Fall and Rising Read online

  Solid and alive.

  For how much longer?

  “There’s got to be a bar,” Lochlan murmured as he pulled back slightly, one hand threading into Adam’s hair. “There’s always a bar.”

  Adam nodded, but with the loss of the kiss, he was freshly aware of where they were, of all the people, and though they were tucked out of the way, unease snaked through him. Being affectionate in front of the Bideshi was one thing—with them, at least as far as being with Lochlan went, he now felt a kind of comfort that he couldn’t remember ever feeling within breeding-focused Protectorate society. There, the act of pairing and reproduction had taken on an almost religious significance. But these weren’t Bideshi, and though no one seemed to notice them, it felt as though there were countless unseen eyes watching.

  He pressed his hands against Lochlan’s chest, feeling the beat of that well-loved heart under his palms. He was going to take what he had here. He was going to stop being afraid. “Okay. Let’s find that bar.”

  The bar was an unnamed establishment on the lowest level of the station, and while it was clearly a large space, it managed—thanks to a thick crowd and low lighting—to feel claustrophobic. Adam and Lochlan made their way from the door to a long circular bar at the center of the room—slow and careful because all they needed now was to offend someone and end up in a brawl. The area around the bar was even more jammed with people than the rest of the place, but Lochlan had proven himself well versed in making use of spaces that Adam would have assumed were too small to squeeze through, maneuvering his way closer. Bemused, Adam followed.

  Lochlan raised a hand as Adam pressed in alongside him and one of the barkeeps—a Koticki with its antennae waving—made its way over to them and clicked its mandibles in preamble to its greeting. “Gents. What can I get you?”

  “Two house ales,” Lochlan said immediately. “Chaser of whatever your cheapest whiskey happens to be.”

  The Koticki clicked an affirmative and turned to fill the order. Adam leaned close to Lochlan, glancing at the people who surrounded them—some human and others from a bewildering variety of other species, even for someone who used to live in the relatively cosmopolitan Kolyma City. They looked tough, weathered, and generally unapproachable. But they could clearly talk to each other, and they could all come to some form of communion. Not for the first time it occurred to Adam that it was sadly comic how such different species could often communicate with such ease—even learning each other’s languages when necessary, and frequently without much difficulty, while two groups of humans had been at odds for centuries. And now that conflict had exploded into violence.

  He turned his attention back to the task at hand: the careful, casual extraction of information. But not in a bar like this, and not from people so formidable.

  Lochlan seemed to catch his trepidation, for he nudged Adam with his elbow and shot him a quick, cocky grin. “Relax. We got this.” He leaned back slightly as the Koticki set their drinks down in front of them, and cleared his throat.

  “Khara, you’re right, those patrols are such a pain in the ass. But what can you do? We’ll have to take the shipment back, I suppose.” He nudged Adam again, raising his eyebrows as he picked up his ale, and Adam got it. Play along.

  “But all that wasted cred,” he groused. “Are you sure there’s no way around them?”

  Lochlan shook his head sadly. “Not sure, but I don’t think it’s worth the risk. But at this point I’d consider paying for the information. It’d be cheaper than getting boarded and seized, wouldn’t it?”

  Payment. Adam arched a brow. That kind of implicit promise might not be a good one to float. They had credits, of course, and some goods to trade, but they weren’t exactly flush. Still, Lochlan could talk smooth when he had to. And even when he didn’t. It was practically a sport for him.

  They waited a few minutes, but no one came up to them. No one seemed to have noticed what Lochlan had said. The chaos continued around them much the same as it had before, and at last Adam leaned in again, sighing disappointment. He wasn’t sure if he had really expected it to work, but he had hoped.

  “I guess we’ll have to try something else.”

  Lochlan shook his head. “No, just wait. You have to give the word a chance to circulate. And you have to give people a chance to do some considering.” He squeezed Adam’s shoulder and pushed away from the bar, drinks in hand. “Be patient, chusile. I must be a bad influence on you, eh?”

