by Kate Elliott
Lily paused, standing over the unconscious figure beneath her, and stared at Windsor, suddenly at a loss. Did he mean to kill them? And a wash of memory hit her—of the first person she had killed, in the raid into the 30s dig on Harsh. She forced herself to look down. Through the thin plastine helmet she recognized the face of a man—young enough, with pale skin and thin lips gaping open. Nausea hit her. She was no longer sure she could kill someone this helpless.
“They’ve got trank guns,” said Windsor in disgust. “Look at where the levels are locked on. This would kill an elephant. I wonder if these poor sods knew, or if it was meant to be an accident?”
“Korrigan,” said Stanford as he took his victim’s gun and reconfigured the level of tranquilizer. “We have another group of four closing at northwest.”
“Ransome.” Windsor was also setting a new level in the gun he held. “You know how to work these guns?”
“No.”
“Stan, shoot them all. Here.” He tossed the gun he had just reset to Lily. “Let’s go.”
“You’re just going to kill them?”
He stopped, staring at her. “Kill them? Why the pissing hell would I want to kill them? They’re just hirelings, and if I’m any bet by this gear, they’re probably from some pumped-up detective firm and don’t even know what they’re doing, or what they’re up against. It’s them as hired them as I want.”
To his left, Stanford shot—once, twice, three times—and came over to Lily where she still stood above the unconscious man. “Might I request that you stand aside, please?” he asked, more sarcastic than polite.
“Oh,” said Windsor, looking at her. “We’re just tranking them. Acceptable levels. Not the ones that were meant for us.”
Relief flooded her, wiping away the weight that had settled on her. She stepped back. “Oh.” Hawk was already fading back into the trees, attention on the distant approach of the next four.
“Where do you come from, Ransome?” Windsor asked. You’ve got some pretty strange notions. It ain’t war anymore. We did our job. Haven’t you had enough killing?”
“More than enough.”
“Korrigan. Two hundred meters, northwest.”
“Split and fan out. Same tactics.”
They took out the next four and made a wide swing around the meadow where they had originally met. Encountered no one else. It took just over an hour across the rough terrain, keeping a careful watch, halting frequently to listen, to come within wrist-com short-line hailing distance of the Hope’s second shuttle. They could not risk any other communication for fear it would be picked up. The ship hunting them passed overhead at least six times, and they continued to hear it running a slow sweep pattern over the area as they walked. Lily did not see Fred at all, but once a branch came crashing down from above and almost hit Windsor in the head. He swore good-naturedly into the air, talking to Fred through their invisible com-system.
Lily attempted com, got no answer. “I don’t want to try it again. In case they can pick it up. I’ll send Bach ahead.” Windsor shrugged his assent and she spoke her commands to Bach, rather than whistling. Bach blinked lights and rose and vanished into the leaves. Kyosti came and crouched at her feet, still but alert, like some kind of hunting animal. It made her nervous, the uncanny quietness with which he regarded her and their surroundings in turn.
“Aren’t many of those left,” said Windsor.
The comment startled her. “Je’jiri?”
He grinned, glancing down at Hawk, then back at her. “Those ’bots. We used them, those we could get. Motley was the best with ’em. She’d bonded a Mozart. They say she was never the same after it burned out.”
They waited. Bach returned and sang softly, Patroness, I saw the shuttle. It is undamaged. I did not venture into the clearing itself, but saw no sign of any of the shuttle’s occupants or of any other activity.
Lily translated. Windsor rubbed the perpetual stubble on his chin.
“It isn’t likely they missed it,” said Lily.
“They might have. Fred, take a look.”
Wind—or Fred—rustled in the branches above and was silent. They waited again. Under the trees, it grew darker as the sun sank towards evening. Lily could hear the trail of the ship as it passed close by them and faded into the distance,
Windsor shifted suddenly. “Are you sure?” he said to the air, then turned to Lily. “Fred says no sign of a fight. If we make a rush for it we can get off the ground before they strike.”
Lily nodded, and they went on. The preternatural silence with which Kyosti padded beside her, following her directions without comment except for the occasional brief string of words directed at Windsor, made her uneasy. Even now, she had to keep reminding herself that this was not the same man—or man at all.
