The Heretic (Beyond the Wall Book 1)

by Lucas Bale

  Gunships won’t be long now. And if they’re sublight capable, we’ve got major problems.

  He poured on as much power as Soteria could give him, but he could already tell the battering she’d taken from the Peacekeepers’ weapons had hit something important. She was sluggish—she responded late, had lost some of her sharpness. He glanced down at the tracker and tried to make the necessary fine adjustments to follow its course. The beacon looked something like a couple of minutes away at full speed. The forest fell away beneath them.

  The preacher appeared at his shoulder. ‘You bring the medicine I asked for?’

  ‘It’s in the hold,’ Shepherd said. ‘In a couple of hidden compartments behind the oil drums. I didn’t have time to check if they found it.’

  ‘And the Peacekeepers?’

  ‘Died when we vented,’ Shepherd said, watching the preacher’s reaction. ‘You got a problem with that?’

  The preacher eyed him for a moment and said nothing. Then he shook his head and stared away out of the front of the cockpit. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘How did you know the respirators weren’t re-breathers?’

  ‘No need for them on a rock like this. Weather’s bad, but the atmosphere is usually fine. Re-breathers are expensive, heavy, uncomfortable to wear. Peacekeepers won’t use them unless the atmosphere demands it.’

  ‘You seem to know an awful lot about this. Care to tell me why?’

  ‘When this is over,’ the preacher said quietly. ‘I don’t trust you yet.’

  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t.’

  The tracker began to beep softly. ‘We’re coming up on them now,’ the preacher said.

  Shepherd slowed Soteria and brought her down lower, almost clipping the treetops. The gaps between beeps lessened until they disappeared completely and the noise became a continuous whine. Shepherd pulled the freighter up and pivoted into a hover. The preacher peered over his shoulder and examined the tracker, then looked through the window.

  ‘There,’ he said, pointing to a small clearing. ‘Can you set down there, or somewhere like it?’

  ‘Sure,’ Shepherd said. He manipulated the controls until Soteria was over the clearing, then lowered the landing stanchions. Slowly he eased her downwards until the stanchions hit the ground. Trees were buffeted under the pressure of the downward thrust. ‘Get the loading ramp.’ He indicated a button on the console and the preacher pressed it.

  They both glanced out and watched the shadows between the trees begin to shift. A clutch of people burst out and ran towards them, leading a single horse behind. Among them was the jowled customs official, stumbling as he was pushed by a man with a rifle. Shepherd felt Soteria rock gently as they boarded.

  ‘Get down there and shut the loading ramp. Then take them to the passenger quarters and get them strapped in. The horse will just have to do the best it can.’ The preacher nodded and left.

  Shepherd waited until he saw the warning light for the loading ramp door wink off, and then he set Soteria to slowly ascend. As she pushed through the trees and emerged into the dwindling light, he reached over and pulled up the nav display. He selected the co-ordinates the preacher had given him and set a course. Ready for the tunnel breach when they left the atmosphere. Soteria began to creep along the treetops.

  A whine came from the proximity radar.

  The gunships were coming.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Flying Blind

  TWO VAPOUR trails curled above the forest far away on the horizon. The source of each was a shock of black, haloed in blue fire. Trees bucked and shivered as the two gunships surged over the forest canopy. They canted smoothly together and leaned into an intercept course. Shepherd banked away and levered the throttle to full, skimming the trees.

  He’d been turning the permutations over and over in his mind since they left Herse Port, and the hand in front of him still hadn’t improved. When the gunships arrived, what card did he have to play? They couldn’t stand and fight—Soteria was unarmed. He couldn’t outfly them—too long on the defensive and the killing shot would inevitably come.

  And Soteria was limping. She sure as hell wasn’t slow, and the sublight drives were all in the green, but she wasn’t sharp enough, and manoeuvrability at speed felt sluggish; he could feel the stunted feedback through the flight controls. He could tell she’d have no issue with flying full-tilt in a straight line, but that presented too attractive a target; and if he tried to run for the atmosphere, she’d be easy prey—she was heavy, and gravity would scrub off her straight-line speed too quickly. Every time he let the events play out, whatever the scenario, he reached the same conclusion, and he had to acknowledge a feeling of hollow dread.

