The arrow slowly turned until it was pointing down and the numbers went up, telling Gretchen that Bedj-ka was a hundred and thirty meters behind her now.
Outside, Gretchen paused a moment to let her eyes adjust to the hard sunlight. The smell of cacao tree mulch and cacao blossoms hung heavily on the air. The edge of the green, leafy cacao tree grove was about fifteen paces ahead of Gretchen, and she caught sight of a bunch of metal pipes rising up from the ground. A moment later, liquid sprayed from the tops of the pipes and Gretchen caught the sharp scent of chemical fertilizer. Markovi's glitch.
No one else was in sight. Markovi had said the hands-slaves-were all in their quarters, and Gretchen guessed the office staff was all inside with the air conditioning. Sweating beneath the golden sun, she trotted around the perimeter of the equipment barn until the arrow pointed straight ahead and the number ticker informed her that Bedj-ka was only seventy-three meters ahead of her. A concrete pathway lead to a series of what appeared to be large white bunkhouses, and Gretchen assumed they were the slave quarters. The arrow steered her to the second bunkhouse. Gretchen shut off the tracker, then rapped on the whitewashed door. It opened on a middle-aged man with a whipcord body and a leathery, burnt-in suntan. A silvery band encircled his wrist.
'Yes, Mistress?' he said.
Gretchen tried not to grimace at the man's deferential tone and the title he had bestowed on her. 'I'm part of the team that's here to fix the sprinkler and fertilizer system,' she said. 'We need a runner to help us out, and Mr. Markovi told me I could find a kid named Jerry here. He's supposed to come with me.'
'Yes, Mistress.' The man vanished into the bunkhouse. Gretchen tried to peer inside, but the interior was too dim to make out more than shadows and shapes. She did get the sense of a large space filled with what were probably bunk beds. Snores and grunts issued from the room, indicating that many of the slaves were taking advantage of their enforced idleness to catch up on lost sleep. Gretchen, who had grown up in South Africa on Earth, remembered reading about Apartheid in history class and times when workers who were slaves in all but name learned to sleep standing up on long bus rides to and from their jobs. You caught sleep when you could.
'Here he is, Mistress,' the man said, pushing a boy out into the sunlight and closing the door. Gretchen looked down at the kid. He was short, barely coming up to Gretchen's breastbone, with dark eyes and a headful of straight black hair. Thin build, sharp nose, fine-boned face. Gretchen put his age at nine or ten, despite his lack of height. The boy met Gretchen's gaze for the briefest of moments before dropping his eyes to his ground.
'Jerry?' Gretchen asked. She had to be certain this was the right boy.
'Yes, Mistress,' he said quietly. 'Yatt said you need a runner?'
'I do. Jerry, are you new to Sunnytree Farm?'
He glanced up at Gretchen in puzzlement. 'Yes, Mistress. I haven't even been here a month. If you want someone else as a runner, someone who knows the farm better, I can go get-'
'No, that's all right, Jerry,' Gretchen said. 'Let me see your hands, please.'
Even more puzzled, Jerry held up his hands, palm up. Blisters mixed with calluses, and his nails were broken and dirty. Gretchen took hold of both his wrists for a moment, then let him go. No Silent jolt, but she hadn't been expecting one. The Despair had robbed her of that.
'Walk with me, kid, and quick,' she ordered, and headed back toward the equipment barn. The boy hurried to keep up.
'Mistress?' he asked. 'Is something wrong?'
'I don't have a lot of time to explain,' she said, 'so listen hard. I stuck a chip to your shackle when I grabbed your wrists. It broadcasts a silence loop to the farm's computer so it can't monitor what we're saying.'
'Mistress?' the boy said hesitantly. 'I don't understand.'
Gretchen reached into her jumpsuit and fished out her gold medallion. It was a risk to wear it, but experience had taught Gretchen that the medallion often convinced suspicious slaves faster than mere words. 'Do you know what this stands for, Jerry?'
The boy halted and stared, forcing Gretchen to stop as well. Awe mixed with excitement on his face. 'Everyone knows what that is. You're a Child of Irfan.'
