He looked apprehensive.
‘Sorry, I don’t know your name,’ she said.
‘Gunars.’
‘Well Gunars, it is all under control. I’ve called up your off duty people. They should be here soon to give you a hand. Once they get here, ready another evac team to stand by, with transport, down at your exit to the plain. Make sure that they have two of your security people with them.’ She tapped the comm panel again. ‘Quartermaine is angry. He won’t let this go past tonight. You may have more casualties to bring in off the plain yet.’ She patted his shoulder and started around the counter. ‘You will do fine, Gunars.’
‘Commander. Where will you be?’ he asked.
‘I have to get my comm. Then … wherever I am needed. Quartermaine is out on the plain. You have Med. So it will probably be at Command.’
She had another idea but she would have to run it past Quartermaine. The marines had chased the caretaker to the Box. It was too dangerous for them to go in after him. Out of all the Guard, only Trahern had the ability to do that. Or me in a suit. I could do it. I’d hunt the rat, drive him through that warren of black steel and exterminate him like the vermin he is.
Her comm was on the table next to her bed. She slipped it on her belt and took one last look around the room. I’m not coming back here, to Med. Time for me to get to work. Nothing personal except for her weaving, propped up on a small shelf on the other side of the bed. Can’t leave that. Light played across it as she approached. Funny, it always seems to catch the light, run it round the patterns, no matter where it sits.
In her hands, the fascination held.
The buzz of her comm startled her. Damn. How long have I been standing here?
A general alert. From Quartermaine. La Mar jammed the weaving in behind her belt and strode from the room.
‘This is a warning. I will be firing the satellites at a target on the plain in thirty minutes. Clear the plain now. All personnel inside the wall. All craft in the air must be landed and in the hangars or flown outside the orbit of the satellites. Commanders check your sections and report to Security.’
That’s it! That’s the old bastard we know and love, thought La Mar. Burn that damn thing!
She turned the corner to find him there, in Med. A surprise, she thought he would go up to command for this. Then she saw his face and knew why. Sad not angry. So sad that she felt it in her belly. His scout. Quartermaine couldn’t do this with him as he was. You could do anything if your people understood, ask anything of them. She hoped Rhone understood. She depended on that. But unknowing, they were like children. You couldn’t bring fear and confusion into that innocent world. Not as the last thing they might experience.
She walked up to the old man. She wanted to say, ‘It’s not your fault, not your choice. It’s his time, that’s all.’ But instead she said, ‘Where do you want me?’
With him here and Visco hurt, she though it would be at Command or in Communications. He surprised her again.
‘Could you go to the hangar for me, La Mar? What’s there is part of him now.’
He didn’t explain. She was glad of that. ‘Sure.’
A call from Security ended their conversation. There were so many comms open that everybody heard it. ‘Commander. Supply have one man unaccounted for. Kendriks. He was known to have been in the vicinity of Med.’
Quartermaine’s face hardened. ‘I can account for him. Advise Supply that he was one of the casualties. All clear otherwise?’
‘Services are still checking crews. And there are a number from the off duty cadres in at port.’
‘As long as they have been logged out the gates that is fine. I’m only concerned with the plain and the wall. Advise when you have the sectors secure.’
La Mar called Security as she left Med, and gave her destination. Med probably had her on their list, but that was over now. There was work to be done. She was a commander after all, though she only had herself to boss around at the moment.
CHAPTER 93: ANOTHER DEATH
Visco sat and watched the door. The pain of his wounds was sweet. It kept him alert while the pounding in his head marked the time. He had no plan. He only had to be here. Fate would do the rest.
She came out the door, eyes flashing, head held high. The red stains on her sleeves and across the front of her whites added to her allure. The Doctor.
Aides hurried over to attend to her, then one of her security. She spoke to them, inquiring, commanding. He did not try to make sense of the words although he could hear them clearly. All his attention was on the woman.
Her eyes found him and stayed with him as she talked. He saw concern. She cares.
