Ray Aldridge - The Orpheus Machine

Ruiz turned his attention to Nisa; he hardened his heart to the necessary degree and went on. “And look at that: the dirtworld princess. Grew up in a fly-specked hovel of a palace in a shit-soaked stone town, and is therefore certain that she is the galaxy’s highest form of life. Managed to push her ignorant arrogance far enough to get herself put to death for excessive whoring, and then some idiot revived her, on the slaveship that was hauling her corpse to Sook.”

Ruiz turned back to The Yellowleaf, so he wouldn’t have to look at the faces of his friends.

Gejas spoke. “The Yellowleaf muses: And yet, in the slaughterhouse you refused to cut her throat.”

Ruiz shrugged. “A handy symbol, nothing more. A logical stopping point. I’d cut far too many throats. Had you not sent her, another throat I could not cut would soon have arrived.” He looked at The Yellowleaf, feeling a bright crazy burning in his eyes. “I’m not even sure I could cut your stringy throat, if you offered it to me. I’ve changed.” He said it for effect, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was afraid it might be true.

An expression appeared on The Yellowleaf’s face at last. Ruiz hoped for fear or hatred, but then he saw it was a sort of disgusted pity, the expression of a person who has seen a broken-backed dog lying in the gutter.

Anger flared through him. It felt oddly pleasant.

“The Yellowleaf admonishes: Put aside your grievances and attend to your negotiations. The Yellowleaf offers: Free passage back to SeaStack for you and your people.”

Ruiz laughed incredulously. “Really? Aboard a Roderigo vessel? Do you take me for a complete fool?”

“The Yellowleaf responds in the negative. She has hired an independent transporter, unaffiliated with Roderigo.”

“Oh, of course. Would it surprise you to learn that I don’t wish to return to Sea Stack?”

“The Yellowleaf asks: Where would you wish to go?”

“Off Sook.”

“The Yellowleaf states: This is acceptable. She will arrange passage to the nearest launch ring. There you will be given funds sufficient to take you and as many of your people as you wish off Sook — but you must personally arrange for any further travel.”

“That’s easy enough…. “Ruiz said slowly. “But how will she convince me to trust her?”

“The Yellowleaf states: She would not expect you to. She will make herself hostage. She alone will accompany your people to the transport she has contracted, there to wait for you. When you have completed your mission and have the requisite information, she will release your people to you, and provide you weapons with which you may defend yourself against any treachery.”

It seemed a surprising offer. What, Ruiz wondered, was the catch? “Who will provide this transport?”

“The Yellowleaf reiterates: An independent contractor, whose identity is immaterial. They lie offshore in a submersible, awaiting our signal. When you have gone up to the virtual, The Yellowleaf will go down to the sea with your people. You will be provided with a comm device, with which you may make arrangements for the exchange when you emerge from the virtual. Do you wish to speak with the contractor now?”

Ruiz was amazed at the thoroughness of the hetman’s arrangements. It was almost as if she intended to play fair. “Why not?” he said.

Gejas produced a small transceiver and made as if to strap it to Ruiz’s upper arm. Ruiz snatched it, smiling brightly, and then examined the mechanism carefully. He could find nothing obviously wrong with it — no explosives, no drug injectors, no neural dampers. It seemed to be exactly what the Roderigans had claimed: a simple short-range transceiver.

“No video,” he said. Instead of strapping it to his arm, he knelt and put the adhesive band around his boot. Perhaps the thick plastic of the boot would thwart any dangerous mechanisms.

Gejas snorted. “The Yellowleaf states: You are properly cautious, but no treachery is intended. No, there’s no video, but the scrambling is sophisticated. To activate the device, enter the following sequence on the keypad.” And Gejas spoke a string of numbers.

Ruiz tapped them in; the unit’s ready-light glowed green.

“Yes?” The voice, tiny and distorted by some cloaking device, issued from the speaker.

Ruiz took a deep breath and then, in a creditable imitation of Gejas’s soft light voice, said, “Repeat your instructions.”

Gejas seemed startled but unalarmed. The Yellowleaf’s face, as ever, was unreadable.

A moment passed, then the speaker rattled and the distorted voice answered, “We are to take on passengers, for a destination to be given us by a final passenger, who will notify us on this frequency when we are to pick him up.”

“And?” Ruiz couldn’t believe that was all there was.

A pause ensued. Then the anonymous voice answered uncertainly, “Do you have further instructions for us? If so, we may need to negotiate additional fees.”

“Never mind,” Ruiz said. “Stand by.”

He clicked off the communicator. The Yellowleaf watched him without expression, but Gejas wore a twisted smile.

“The Yellowleaf asks: Are you satisfied with these arrangements?”

“Not particularly.” Ruiz considered the situation. “Tell me. Why did you bring us up here?”

“The Yellowleaf states: Dangerous folk frequent the seashore. Here we are safest.”

“Plausible,” Ruiz said. What would prevent The Yellow-leaf from issuing new instructions when she and the others reached the sub? “Let’s do this a little differently,” he said.

How could he maintain a reasonable degree of control over the situation? “How about this?” he said. “The hetman disarms herself and comes with me. One of my people comes along to keep an eye on her until I return from the virtual — that person must remain sufficiently intact to give me a report of the hetman’s activities during my absence. Clear so far? We’ll exchange hostages when I’ve got the information you require.” He spoke without the slightest hope that the hetman would agree.

Gejas looked at his master, and his mouth dropped open. “The Yellowleaf will consider your proposal.” The two walked to the other side of the camp, and Gejas spoke in an animated whisper, gesturing wildly.

Apparently, Ruiz thought, the tongue was unhappy with the revised plan.

Eventually Gejas fell silent and the Roderigans returned. “The Yellowleaf states: Your proposal is acceptable, on one condition. The Yellowleaf must retain her armor.”

Ruiz was unable to conceal his astonishment. “All right,” he said.

“The Yellowleaf asks: May we now see to the details? Time is passing, and the virtual opens at midnight.”

Corean slapped Marmo jovially, her rings clattering on his metal torso. “It was him! He disguised his voice but it was Ruiz Aw. I know it!” She turned away from the communicator and looked at the screen, which showed a wide-angle view of Dorn.

The island seemed to float above the star-silvered sea, a featureless mass. She wondered: Where on those dark slopes did Ruiz Aw wait for her?

Marmo cleared his throat and spoke with his usual deliberation. “Then you’re pleased?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?”

The old pirate sighed. “Don’t forget, the Roderigans will surely try to cheat you. And your previous jousts with Ruiz Aw have never gone as you expected.”

“How kind of you to point this out. However, we’re well armed.” She patted the sub’s wide weapons console. “The Roderigans believe we’re in a lightly armored little seabus — they won’t be expecting this. We have the Moc, if it comes to hand-to-hand. We have the Genched Pharaohan in place, if treachery is required. And Ruiz has no reason to suspect that we’re the ones who’ve been hired to ‘transport’ him.” She shrugged. “What can go wrong?”