  We need something else—something to even the odds. We need to bluff.

  More than that, he needed cover—and he only knew one place he could find it. Some way ahead, the mountains soared into storm clouds the colour of ash. Lightning lit up the pall like a circus tent. He wouldn’t be able see a whole hell of a lot inside, but neither would the gunships.

  Fly into rock—get shot at. Is there a difference? Not much.

  The airlock door slid open and the preacher stepped through.

  ‘You have a plan?’ he said.

  ‘Not much of one.’

  ‘Care to share?’

  ‘Not sure you want to know.’

  ‘You may be right,’ the preacher admitted. ‘Everyone’s strapped in. Do your thing.’

  ‘You mentioned coin at the end of this.’

  ‘Enough to bring a smile to your mercenary face.’

  Shepherd said nothing and glanced down at the radar. They were close now. It was time.

  Soteria burst from the trees and arced upwards towards the cloud. As she left the forest behind and soared upwards into the dense grey brume, the gunships canted and followed. He watched for a moment, assessing their speed.

  They were fast.

  He banked away, and the storm clouds embraced the ship. The wind punched and kicked like a prizefighter as he wrestled with the controls. Soteria rocked and yawed.

  ‘This is your plan?’

  ‘I said you wouldn’t want to know.’

  ‘You can’t see the mountains.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘They ascend for over a mile.’

  ‘That’s bad news, but we’ll be so low their height won’t matter. We might hit one though.’

  The preacher didn’t reply. Shepherd kept Soteria heading into the storm. The cockpit was lit up by a crash of lightning that rocked the ship.

  ‘Time to earn your keep, preacher.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know those gunships, right?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’ve been in them enough times, unless I’m missing my guess.’

  For a moment, the preacher said nothing. Then he said, quietly, ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s their primary purpose—air or ground assault?’

  ‘Ground. Peacekeeper support and tactical assault.’

  ‘But they’re sublight capable.’

  ‘For short periods,’ the preacher said. ‘They don’t carry enough oxygen or fuel for long trips, and full sublight drives are too heavy for the manoeuvrability they need for a ground assault.’

  ‘So I’m guessing if we keep them going long enough, then punch up towards the atmosphere—they’ll have to pull out, or risk not having enough fuel to get back down again?’

  The preacher said nothing for a while. Shepherd watched him—he was considering it. ‘Debatable. You keep them flying long enough, make them burn up fuel manoeuvring, and maybe. If they don’t put us down first.’

  ‘And in those canyons?’ Shepherd nodded towards the mountains. Deny the attacker a shot, Raine. If you’re defensive, use everything you can find to keep things neutral.

  ‘The gunships may not be built for air superiority, but they’ll manoeuvre just as well as you.’

  ‘No better? What about scanning systems?’


  ‘Full spectrum. Long-range radar and subspace field disturbance, but they won’t be able to get a clear fix while we’re in the canyons and valleys. Also heat signature, but only at a relatively close range.’

  ‘So to see us in the fog—’

  ‘They’ll split up—one in the canyons searching at close range and another panning the mountains from above for any trace on their systems.’

  ‘Mountains it is.’

  ‘It’s too high a risk,’ the preacher said. ‘We’re as likely to hit something and go down as they are. I have another way. If it doesn’t work, we go with your plan.’

  ‘What is it?’

  The preacher leaned over to the nav display and brought up the mapping system for Herse. It was outdated, not as detailed as Shepherd would have liked, but he watched the preacher glide through the massif until he found what he was looking for. The preacher pointed to a system of caves.

  ‘Head for there and turn on the comms in the hold. I need to go down and find a harness.’

  As the airlock door shut behind the preacher, Shepherd shifted in his seat. He hadn’t ever expected to be using outdated mapping to navigate through mountains at speed and in the middle of a storm—or to find a cave system that could be anywhere.