Soon enough they reached the edge of a clearing. The Hope’s number two shuttle sat in the middle of the stretch of grass and flowering stalks. All was quiet. Lily lifted the wrist-com to her mouth. “Ransome here.” Like an answer, a figure appeared on the ramp, staring around. It waved, not at them, but at their presence. The shuttle’s engines came to life, warming up for the lift.
“That’s Jenny.” The sound of the shuttle’s engines masked the noise of the distant ship circling the area. “It must be clear.”
“Fred.” Windsor’s comment was a command. He looked at Lily. “We’d better break now. That ship will be back.” A moment later branches cracked and a spray of sticks and leaves peppered the ground as Fred dropped nimbly out of the canopy.
They broke out of the cover of the forest in a group, spread out quickly. Jenny, seeing their numbers, raised her gun, but held it steady until Lily halted at the base of the ramp,
“Jenny. They’re clear. Let’s go.”
Jenny nodded and turned to go inside the shuttle. Lily let the others precede her, watching the sky until all were inside. Above the far rank of trees, she saw a slim metallic shape skimming toward them. She hurried inside and closed the ramp behind her, strapping in as the pilot jogged the controls and began a steep rise from the ground. Lily could not help but reflect, thrown to one side by the hard bank, that even under such circumstances, Pinto would have made the ascent smooth. Where was Pinto now? Surely they would not have killed an injured man.
They rose, shuddering under the strain and scream of engines. A sudden blow rocked them.
“Shit!” Windsor grabbed chair arms and pulled himself forward to the front. “Bastards are firing on us.”
A second blow. “Lost the number three thruster,” swore the pilot. “And I’ve got a broken connection to the back four throttles.” Smoke seeped in through the roof panels. “I can’t hold it.”
“Put it down.” Lily reached reflexively for the gun clips on her belt. “Jenny. Everyone armed. Windsor—Korey. What weapons do you have?”
Windsor chuckled. “You’ve got a damn lot of nerve.” A sudden, hard jerk of the shuttle sat him down in the center aisle. He grabbed and held onto an arm and stopped speaking as the shuttle yawed crazily to one side and then bumped roughly to a landing back in the clearing. Out of the front plastine window they could all see as two of the fine silver ships landed gracefully beside them. “What kind of weapons do you think these people have? In a firefight, we’ll lose.”
Lily unstrapped and retrieved a pistol and a laser rifle from the locker beside her. Rainbow handed out weapons to the other crew. “I thought you said they meant to kill us. I’m not going quietly.”
“Boss.” Fred was looking out the front window. “We’ve got company out the forward ship. Concord Intelligence badge. And the guy who was with the Captain—he’s got a CI badge, too.”
Lily looked up. “Deucalion!”
“Deucalion?” Windsor rose and stared. “I thought he looked familiar. Hell if it ain’t Gwyn’s boy.” The statement brought him to pause and glance wonderingly at Lily. “That would make him your brother.”
“Half-brother. Yes.” Lily moved forward to peer out as
well, but the smoke was getting heavy and fogging the plastine. Behind her, several people began to cough. “He wasn’t under restraint?” she asked Fred.
“No, Cap’n. Not as I could see.”
“I’ll go out. Jenny, cover me.” She went to the lock and found both Windsor and Kyosti with her, Jenny behind them. “Kyosti, stay here,” she ordered. He simply gazed at her as if he did not understand her words. She considered, briefly, asking Jenny to restrain him, but a quick glance at Jenny’s face as the mercenary examined Hawk with undisguised curiosity made Lily decide against it. She was not ready to expose to the others how much he had changed. “Korey.”
“Fred and Stan can cover me,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. “I’m tired of this mess. If Gwyn’s boy isn’t on our side, then there’s no point in trusting anyone at Intelligence.”
Lily shrugged and led them down to halt at the bottom of the ramp, letting Deucalion and the people with him come to them. Deucalion, walking with a stiff limp, looked furious as he neared. A woman wearing plain gray fatigues and the badge of Concord Intelligence walked beside him. She had black hair pulled tight in a bun on her head and dark olive skin. A single red dot—cosmetic, surely—marked the center of her forehead. Lily recognized her immediately.
