Fire Storm

by Chris Ward

  ‘And when is the next cycle?’

  Solwig looked grave. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘You see? It is fate that you have come.’

  Caladan frowned. ‘And what do these slavers do?’

  ‘They round up our people, and take them to work the mines and factories on Cloven-1.’

  ‘And you know these things because?’

  ‘I was fortunate to escape. That is how I know the common language. It is the language of the slavers. After half my life as a captive, I stowed away aboard a slave ship and escaped back to my home. I found my people almost all gone. Since then, I have done my best to protect them, keeping them safe until the coming of the God who Points the Way, who will free their families, unite our people, and bring peace and safety to our home.’

  ‘How am I supposed to do that?’

  ‘We have prepared for your coming. We have restored our ancestors’ ship.’ Solwig stopped by a cave opening. ‘I’m afraid that I’m an old man now,’ he said. ‘I will allow my daughter to explain. She knows such things far better than me. Lorena, come forth.’

  A blooming aquamarine blue originated from a figure standing in the entrance. Caladan blinked. The girl had been there the whole time, her transparency such an effective camouflage that he had not seen her until her colour appeared. Now, it drew his eyes like a magnet.

  As blue as a tropical sea, Lorena was even more beautiful than his frustratingly elusive captain. Caladan felt an urge to fall to his knees and express his undying love for her, but figured that wasn’t becoming of a god. If there was any reason to help these people, however, it was to remain in this mysterious girl’s presence for as long as possible.

  Lorena—who was perfectly naked—cocked her head and smiled, a mane of blue hair shimmering and sparking as though electrified.

  ‘The God who Points the Way,’ she said. ‘How we have waited for this day.’

  ‘You can just call me Caladan,’ Caladan said. ‘It’ll save time. It’s a bit of a mouthful, that title, isn’t it?’

  ‘Caladan,’ Lorena said, Solwig and then his delegation echoing her. ‘It’s even more perfect. It rolls on one’s tongue like a ripe berry.’

  ‘Um, thanks. So, about this starship?’

  ‘Lorena has learned everything she could about its construction,’ Solwig said. ‘As a god, you will have the power to make it fly, of course, and it will take you to Cloven-1, where you will destroy the slavers and free our people.’

  ‘Let’s have a look at it, first,’ Caladan said.

  With Lorena beside him, Solwig led them deep into the cave. Caladan was beginning to wonder where they would find a crashed starship among the narrow tunnels, when he saw a glimmer of light from up ahead. A few steps farther on, the cave opened out into an open basin neatly hidden inside a circle of towering cliffs.

  And there, in the very centre of the clearing, sat the oldest, most decrepit spaceship Caladan had ever seen.

  ‘Beyond,’ Solwig said, with a sweep of his hands. ‘The starship of our ancestors, ready to rise again, to become the starship of our god.’

  14

  Lia

  ‘Harlan!’

  She could imagine her transmission echoing across the Matilda’s bridge as the droid lumbered to answer it, his awkward, trash compactor’s body struggling to get around in the tight confines of the flight deck. At some point, she knew, they would have to find him a more versatile shape.

  Panic filled Tantol’s streets, with people milling back and forth, seemingly trying to get away from the spaceport but unsure which way to go. Lia pushed her way through the throng like a swimmer fighting against a vicious tide, ducking below flying elbows and sidestepping a couple of stray blaster shots fired in desperation, each one adding more panic to the pandemonium.

  Wheeling and diving through the skies above, the Devastators engaged the more numerous and more heavily armoured Dust Devils, the cannons of both creating a searing light show, but with their speed and agility they had by far the upper hand, taking out two enemies for each loss of their own. Tantol’s defensive guns had turned on both factions now, and Lia dived for cover as the wreckage of a Dust Devil crashed into a building to her right, causing the stone façade to collapse in a cascade of rubble which blocked half of the street.

  She paused momentarily, guilt that this could somehow be her fault making her stop to help a couple of off-worlders pull rubble off a half-buried Kalistini merchant still astride a taxi-bike.

  Straining to lift a block of concrete that must have weighed half a ton, she felt a shadow fall over her.