  He glanced down at the display and then out again. They were close now, and in any other situation, the vista might have been beautifully dramatic. Beneath a clear black sky perforated by glistening stars, the mountains stretched as far as it was possible to see. Vast, jagged obsidian shards clawed at the sky, summits and cols shrouded in snow. The landscape formed a labyrinth of valleys and canyons, carved between unforgiving massifs. And everything was swathed in a great pall of slate-grey storm clouds, which billowed up from the valley floor and climbed to the shoulders of the mountains. Lightning still flared deep within.

  Beauty almost always hides a dark side. If Soteria clipped a wall or was caught by the electrical storm, she’d go down. Out there, in remote unforgiving wilderness, they’d never be found. They’d die alone in the frigid cold. Of course, if the gunships found them…

  Shepherd closed his eyes, breathed out slowly and eased the throttle forward. The mountains parted and a fissure opened up between them. It meandered tightly between rock, snow and ice—barely giving him enough space to breathe, but the same would be true for the gunships. The walls of the mountains, shrouded in mist, would give him cover, and the gunships would struggle to resolve a firing solution for more than a second at a time, and they were just as likely to end up as wreckage on a rock face or glacier as Soteria was. He eased the freighter into a steep dive.

  It’s all about energy, Raine. Too much energy and you might get in range, but overshoot. Too little and you lose manoeuvrability if you’re defending. The right balance shifts according to where you are, who your attacker is and the ship you’re in. Smaller guys will have more manoeuvrability than you, if their drives are big enough.

  Soteria slipped into the mist at the mouth of a nearby canyon. The fog and rock blurred into a wash of grey as he banked left then right. Swirling wind tugged and pushed at the hull. Strobe beams beneath the front wings cast a shimmering light, which played across the gloom. The serrated flanks of the mountain were barely visible through the pall. Shepherd glanced down at the navigational displays and manoeuvred through the valley using the limited information he could glean from them, and what little he could see ahead. The gunships were close now, but as soon as they entered the mountains, they would need to slow down and orient themselves.

  You can’t rush this either, boys. Agonisingly slowly, Shepherd built up speed, easing between crags and fissures and overhanging cornices, gently picking his way through the maze. The wind swirled around him, clutching at the freighter and trying to fling her into rock and ice. The proximity sensors, set for manoeuvring in tight cargo-loading bays, began to whine quietly. In here, confined and threatened, he understood their complaints. He found he had been holding his breath, and let it out. His muscles felt tight, and he rolled his shoulders to try to relax. Sporadically, the smothering mist shifted and broke for a moment, and rock walls suddenly appeared like black ghosts, dark and wet and glistening in the light cast by Soteria’s strobes.

  The comms system crackled to life and the preacher’s voice, tinny and far away, filled the cockpit. ‘Ready when you are. Open the loading bay doors and I’ll do the rest.’

  ‘Understood,’ Shepherd said. ‘The wind is strong in this valley; it’s going to take some time. You’ll need to be quick when I get her level.’

  ‘Just get her there.’

  He had guessed what the preacher was going to do. He was going to drop the barrels into the caves and detonate them with an explosive round from the rifle. It was designed to fool the gunships think that Soteria had crashed into the mountainside. Bring down enough rock, and they might just assume the wreckage was hidden beneath it, a mile below. Hide close enough, concealed by the mist, and the heat from the explosion would confuse the gunships’ scanning systems, mask the heat from Soteria’s drives.

  It could work. Maybe.

  Shepherd searched until he found the cave system that the preacher had thought would suit them—a pitch-black hollow in the scree-ridden skirt of the massif. He tried to drop Soteria’s nose towards it, but the wind pummelled the hull and manoeuvring in place was almost impossible.

  They’ll split up—one in the canyons searching at close range and another panning the mountains from above for any trace on their systems. They must be close now.

