The Hunt (The Cage 2)

“I don’t want to be alone with him!” Nok threw a finger toward Bonebreak.

“She is right,” Mali interrupted. “We should not separate. It has taken us a long time to finally be together again. And also I think we are stronger as a group.” She paused. “A hell of a lot stronger.”

She smiled to herself, proud of her first successful use of cursing.

Anya reached out and squeezed her hand. Strength in numbers was an idea Anya had often talked about, back when they’d been trapped by the same private owner. Even at a young age, Anya had cared enough about freeing humanity to fight for it. At the time, Mali hadn’t wanted to listen. She had survived for years by being on her own. But now, as she looked around the room, she understood the importance of friends.

“I won’t let anything happen to Sparrow,” Cora said to Nok. “I promise.”

“What about you two?” Leon asked, jerking his chin toward Mali and Anya. “You in?”

When his eyes met Mali’s, she recoiled a little bit as that odd heartbeat sensation grew stronger. Suddenly her mouth felt dry. She knew exactly how risky it would be to go back. She knew that if she agreed, she might never have a chance to see the desert where she was born—those hazy memories of camels and bright sun. But she also knew that the human thing to do would be to agree.

“Yes,” she said, and Anya nodded as well.

Nok paced uneasily and exchanged a long look with Rolf. She sat nervously in the second pilot’s chair. “I still don’t like it, but I’ll hear you out.”

“Yeah, so what’s the genius plan?” Leon said.

Cora paced across the floor. “Fian is a traitor, but Tessela isn’t. If we can get back to the Hunt, we can get the dart guns, and she can alert the others. The Fifth of Five will join us.”

“That’s the extent of your plan?” Leon laid his head down on the teddy bear. “I’m regretting my decision already.”

“The boy is, for once, correct,” Bonebreak said. “You are thinking like a human, not a Kindred. Even if there are some loyal to your cause on the station, fighting will do nothing but get yourselves killed. They will always be stronger than you.”

“It’s the only option we have,” Cora said.

“It isn’t,” Bonebreak said cryptically. “I can offer a better option that will not result in a war.”

Mali whipped her head around to him and narrowed her eyes. “Do not trust a thing he says,” she started, but Cora held up a hand for her to be quiet.

“Go on.” Cora nodded for Bonebreak to continue, and Mali scowled.

Bonebreak drummed his fingers together. “Your skinny friend with the pink hair is right.” He pointed a pulpy finger at Nok. “The six of you couldn’t make a dent in the Kindred’s army, even with weapons, and even with your little mind tricks.” His voice grew cold as he glanced at Anya. “Your original plan to run the Gauntlet was wiser.”

“Didn’t you hear Rolf?” Cora said. “It started today. We missed it. The module won’t return to the station for another twenty years.”

Bonebreak drummed his fingers together faster. Mali couldn’t see his face behind the mask, but she pictured a grin that matched the creepy delight in his voice. “That is true. The Gauntlet will not return to the Kindred aggregate station number 10-91 for six hundred rotations. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t go elsewhere. Once it leaves the Kindred’s station, it happens to be headed for a Mosca planet named Drogane. I spent some time there in my youth—a lovely place. I could take you. One of you could still run it, free your species, much celebration.”

The ship was so quiet that Mali could hear only Bonebreak’s raspy breathing behind his mask. She curled her hands into fists. “He already betrayed us once. He will again.”

Cora nodded. “Mali makes a good point, Bonebreak.”

“It is true that I was going to turn you over to the Kindred, but not on a whim. They were simply offering a better deal. And I am always loyal to those who offer me the best deal. Just ask that one.” He jabbed a finger in Leon’s direction.

Leon snorted. “Sure, but what if it’s a deal we don’t want to make?”

“Just listen to my proposal, childrens. I take you to Drogane. My brother lives there; he will shelter us all in his house with his own little childrens. You must have a sponsor—I will fill this role. I will help prepare you for the Gauntlet tests, girl.”

“What’s in it for you?” Cora asked.