  ‘You need a hand? I have three going spare.’

  ‘Stomlard?’

  ‘I thought you would have left by now,’ the Karpali engineer said, his superior strength showing as the rock bounced away into the dust.

  Lia grinned. ‘Still here. Trouble finds me. Are you still good for the job?’

  ‘If it involves getting out of this hellhole, I’m ready to leave when you are,’ Stomlard replied, clacking pointed teeth together in a gesture Lia had learned was an expression of amusement.

  Lia pulled a broken signboard off the merchant and a relieved face looked up.

  ‘Thank you,’ the merchant said, then reached into his pocket and tossed Lia a coin. ‘Get yourself something to eat.’

  As the Kalistini stumbled off into the crowd, Lia turned to Stomlard. ‘Do my clothes look that cheap? I mean, they’ve got a couple of tears, but—’

  The three-armed off-worlder smiled. ‘I think it’s your hair.’

  ‘What’s wrong with my hair?’

  ‘Captain!’ came a sudden buzzing robotic voice.

  Lia pulled the intercom off her belt. ‘Harlan?’

  ‘Captain, where are you? We’re done refueling. The ship is ready when you are. I wouldn’t waste too much time. The battle is getting closer. The spaceport has activated its deflector shields, but they’re only good against light body armour cannons.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ Lia said, turning to Stomlard.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life,’ the engineer said, clacking his teeth together again.

  The elevator that took them up the angled metal tube to where the Matilda waited moved far too slowly for Lia’s liking. Aware they could easily be next, she watched a nearby landing pad stem take a shot in the crossfire, then bend over on itself almost in slow motion, the cruiser balanced on the pad sliding off, briefly tangling in its mooring ropes before breaking free and crashing onto a line of buildings already smoking from several stray cannon blasts.

  As the elevator doors began to open, Lia pushed out and ran across the landing pad while cannon fire flashed and flickered in the air around her, the battling fighters dipping and swooping through the landing pads, using some of the bigger ships for cover. Harlan had already opened the exit hatchway, so Lia ran straight up to the bridge, Stomlard following behind.

  ‘Get us in the air, Harlan,’ Lia shouted, waving Stomlard to a passenger seat, then jumped down into the pilot’s chair and strapped herself in.

  ‘Shields are already up,’ the droid replied, turning to observe their new guest. ‘But our cannons are dangerously low on ammunition.’

  ‘We’re running this time,’ Lia said. As the Matilda rose off the landing pad and rocketed up into the sky, she turned to Stomlard and asked, ‘Who are the ruling warlords in the area? Any idea who those fighters belong to?’

  ‘The Devastators are Deen Vothstul’s,’ Stomlard said. ‘Bionetics trader, controls the eastern seaboard. The Dust Devils, I’m not sure. They could be Raylan Climlee’s.’

  Lia glowered. ‘Raylan? He’s here?’

  Stomlard shook his head. ‘He won’t be here himself, but he has bases everywhere now, set up under disassociated names to keep him out of trouble. It’s common knowledge, though. Everyone knows he’s playing the warlords off against each other. A couple of months back, Vothstul got into a skirmish with Cote O’Faln, who runs several military shipyards far
ther north. Cote’s base got hit and he himself killed.’

  ‘He’s creating a power vacuum,’ Lia said. ‘When a dead warlord’s followers break up into battling factions, he’ll move in to establish peace, and with it, control.’

  ‘I heard he’d got a seat on Trill’s Independent Interplanetary Council,’ Stomlard said. ‘They’re voted positions. He thinks it’ll make him legitimate.’

  Lia gritted her teeth. ‘It’ll make him easier to kill, with a bit of luck,’ she said.

  Before Stomlard could reply, Harlan5 lifted a hand. ‘Captain! A brace of Devastators has followed us. They’re locking cannons onto our—’

  The Matilda shuddered. Cupboards burst open and debris crashed across the bridge as an alarm blared and warning lights flashed.

  ‘Harlan! Get to the controls!’

  Harlan5 started to move, then stopped. ‘Captain, I’m caught—’

  A wall locker had broken open, and a metal sheet had lodged itself into a joint of Harlan’s arm. He tried to twist around to pull it free, but it was out of reach.