  He glanced upwards through the glass of the cockpit, but he could see only charcoal clouds lit by lightning. Using gentle bursts of thrust he spun on a pinhead until the rear loading-bay door was facing the cave system, but it was impossible to keep Soteria stable—the wind was too strong, the freighter was moving around too much. If the preacher rolled the barrels out now, they wouldn’t hit the cave; they’d crash down to the valley floor and the ruse would fail.

  He wrestled with the controls and shifted away from the cave system.

  ‘We don’t have time for this.’ The preacher’s voice was like static over the comms line, but Shepherd could still pick out the tension in it. He didn’t reply; just focused on flying.

  Wait for a break in the wind, a window to move.

  Wait? You must be crazy.

  It’s either that, or burn fuel trying to manoeuvre in this damn gale.

  He glanced up again, and thought he saw something moving within the cloud.

  There’s no time left, it has to be now.

  He carefully edged backwards, keeping as close as he could to the cave system until the wind dropped for a moment. When he felt the pressing on the hull ease off, he dialled in a little more power and moved Soteria gently backwards.

  ‘Now!’ he shouted.

  Be quick, preacher.

  When he heard the oil barrels thundering as they rolled out of the loading bay, he allowed himself a thin smile of relief. Yet the clamour seemed impossibly loud to him—loud enough to bring the gunships running and he winced inwardly. His palms were damp and his fingers ached from where he’d been gripping the controls so tightly. He ignored the pain and waited. The rumbling went on for what seemed like far too long. Every second he was fighting to control the freighter and keep it in position. Every second it became more likely the gunships would come upon them, naked and defenceless, and see what they were doing. The ruse would be finished and there was no way he could manoeuvre out of the valley in time.

  Come on!

  Shepherd glanced upwards through the roof of the cockpit. Within the darkness of the storm he thought he could see them—the gunships, almost upon them. But it was just the roiling of the charcoal clouds.

  Eventually the noise ceased and he heard the preacher’s voice crackling over the comms.

  ‘Okay, give me a hundred metres or so,’ he said. ‘That should be safe enough.’ Shepherd moved Soteria away and, almost immediately, he heard the shots from
the rifle, even above the howling wind. The preacher kept firing until a deafening explosion bucked the controls in Shepherd’s hands. The freighter rocked violently, and he was forced to back away to maintain control. He turned the ship and surveyed the damage they’d caused. The mountainside had been torn away, the wreckage from the barrels strewn amid the rock. Fire from the oil smeared the mountain, had doused the inside of the cave, and was burning furiously. Even from this distance, Shepherd imagined he could feel the heat.

  He backed her away, manoeuvring inch by inch behind the cover of a slab of rock, nearly half a mile lower than the cave system, and held there. The swirling fog and smoke still billowed around the ship, and soon the fire became a veiled orange glow beyond it.

  Now we wait. He glanced down at the nav display, looking for an escape route if the gunships didn’t go for it. If the pilots scanned the wreckage carefully, they’d recognise the ruse. If they came looking nearby, they’d pick up the freighter. Shepherd had to stay close, otherwise the heat from the blaze wouldn’t mask the discharge from Soteria’s drives. If he ran, they’d see the freighter immediately and have plenty of time to secure a firing solution. Bluffing’s always a risk, because you don’t have a hand, and that’s why you do it—you don’t have any other play.

  The preacher came into the cockpit and sat. His face was gaunt and he seemed somehow older, as if this was the beginning of something he wasn’t sure he could finish, and it exhausted him. He stared upwards, out of one of the main windows. ‘They won’t be long,’ he said.

  Shepherd heard the piercing howl of their drives before he saw the steel-blue glow through the fog. The gunships were closer than either of them had realised. They were way above and held a strong tactical position. If they found the freighter, it would end quickly.

  The wind shook the freighter, trying to pry her out from her hiding place. Shepherd’s palms grew damp as he gripped the controls more tightly. Everything in this place hates us, wants us to be found.

  He saw them through breaks in the fog. They prowled languidly, the red shimmering strobe of their scanning systems passing over the rock face like a wand. Rock continued to fall from the fires burning in the caves.