Page 96 of Throwing Fire

I know that not far below us, the tunnels are alive with the sound and motion of rushing water. Here, there’s nothing. Even the whisper of our movement is absorbed by the sandy floor.

When I see the grey shape of a ratman sitting in an alcove, I put my hand on Acker’s arm. Lean in and whisper to him, “You got a way of seein’ the Ojos without him seein’ us?”

Acker nods and speaks to the guard who taps his claws on a black palmtop. A holodisplay pops up, quarters, divides again into eight panes, seven of which show empty cells. The eighth pane expands to a square meter, so I can see the details of its occupant.

The Ojos sits on the bare stone floor, his back against the wall, knees drawn up. He’s wearing military-style black fatigues smeared with dust. There’s a dark stain down one leg, scrapes and bruises on his face and hands, but otherwise he looks unhurt. As I watch, he rubs a hand over his close-cropped head and glances up. Pale skin drawn tight over high cheekbones. Pink cheeks. Prominent Adam’s apple in a thin neck. Fuck, he’s a kid. Doubt he even needs to shave.

“You get a name?” I ask Acker.

Acker shakes his head. “He’ll tell us nothing.”

He’ll tell me something. Whether he wants to or not.

“Stay here,” I tell Acker. “Can he hear me through the security membrane?”

“I’ll turn on the comm,” the guard says.

“When I tell you to, open the membrane. My methods work better up close and personal.” I nod to both of them and go do what I need to do.

It’s ten steps down the corridor to the cell where they have the Ojos. They’ve put him in the last cell on the row. Furthest away from the guard. Not a good decision, strategically. Shows the rats’ inexperience.

I stop in front of the cell. The Ojos has his head down again and doesn’t register my presence. I center myself, tuck my hands behind my back and slide a knife out of my wrist sheath. There’s a panel on the wall next to the membrane that covers the cell’s opening. I wait until a red light on the panel flashes green before I speak.

“Hey.”

The Ojos looks up, starts in surprise, then rises shakily to his feet and salutes. “Sir,” he says.

Did he just call mesir?

“Have we met?” I ask.

“Yes, sir. When you visited Jielt with Miz Tyng. You shook my hand, sir.”

Fuck, he’s a Tyngaling. I shook a lot of hands that day. I don’t remember all of the faces attached to them, but I know they were all Tyng employees. I slide the knife back into its sheath and drop my hands to my sides.

“What’s your name, son?”

He glances upwards nervously, but answers after a moment’s hesitation. “Kein Aterra, sir.”

The name doesn’t mean anything to me, although the Aterra are one of the Founding Families.

“I need you to tell me how you got here, Kein.”

And give me time to figure out what the fuck to do next.

“We left Jielt on schedule, sir. We only ran into trouble when we got to the Clouds. They said the manifest for the devices was wrong. We didn’t have the right clearance or something. We called back to Base, like we’re supposed to. Base told us to wait, that they’d work it out with the Tiv Port Authority. They held us for over twelve hours, sir. It wasn’t our fault—” His voice rises, nearly breaks.

I wave off his panic. “No one’s blaming you. Just tell me what happened.”

“By the time we were cleared through, we’d missed the window. The Advance Team was already gone. We called in to Base again. We told them we only had half the numbers for the mission. I heard Steurler tell them, sir. But they green-lighted us anyway. They gave us the coordinates and the access codes for a second penetration point. There was a little resistance at the second point, a few of the Debased, but we overcame them. We got down into the tunnel but there was a Debased waiting for us, like it knew we were coming. It sounded an alarm before we took it down. Steurler told us to push through and get the devices set. Rayaz took his team further down the tunnel to cover us. They came under heavy fire. Steurler ordered me and Perry forward to help Rayaz’s team and the next thing I knew the tunnel was collapsing all around us. I must have been hit by a rock... I don’t remember anything else before waking up in here. We didn’t know they’d do that, sir. Destroy their own tunnels. Sacrifice their own people.” He rubs his hand over his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I know we failed. I’m so sorry. I just want you to know that I didn’t tell them anything.”

I nod at him, still thinking.

“Sir?” he asks hesitantly. “How did you know I was here? I didn’t give them my name or number, I swear.”

“We’ve got you tracked,” I say, hoping that the Ojos haven’t had their trackers removed. “Tyng takes care of its own.”

The kid bows his head. “Yes, sir. I’m grateful, sir.”