My mouth was suddenly dry.
“We need to run,” I whispered, leaning in and speaking into Hao’s armpit, which was as high as I could get, sitting down. Hopefully, she could hear me, while I’d only look shocked and disoriented to the marines, a drunk leaning against his friend. They’d have to have familiarity with a situation like that.
People don’t like to think. Always bet on laziness, mental or otherwise.
Maia likely wouldn’t hear me, sitting further along the bench. Hao would have to suffice.
“Weren’t you about to bribe someone?” Hao whispered back.
She hadn’t caught the Davan part. Or she didn’t catch his name in the docking bay.
“You know the kid who took our money?” I said, going for what I knew she’d remember.
“Yes?”
“He’s dead, we’re suspects, and that’s his uncle on the tribunal,” I said.
Hao was silent for a second or two. Long enough for me to wonder if I needed to explain the situation to her.
“Crud,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“We got set up.”
“Brilliant conclusion,” I said. “We’ll have to get out of here.”
“How?”
Good question. We were shackled, our hands in our laps, four marines with guns behind us. Think.
Nothing came to mind.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Do the suspects have anything to add?” uncle Caramon said. He still looked mad. Or maybe that was chock. He’s lost a nephew, and unless I had completely misunderstood Young Voice’s tone, they’d been close.
My mind fractured. I felt like I was looking in on myself from the outside, watching me perform a part in a drama vid. Part of me could analyze Caramon’s feelings. Part of me worked the tactical implications. Part of me gibbered with fear. I tried to shut that part up.
“We are innocent,” Maia said. “This is ridiculous. Review your camera footage, and you will see.”
Caramon’s cheek twitched, rapidly, three times. A stress tick of some kind. Maybe he didn’t relish telling Young Voice’s parents about his death.
Stupid. I was projecting my own thoughts. I didn’t know what Caramon thought. I didn’t even know if Young Voice had parents.
“Sergeant at arms,” Caramon said. “The recording.”
The big Raist logo behind the judges dissolved into a grainy image of a corridor. Light-enhancing filter. Three ceiling-mounted light panes far down the corridor, the rest shut down or broken. No light near the camera. Strange, on a well-kept ship like the Raist.
One shape, fairly tall, pushing a boxy container.
Young Voice, with our money in a bonded storage locker. The locker would have been red, like his jacket. On the recording, they were both grey.
Two shapes suddenly rose, right beneath the camera. One a head taller than the other. More than a head. Quite close in sizes to me and Hao.
They approached Young Voice, started to push past him.
The big shape reached up, pulling Young Voice back, Big Shape’s hand pushing into Young Voice’s back, again and again.
Knife strikes. Young Voice convulsed under the assault, staggering. I could imagine all the blood, buckets of it splashing the floor, the walls, the hands of the murderer.
Young Voice collapsed. Short shape tossed a bag over Young Voice, pulling him down, dragging the limp shape out of frame.
“I want to know where he is,” Caramon said. “Whatever you are planning, it will not succeed. Any contract you had with Davan is null and void. No Raist crew will honor it, no trade fleet vessel will honor it. Your only chance is revealing his location, and returning him unharmed.”
Unharmed. They believed Davan was alive.
That’s why it had been attempted murder. And the piracy was on board the Raist, stealing our own money, then presenting the com receipts in order to claim it again, from the Raist’s coffers.
The Raist would never let us go, not until they got Davan, Young Voice, back.
Which we couldn’t do, because we didn’t have him.
We needed to get to the Bucket, break it loose, and get away before the Raist’s long guns could destroy us.
Except that we had four marines with guns behind our backs.
Four marines with stun guns.
“How do you feel about getting shot?” I whispered to Hao.
