Beyond the Rim

Everything floated by in a disconnected haze. I barely knew where I was, what had just happened. I knew no past, no future, no pain.

Some part of my brain registered what was happening, but it was detached from what little I felt.

Seethe set me down in a room with miniature waterfalls nestled among flowering plants along the wall. The room smelled like flowers, and the carpet placed over the marble was soft against my feet.

Seethe had to hold me up, I was swaying so much.

Someone came in. Ranior. Behind her strode a tall man with a military bearing and short-cropped brown hair.

Ranior wore a skintight scarlet suit, her hair up in a golden twist. Jewels sparkled in her hair. She moved around me with a feline grace, looking me up and down.

“Yes, we have the raw material here, now that Kavanau’s done with the prelims.” She took my chin, turned my face from side to side. “He’ll have to get healed up before we demo him, but that will be no more than two days. We’ll see if we can get a buyer, and whether they want us to customize him, do it themselves, or leave him natural.”

She tucked her finger under the robe, and pulled it down, undoing the sash. The robe collapsed to the floor. She traced the wounds on my chest with one cold finger. “Almost looks better this way. Some clients like them a little roughed up.” She looked at the man behind her. “What do you think, Vane? Kavanau says that this man isn’t fit to be much more than to be part of a bulk lot. He says we won’t get eighty creds for him.”

Vane stepped forward. He had intense brown eyes in a chiseled serious face, and his blue suit barely concealed his muscles or the silver tattoos that snaked above his collar and his cuffs.

He scrutinized me for a moment. The drug must’ve been wearing off some, for I felt a hint of shame at being looked at so frankly.

“You have to respect Kavanau,” said Vane, in a low strong voice, “but he isn’t in the marketing side of the business. He peers into minds and rips out souls, but he doesn’t know how to read quality, especially when it comes to raw material.” Vane pinched a piece of flesh on my arm. “I’d say, as he is, about two hundred creds. Respectable sum, but if he were genhanced—he’s got a lot of potential in that area. And some would pay extra just for the natural red hair.”

“Exactly what I thought.”

“Of course, he’s nowhere near what the other one is. Rock could be sold as-is for three hundred. His size, those eyes, the fact that he’s completely gen-natural, even the fact that he’s from a Rimworld— some pay more for those things. His type of buyer would most likely be a Rimmer who is looking for a few years of good labor, or a Core-worlder with a taste for the exotic. The buyer for this one—a man or woman who wants individual attention, a good-looking house-slave, or something to customize. I may even have several buyers in mind for both of them.”

“Good. You can contact them with the slaves’ basic profiles, but we’ll make them wait for the holo-demo in order to see them. Give them the full blitz, shock them into bidding and buying high.” She smiled, a greedy little smile that poked a dimple into her pretty face.

“I wouldn’t mind this one for myself,” she said, “but I’m actually little partial toward the other one. I always end up selling the ones I like—I have to see what price they’ll fetch, and by that time, they’re gone. Oh, well.” She sighed. “It’s always best not to get attached to any one of them, although there is something thrilling in the fact that these two crash-landed here. I do hope Kaza isn’t getting carried away with the other one—we don’t want his psyche permanently damaged, in case the clients want mental flexibility.

“Tell Kaza to put Rock in a holding room, get him fixed up. Meanwhile, we’ll get you taken care of.” She touched my face, ran her finger along my lips. I flinched away.

“It looks like Soothe is wearing off,” she said. She kissed my lips, slowly, lusciously. Despite myself, something tingled through me at this. I blinked and looked away. “Don’t worry, boy. I don’t test drive all my merchandise.” She looked at Vane, who had just finished speaking into his com, presumably to Kaza.

Please let Rock be all right, I thought. Though after what they’d put him through already, I knew he was not. Neither was I, come to think of it.