  Bemused but willing to go along for the moment, Adam picked up his own glasses and followed Lochlan back through the crowd to a small table set against the rear of the room. It was dim and the low light made it feel secluded even as it was surrounded by people, and once more Adam felt a sliver of doubt as he slid into a seat beside Lochlan.

  “You think anyone will be able to find us back here?”

  Lochlan regarded him with a faintly amused smile. “Mitr, you haven’t spent a lot of time in places like this, have you?”

  Adam’s mouth twisted. “I haven’t spent any time in places like this. Until recently, anyway.”

  “Not even when you were on the run?”

  “Not even then.” Adam shrugged. “I was mostly trying to stay away from people. I picked up food in a few holes-in-the-wall, but I never went anywhere crowded. It seemed like asking for trouble.”

  “Well, trouble is exactly what we want right now.” Lochlan looked up and grinned. “And right on cue, here she comes.”

  Adam followed his gaze and saw a woman approaching them, pushing her way past the people in front of her with a cool authority that matched her expression. She was both tall and softly round, but with a hardness under that roundness that suggested muscle, and Adam was struck by the deep-purple scar that cut down the right side of her face.

  She stopped by their table and bent down, bracing on it with both powerful arms. “I hear you’re trying to get past some patrols.”

  Lochlan inclined his head. “You heard right, lady.”

  The woman’s face stretched into a quick smirk, there and then gone again, and her attention seemed caught and held by Adam, and he could guess why. Few people marked the unevenness in his skin tone or his eyes until they got close to him, but once they did it tended to hold their attention.

  Try as he might, he was still noticeable.

  “Might be able to help you.” She dragged up a stool and sat without waiting to be invited, then leaned across to them. “I made the run past them twice last week. It’s not easy, but there are ways.”

  Adam nodded. So it was possible. But it was unlikely that she’d proffer this information for free. “Are you the only one who knows about it?”

  “You asking if I have any competition? Fat chance. Not saying I’m the only one who knows, but I’m the only one around here you’re gonna find.”

  “We can pay.”

  “I know you can. You better.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “Up front. Ten thousand credits.”

  Adam stared at her. This, he hadn’t been expecting. He glanced at Lochlan, who gave him a minute shake of the head. Let me handle this.

  “We don’t have that much on us. Once we make the drop and get our payment, we can cut you in.”

  The woman barked a laugh. “What do you think I am, some dirt-fresh baby bird? I’m not telling you shit unless I have cred in hand.”

  “We can pay you after—” Lochlan started to say again, but Adam cut in. It was desperate, maybe stupid, but he was tired of waiting, and they didn’t have the luxury of caution now.

  “We’ll give you what we have, and the rest later if you come along. That way we know you aren’t trying to screw us. Is that acceptable?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “How much are we talking?”

  “Five thousand now, five thousand when we make the drop. For the full ten.”

  The woman was silent. Under the table, Lochlan gripped Adam’s knee, and Adam was unable to tell what feelings were behind the grasp. Lochla
n’s face was unreadable.

  She seemed to be considering, and when a tall, slender, green-skinned man moved past carrying a tray of glasses, she took one. She took a long swallow. “What’s your story, anyway?”

  Lochlan arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

  “You. You’re Bideshi, or you were. Don’t bother trying to tell me you’re not; I knew it the second I saw you. The tats? Please.” She laughed again and took another swig of whatever was in the glass. Adam shot Lochlan a look, and the one he got back was both bemused and a bit tense.

  Keep your mouth shut.

  “So what if I am?” Lochlan’s shrug was carefully casual.

  “So, nothing. Except it does kind of have me wondering. There were some rumors a while back about a dustup on a planet closer to the galactic center. Protectorate. Bideshi. Lot of people killed. On both sides.” She glanced from Adam to Lochlan, brow furrowed meditatively. “Just wondering if either of you know anything about it.”

  “Nosy, aren’t you?” Lochlan’s mouth tightened. “Is that wise?”

  “I want to make sure you’re not gonna screw me. What I know could get me in a lot of trouble. With the wrong people.” She smiled faintly. “But you … Protectorate don’t hire Bideshi. Even when they’re desperate. Even if they could find any Bideshi willing to be hired. They wouldn’t lower themselves.”

