The Pharoah Contract

“What are you doing?” The cyborg’s voice had a nervous edge to it.

“I’m a fast thinker, too,” Ruiz said.

Marmo sighed, seemed to shrink a little. Ruiz freed Marmo’s flesh arm from the bola chain; the cyborg reached up and tapped at the lockbox. The key, a strip of mnemonic plastic, dropped out.

Ruiz caught it. “Thank you,” he said politely, and jerked the cyborg’s power cell.

Marmo sagged, became still. Ruiz ran from the control blister, down the passageway, out through the hold into the night.

* * *

Ruiz removed Nisa’s collar before his own. He picked her up, carried her past the others, who stood by their tents wearing looks of sleepy astonishment.

As they passed Flomel, the mage stepped forward and caught at Ruiz’s arm. “What’s happening?” Flomel demanded. “What are you up to?”

Ruiz looked at Flomel, raised the splinter gun. Flomel went pale, and his hand dropped away. Ruiz carried Nisa up the ramp into the boat. Behind him, he heard the mage whispering in outraged tones, then Dolmaero’s calm rumble.

He laid her on a couch. She seemed to be breathing without difficulty, her color was good, and when he laid his head against her breast, he could hear her heart beating strongly. He remained there for a moment, cheek pressed to her warmth. He caught a strand of her hair between his fingers, marveled at its silky texture. He buried his nose into her hair, breathed in her scent.

Ugly pictures rose in his mind, things that might have been — Nisa running, the flat crack of the ruptor, the splash of flesh and bone, the precious body opened up like a butchered animal’s, nothing more than a decaying scrap, empty of Nisa. He pushed the pictures away; it had not happened. He could not understand why he was still shaking.

After a while, he went to Marmo and searched through the cyborg’s numerous pockets and compartment and storage slots. Mostly he found a collection of hand-held games, which soon formed a little glittering mound next to the cyborg. But Ruiz found useful things as well. He found a small multifunction cyberprobe, which Marmo had no doubt used to monitor his mechanical health. He found three spare magazines for the splinter gun. He found a master key to the boat’s other cabins. He found a credit chip, which he speculated was to be used at the end of their journey. He found a skinpopper made in the same style as the collar controller, which he decided must contain the antidote to the collar sedative. He found a crumpled piece of paper, on which was scribbled what seemed to be a call-in schedule, and at this discovery Ruiz’s heart sank. The next call was due at midmorning.

When Ruiz had emptied every hiding place on Marmo’s chassis and stowed the useful gear in his own pockets, he returned to Nisa’s couch. She showed no sign of waking. He strapped her to the couch, to prevent her from injuring herself should she try to rise before her equilibrium returned.

* * *

Ruiz walked down the ramp, carrying the splinter gun and Marmo’s power cell. The other prisoners sat by their tents, eyes wide in the light that spilled from the boat. Ruiz smiled at Dolmaero, gave Flomel a hard look, nodded at Molnekh. Kroel made a whimpering sound and scurried into his tent.

“Things have changed,” Ruiz said. He threw the power cell far out into the darkness.

Flomel got painfully to his feet. “How so?” he demanded. “What terrible thing have you done? I’ve heard all about you and your murderous ways. If you’ve harmed any of the Lady’s employees, you’ll regret it.”

In spite of himself, Ruiz was astonished. “You are an idiot, Flomel. What did you imagine yourself to be? One of her ‘employees’? You were her slave, a piece of property.”

“You’re a liar,” Flomel snarled. “You’ll suffer for this, oh yes.”

Ruiz saw that reason would be wasted on the mage. He sighed and raised the controller. Flomel’s eyes bulged. He fell back, raised his hands defensively.

Dolmaero stood up. “Ruiz, wait,” he said. “Master Flomel is a fool, but should he die for that? If we kill all the fools, who’d be left?”

Flomel shot a malevolent look at Dolmaero, and Ruiz thought, Flomel won’t thank him for that.

Ruiz touched the yellow button by Flomel’s color code, and the mage dropped unconscious. “He’ll live, so I imagine,” Ruiz said. “But I’ll get some use out of him. I think I have the antidote to the collar anesthesia; I’ll experiment with him before I try it on Nisa.”

He went to Dolmaero, pressed the collar key to his neck. The collar dropped away. Dolmaero rubbed his throat thoughtfully. “How did you manage this? I’m impressed beyond words.”

“Banessa’s dead, and the half-man disabled. I’ll tell you about it later.” Ruiz looked at Molnekh. “Molnekh, I must ask you: Will you do as I tell you, if I release you?”

Molnekh smiled nervously. “I assume that my other choice is to remain here until the Lady arrives.”