Tredd hurried back to the Aino-instance in the room. She was hanging from the railing upside down, her feet up and hair on the floor. She lowered her legs down to the floor, straightened herself up and brushed her hair aside.
‘You and your sisters will be all right.’ Tredd looked her in the eyes and laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘You will leave this place and be able to live in peace. Even if the soldiers catch you, they will not hurt you.’
A smile crept across her face. She looked up to Tredd just like the primary Aino-instance had when they first met, but this time there was no fear. ‘Will you come with us?’
‘I can’t,’ Tredd said. ‘I need to help my friends.’
‘I know, you have a big heart,’ Aino said. Her face had turned into a true smile. She threw her arms around Tredd in a big hug.
Holding her in his arms made Tredd feel like smiling too. His job, hunting and killing people for money, had made him weak, hollow and miserable. Protecting the girl – even if she was part of a weird collective hive mind – gave him gratification far above anything he had expected. Her joy was the bounty he needed.
‘Mr Bounty,’ Skyla said, grabbing Tredd’s attention.
He let go of Aino and let his eyes linger on the happiness on her face as she stepped back.
Skyla said, ‘All of the Aino-instances are well, assembled and heading towards the five evacuation points we’ve pre-appointed for them.’
‘That should confuse them,’ Tredd said. He hoped though that they all had a chance to evacuate, and if not, that the soldiers would be smart enough to treat them well.
Such was not the case with his friends. The live video screen showed Vorlar holding Aino’s hand, surrounded by his soldiers. Henning was bleeding. Two soldiers carried Eddie – he looked to be unconscious – and one dragged Evie up the stairs. For a moment he regretted neutering Aino’s powers, but shook it off. Aino was not the only one with powers to shake up the navy. ‘I must go. Is the escape shaft still operational?’
‘Should be. Leanna will show you the way.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE NAVY SHIP, Evie sat shivering in a dark and cold cell, discarded like an old toy.
Her new companions had been taken from her. She had started to think of them as friends, all sharing the same goal: to protect Aino. Ironically, of everyone aboard the Rut, she had connected best with Bells, and trusted her as a friend. Yet Bells was the one who had ended up betraying them.
Why didn’t I see it? I was close with Bells; I could have saved everyone from this mess.
It was now clear to her that Eddie had been under some kind of control and was not acting of his own will; perhaps it was the same with Jill. It was the doc’s set up, and now the evil Dresnean navy commander had access to it.
He controlled Eddie. What about the others? Could he control me too? Not knowing scared her.
The quick peek at the contents of the doctor’s terminal had shown Evie a glimpse of the elaborate software that controlled it all. She wanted so much to extract its secrets, but she had no time. She had only been able to switch off parts of the programme that was controlling Jill. Well, that too was a hypothesis. Perhaps she had only messed up some irrelevant parameters… Even so, Vorlar had the terminal now, and she was locked up.
The wound on her shoulder pulsated with pain. Fighting against the soldiers had been stupid, and had led to her finding herself face down on the floor, her hands behind her back, screaming in agony as the unhealed wound tore itself apart.
Yet she was no stranger to pain. In many a cold, dark night, pain had been her only friend. Growing up, she had hidden in the virtual world of Momentum 6. That was where she found solace, spending hours and hours fixing minute details of her ship, or working on high-level military strategy, and moving armies. She could do it endlessly. She gained respect within the community.
Not so in the real life.
She had no friends at school, and at home her father had always been angry for some reason: her backpack on the floor, her spending too much time playing, or the emptiness of his last bottle of Rime. She remembered curling up under the blanket and pressing the pillow over her ears to silence his shouting and her mother’s cries. As soon as she could – even though she had no means to support herself – she had left home. She ran away and swore never to look back.
She was taken in by a group of girls who were into visual rock groups. For a few years she led a dual life: gaining ranks in Momentum 6 and partying with the girls and the bands.
One night, in the aftermath of a drug-induced backstage session, she found herself naked on top of the lead singer of the Bombers, one of her favourite groups. She ended up tagging along as the lead vocalist’s favourite plaything, and travelled with the group to all their performances. Every time the show was over, she played the submissive doll backstage.
The singer, Ash, was an inventive lover and in a way helped Evie leave the misery of her past behind. However, he became bored with his toy and quickly their play sessions turned more and more painful, with the band and other unknown people joining in; she never knew whose fingers brushed up against her bare skin. Ash partied hard – and so did she – but while they had both enjoyed relaxed pleasures, for Ash the drugged state started to become more aggressive, and for Evie, more painful. Bruises and cuts on her skin were ever present and anything that healed by the day was broken again in the night. The nights drained her and she started to long for a release.
She remembered standing on the edge of a balcony in Spit City. The suite hung high up, past the 200th floor, the red planet cutting the black sky in half and the wind blowing her hair on her face. She felt tired; she stretched her arms and contemplated ending her useless and painful existence by jumping down. What does it matter if I’m here or not? Nobody cares.