  “So you’re satisfied?” Lochlan’s tone had an acid edge. But he didn’t, Adam thought, seem like he was about to drag them both away.

  “I still don’t know if you know anything about that little incident. I mean, you know that’s why the patrols are as intense as they are right now. Looking for someone, people say.”

  Lochlan said nothing. There was tension gathering, and Adam worried that it was an indicator to pull out of this as quickly as possible, perhaps even get off the station, and he was lifting his foot to nudge Lochlan’s under the table when the woman sat back, shaking her head.

  “Look, man. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’ll only say I have no love for the Protectorate. At all. Bideshi, no Bideshi …” She cocked her head at Adam and flashed him a brief but brilliant grin. “Whatever your deal is, Blotchy. I’m in, sure. You pay me, obviously, but I don’t like the way they’ve been hassling people. Especially the Bideshi. And whatever happened on that planet … I don’t like the sound of that either. You want to skim through under their noses, I like the sound of that just fine.”

  She drained the rest of the glass. “If you can forgive the questions, it’s a deal. When are you ready to go?”

  Lochlan’s brows drew together. “We’re refueling, picking up a few other things. Six hours?”

  “Got it.” She gave them another quick smile. “What names are we working with?”

  “Yuri,” Lochlan said immediately, then nodded at Adam. “And Sasha. You?”

  “Skyler. All right, Yuri and Sasha.” Her smile widened, her scar stretching. “I’ll see you in six hours. I’m on a Finch J79 on the top ring, name of Sybilline. Disembark and hail me and we’ll go from there.” She stood up, gave them a slight bow, and left, vanishing through the maze of people.

  Adam leaned close to Lochlan, one corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Sasha?”

  “It’s not always a girl’s name.” Lochlan downed his whiskey and rose from his chair. His lanky body was suddenly tense, almost twitchy, his eyes distracted. “And I liked the look on your face. Let’s get outta here.”

  Adam emptied his own glass and rose, trailing Lochlan toward the door, feeling disquiet gnawing at him. Had something happened, beyond the obvious? Or was Lochlan doubting what they were doing entirely? Back in the main atrium, Adam caught Lochlan’s arm and tugged him into a side passage, stopping them in a patch of shadow. “What’s wrong?”

  Lochlan’s brows drew together, and his mouth pulled into a thin and unhappy line. “You just gave her the last of our cred, that’s what’s wrong. And those questions got uncomfortable.”

  “I …” Adam shook his head. “She wasn’t going to budge. And we needed her. As for the questions … How were those my fault?”

  “We would’ve found another way. Or I could’ve bargained her down.”

  “Is the money actually the issue, Lock? If it’s about the questions, remember that you could have walked away when she started with them. I could tell you were thinking about it. But you didn’t.”

  Lochlan’s eyes widened, and Adam caught at least a little of what was really going on. Lochlan was scared. Scared and back into a corner.

  “Regardless. That was stupid, Adam. You should’ve let me handle it.”

  Adam reeled back, stung. This was a taste of the old Lochlan, arrogant and bullheaded, snappish and impatient when it came to Adam and what Lochlan perceived as his sheltered Protectorate shortcomings.

  Except it wasn’t like the old Lochlan. Before, he hadn’t seemed so tired. So worried.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “So … Look, maybe you’re right. Fuck, you probably are. I’m sorry. But we can get more, we can … This isn’t necessarily a problem.”

  “‘Not necessarily a problem’?” Lochlan sounded incredulous. “Khara, if you’re going to go off all half-cocked every time you get impatient about something, then we’re going to—”

  “You’re telling me to not go off half-cocked? Are you out of your mind?”

