She lashed out to the left as she cleared the door, both blades extending towards the closest target — one of only five armed guards, she realised, as she sprang towards him.
Then something went terribly wrong. In the space between heartbeats the world lurched around her, stealing her balance. Both arms spasmed, her fingers losing their grip on the ancient swords. The room spun and her legs turned to rubber, sending her sprawling on the metal deck. She landed on her side, bouncing her head hard enough to see stars, and heard the heavy thud and clank of Kreon falling behind her.
What the hell is happening?
Her eyelids fluttered, out of control. The rest of her body was limp and boneless.
A shadow loomed over her vision — and then a familiar face came into focus.
Gerian.
“Interesting.” The Magistrate’s voice was smooth as silk. “You figured out that Processing was a trap? And yet you were stupid enough to come here! Or perhaps you just… got lost? Either way, a poor showing from the Lantian’s greatest warriors.”
Kyra wanted to swear at him; to curse his lying, traitorous soul, to spit venom — but her lips barely moved.
“I’ll admit, your skills are impressive. I didn’t think you capable of hacking our systems. But the cautious man controls his destiny, as they say. He produced an object the size of a ration can, but conical, with hundreds of tiny protrusions all over its surface. He held it up, turning it so it caught the light and glittered. “Magnificent, isn’t it? Only a handful of these still exist… Perhaps you’ve heard of them? Erresonador. A last vestige of our ancient harmonics technology — the one thing you Lantians couldn’t steal, when you ran away! It has so many esoteric applications, yet I find myself using it exclusively for this. I call it my Sonic Scrambler — it has a much more dramatic ring to it than Erresonador.”
The information filtered into Kyra’s brain; she was dazed, but whatever force had been applied to her body it wasn’t directly affecting her ability to think. Harmonics… the age-old technology which led to the downfall of their way of life on Earth. Weapons of mass destruction capable of tearing continents apart… Kyra’s history was a little hazy owing to her spending most of her teenage years fighting, but she thought harmonics had become a forbidden science, as part of the pact signed when both Lemurians and Lantians agreed to leave Earth for good.
It came as no surprise to her that the Lemurians had cheated.
Gerian paused for a second, scanning the room. “And where is our young protégée? Still fighting the good fight?”
There was the dull squeal of something sliding, then Enneas backed through Kyra’s field of vision dragging Tristan. She cried out in fury at the sight of the boy’s lolling head, but all that came out was a cracked murmur.
Gerian strode back into view, bending to look down at Tris. “Dying? Our star witness?” He glanced over at his pilot, wagging a finger. “Enneas, really! I expect you to treat our guests better than that. Now put something in that hole, would you? Might as well try to save him. It’s rather difficult to torture information out of a corpse — believe me, I’ve tried.”
Enneas wandered off for a minute, then returned to kneel beside Tris. From a battered green case he took out a can with a pointed nozzle, and proceeded to spray a foam-like substance into Tristan’s chest. Kyra would have winced in sympathy if she’d been able to move.
“Will he live?” Gerian sounded more curious than concerned.
Enneas grunted dismissively, and administered a shot to Tristan’s neck.
“Ah.” Gerian placed the toe of his boot in Tristan’s ribs and gave him a nudge. “Hm. Perhaps he’ll surprise you? He has my DNA inside him. This boy’s a fighter.”
Then he turned to see Kyra staring at him, her lips struggling to form swear-words. “Ah, my little princess! Not saving anyone now, are we? You must not be very happy with me. I am genuinely sorry to do this to you — if only because you’re so cute.” He winked at her, then strolled out of view. “And the Mighty Lord Anakreon! Official representative of the Lantian people, and the much-vaunted First Circle of Atalia! My Lord, do you realise what you’ve done? All that work thrashing out a new border, and you’ve thrown it all away! Any attack on an institution we control is an attack on the Lemurian Empire. You have committed an act of war against us, Lord Anakreon, and it will not go unpunished. I have a fleet of ships and an army of Transgressors just waiting to tear your mouldy fortress world to pieces! I’d have found an excuse eventually, but on their behalf I thank you for making it so much easier.”
