Adrenaline fired into his blood. He squirmed from his tent, shook off the last of the dreams. Was the cyborg watching from the boat’s control blister? If not, he might have a chance.”
He could not quite reach the corner of Nisa’s tent; the leash was too short. The sounds from inside the tent took on a thrusting sexual rhythm. Ruiz reversed his body and hooked at the tent with his foot. It caught in a loop of cord, and Ruiz gave a great tug.
The tent slid toward him. Ruiz flipped again, and as the herman’s angry face emerged from the flap, Ruiz caught its throat in his hands.
“Hush, Nisa, not a sound,” he whispered urgently. Ayam slapped at Ruiz with its powerful arms, but Ruiz bore down, crushing its larynx under his thumbs. The herman thrashed, clawed at Ruiz’s face, weakened. As it expired, quivering, semen spattered on Ruiz’s stomach.
With a shudder of distaste, Ruiz threw the corpse aside. “Nisa,” he whispered. “Are you all right?”
A muffled sob came from her tent.
“Nisa! Give me its things. Quick!”
He heard her move; a moment later the herman’s blouse and slacks flew out, followed by the stun rod it carried on watch.
Ruiz searched the pockets in a frenzy of impatience, darting an occasional glance at the boat. It remained dark and silent; he began to hope the others were asleep or inattentive.
In the last pocket he found a key and unlocked his leash. He shoved the herman’s corpse into his own tent, then scrambled into Nisa’s.
In the dark, he could barely see her, huddled at the back of the tent. Her eyes were wide, staring. “It’s dead?” she asked.
“Yes. Listen carefully. I’m going to try to take the boat. I’ll unlock your leash; I don’t have the key to the collar. If I succeed, everything will be fine.” He used the key and dropped it in her lap, patted her foot gently. “If I don’t come back in half an hour or so, or if you hear a big fuss inside the boat… you might want to think about running for the perimeter. A hit from the ruptor would be quick and clean. No pain. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
She nodded.
He turned to go. She reached out and covered his hand with hers for an instant.
At the foot of the ramp, Ruiz paused for a moment and listened. Nothing. He sauntered up the ramp, rolling his hips like Ayam, in case the boat was equipped to detect motion signatures. At the ramp’s top end, the lock hung open and dark.
He leaned against the cool metal, took a firm grip on the stun rod, and ducked inside. The hold was empty, unlit except for a small red light by the lock mechanism. He went silently to the end of the hold, where a ladder led up toward the crew quarters and control blister. Ruiz mounted the ladder, raised his eyes cautiously above the passageway sill.
He detected no obvious sign of the cyborg or the giantess, but a light showed from the aft-running passageway, back toward the crew quarters. He could see no obvious security cameras or other security sensors. He began to feel lucky.
Ruiz considered. He needed Banessa first. Her collar controller was the biggest danger. Where was she? If she was with Marmo, the situation was hopeless. Did they seem like boon companions? No.
Ruiz decided that Marmo would prefer the company of the boat’s computer, up in the control blister. Banessa might then be in the crew quarters. He slipped down the passageway aft.
Banessa’s cabin was the last one, and the only unlocked cabin. The door stood slightly ajar, so Ruiz applied his eye to the crack.
The giantess lay naked on her back, her enormous feet toward Ruiz. The massive curve of her belly and breasts prevented him from seeing her face, but he could see the distinctive horned shape of a sensie helmet on her head. Was she awake? Would she be too involved in her sensie to react swiftly when he made his rush? Was she equipped with a subcutaneous insulator field, to protect her from the stun rod? All too probable, he decided — skin fields were a standard slaver precaution.
He noticed an earthy pungent odor. The giantess moaned, pumped her hips, and her knees fell open. Ruiz suppressed an insane urge to giggle. He hefted the stun rod. An idea came to him, an ugly idea, but just possibly an effective one. Ruiz shrugged. Banessa was a slaver and a murderer. He thought, Now is not a time for chivalry. He thumbed the stun rod’s trigger, cranked it all the way up.
Ruiz swept the door open, plunged forward, socketed the stun rod between Banessa’s great thighs, where — he hoped — she was unprotected by the deadening mesh of the skin field. He threw himself away from her, but she was helpless, shaking, heels drumming against her bunk. She retained enough control of her body to extrude her claws and slash her arms back and forth, but her eyes stared blindly and her mouth was open in a scream that she had too little breath to make.
Ruiz dodged the claws, rolled behind her bunk, found the ribbon from which the collar controller hung. He crossed his wrists, wrapped the lanyard around both fists, wrenched it tight around her throat with all his strength. He gave thanks that the ribbon was stronger than it looked.
Minutes passed before the giantess grew still. Ruiz got up slowly, his hands numb. He was glad that it had not been a fair fight; he was beginning to feel very lucky indeed.
He took the controller, doubled the loop, and hung it around his own neck. Then he searched the cabin. He found a number of odd things: a locker full of absurdly undersized lingerie, a box full of illegal sensies of the most depraved sort, a big jar full of severed human penises, floating in blue-tinted preservative, several drawers full of antique weapons. But nowhere could he find the key to the collars.
Marmo will have it, he hoped. He refused to believe that Corean had kept it to send later by separate courier, though that would make sense. He refused to consider the notion, because Corean would have another and more powerful transmitter back at the pens. She would surely explode the collars herself should the boat fail to reach its destination.
He rummaged through Banessa’s weapons. He took a slender spring-loaded stiletto, tucked it into his shoe. He found a beautifully made bola, its bronze weights shaped like little skulls. He looped it through his belt. He found an old splinter gun with yellow ivory grips and a dead battery; reluctantly he set it aside. In the last drawer he found a truly anachronistic weapon, a chemical-propellant handgun, a revolver of blue steel that fired nonexplosive slugs. He flipped out the cylinder; miraculously there were cartridges, the brass green with age. He checked each cartridge carefully, discarded one with an obviously corroded primer. Perhaps one or two of them might still fire.
Lastly, overcoming his revulsion, he retrieved the stun rod, but it had apparently burned out.
He crept out into the passageway. The struggle with the giantess seemed to have gone unnoticed. He checked the other cabins, found them still locked. He would have to be content with the weapons he had found.
Ruiz moved as silently as he could, balancing caution with speed. He remembered the advice he had given Nisa, and he felt a twinge of alarm for her. How much time had passed? He shook himself, pushed those thoughts away, concentrated on the task at hand.
The passageway ran forward to the bow salon. Just before the salon, a ladder led up into the control blister. Here Ruiz paused for a moment to gather himself.
Ruiz went quietly up the ladder, peeped into the control blister. The cyborg stood by the armorglass port, motionless, gazing out over the dark steppe. The overhead lights were off. Dozens of green and amber telltales glowed on the main board, cast flickering reflections over Marmo’s polished carapace. The cyborg carried no obvious weapon, though his right manipulator was hidden from Ruiz.