  “You can’t do this, Adam.” Lochlan was close now, inches away from his face, voice an angry hiss. Someone pushed past them, and Lochlan glanced at their receding back, silent for a moment before focusing on Adam again. “You don’t know this world. I know you’ve done … I know you’ve come a long way, but we’re out in the shit now, and I worry about you, you don’t know—”

  Adam stopped him with a hand pressed quickly to his lips. The world was disintegrating around him. Lochlan had seemed so confident, so unconcerned, from the moment they had disembarked from Ashwina until only a few hours ago, but now it was as though a mask had slipped, revealing something raw and painful underneath. All at once Adam remembered the thick forests of the Klashorg homeworld when he and the Bideshi convoy had sheltered there from the pursuing Protectorate forces. He remembered sitting beneath the glowing bell of a massive flower, listening to Lochlan tell the story of what had happened on Caldor Station, the Protectorate massacre of so many Bideshi, of the small, terrified boy he had once been as he left the corpses of his family and went crawling through the passages and ducts of the station, blood and the screams of the dying outside.

  Lochlan had two faces. Adam was still learning how to tell which was which.

  “We’re all right,” he whispered, and Lochlan shook his head, pressing in, pushing Adam’s back against the wall.

  “Chusile … I almost lost you on the Plain.” He leaned their foreheads together. “I came so close. The last few weeks … I can’t stop thinking about losing you again. Chere, this could be so dangerous. I know you have to do it, and I have to be with you while you do. You just … I want to help you. Let me help you.”

  Adam let out a long breath, curled one hand around the coils of Lochlan’s dreadlocks, and nodded their mouths together in something that was too light and careful to really be a kiss. “I want you to help me. But you have to trust me.” He nuzzled Lochlan’s jaw. He didn’t care who saw them now. He didn’t want fear to have any place here.

  Yet it seemed it always would.

  “You don’t trust me,” Lochlan said, and he sounded so sad that for a moment Adam couldn’t speak anymore.

  “I’ll tell you,” he murmured finally. “I promise, I will. I just … I can’t. Not yet.”

  Lochlan nodded, but his face was still twisting, unhappy, and as Adam kissed him again the kiss was hard and a little desperate. When Lochlan pressed forward again, his hand slipped up under the hem of Adam’s shirt, and Adam uncoiled under rough hands and a familiar body, as though there was nothing between their skins.

  “I love you,” he whispered, and Lochlan sighe
d in response and only kissed him harder, pushing his lips apart, demanding.

  Yes, Adam didn’t care about being seen now. But he was grateful for the shadows, all the same. This was theirs. This was for them. He wasn’t going to let anyone take it away.

  But the twisting in his gut didn’t leave him. And even the warmth of the kisses, of Lochlan’s touch felt somehow distant. What would happen if he moved further away? What would happen if, somehow, that space grew? What would happen if he had to make a choice?

  Kerry didn’t struggle in the bonds that held him fast to the chair. He didn’t move at all, his face blank.

  Sinder knew enough to recognize that as a form of resistance.

  He, Kerry, and Alkor were in one of the brig cells. A med-tech sat on the bunk, and on her lap was the small box of the neuro-stim. Two wires extended from it, which branched into four and ended in adhesive pads; these were attached to Kerry’s wrists and temples.

  Normally it was a therapeutic device, to assist in the rebuilding of damaged nerves. Normally. It had other, less savory uses.

  Kerry glanced from the pads up to Sinder, his eyes cool and oddly colorless. Alkor, for her part, was leaning in the corner, her mouth twisting with clear discomfort. This wasn’t surprising. Sinder had gotten the feeling that she might not have the stomach for this kind of tactic.

  She didn’t have to. As long as she stayed out of the way.

  “Well, now, Commander,” Sinder said, his tone light and eminently reasonable. “I think we should talk.”

  Kerry shrugged. “Whatever. Sinder, is that your name? I don’t see much of a reason why I’d tell you anything, but you can talk if you want to.”

  Sinder arched an eyebrow and gestured to the med-tech and her unit. “There is that, if you’re looking for a reason.”

  “Torture?” Kerry snorted. “That’s a little ham-handed, don’t you think? Then again, the way your bosses have been going—”

  “They were your bosses too, Marcus,” Alkor cut in. More than anything, she sounded tired. “What the hell happened to you? You were one of ours. A true believer. How could you toss it all away like you did? Why?”