She spoke under her breath to Windsor. “That’s the woman I met in Reft space.”
Windsor’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “I’m sure,” he muttered. “It has to be. She was with Basham when they pulled me in. There’s something about her …”
The party stopped some five meters from them.
“Deucalion. Where is Yehoshua? What happened to Pinto?”
Deucalion glanced at the woman standing beside him. Her gaze, cold and measuring, focused on Lily, Windsor, and Hawk, each in turn. “Yehoshua is with Pinto on board the other ship. Pinto is hurt, but receiving care. This is Maria Rashmi Leung. She came along just in time. I don’t know who the hell shot at us, but when I find out …”
“Maria,” murmured Lily, just as Maria said, “Yes, we have met before.” And drew a pistol from her fatigues. The others in her party—six of them—drew pistols as well.
Deucalion stared. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Move away, Belsonn,” Maria snapped. “This doesn’t concern you.” She looked at him briefly, her lips twisting. “Although I suppose it does, given your breeding.”
“This violates every covenant of the Concordance. I suggest you—”
“Belsonn. I said move aside.”
Lily began to lift her hand, slowly, to signal Jenny.
“We have guns trained on your ship,” added Maria. “You and Windsor and Hawk can come quietly with me, or you and all your companions can die. That’s the choice.”
“We’ll kill you first,” Lily replied, quiet.
“It won’t make any difference to my plans. My people have their orders. Just as long as we’re rid of you. Of your kind.”
“You’re serious,” said Deucalion. He had not moved away. Now he stared, as if those two simple words had left him bereft of further speech.
“Damn.” Windsor turned his head to look at Lily. “I can shoot her first, Ransome, but she’s right. Those two ships will make short work of us. I should have known. I hate it when I miscalculate.”
“I don’t expect you miscalculate often, do you, Windsor?” Maria’s voice was entirely unsympathetic, yet not at all gloating. “Or you wouldn’t have survived as long as you have.”
He gave a short, caustic laugh. “In my former line of work, there was no room for miscalculation. I’ve gotten sloppy lately.”
“I don’t understand.” Lily looked from Maria to Deucalion to Windsor, seeing some relationship between the three of them—between their separate roles in the League’s history—that she could not sort out from the information she had, much less comprehend. “Why do you want to kill us?”
“Kill them!” Again, the two words exhausted Deucalion’s outrage for the moment. He looked utterly confused.
“You’re a danger to everything we’ve built.”
“I am? I’m not even from the League.”
“Your kind. What you represent of human nature. Concord was too lenient after the war.”
“So you’ve taken matters into your own hands.” Windsor grinned. “I kind of like you, min Leung. You’re sort of like a bounty hunter, hiring yourself. Carrying out your own justice.”
Her face tightened, and she pointed the pistol at him. “I don’t need your opinion, Windsor. You gave up a right to have one long ago, by the deeds you did.”
“Fred,” said Windsor into the air. “Lower the gun. That won’t help any. I can’t help it she’s crazy.”
Her face remained a stiff mask. She seemed not to respond at all to this dig. “Belsonn. I told you to move aside.”
He found his voice again. “I won’t.” He walked across the gap to stand beside Lily. “I’ll have you before the tribunal for this.”
She sighed. “No, you won’t. I’m not leaving any witnesses.” She made a sign, and one of the helmeted figures moved away. A stream of armed figures emerged from the two ships she controlled, fanning out to surround the shuttle.
Lily felt a hand brush her elbow: Kyosti’s touch. She glanced up at him, but his face was utterly impassive, alien, and she could read no emotion in it. “How can you possibly justify killing us?”
The mask of Maria’s face did not alter, and Lily began to wonder if she was a little mad, madder, in her own way, than Kyosti was now, because she had brought it on herself. “Necessity,” said Maria, cold as the vacuum of space. “And the justice denied all your victims.”
Windsor smiled wryly. If he was scared, he did not show it. “Whatever happened to mercy?” he asked.