The others faded from his perception as she approached.
‘Commander. You should be in a bed. At least have these wounds attended to.’
‘I must stay here until this is resolved,’ he said. He had waved away all the aides that had tried to treat him. So strong was his power now that they had left without a word. This woman, as formidable as she was here in her own domain, would also accede to his wishes. He was the leader now. The Cross had confirmed that with the events of this night, anointed him with the blood of his enemies, marked him with the scars of heroism, gifted him with power. And this woman.
She spoke and motioned to someone else. He did not care to discern what.
‘I will see to you here then,’ she said from above him.
He felt the pull of his bandage as she unwound it. Her breasts swung close to his face. He could smell blood and beneath it the warm scent of her body. Beautiful. The light probing touch of her fingers on his cheek and forehead added exquisitely to his pain.
‘Not as bad as it looks,’ she said. ‘The rim of the orb is broken, as is your cheekbone. Your skull seems fine. We will have to have scans to be sure.’
The blow had stunned him, but only that. His reaction to Crell’s animal rage had already started him back, before he had seen the blow. Rolling his head as it connected had taken most of the force out of it. Nata would have been proud.
Someone passed things to her. She placed her hand over his eye and sprayed something that chilled his skin and took much of the pain away. He barely felt her re-bandaging, just light pressure and a slight pull that rocked his head from side to side.
He missed the pain but was rewarded when she went to her knees in front of him. Ohhhh!
She took his injured arm and laid his hand on her shoulder to get both of hers free for the bandage. Carefully she unwrapped it. His hand slid down to the top of her breast. She rolled his wrist to expose the wound, a long slice on the forearm, only to the bone for a few centimetres of its length. From Serin’s kick, nothing like what the same blade did to Nata’s arm. Nata dies. I live. What a foe to lie at my feet.
The wound had been clipped closed by the evac team but had bleed since. Again things were passed to her. She said some words that sent her aide away then started to clean his arm, dabbing lightly around the wound. The evac team had injected the arm before they went to work and there was little pain. He wanted to feel her fingers and the pain. Sweet pain.
She stopped then rolled his arm further. Thin parallel scars marched down the inside across the muscle. The newest was still red. Cuts from the ritual.
She went absolutely still.
Ohh. She knows what they signify, my devotion to the Cross. What a shame. A lesson that even though I lead, I remain a servant.
He eased his sidearm free. Her head came up slowly, matching the lift of the weapon. So fate decrees. Her death, then that of the Specialist. Now.
Her eyes met his. The anger that she was famous for was there. Such a shame, he thought. This really is a sacrifice. What I could do with this woman! Her fingers tapped his arm. He felt them this time. And sweet pain. Then everything went dark.
*
Aesca rose to her feet. She peeled the med patches from her fingertips and dropped them in the lap of the still figure. So much for the dead. She would waste n
o more time on this one. Celene would be stabilised now. Time to work on her ribs, make something of the shattered bone, return her breath to her.
Her aide ran up, eyes wide.
‘He was one of them,’ was all she said in explanation. Then she went back through the doors.
CHAPTER 94: ANOTHER LIFE
The walk seemed to take no time at all, and no energy either. The last time La Mar had been here she had nearly collapsed. The small hangar was more as she liked it this time. The moons were overhead and their dim grey light did not intrude. In the dark she could make out a faint spray of delicate colours reflecting off the inside of the viewing ports of the scout’s ship. Diodes in the circuits. Not the mysterious lights of the vanished Ship, her ghost lights, yet they suited the setting, gave it some life. And I am here to end that, she thought sadly.
She made her way into the scoutcraft and down to the pilot’s chair. What am I supposed to do here now? Cables. There should be one coming in from Med. Disconnect that, when I get the word. Then shut everything down. She bent over, trying to see up under the panels around the chair capsule. The weaving tucked into her belt dug into her stomach. Not so much padding there anymore. Maybe I have a waist. Wouldn’t that surprise the girls. To come back and find I’ve turned into a swivel-hips. Her thoughts grew more serious. They may be in the thick of it right now. She slipped the weaving out from her belt, placed it in the clear spot on the pilot’s seat, and then went on with her search. The Armourer will know their value. Bethane, look after them. Don’t let the Rim kill them.