  ‘If you need help … I can fly a starship,’ Stomlard said, raising two hands at once. ‘I was Trill Starfleet, after all.’

  ‘Great!’ Lia shouted, jumping out of the pilot’s chair. ‘I was always better at shooting things.’ She lunged for the gunner’s seat, only for the ship to lurch, throwing her sideways. One of Stomlard’s hands reached out to catch her.

  ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, climbing into her seat.

  ‘This is a perfect fit,’ Stomlard said, patting the arm of the pilot’s chair with one hand. ‘What happened to your previous pilot?’

  Lia scowled. ‘He took a holiday. A long one.’

  The Matilda shuddered again before Stomlard could reply. On the rear visuals, two glowing dots were closing in. As Lia watched, streaks of cannon fire flashed past them.

  ‘Harlan—can you punch that coordinates screen from where you are? Can you reach?’

  The droid twisted, straining against his new metal rein. ‘Just.’

  ‘Good. Set us on course for a wormhole—quiet one, out of Trill System. Anywhere will do. We’re good for fuel, but we need some downtime to pluck the tracker and fix the Matilda up a bit.’

  ‘Captain, my programming suggests that allowing me to perform such a complicated procedure in my current form is far from wise. The possibility for error is high—’

  The ship shook again as cannon fire flashed in the visuals. Stomlard frowned, then tapped a few buttons, making the ship spin on its axis, narrowly avoiding another brace of cannon blasts. ‘Always wanted to fly one of these….’

  ‘Just keep those Devastators off our tail,’ Lia said, pulling herself back into the gunner’s chair after a strap had broken free, threatening to spew her across the flight deck. ‘Harlan, just do it!’

  ‘Okay, Captain, if you say so….’

  ‘Engaging rear thrusters,’ Stomlard shouted, punching a button that sent the Matilda blasting up through Cable’s atmosphere and into space. Lia watched the pursuing Devastators on the screen, wondering what had made them tail her ship. Had Kyle Jansen caught up with her already, or were they trying to settle an old score for Raylan Climlee?

  ‘Harlan, do you have any historical detail for those ships? I want to know what kind of arsenal they’ve got on board.’

  The droid shook his head. ‘Sorry, I archived that part of my memory when I took on this form.’

  Stomlard turned to Lia. ‘Your main service droid is a trash compactor model?’

  Lia sighed. ‘It’s a long story.’

  Harlan5 punched a nearby locker, making the metal clang. ‘I’ll have you know, you shouldn’t base your opinions solely on appearances. Who are you, by the way?’

  Lia laughed. ‘Harlan5, meet Stomlard, our engineer, and temporary pilot.’

  ‘Why is it so difficult for you to find a pilot with a full complement of arms?’

  As Stomlard frowned, Lia said, ‘He has two more than the last one. How many arms is enough?’

  ‘I didn’t trust him either.’

  ‘I see your ship is missing an arm, too,’ Stomlard said. ‘It should have eight, am I right?’

  ‘It got blasted off,’ Lia said. ‘I forget where.’

  ‘They’re coming around,’ Stomlard said, nodding at the visuals. On the screen, one of the Devastators was outpacing them, trying to flank them. With a growl of concentration, Stomlard jerked the ship into a roll. Harlan5 bounced off the ground then thumped back down. Lia hit the cannons, then grinned and cried out.

  ‘Got one!’

  Her excitement was short-lived as the Matilda shuddered again. Two lockers broke open, throwing packets of dried food across the floor. One struck Harlan on the head and bounced down into his trash compactor before he could grab it.

  ‘I hope no one wanted dried Earth-veal soup….’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Stomlard said. ‘Your controls are a bit unresponsive. I think there’s some damaged wiring somewhere.’

  ‘There’s damaged wiring everywhere,’ Lia said. ‘That’s why you’re here. Harlan, have you got some coordinates for me?’

  ‘Punching them now, Captain,’ the droid said, straining to turn around again. One thick hand floundered clumsily at the nearest control terminal. ‘Three … two … one … oh, wait, not that one—’

  Mid-shudder, everything around them went still. The Matilda’s thrusters fell instantly silent, as though the ship had become an empty glass ball floating through the vastness of space.