“It is my duty to save society from people like you.” She lifted her head, listening, and they heard it as well. More ships approaching. “Even if you kill me, resisting now, it doesn’t matter. My orders are set. Those are the reinforcements. No trace of your presence here will remain.”
Out of her peripheral vision, Lily saw Windsor shade his lips and mouth the words, “play for time.” She gave a little whistle, as if she was trying to act nonchalant under such pressure, and heard a faint answering call from the shadowed height of the ramp. Jenny was still standing there, hiding some thing behind her.
“But there will be traces,” said Lily. “The people on my ship know I came down here. They know what coordinates I came to, who I was to meet. Are you aware that Dr. Farhad has just arrived on my ship and will be wanting to know where I am? She has a particular interest in Hawk. She was in charge of his treatment.”
“That was a mistake. And anyway, accidents happen.”
The roar of engines heightened.
“Pissing hell,” said Windsor suddenly and loudly. “I know who you remind me of. Benizar. She looked like you.”
“You killed her,” said Maria with such searing hate that it was almost like heat boiling off of her. “You bastards.”
“I damned well saved her life more than once. Just like she saved mine. Who the hell are you to judge? How did you know her anyway?”
Maria hesitated. Three ships skated in over them, banked with breathtaking precision and dipped the stopped, screaming in midair, and floated down to land softly on scarred grass. Looking closely at the ships, Maria slipped abruptly behind the screen of her hirelings. Deucalion lunged forward, but Lily caught him, her reflexes faster than his intent, and tripped him. He sprawled onto the grass as the six men jerked back from his movement and crouched.
The ramp of the forward ship opened.
“Kill them,” said Maria calmly.
Lily whistled for Bach. Windsor spoke one gutteral, foreign word, and Fred and Stanford appeared on the ramp, heavily armed. Pistols raised. And Deucalion stepped out and sauntered down the ramp of the newly arrived ship, unconcerned by the scene playing out before him.
Except Deucalion still lay sprawled in
the grass at Lily’s feet.
“Hold your fire!” snapped Maria. She turned.
Deucalion scrambled to his feet. Lily and Windsor stared. Behind, Bach began to sing:
So recht, ihr Engel, jauchzt und singet,
Dass es uns heut so schön gelinget!
Auf denn! wir stimmen mit euch ein,
Uns kann es so wie euch erfreuen.
“Then fittingly, you angels, rejoice and sing,
that things turn out so favorably for us this day!
Up then! We will join in with you,
for we can rejoice just as you.”
And a second figure appeared at the top of the new ship’s ramp. Even at such distance, Lily would have recognized her anywhere.
Beside her, Deucalion froze. “Mother,” he breathed, and then, as if everyone else had vanished, as if he were alone and not about to be murdered with the rest of his companions, he walked blindly through the ring of armed men, past Maria—not giving the slightest sign he knew she was there—and toward the woman and man waiting for him.
18 Gwyddno’s Weir
HE KNELT IN FRONT of her, and she touched his head with her right hand, a benediction. Adam waited at the foot of the ramp with the patience of a man long-used to such displays. Of the scene before him, suspended in the act of playing out, he appeared indifferent. Of Maria’s hirelings and ships and weapons, he and La Belle appeared entirely unimpressed. Their three ships, sleek, beautiful vessels, sat in all their quiet, deadly splendor on scorched grass.
But Maria herself simply stood and watched, as if this card, played out now, had obliterated her ability to control her own hand.
“My God,” said one of the men with her. “Is that La Belle Dame? The privateer?”
“Yes,” Maria answered. No one made any further comment.
Whatever words passed between La Belle and her son could not be heard. They were brief. She removed her hand and Deucalion stood up and stepped back and to one side, letting her walk past him down the ramp. He followed her, but as she set out across the grass toward the group gathered at the shuttle, he paused next to his brother. The two simply looked at each other a moment. Lily, distracted by La Belle’s serene stroll through the clearing, glanced back at the brothers in time to see them grin, exchange a few words, and embrace, and then, so perfectly in tune that only the practice of long years and the accident of identical genetic material could account for it, they turned together in exact time—as if the movement had been choreographed—and followed their mother, twin attendants. As they came up behind La Belle, Lily realized that, except for their clothing, she could not tell them apart.