Kyra lay immobile, unable to do anything but listen, as she stared at Tristan’s lifeless body. Once or twice she thought she saw a tiny flutter of movement; a tremor in his eyelids, or the slight rise of his ruined chest.
He’s alive. I know it.
But the bitter truth was, she didn’t know at all.
Gerian strode back into view, his attention returning to Tristan. Explosions and gunfire could still be heard from outside; coming from the monitors, Kyra realised. The tower she was lying in was where the battle was being conducted from, and judging from the atmosphere in the room it was going rather well. For them.
“Ah, Tristan,” Gerian said, an edge of faux-sorrow to his voice. “Such a pity you won’t live to claim your inheritance. I have to admit, I’m rather pleased about it; I currently hold stewardship of the Seven Systems and I’m loth to surrender it. But treason will quickly unburden you of lofty titles, and will grant me free rein to discover all you know about the Lantian side of this pathetic rebellion. I knew you for the ringleader as soon as I laid eyes on you. Oh, you played your role well enough, bumbling about the place… but no-one has ever resisted my Gift as surely as you. Such power you must have, and such secrets to protect with it! I will very much enjoy the process of extracting them.” He nudged Tris with his boot again, and this time Kyra definitely saw his eyelids flutter. Gerian tutted. “We’ll just have to ship you straight to Transgressions, and see if some of their toys can keep you alive. Enneas is very handy to have around, but it’s disgusting how efficient he is at killing things.”
And with that, he moved away. “Prep them for transport,” Kyra heard him telling Enneas. “Take them to Transgressions; I’ll have a team of Sculptors meet you there. And get my shuttle ready. When they’re stabilised I’ll take them with me, straight to Helicon Prime.”
The sound of a nervous throat-clearing came from the far side of the room — one of the console operators, Kyra thought.
“Excuse me sir, but how would you like to resolve the battle outside?”
Gerian’s voice changed to kind of the tone one might use when discussing the weather. “Ah, my would-be revolutionaries. Such a pity. I spent a great deal of time recruiting them. But I’d say Transgressions has plenty of stock to work with for the time being. Might as well kill them all.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when a massive explosion set the tower trembling.
“What was that?” Gerian snapped, his eyes going to viewscreens decorated with scenes of the slaughter outside.
“Not from the main battle,” one of the console operators confirmed. “That blast originated inside the facility.”
Gerian seemed to consider this for a few seconds. “No matter. I need these prisoners moved immediately. My only concern is getting them to Helicon Prime for trial and interrogation. I will leave it to the Governor here to mop up this mess.”
“Sir, monitors are showing insurgents appearing inside our fortifications! We’re seeing fighting in the outer ring, on sub-levels six and seven. It appears they’ve blasted their way in through old mining tunnels.”
Gerian ignored the man. “Enneas!” he shouted. “I said prep them for transport. I’ll ready the shuttle myself. Bring them straight to me.” He stalked towards the far wall, and Kyra heard elevator doors swish open beyond her line of sight. “And get the Governor down here now! He’s going to have a riot on his hands.”
Kyra focus
sed her attention on Enneas. If her mind wasn’t compromised, maybe her Gift could get some glimpse of his plan for moving them…? But no. Gerian’s blocking had descended again, his raw psychic strength making her a prisoner in her own mind.
“Grav-shackles!” Enneas was demanding. “There must be some in here. I need three pairs now.”
Boots running. A tech came forward, offering Enneas a case. He took a number of items out of it, then dismissed the man. He disappeared behind her for a few seconds, and Kyra was surprised to find she could still feel her arms as he wrestled them above her head. Cold, hard metal clamped around her wrists, and Kyra knew she’d been shackled.
Not for the first time… hopefully not for the last.
The cuffs had looked high-tech; if Kreon was also still awake, there was a chance his transponder would be able to hack them.