'That's right,' she said, tucking the medallion away again. 'I'm here with a couple other members of our order to get you out of here. You game?'
'But-but I'm not-' he hesitated, clearly afraid of her reaction '-not Silent. Not anymore. That's why they sold me.'
Gretchen's heart twisted in sympathy and she struggled to keep her voice steady. 'Your Silence doesn't matter to us, Jerry. You do. Are you in or out? I need to know now.'
'In,' the boy said to Gretchen's relief. She wouldn't have to bring up his mother to convince him. Kendi had told her to save Harenn for later, if possible. No sense in overwhelming the boy.
'Then let's get moving,' Gretchen said, hurrying down the path toward the equipment barn again. 'We don't have a whole lot of time.'
'How are you going to do it?' the boy asked. 'Do you have a plan? Are you going to kill the master?'
'Never mind the details,' she said, 'and no, we aren't planning to kill anyone.'
'Oh.' The boy looked disappointed. 'Will it take long? Are we going today?'
'No, it won't, and yes, we are. Now come with me and don't ask so many questions. We'll tell you everything you want to know, but later.'
They rounded the corner of the barn-and came face-to-face with Joe. Gretchen only barely managed to avoid slamming into him. The boy dodged behind Gretchen with a gasp.
'What are you doing out here?' Joe demanded. 'And what's with the kid?'
Gretchen's heart thudded hard, but she managed to keep her face expressionless. 'We need a runner, one who knows the farm,' she said. 'So I co-opted one of your hands. We didn't figure you'd mind.'
Joe frowned. 'We run a tight ship here, lady. This kind of thing needs to be-hey! Aren't you the tech that came by to fix the sprinkler glitch in the first place?'
'That's me,' Gretchen said. She drew her flashlight from her belt and tapped herself on the chest with it. 'Corporate HQ says the fix-it program had some bugs-a glitch within a glitch. What are the odds, hey?'
'I don't like this,' Joe growled. 'That man and that woman coming here to ask about a hand we just bought, then this glitch pops up and I catch you running around with the same kid those two were asking about. I better call Mr. Markovi.'
Adrenaline sang in Gretchen's blood. 'You don't have to call him,' she said, pointing with her chin to a point past Joe's shoulder. 'Here he comes now.'
Joe turned to look and Gretchen slugged him with the flashlight. The man staggered in surprise but didn't fall. Gretchen hit him again, and this time he went down. Gretchen glanced quickly around. The main house was blocked from view by the equipment barn and no other workers were in sight. A small bit of luck to balance out the big chunk of bad.
'Fuck,' Gretchen muttered, looking down at Joe's motionless body. 'Now what?'
'There,' the boy said, pointing to a clump of ornamental bushes next to the equipment barn. 'I'll help you drag him.'
'You're quick on the uptake.' Gretchen said as she grabbed one of Joe's wrists. The boy took the other. Together they dragged him toward the bushes.
'Faster on it than him,' the boy said. 'That was a really old trick.'
'Still works,' Gretchen pointed out, her calm voice belying the tension she felt. Someone could come by at any moment, might even be watching them now.
Once Joe's limp form had been stuffed into its leafy hiding place, Gretchen bent down and extracted his earpiece. Then she took the boy's hand and all but sprinted back toward the barn, only remembering at the last minute to slow down to a brisk walk when they came into sight of the house. Once they were in the equipment barn, however, they ran all the way to the equipment bay where Ben and Lucia were waiting. Computer parts and sprinkler equipment were scattered over the floor.
'Complication,' Gretchen said as loudly as she dared above the noise. 'Joe got suspicious. I had to hit him to keep him from calling Markovi, and I don't know how long he'll be out.'
'Vik!' Lucia swore. She opened the nearly-empty equipment crate. 'Get in, Jerry-hurry!'
The boy needed no further urging and jumped into the crate. Ben and Lucia carefully piled equipment on top of him while Gretchen kept a lookout, then they shut the lid and maneuvered the crate out of the bay.
