We pass by the cage full of corpses. Leathery bits drift around us, as disgusting and pitiful as ever. From the corner of my eye, I see something floating near the mesh, a faint glint with a chain or wire attached. Borden, the closest, reaches out and grabs it.
We’re taken by the railcar aft around the screw garden, then returned to the first hamster cage, where the rest of us wait. Bird Girl and two subordinate Antags escort us to the opening, unlock it, and swing it wide. We let go of the leash and pull ourselves through.
Inside, Ulyanova kicks away, grabs a stray mat, and then kicks off again, crossing the cage to get as far as she can from the rest of the squad. She wraps herself in the mat, then peeks up briefly, staring in our direction for a second or two. Her face is stolid, numb. Litvinov and Vera cross the cage to be with her. Bilyk keeps well away.
Borden explains to the rest where we were taken in the ship, what we saw, and the very little we were told. They learn there is at least one Guru on this ship and probably two.
“Antags want our help, her help mostly,” Borden says. “This could be the endgame. They’ll kill us if we’re not useful, Ulyanova first. She’s the most dangerous if she gets out of their control—if somehow she gets back to Earth.”
“What chance of that?” Ishida asks.
Borden shakes her head.
“What else can we do?” Jacobi asks. She sounds hoarse and exhausted.
“This may have been Mushranji’s plan all along,” Kumar says.
“Your ignorance is awe-inspiring,” Ishida says, and Tak gets between them, just to be careful.
WRAPPED IN A mat, I try to close my eyes, but there’s too much going on behind my head, wherever that is, to let me sleep. Bird Girl truly believes that the starshina and likely their own exposed soldier are crucial to piercing the nightmare gate, taking control of this ship and getting the hell out of the solar system. Crucial to going home.
My eyelids disagree with my brain. They become too heavy. I drift off.
Comes a sudden jerk-up to full awareness. Ulyanova is floating a few feet from me, suspended in shadow and the last few drops of cage-cleaning spray from our attendant bats. She looks at me as if she would solve all her problems simply by figuring out how I work, what I mean. Turnabout.
“What?” I say.
“Do not need live Gurus. Will be problem.”
“All right,” I say.
“Do not want this,” she murmurs. “I will not be me.”
As I have never been quite sure who Ulyanova is in the time I’ve known her, what can I say that might help? Nothing.
“I feel Antagonista who is connected to Guru,” she says. “Very unhappy. Others do not treat her well. Stupid, no?”
“Stupid,” I agree. Her English has improved. Is that some sort of proof of her connection?
“All Antag fighters are female,” she says, after a thoughtful pause.
“Interesting,” I say.
“Once I thought females in charge, bottom to top, would be good. Now, not so much. Well, she needs me to finish this work. Can you tell her that? Your Antagonista, your steward?”
“I’ll tell her.” I decide against passing along Bird Girl’s design for the starshina’s fate.
“Good,” Ulyanova says, then presses her lips together, as if evenly spreading lipstick. At least that’s familiar. She looks away, looks up, then focuses her pike-sharp gaze on me again. “Gurus know you,” she says. “I know what they know.”
“Okay,” I say.
“You brought dead girl from Mexico.” She gives me a disgusted look.
“True.”
“You almost died walking on railway bridge.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“And you killed your father.” She smiles with a sad, creepy kind of pride. “I stabbed my father. He did not die. Why I joined Skyrines. Anybody else know these things?”
Honesty is definitely the best policy here. “Joe Sanchez,” I say.
She shakes her head. “He is not like you, the corporal, or me, right?”
“Right.”
“Proof this comes from shithole Gurus. What they know, I know. Poor me! My soul is rotting. But is good.” She moves closer and grabs my arm. Her broken fingernails dig in. “Bits of Guru inside you, like bombs. No others needed. We kill other Gurus, and you help open gate.”
Before I can think of a response, she backs away, folding her arms. Joe moves into view as another volley of food is tossed through the cage. Nobody tries to catch the cakes. The bats watch, squeaking, then retreat. Maybe they need us fat.
“Borden’s getting bored,” Joe says, with a worried glance at the starshina. “Time for a conference.”
QUESTIONS NEVER ASKED
Borden’s bare feet just touch the mesh. She has reasonably long and grippy toes, handy under these circumstances. She folds her arms as Jacobi and Litvinov and their respective troops join us. Litvinov and Ulyanova are at the center of the cluster, Bilyk and Vera to one side. Vera seems deeply concerned about the starshina.
I’m curious about one big, important thing, especially after my conversation with her a few minutes earlier.
“Who set Ulyanova up for this?” I ask. I do not want to give Borden or Joe, or Kumar, control over the discussion. I’m not at all sure who’s on the side of those exposed to the tea.
The commander lets out her breath in exasperation, whether at me or at the cards we’re being dealt. She says to Ulyanova, “I’m not sure where we’re all at now—but we’d like to know how this happened to you.”
Ulyanova gives us a head-back, almost reptilian look, as if recovering from a punch in the jaw. Her brows draw together and she starts slow. “What I remember… On Mars, between big battles, we defend Voors and Muskies in station, when we are told important leaders, Wait Staff, come for visit.”
“When was this?”
“Last season,” she says, referring to the combat season I spent away from Mars, at Madigan. “They will inspect.”
“Inspect what?” Borden asks.
“Drifter, Voor camps. And another piece of crystal on surface, exposed by sandstorm. We are ordered by polkovnik to escort leaders sixty kilometers to this place, wait for them, then take them to lander. There are six, including polkovnik. We stay in tractor. Hours later, visitors and soldiers return with heavy box. They order us, put it in cabin, take all to lander. They have for what they come. No more talk.”
“They look human?” Borden asks.
For some reason, this seems to surprise Ulyanova. “They are Wait Staff!”
Jacobi looks back at Kumar, who as usual is staying a few meters from the group.
“An important pair of visitors, but just one tractor?” Borden asks. Ulyanova cocks an eyebrow at the commander. Is she the one who needs to explain the ways of rank?
“Only one,” she says. “Big enough.”
“Did they know about the other Drifter?” DJ asks.
“I think not. We carry them, try to make sure they get safe from Red. But strike happens—strong force, two millies, maybe one hundred Antagonista. Lander is in pieces when we arrive. We hear on radio is Russian force trying to reach us, join to repel enemy, but bolts strike tractor, throw bodies. Throw me on dust, but I am just shaken. Russians arrive, many die pushing back enemy.” She folds her hands. “Box is broken open, full of crystal and powder. Pieces inside are black.”