Vane and Seethe took me to a room on the same level with a bed, stone-covered walls, and a lush red carpet. Vane sprayed FoamGro onto my wounds, which were starting to sting, some of them still leaking blood. “Try not to move very much,” admonished Vane, as he applied the healing painkiller. “Rest as much as possible. Food will appear in that alcove.” He pointed to the wall beside the bed. “At first it will be light, a prescription for what you have been through, but after that, you can program anything you want. Within reason, of course.” His face creased with a faint smile. “There is a bathroom over there.” He indicated the opposite side of the room, where a blank beige door stood in the wall. “That should be it for now. If you need anything, press the button by the door.” He turned on his heel, and walked out the door, Seethe following.

I lay on the bed, just breathing, the FoamGro fizzing on my chest. I could barely believe they’d just left me here like this, without restraints. If I was creative, I might even be able to find something to kill myself with, but that thought was now distant, alien. They were probably watching my every move, and would catch me if I tried anything. There might even be an EmergencyGard in place, which would shock me into unconsciousness if it looked like I was about to commit suicide or try to escape.

Not that I was about to do anything foolish. I didn’t want to do anything at all; my mind was slogging through each thought as if through thick mud.

Exhausted, I drifted off to sleep.

Screams. Darkness. Pain gripping me, gnawing me, pulling me under. I thrashed under its power, trying to escape.

I couldn’t breathe, and struggled out of the clutches of the dark undertow—

I gasped awake, sitting straight up. My lungs filled with air and I lay back down, just concentrating on breathing.

The nightmare faded. Had any of it been real? I was lying in a luxurious room; something smelled like food right beside the bed.

I took the bowl of broth and hunk of soft bread from the alcove, and devoured it, barely tasting it.

I felt a little nauseated then, and lay back. Across from the bed, a high rectangular window looked out on the sky. The sky was blue, and a fluffy cloud floated over the rim of one of the moons. I wondered if the moons had names, or what name this world had….

It was strange to think that I was still here. All that had happened earlier still seemed part of a nightmare, not part of what was happening now. Perhaps none of that had happened, and I was just waiting for somebody to rescue us and take us home…

I could almost believe this was true, except for the fact that, beneath the robe, the cuts and whip-welts stung, the painkiller beginning to wear off. And Rock was not here, and I had no idea where he was—

The door opened, and Rock walked inside. The door slid shut behind him, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

He just stood there for a moment, drew his robe tighter around himself, then looked up at the window.

“Are you all right?” he said, his blue eyes shadowed. Then he carefully sat down on the chair beside the bed.

I coaxed words from my throat. “I’m all right. You?”

He nodded. He clasped his hands on his lap, and looked down at the rug in front of him.

I didn’t want to think of what had been done to him, to us. I cleared my throat. “So, we’re roommates again.”

A smile tipped the edge of his mouth, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It looks that way.”

“You better watch out, or I’ll play some pranks on you.”

“I could always see them coming.”

“So you let me cover you with laser-foam while you were sleeping?”

“No, I guess I didn’t see all of them coming. That one made me late for my Psych exam, and I had to take it again.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You were …busy.” A hint of resentment laced his voice. I didn’t blame him. I’d always been out, fooling around, while he was in his dorm, studying. Half his free time he spent training with his paramilitary group. The other half the time it was me that dragged him away from his studies. During spring break a year ago, we’d visited Vega on Core 12523. She’d just graduated the fall before and was starting her new job as a marketing designer, so she was especially busy. We’d dragged her out one night though, took a pod to the moon, and climbed through its jungles to the ancient ruins at the summit.

“Remember the Lagesh Moon,” I said, “the Lake in the Clouds? The planetlight on the water…we ate our supper over a campfire in that old tower.”

“You forgot to bring the food like you said you would. We had to make pancakes.”

“They were good.”

“Better than if we’d planned it that way.” He gave me a half-smile. Then his eyes shadowed again and he looked away. “I’m sorry, Dev.”

“What for?”

“For what they did to you. I couldn’t stop it.”

“You couldn’t have. There were too many of them.” This luxurious room suddenly felt small, no freer than a prison cell.

“I could have tried harder.”

