'Fuck you!' she screamed, the words ripping themselves out of her throat. She bucked and twisted, the restraints cutting even deeper, although the pain was welcome in a way. 'What's the point of all this? What do you want from me?'
Moss stepped forward with an almost balletic grace and punched her once on the side of her chin. Her head snapped round with the impact and she gasped with shock.
'All in good time, Dakota.' He took her bruised chin in one hand, his voice soft and low. 'You blew the heads off innocent men and women and left their mothers to suffocate in Redstone's air. The lucky ones just froze to death. Tell me the truth, just between you and me. Tell me you enjoyed murdering them all. Tell me how good it felt – the same way you told your interrogators.'
His rancid breath was warm and moist, his lips just millimetres from her ear as he leaned in close once more. 'What would all those people back on Bellhaven think of you, if they knew how much alike we really were? Would they forgive you? Would they welcome you back? Or would they execute you for your crimes and toss your corpse into an unmarked grave?'
Dakota's nostrils were now full of the stench of his breath and unwashed skin. His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. 'I inserted a pre-recorded loop into the surveillance systems covering this cell. Do not think for one moment your actions have not been constantly scrutinized since you arrived here. But, for the moment, I'm sure you'll be relieved to know they'll have no idea what's in store for you until it's much, much too late.'
And then she realized what was so familiar about those scars he was hiding under his skullcap. He looked like someone who'd just had the surgery for installing machine-head implants.
'Fuck you,' she hissed. 'I don't know what the hell you want from me or what this is about, but-'
'I'm about to give you a chance at a decent head-start,' he hissed, cutting her off. 'You're going to have the opportunity to get out of here. You're resourceful and you might even stay alive if you're lucky, but I rather suspect you won't.'
'For fuck's sake, what are you doing all this for?'
'I want you to lead the Bandati on a wild-goose chase, Dakota. I want you to keep their attention off me while I finish some business with the Queen of this stinking planet.'
He moved away from her, towards the shadows in the rear of the cell. 'And if they do catch you, you can tell the Queen that I do not respond to threats. Run if you can, my dear, but don't interfere with me or with your precious derelict. I have better plans for it than you can ever imagine.'
'For God's sake, I don't understand!'
He didn't answer. She watched as part of the wall slid aside, and he stepped through into the corridor beyond. The door slid back into place a moment later and she was alone once more. What now? She was still bound to the gurney. She lay there for several more minutes, hyperventilating and looking wildly around her. Suddenly, without warning, her restraints came loose. She sat up slowly, blinking away tears and rubbing at her chafed and bleeding wrists.
She lifted herself off of the gurney and it suddenly lowered, folding up into a thin slab resting on the floor of the cell.
The canister was still there, on one edge of the slab. It rattled violently. As she watched, it began to open. There was the sound of escaping gas and, again, a strong smell of ammonia.
The lid of the canister lifted up on four glistening steel rods, revealing a hollow interior. Something mewled from inside, the sound disturbingly like that of a kitten. Two of the rods rose higher than the other pair until the lid toppled off onto the floor with a crash.
Dakota darted into the far corner of the cell, horrified yet unable to move. There was nowhere else to go.
A tingle in her neck announced the return of the Piri Reis. But something was different now; her implants made it clear the ship was a lot closer than before.
It was, in fact, several hundred kilometres overhead, locked into orbit around Ironbloom.
‹Dakota. I have been removed from the Blackflower facility and transported to-›
Ironbloom. I know.
‹Immortal Light appear to have traced the path of our communications, Dakota. As a result, I can make no guarantees as to the duration of any-›
I know. How long do we have?
‹Impossible to estimate precisely. I must point out your heart rate and adrenalin levels are dangerously high.›
Dakota laughed weakly at this. If you only knew, she sent.
She stepped towards the canister, with the idea of pushing it out of the door-opening. She yelled as she touched it, and quickly stepped away. It was hot – hot enough to burn her.
And enormously heavy.
She cursed and cradled her singed hand. No, not just heavy, she realized; it was locked onto the slab somehow, possibly even magnetized.
‹I do not understand-›
The blimps, she sent frantically, are they on their way?
The canister rattled again, and the mewling grew louder – angrier. Whatever was inside was clearly restless from its long incarceration.
‹There is a train of blimps passing through the city at this moment, but the one you are scheduled to board is still several hours away. It is advisable to wait until then, otherwise the chances of my interference being detected are far higher. I feel it necessary to point out that in order to effectively infiltrate Darkwater's traffic control systems, it was necessary not only to piggyback the appropriate protocols via the Magi derelict, but to-›
There isn't the fucking time, Piri! You need to redirect the nearest blimps to me right now. I'm in serious trouble.
Something pale and wormlike was beginning to emerge from the top of the canister.
No, several somethings.
The stink of the creatures that emerged made Dakota gag. At first they reminded her of fat caterpillars, but about the length of her arm and twice as thick. Each had tiny, stubby, almost comical legs, perhaps a dozen in all. She wondered how they'd survived being crammed into such a confined space.
‹I can send the nearest blimp train towards your tower immediately, but I must warn you the chances of detection are vastly increased-›
I didn't say I wanted to debate the fucking matter! Now, Piri, or I'm dead!
There were four grubs in all, pale-bodied, with small, puckered mouths. They did not appear to have eyes, and their heads waved blindly in the air as they emerged. The nearest to Dakota seemed to sense something, however, when it turned in her direction, the pitch of its mewling changing to become more intense, more desperate.
Born hungry.
They moved so slowly, however, and surely The nearest reared up on its hind legs and hissed at her, baring tiny, razor-sharp teeth. Its body trembled, as if scenting fresh meat, and with an undulating motion that made her stomach twist, began to creep towards her.
Oh crap, thought Dakota. Ten Things got bad for Corso after he was removed again from Dakota's cell.
His immediate conclusion when he awoke once more strapped on a gurney was that they were going to resume the torture. A tight strap under his chin held his head immobile, and he could feel bands of pressure where others secured his legs and arms. His mouth felt thick and clammy, familiar evidence that he'd been drugged into submission even as he slept.
He was being wheeled down a passageway, its etched-copper walls alternating with bright strips of light as four blank-eyed Bandati – one at each corner of the gurney – pushed him along, the wheels bumping noisily.