Or ALI…
Then the shackles began to whine, and Kyra was dragged to her feet by an invisible force. The pain was intense as it lifted her by her wrists, pulling her inexorably upward. When the motion finally stopped she found herself hovering in mid-air, her feet dangling a few inches off the deck.
Grav-shackles! Suddenly, it all made sense. This is how they move prisoners around here! It was hardly humane, but given what they’d seen downstairs she couldn’t imagine anyone losing sleep over it. It was a nifty trick; not genuine anti-gravity, she realised, but most likely working off magnetic repulser strips embedded in the floors and ceilings. Only a Lemurian would have built them into the control room — presumably in case a bored commander fancied a little late night interrogation.
Struggling to ignore the screaming of her shoulders, she watched as both Kreon and Tris were hauled into the same position. Kreon’s eyes were aflame; Tristan’s head sagged forward, blood dipping from his lips and chin. From this angle she could see what Enneas had done — the boy’s chest was covered in a thick foam, which must also extend inside of him.
Stopping the bleeding, keeping the organs where they should be…
At least one of Tris’ lungs had been punctured, judging from the bright, frothy blood coming out of his mouth. Hopefully the foam was plugging any holes down there…
Shit. His prospects weren’t good at all.
Enneas had noticed her Arranozapar swords lying on the deck where she’d dropped them. Both blades had straightened and shrunk as soon as she’d lost contact with them.
You touch them, you die, she thought, willing him to hear the threat in spite of Gerian’s blocking — but he stooped down to collect them, swishing them through the air one after the other.
“You know, these are really nice,” he said, playfully swirling them around in front of her. “When we’re done with you, I might just keep these.”
Great. Now I’ll have to disinfect the handles.
Enneas tasked two of the armed guards to take charge of Tristan and Kreon. He stepped behind her and took a firm grip on her waist… then slid his hands down onto her buttocks. She could almost see the smirk on his face as he gave them a squeeze.
Oh, now you are definitely getting killed, she promised.
Kreon was pushed into the lift first, followed by Tris. Both guards still wore their rifles. One was bigger and one more wiry, but neither posed much of a threat when compared to Enneas. Kyra wished she could swear at him, but the paralysis was total as the doors slid shut behind them. She found herself staring at the thickening pool of Tristan’s blood in the far corner. She’d seen so much blood spilled today — seen Tristan spill a fair amount himself — that one more puddle shouldn’t bother her. But it looked so sinister, glistening there in the corner; a hint of things to come, and a reminder of just how deadly their situation now was.
As if I needed one.
For some reason, the sounds of distant gunfire were magnified inside the lift, as though being channeled up the shaft. There was no way this noise was coming from the fight outside — not unless there was a crew lounge three floors below them with people watching it on screens at top volume.
Enneas was pressing buttons on the elevator’s control panel, and with the tiniest of jolts, they were off.
Going down…
She almost laughed at herself. Where else was there to go from the top of a tower?
The echoing repeat of blaster fire was growing louder, punctuated by the tremor of small explosions.
Sub-level six? It suddenly struck Kyra that the tower’s levels were numbered upwards from the surface. If they were numbered downwards the same way, then the new outbreak of fighting was directly below them. Either in the ring surrounding the shaft…
Or in the tower itself? Surely not!
But Enneas was muttering something under his breath, stabbing at the controls more violently.
“We’re still descending?” one of the guards asked.
“Level Zero, for the Magistrate’s shuttle bay,” the other said.
“I know,” Enneas snarled at the man. “They must have done something to the elevator when they hacked into it. It’s not stopping.”
“What did they do?” the first man asked, uselessly.
“We’re slowing,” Enneas said. “Sub-level four… five… six.” The car gave another microscopic lurch as it came to rest at its destination. “Damn it!” He slammed his fist into the control panel, denting the metal. “Get ready.”
The doors slid open, and immediately Kyra saw the problem. Laser blasts flashed past, blazing holes through drifting clouds of smoke. It was like this entire level was on fire — or else someone was doing their damndest to make it so.