“They’d have killed you, Rock. Look what they already did—”

He jolted as if shocked. Then he rose and went over to the window. For a long time he just stood there. Then he said, “Did they do it to you?”

“I…don’t know what you’re—”

“Rape. Did they rape you.” His voice was low and hoarse.

“No.”

He sighed, and he sagged as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. It made his formidable body look smaller, like an older version of himself. “Then I did save you from that, at least.” He walked over, stood in front of the bed. “They hurt you, though?”

I nodded.

“Can I help in any way?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, they put that stuff on me, told me to rest—” I sat up, as if to prove I was okay. Pains in my chest and legs made me wince. I hoped he didn’t see my reaction, and I pulled the robe closer to my chest so he wouldn’t see my injuries.

I tried to formulate the right words. “Is…there anything I can do?”

“No,” he said. He then turned and walked into the bathroom, and the door closed shut.

Hours later, I couldn’t stand it anymore; I needed to use the bathroom. The door was locked, so I knocked on it. “I need to—”

“Yeah.” He walked out and let me inside.

In the mirror, the face that looked back shocked me. Red hair stood up at all angles, some of it plastered down with dried blood. My pale face was a pastiche of whip welts and cuts, my lip swollen, my reddened eyes unnaturally bright, as if with fever. How they saw anything in me in this state I didn’t know. I could better agree with Ed’s assessment of me than that of the ringleader and her lieutenant.

When I came back out, Rock was sitting on the bed, but he stood up when I approached.

“Would you like to use the bed for a while?” I said. “I need to walk around for a little bit.”

He nodded and lay down carefully. I walked around the room. It felt good to get my blood moving, but soon I felt lightheaded. I sat back down in the chair. Rock was lying on his back, eyes closed. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Out the window, the sky was a pumpkin orange brushed with sweeping purple clouds. I nodded off, then the food came, two steaming bowls of soup and two rolls. We ate in silence.

The sky deepened to violet, then black, pinpointed with stars. We just sat there; there was nothing to talk about or do. I avoided thinking as much as possible; there was nothing ahead of us, really, but more pain and fear. To think of the past was to invite sharp stabs of despair.

After a while, Rock got off his chair and curled up on the floor in the corner of the room.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“Going to sleep.”

“You can have the bed. I had it all day.”

“You take the bed. I don’t want it.”

“You’re just saying that because you think I need it more.”

He sat up in the darkness. “And I need it more? I can sleep anywhere, doesn’t matter. You, you’re used to soft beds, soft everything.”

“You think I can’t take anything you can, don’t you?”

“You can’t.”

“Well…” I thought about what the Educator had said. How I thought about Rock, how I thought about myself. He was right. There was no use pretending, even in jest, that I was better in any way than Rock was. He was the better man in all points. “You’re right.” I stood, painfully. My feet were now almost free of the painkiller, and the half-healed cuts burned.

“But I’m not going to use the bed either. If you want it, you can have it.” I lay down beside the bed. The carpet wasn’t bad, but it grated into my wounds through the thin robe, and I hoped that Rock would take advantage of my offer so my sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

It took a long time for me to go to sleep; the rug began to pull at the wounds on my chest. I tried lying on my back, but I wasn’t used to that, so it was maybe three hours before I finally drifted off.

When I woke up, Rock was standing, gazing out the window. One of the moons shone like a dull shell in the indigo sky.

I sat up. My head whirled, then settled. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, worse than the pain burning across my skin.

Rock turned, looked at me. Then he said, “Ar standen corei.” I had no idea what he was saying, other than that he’d gone crazy. Then I realized it was the code language he’d begun to teach me in college.

I searched my mind for what it meant. It was a convoluted code, modified from the one he’d learned from his paramil buddies, but Rock had learned each word substitution by heart, as a second language. I was still in the equivalent of first semester in learning it.

Did it mean “flowers are failing?” No, that couldn’t be right.

Aha!

It meant, “We are going to escape.”

Escape.

Though it was probably futile, hope sprang up in my heart.