La Mar heard Security call in the all clear. Not long now. She found the cable she wanted, on the backside of the chair, neatly fixed to the frame with a plastic clip locked over a screwed connection. Nice work. This would be Lammas’s. She waited.
How will I know when? she worried suddenly. We didn’t say. I can’t call Quartermaine and ask if he has thrown the switch. She thought it through. The satellites. He will give the order. That means the scout is gone. She moved back around to the front where she could see the Weave assembly. The whole of the chair was covered in wires and crystals. So intricate. Complete, she thought. Like all the threads of a life woven into one entity. Is this the scout’s life? The wide loops his journeys into the deep, the tight twinings his loves and hates, other twists spirals of friendships, braids of loyalties. Fine metallic crystals linked all the pathways. A fraction of the coloured light that played on the assembly flicked across them, at odds with the general flow to the dense weave at the centre. She wondered at it all. The flow in is made up of the sensations he feels. If it went the other way, would it be his thoughts?
CHAPTER 95: A QUEST COMPLETED
Move, Serin told himself. Keep going, and most important of all, keep your eyes shut. Wait until you can feel steel all around. Hand, then knee, then the other hand, then the other knee. The blade of his lower leg made a zinging sound as it dragged across the beams of the framework. His shoulder touched. Carefully he ran his hand out, over his head and to the far side. More steel! He was in!
Last hope. All the others were dead, all the true ones. That the betrayer lived on was of no consequence. The cause had abandoned him.
Hope lay here, always had. The armour. With it would come power. Power to command all of Base. Instantaneously. No creeping wait filled with partial conversions, furtive and hidden. That was not the way of the Cross. The Cross demanded, took over completely, blazed in glory. That was how it would be. If only he could complete the quest.
Serin trembled. This was it. Patterns would claim him and he would die, or his path would be revealed.
He opened his eyes. Darkness, but not complete. A twilight. Soft, dim light diffused in darkness. Not strong enough to illuminate or throw shadows. Just enough for him to make out form. Tunnel-like, the opening curved away before him. He crawled in.
At times the steel closed in, pinching at his shoulders and forcing him to his belly. Yet he found its embrace comforting. Supported, encompassed, held tight. It was so different from all he had experienced of the Box, that he knew it must signify a different purpose. The true purpose. All the rest was just a wall of thorns, put in place to protect this.
The passage widened and the darkness thinned until he could make out the faint grey of the framework. And something else. Ahead there was a shine!
He scuttled forward, his leg making a clashing sound. There! It is there! Exultation flooded his body.
Beautiful black armour, embossed, shiny when the dust was wiped off. There was barely room for him to hunch over the display. The corpse did not trouble him. A sacrifice eons old. To place the armour here. To await him, secure over the ages.
The time has come. His hands shook as he unclipped the greaves from the bony legs, stripped the breastplate and leather from the torso. The armguard, the match to the one hanging from his neck, was the last piece to come free. He laid it carefully on the nest of bone and dried cartilage of the chest. It wouldn’t do to let it fall. Its brother joined it. The piece that had started him on this quest.
The left greave went on easily but the other hung and spun on his steel limb. Serin pulled his overshirt off and tied and twisted it around the blade. This time the greave stayed in place. The synleather tunic was stiff and cracked. It perished as he worked it, pieces falling away like scales. But the straps and webbing beneath were of carbon fibre, black and flexible. He struggled to get the breastplate on, lying back, half crushing the dried corpse. Finally the armguards. A great calm settled upon him. It is done.