Ash was shooting more meds, walking around the bedroom in his underpants. ‘Blasting leather blindfold, where did you go?’ he cursed as he searched around the suite. Evie knew – she was squeezing it into a ball in her fist.
She ignored his curses and whines and gazed at the sky. She wanted Ash to keeping searching for the blindfold, and he did.
After a few moments she turned around and stepped back in. She held the blindfold in her hand, chucking it at Ash, who was still furiously searching for it.
He did not laugh. ‘You stupid piece of cheap Jindalar meat.’
She feigned a chuckle.
Ash snatched the blindfold from her.
She took a quick breath, the smile dropping from her face.
Ash grabbed her hand hard, pulled it and the other behind her, and tied them together behind her back. He fastened the leather blindfold across her eyes and pushed her face first onto the bed.
Evie felt her skirt being lifted, her legs being spread and fastened to something. He pulled her hair so hard it made tears come to her eyes. Even so, she never cried, just whimpered, and it made Ash more excited as he fastened a gag in her mouth.
She recalled the rubbery taste of the gag stretching her lips, and even now it made her swallow in disgust. What happened afterwards, she had actively forgotten.
She remembered waking up on the floor, naked, shivering, and bleeding, and feeling saddened to still be alive in this world. She got on her feet through the throbbing pain. Around her, the darkness of the early morning had turned everything to dull shades of black and grey. Ash had passed out on the huge bed of grey static. He was a monster, just like her father.
Good people kill their monsters.
She had picked up the leather blindfold from the floor and straightened it in her hands. Ash snorted in his sleep as Evie bent down and threaded the blindfold beneath his neck. She crossed the strands over his Adam’s apple. With a final glance at his sleeping grin, with both hands, she pulled as hard as she could.
So died Ash Macabre of the Bombers, strangled in a hotel room, and so Evie Yeoh became a wanted fugitive.
Back in the cold cell, she thoug
ht about what they would do to her. Her file read that she was wanted for murder. Add that to the charges she would face for going against the vice admiral, and she knew she was going to suffer for a long time – with or without her body. She might be better off dead, but even the idea of killing herself felt sickening.
Things were bleak with everyone else too. Tredd was probably dead. They had maimed Berossus. Aino was captured. They even got Peaches the cat.
The vice admiral was right; the game was over.
WHEN TREDD ARRIVED at the outpost, everyone had gone. A violet Bruiser GS was waiting at the centre of the empty hall. It was a proper interstellar spaceship, and Tredd thought it an expensive choice for its purpose. The open exit hatch on the ceiling above him showed a slice of the reddening evening sky. Just as he looked up, he caught a glimpse of a soldier leaving the outpost.
Tredd took a quick sidestep to find cover. Apparently the navy had landed on the ground above. If the soldier was still there, perhaps Tredd too might still have enough time to catch their ride.
He looked around to confirm no one was nearby. Then he edged to the stairwell, a wiry construction that zigzagged up towards the exit hatch. He moved as fast as he could while keeping his steps light to avoid noise. The stairs clanked under his feet, forcing him to slow down, worried that someone might hear him. He stopped for cover on the side and looked up.
No silhouettes of soldiers blocked the darkening sky. Tredd continued climbing up, but slower, making sure he remained unnoticed.
Reaching the top, he saw the red sun setting behind a hill in the distance, colouring the expansive fields with its orange. He felt a cool breeze on his skin.
Two ships sat close by. One was a Dawn Alliance Navy Infantry Lander, capable of transporting three units – more than a hundred men – and the other a G-class Assault Command Ship for land-based assault. When the vice admiral had left the interstellar battleship in orbit to go down onto a planet, he had boarded the Command Ship. Small in comparison, in the sky it was nimble, but close up on the ground it looked like a heavy mass of deflective metals, lights and weaponry. It required a minimal crew, but had enough space for a unit. Tredd’s crew had to be in that ship. The entrance ramp was still down, though the soldiers were preparing the ship for take-off.
Tredd considered his options. He had an escape craft by his side, just waiting to take him away. It might be the safer option, but for what? This time he was not going to run, not going to hide, and not going to leave his friends behind.
He would board the Command Ship, and there was only one way to get in.
Tredd rose up and entered a time-lapse.
The soldiers’ movement came to a halt. There was not a second to waste – Tredd had less than a minute in his quickened time, and then it was going to be back to normal. He ran to the ship, up the ramp, and past two frozen soldiers by the entrance corridor.
The ship was similar to the ones Tredd had operated years ago, but the model had not changed. Beside him was the entrance to the supply bay and the engine room. Ahead of him both a stairwell and an elevator led up to the bridge, and the decks in between hosted the crew’s quarters, galley, weapons, infantry, as well as the holding cells, to which his friends must have been taken.
For his immediate hideout, the engine room was the best bet. Tredd knew it would have space for him to hide while taking the time to regain the ability to do a time-lapse.
