep his word. It wasn’t so easy to torture a Big One who wasn’t paralyzed by the drug. He saw Kishee lurking in the shadows, her face pinched with fear and hate. She’d lost her dart tube while she dangled from Jak’s hand. He looked down and saw it lying at his feet. Deliberately, he crunched it under his boot heel. He stepped forward, walking with false confidence through the circle of mobbies. He turned once to look back at them. But they had all vanished. He almost could believe they had gone, that he could just walk back, open the trap door, and free Tessa. But these were mobbies. They hadn't gone anywhere. They had only hidden themselves. He could still feel their eyes on him.
He felt them watching him all the way back to Tessa’s building, but he never saw one, not for an instant.