  ‘I’ve missed that feeling,’ Stomlard said. ‘It gives me a tingle under the scales every time.’

  As the thrusters abruptly began to shudder again, indicating that they had passed through the stasis-ultraspace wormhole and had reached their destination, Lia said, ‘Which system did you take us to?’ She turned to look at Harlan5, but the droid was staring at the computer display, one arm lifted into the air as though it were his only way to express surprise.

  ‘Um, Captain, I think I made a mistake….’

  ‘What? Where are we?’

  Harlan5 looked up. One huge compactor hand scratched at the top of his head unit in a worryingly human gesture. ‘I’m not sure….’

  15

  Caladan

  ‘Do you see them?’

  Caladan peered through the binoculars he had salvaged from the crashed Interceptor. ‘Yeah, in the diamond-shaped ship, is that it?’

  ‘That’s them.’

  ‘What is that thing?’

  ‘A slave barge. Our people live all across this forest,’ Lorena said. ‘We cannot leave the forests, because there are too many large predators on Cloven-2, and in the open our camouflage cannot protect us. We move our homes and rebuild, but the slavers follow us everywhere. They have spacecraft and weapons. We have nothing but ourselves.’

  Caladan turned to her, putting on his best hero’s expression. ‘Until now,’ he said.

  Smiling back, she repeated, ‘Until now.’

  Caladan looked away quickly, lest she see the insincerity in his face. It was an exchange they had repeated so often it was beginning to grate, and he felt none of the confidence that these people had in him.

  ‘Let me go down and take a closer look,’ he said.

  Solwig, on his other side, put a hand on the stump of Caladan’s left shoulder, squeezing it as though it were a source of power. ‘No—it’s too dangerous.’

  Caladan smirked. ‘I’m a god, aren’t I? Just leave it to me.’

  As Solwig relented, Caladan resisted the urge to pat the blaster tucked into the belt he had recovered from the Interceptor. On closer inspection, the GMP craft had proved a treasure trove of top-grade weapons, which Caladan had instructed his new followers to retrieve and load onto their wreck of a salvaged ship. With parts taken from the Interceptor, they were also repairing the damage enough for the ship to take one last flight. It would get him as far as the looming moon of Cloven-1, and from there he could find a better ship to t
ake him somewhere more hospitable.

  The Luminosi would have to figure things out for themselves, although he found he was developing a fondness for Lorena, who had shown him more attention in a couple of days than Lia had in half a dozen years. Being answered with a smile instead of a scowl or a frown was a definite bonus.

  But as a god capable of freeing an entire race from slavery? That wasn’t quite his thing. He flew starships, gambled, and tried to coax drunken women into his bed.

  Once away from the moon, he would send out a distress signal to a more reputable GMP branch than the one he had escaped, and let them take it from there.

  Leave the heroism to the real heroes.

  Solwig and Lorena waited on the ridge while he climbed down the rocky slope and into the forest, hurrying through the trees in the direction of the landed ship. He didn’t have to go far; within a few minutes he could hear the idle roar of a starship’s engine cooling system from somewhere through the trees.

  An area of forest had been cleared to create a landing pad, with several tumbledown buildings surrounding it, stores for food or machine parts most likely. One or two were heavily fortified, suggesting they contained weapons.

  A fat silver transporter sat on the landing pad, several crew members milling around outside. Three hundred metres across, Caladan recognised it as an interplanetary barge, designed for no more than the movement of large numbers of people, usually between space stations or moon bases. It had few weapons, and would usually be accompanied in flight by a squadron of fighters to ward off any attacks. That it sat alone on the landing pad was testament to its crew’s confidence that the Luminosi posed no threat.

  In the lower part of the ship, a hangar door slid open, and a couple of dozen land-speeders trundled out. Low to the ground but built on four wheels with extended suspensions to lift the vehicles quickly over rocks or through rivers and swamps and fronted by a revolving chain-belt that would clear any undergrowth, they were designed for moving at speed through forested areas.