Preparing for take-off, the crew was scattered about the corridors, making the passage like an obstacle course. Tredd wanted to stay hidden, so he was careful to avoid touching anyone while in time-lapse. These ships did not scan for stowaways by default, but in case of any abnormal occurrence, the crew would initiate a scan as a standard procedure. While the Dawn Alliance was efficient in so many things, the big organisation also had many embarrassingly large holes that people could exploit if they were bold enough.
The engine room was just as Tredd had remembered. The officer in charge stood frozen with his hand on the control panel. He was a pale and thin man, with noticeably small ears on a huge round head. He was Jindalar, people better known for their art and culture than war, a rare sight in the navy. Why not though? It’s just a perception; I recall seeing a beautiful Dresnean dancer once.
He felt a sudden urge to throw up. He cursed. It was not because of the thought of a Dresnean dancer, but the time he had spent in the time-lapse. He had completely lost track of time, and was still out in the open behind the officer.
He let go of the time-lapse.
The officer became animated.
Tredd stopped, and clenched his jaws. He was less than two metres behind the officer and had to take quite a few steps to disappear around the corner. Also, beside the officer, there could also be any number of soldiers around.
The officer was performing a pre-flight check, focusing completely on the screen in front of him. He remained unaware of Tredd’s presence.
Tredd took a slow step, trying not to make any sound. Then he took another, and glanced at the officer.
The Jindalar man turned around, and jumped with surprise as he saw Tredd.
Tredd stood still. The odious feeling of having just time-lapsed still only creeping up on him, he could not resort to his usual out. He glowered.
‘Who are you?’ the Jindalar asked.
There was no way Tredd could talk his way out of it. He had to take him out silently, without alerting others. He approached the Jindalar slowly, then he glanced down and said, ‘Your boots are glowing.’
The Jindalar man looked down. A mistake.
Tredd took a quick step forward and sent an uppercut to the man’s tiny jaw. He felt the bone between his knuckles before the Jindalar’s large head flung backward with a whimpering groan. The officer stumbled against the controls and slumped down on the floor with a thud.
Tredd looked around. No one had seen or heard him. It was quiet.
Then the controls started beeping – an annoying digital whine.
What now? Tredd thought. A light blinked on the console, waiting for the Jindalar to finish the procedure he had started. Tredd was about to touch the screen, but he refrained. Jumping in as an unauthorised person would cause an alert, which would be much louder than a beep. However, leaving the procedure midway would also sound an alert in a minute.
The Jindalar lay unconscious at Tredd’s feet. Tredd knelt down and pulled him up to a sitting position, then slid his arms under the man’s elbows and dragged him up. As he did, the old sprain in his back flared up again. He suppressed a grunt by clenching his jaw and moved his weight to the other foot. This eased the pain, but only so much.
A counter popped up on the screen. He had only ten beep-accentuated seconds to complete the action.
He lifted up the man’s hand and swept the screen. The beeping stopped.
Saved.
‘Stop right there!’ Two soldiers had appeared on the doorway.
Or not quite.
Using the Jindalar as a visual shield, Tredd drew his gun. He shot a burst at the soldiers from his hip, pushed the Jindalar forward and lunged to cover. Just before he slid behind a doorway, he heard a cry and saw one of the soldiers fall.
Shots rapped against the frame, and as soon as they stopped, Tredd fired back a blind scatter blast behind the corner.
He heard a thump and then a clank, followed by silence. He peered around the corner and saw that both soldiers were down. Neither had had a chance to sound the alarm. He had been lucky. Even so, he had to move quickly.
He ran past the fallen soldiers and on through the foyer to the stairway. With stealth, he climbed up to level three, which held the jail cells. When he reached the floor, he saw a soldier standing as a guard between him and the cells.
The guard had his back at Tredd. Tredd stopped and looked around: there were no others in the vicinity. He drew his gun and set it on a low-powered stun, and started taking silent steps towards the guard.
He crept forwards until he stood
about three metres from the guard. From there he shot a stun at the guard’s neck, and dove to catch his fall to avoid any unnecessary noise.
The cell doors were locked of course. Tredd looked at the panels – standard.
There was no way he could open the cell door without causing an alarm. The guard on duty could, so Tredd would have to get him to do it, but he had to wait until the low-powered stun wore off.
He pulled a synthetic wire from his utility belt, and tied the guard’s wrists with it. Then he set him to a sitting position by the door. Tredd himself knelt down, his gun pointing at the stairs in case anyone came up.
A minute passed. No one came.
The guard recoiled and coughed. Tredd turned his gun at his head. ‘Quiet, and you will not get hurt.’
The guard, a young man half Tredd’s age, stared at the gun, perturbed, and nodded.
‘I need you to stand up and open that door for me. Any unnecessary move will get you killed. Understand?’
The guard nodded, still staring at the gun like he was mesmerised by it.
‘Well,’ Tredd said. ‘Get up now.’
The young guard cringed, and staggered to his feet. He looked at the panel.
‘Say it,’ Tredd whispered, while adjusting the setting on his gun.
The guard hesitated. Only after Tredd pushed the barrel of his gun against his neck did he finally speak. ‘Computer, open the door.’
Starcrasher (Shades Space Opera Book 1) Page 39