Kyra felt more powerless than she ever had.
Being immobilised was one thing. But being immobilised in the middle of a battle…
Enneas ducked his head out, snatching a quick look in both directions. “The north-west corner has the closest elevator,” he told the guards. “No way these idiots can have hacked that one. We’ll make for that, but keep your eyes peeled.”
One of the guards made to move out, but Enneas threw an arm out, holding him back. A torrent of laser fire tore through the air, missing the guard by inches. “Eyes. Peeled,” the pilot reminded him.
Enneas’ rifle led the way out of the elevator. He held it one-handed, a pistol in his other hand pointed in the opposite direction. He made it two steps beyond the doors before another blaster bolt scored holes in the floor next to him. He snapped off a couple of shots with the rifle, backing up against the wall, and scanned the rest of the corridor. “Move!” he yelled at the guards.
Kyra saw panic in their eyes, and realised they’d never been in a proper gunfight. Why would they? Prison guard was a job for civilians wanting a power trip, not combat operatives wanting to take it easy. Even their armour was ill-suited; they wore open helmets and partial plates that protected the chest, shoulders, and upper limbs only. As more determined fire blazed down the corridor, neither of them looked thrilled to step out of the elevator.
“NOW!” Enneas roared. There was more than an edge of threat to his voice, and the guards suddenly overcame their reluctance. Not entirely, though — the one who pushed Kyra out made sure to stay well behind her, using her dangling body as cover.
As her view expanded to include the corridor, she watched Enneas snap off another brace of shots. A shriek came through the smoke up ahead, and she saw a figure crumple to the ground.
They’re right here! The resistance — whatever the hell they’re called — we’ve wound up right in the middle of them!
That’s when she remembered Loader, still safely tucked away inside Kreon’s backpack. Between his command of Kreon’s transceiver and his girlfriend’s insider knowledge, they’d conspired to hijack the lift car. Good job, tin can, she thought to him. If only he had the Gift!
He may not, Kreon answered her, but I do.
Kreon! A wave of hope washed over her. The all-pervasive blocking that engulfed her in Gerian’s presence was gone — obviously the man had other things on his mind. She wasn’t sure ho
w the renewed communication could help them, but it was a start.
Kreon, the… Ingumend? The resistance! This is their work.
I believe so, he replied, though it is a strategy of which we were not informed.
But don’t you see! We were never with the Ingumend! Gerian recruited all of us for this op, including those poor bastards outside! These guys must be the real deal. I bet their mission was the same as ours — and Gerian couldn’t tell us about it, because he didn’t know!
Kyra’s excitement was short-lived.
She was now a living shield, her fragile body hanging like a flag on a battlefield.
Up ahead she could make out the burly forms of prison guards, their armour glinting with reflected laser fire. They were holding a fortification of some kind, mostly obscured by the smoke. Whoever was shooting at them — and she fervently hoped it was these Ingumend — they were holed up further along, sending a torrent of fire towards the guards’ position. Stray blasts zinged past, scoring the walls and ceiling; it was only a matter of time before one of them found its way into Kyra. The armour she wore was good quality, but designed with movement in mind. It would protect against a glancing shot or two, but anything that hit her directly was going straight through.
A pair of guards hurried past, rifles cradled, intent on the smoke in front of them.
“Hey!” Enneas yelled at them.
The lead guard skidded to a stop, his friend crashing into him. They turned together, to see Enneas waving a badge in their faces. “You two are being reassigned to prisoner transport. We’ve got to get these three to the Magistrate’s shuttle before the insurgents get any closer.”
The helmeted heads looked at each other, then back at Enneas. “Yes sir,” the leader said.
Great. An honour guard.
The two men took point as Enneas guided them in the opposite direction of the firefight. Blaster bolts came thick and fast from behind, but the curvature of the tower saved them; a few metres beyond the lift doors and they could no longer see the swirling chaos. Explosions still shook the tower as they moved off, though whether from grenades or something more esoteric Kyra couldn’t tell.
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