Serin knelt in the tight space and swept away fragments of the corpse, forcing them down through the gaps in the framework. The skull sat on a folded cloth. Translucent skin, brittle black hair. He crushed the skull with his fist then shook the cloth. Fresh strong cloth, not ancient fragile fabric. His mind was unclouded. A black arrowhead on the pocket. The Grey’s. He passed through and knew that this was not for him. He marks the path for me. Above I will find the platform on the western wall. A great clamour will arise. Not the single note that marked the Grey’s passing. Fearsome and awesome music. A great din. To reverberate through all of Base and bring them to kneel below. The call of the Heartless Cross. To assemble my multitudes on the plain.
Serin made three lurching, crouched steps forward in his excitement; then there was nothing below him. He fell.
The armour kept him alive, although his body was terribly broken when it finally hung up in the framework. No pain or all pain, he couldn’t tell. No movement. His face was up, tilted to the side. Blood and spit dripped out the corner of his mouth. Far above he could see the pattern of the Cross, grey against the black. He understood. All my striving has not brought me closer to you. I am no different to Visco, in my folly thinking to win your power to enable me. To make me master. We are nothing. I am nothing. Do with me what you will.
Serin surrendered completely and with that his quest was completed. The rays of the Cross flared red and it came for him. Brighter than belief, it filled his universe. He felt the heat of its approach. And just before his mortality burned away, he saw its incandescent white heart.
CHAPTER 96: MAGIC LIGHTS
So caught up was she in her musing that La Mar missed Quartermaine’s command. The blaze of red outside and in jolted her. The diodes flared and their colours joined the crimson coursing through the pattern. It is done.
La Mar went to the back of the chair. She carefully lifted the plastic clip and spun the connection loose. She had to pull to separate the pin joins. There. No more connection to Med. She felt like she was taking a life. Poor Quartermaine. Not even the pressure of battle to aide in the mercy. But then again, maybe he saw it that way. He had lost two of his people this night, maybe three. And the others before. He had to fight back.
Incandescent white, green and blue were suddenly added to the red world. La Mar hurried out of the ship and up to the open edge of the hangar. New lights were shooting up, answering the satellites’ beams. From the plain. From the Box. What
sort of wonder is this? She hung off the nose of the ship for a better view. The lights were wild, rising and falling, colours sweeping, sparkling out in all directions. The Box is burning, she realised, like a flare. From here all she could see was its effect on the sky. Wrong side of the wall. What would it look like from the inside? I’ve got to see it!
She swung back in. You have to finish here first. The thought sobered her. Inside the craft, the colours were muted. Until she came around to the front of the pilot’s chair. The whole Weave was alive. Diodes added their own hues to those from outside. Colours ran along wires and flashed from crystal faces, sparkling, changing. Almost like the lights of the Ships. Ohh, I can not end this. I am not as hard as Quartermaine.
She found the power source. A battery. Unhook that and it is done.
La Mar looked back one last time as she left the hangar. Fine lights danced on the ports. I have to have some magic in my life. The battery was low and would soon run out. The lights would fade. But she would not be here to see it.
CHAPTER 97: RECOVERY
The message cylinder lay on the table close to her bed. Celene kept it there. When she woke in restraints, in confusion and fear, the sight of it would return memory of her rescue. She was not in their hands, in their vault, at their pleasure. Brave Nata had saved her from that. And the cylinder had saved her life. Crushed and sheared halfway through, like me. The monster’s blade had caught on it in her pocket and thrown her like a doll. Instead of eviscerating me. She struggled in her restraints, trying to turn away from the blow again. No. You are safe. This is Med. These are the doctor’s straps. To keep you still while the bones heal. The reasoning only calmed her body. Her mind cried. I need you! To step between and make me safe. To be with me.
Soon. Any day now. They had told her that the Rim was won. That transports had been called to bring everyone back. Sudden panic hit her. But I don’t know the days. Pain and sleep she knew, but not time. She tried to turn, to the table and the monitors. The straps held her. Pain belled in her chest. She lay back. Miserable tears leaked from her clenched eyelids.
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