Mali paced, fighting the urge to yell at all of them that it was a very bad idea to even be considering accepting his help.

Bonebreak stood. Hunched over, he was barely taller than Mali, but his chest was so wide he was nearly twice her size. “Exclusive trade rights. If you beat the Gauntlet, humans will be free to barter and participate in commerce. The Kindred and the Gatherers are too formal for our tastes, when it comes to business transactions. And the Axion—not even we like to work with them. They’re frighteningly brilliant, always scheming something. You humans don’t care as much about the rules—I like that. If you agree that I will be your exclusive trading partner once you gain autonomy, I will help you beat the Gauntlet, and we will all make mountains of money.”

Mali kept waiting for Cora to say no. To realize that nothing was worth placing trust in Bonebreak. But Cora kept running her fingers over Lucky’s journal, as though she couldn’t quite get away from what he had said.

“Okay,” Cora said, sounding slightly hesitant.

Shit, Mali thought, and didn’t even take the time to congratulate herself on her second successful use of cursing. She spun on Cora. “This is a mistake.”

“Ignore the angry one,” Bonebreak said, sweeping his hand in Mali’s direction. “You are making the right choice. Now, on to Drogane. It takes a half rotation, so we will need to refuel. And purchase a gift for my brother; a Mosca never sees family empty-handed.”

“We don’t have any more money,” Cora said.

Bonebreak glanced around the room, rubbing his chin beneath the mask. “We could always chop up your friend. The dead one, I mean. He doesn’t need his body anymore, and I know a black-market dealer not far from here who—”

“No!” Cora looked horrified. “Don’t touch him.”

Bonebreak cocked his head. “Your hair, then. That will pay for fuel and landing fees.”

Bonebreak slid a knife out of his pocket.

“Deal.” Cora grabbed the knife and strode to the facilities room in the back of the ship, slamming the door behind her, as though she was afraid she would lose her resolve.

The slam reverberated, ending the conversation in the main section of the ship. Nok and Rolf looked at each other uneasily. Leon started picking at the shielding and thread on his shoulder.

Mali paced, fears rumbling in her mind. Part of her agreed with what Lucky had said. Every time she looked at the scars on her hands she was reminded of how much humans deserved better.

But trusting a Mosca wasn’t the way. The last time she had trusted a Mosca was back on Earth, when she had been four years old and watching the goats on the dunes near her family’s camp. A hunchback man in a strange mask had told her a goat had run away, but he could take her to it. Not long after, she had awoken chained to a stake in a Mosca marketplace.

If you have no owner, the Mosca had said, then I claim you for my own.

She paced over to Anya, arms folded tight. “I do not like this,” she whispered. “We have no private owner. We have no paperwork. There is nothing to stop Bonebreak from claiming us as his own property the moment we land on his planet.”

Anya thought about this for a moment. “Do you remember how we got away from that Mosca scum on station 3-06?”

Mali had been twelve years old. Anya only five, but already tough. They had been caged together by a private owner who had made them fight with other girls and a chimpanzee.

But then they’d figured a way out.

Mali nodded. “Yes. I must tell Cora. It is our only chance of ensuring that Boneb

reak will not cheat us.”

44

Cora

THE SHIP’S FACILITIES ROOM had no mirror, but the walls were made of a dull reflective material that projected back a murky image of her face.

She looked awful.

The oversized safari clothes she’d grabbed hung limply on her frame. They looked almost like the plain khaki uniform she had worn in juvenile detention. Her eyes were red with lack of sleep, and her face looked gaunter. Her hair was a nest of long, tangled curls.

She squeezed Bonebreak’s knife in one fist and tilted her head to the left, so her hair spilled out to one side. She twisted it into a tight, thick coil that she could cut through with one slice, and set the blade against the outside strands.

It’s just hair.

But it didn’t feel like nothing. If she did this, it would trigger a new series of events. Bonebreak would take them to his brother’s planet. They’d have to figure out how to work with him—and she’d have to continue training, without Cassian now. This was more than one slice of the knife. This was, maybe, cutting off her last chance to go home.