Then Catriona received unsettling information. The wide valley’s eastern wall comprised a line of cliffs, steep hills and ridges, all interwoven with dark, dense undergrowth, a formidable obstacle to anyone travelling on foot. Yet the zealots had turned east and were heading straight for them; on reaching that barrier they would surely be forced to turn back or continue southwards. Half an hour later came bad news – they had found a narrow, barely accessible pass between two rearing crags and were moving through it. At the other end of the pass a lush fruit vale led to the Gardentrees, five huge, specially cultivated vaskin trees. They were clustered around a scholar town called Seedspringlow; most of the youngest Uvovo children from the south-east towns and villages had been sent there soon after the Brolturans arrived on Nivyesta. Luckily Catriona had ordered them evacuated a few hours ago, dispatching them to a harvest town about a dozen miles north-east.
But then she started to get panicky messages from a Listener in Seedspringlow, which revealed that the children were still there. A group of elder scholars had decided to ignore the evac order and now the Spiral fanatics were drawing close to the Gardentrees. Meanwhile the Brolturan vessel had altered its course in the direction of Seedspringlow, still following its quarry.
The situation was desperate. The frantic evacuation of Seedspringlow was now under way but would not be completed before the zealots arrived. The town’s defenders were few in number and lightly armed, and although reinforcements were being rushed from north and south they would be too late.
Children, she thought. Hundreds of Uvovo younglings … this is my fault, I should have known, should have been ready …
Going by past reports and observations, the Spiral zealots would slaughter all they met and after them would come the Brolturans, raining fire on the forest …
Segrana, help us! Her desperate plea rang out across the weave of being and there was the sense of many others, Listeners and attuned scholars, feeling that cry. Help them! You have power, Segrana, I have seen its immensity in the depths – will you not use it to help resist the attacks on your being and your people? …
But there was no reply, nothing but a tense, withdrawn silence. Catriona despaired.
Segrana, if you will not use your powers, let me …
‘She cannot … and you must not …’
Cat felt that presence, that wise and aged intellect, and found a wavering image emerging in what passed for her visual sense, a hooded figure, hazy, as if seen through fine rain. Still in the inky darkness of the vudron, she wondered if he was real or only in her mind.
‘Pathmaster,’ she said. ‘We must …’
‘The powers and energies you glimpsed are very real,’ the ancient Uvovo said. ‘But their use demands a particular strength that neither you nor Segrana possesses.’
‘She mentioned something called the Many-Eyes.’
‘Yes, an old, old name for the part of her that she sacrificed during the War of the Long Night, a guiding warrior spirit that left her to dive into the underdomains and destroy the soulroots of the Dreamless.’
‘I need that power,’ Cat said. ‘I must have it, Pathmaster. People are gonna die, Uvovo children … please, I cannae have that on my conscience …’
‘The risks are terrible,’ the Pathmaster said. ‘You are unskilled. The consequences could be both subtle and horrible, and death is a likely outcome, although the fulsome memory of you would live on.’
‘Would it let me defend Segrana and the Uvovo?’
Images flared through her mind, the Spiral fanatics, caught in flickering webs of energy, their paralysed bodies slumping to the ground, then the Brolturan transport and a dozen other craft wrapped in the same energy, losing altitude as they glide out to ditch in the shallows of the southern sea.
‘Such is possible,’ said the Pathmaster.
She did not hesitate. ‘What must I do?’
‘Recall the moment when you stretched your awareness out to the peripheries of Segrana and felt the deepness of the powers opening beneath you. You must undertake that again but you must also direct your needs downward into that power, rather than outwards. Its terrifying magnitudes will be revealed and powers will try to channel themselves through you. Then you will discover if you can master them.’
Catriona found herself assailed by doubt and she almost changed her mind. Then thoughts of her friends and colleagues came to her and, over and over, Greg. And she wished … wished that she knew, just here at what might be the end, whether he felt anything for her …
Was there a hint of amusement in that cowled visage? Or was it compassion?
‘His feelings for you,’ said the Pathmaster, ‘are like a flower made from the sun.’
‘That’s …’ She felt overcome in the moment, by surprise and a bittersweet joy. ‘Thank you.’
‘Now, strengthen your inner resolve,’ said the Pathmaster. ‘The immensity of Segrana awaits, and you must reach out to encompass it all.’
She began.
29
THEO
The plan was simple and straightforward. Once docking protocols were complete, Theo would lead the escort guarding Captain Gideon out to the high-security buffer gate, present the access code docket and proceed on into Base Wolf and stage two of the rescue operation.
I love simple plans, Theo thought as a chime sounded in the load-out chamber and they trooped through to the main airlock. They can go wrong in so many entertaining ways.
According to Gideon, Base Wolf was one of four Tygran advance bases maintained around the Aranja Tesh, and the one closest to their colony world. The greater part of it was tunnelled into a craggy, four-kilometre-wide asteroid, orbiting the outer reaches of an unremarkable star system just within the boundary of Sul, an impoverished client state of the Sendrukan Hegemony. The main dock lay inside the asteroid, an immense dark space fitfully illuminated by spotlights. The scoutship Starfire loomed over Theo and the others as they descended a long ramp, yet it was diminutive set against the long walkway and the split-level gantries with mooring and berths clearly designed for much larger vessels.
Some of the lighting was devoted to emphasising the dramatic lines of the architecture, immense columns that angled up into the gloom, the brassy roof that sloped down over the glass-sided buffer gate, and the huge emblematic monument that hung overhead. It depicted the upper torso of an armoured warrior leaning out, shield before him, spear held chest-high and jutting forward. On the shield was a snarling wolf.
Theo, Malachi and the other six Stormlions were in full combat armour and headgear. Inside his, Theo could feel sweat running down his scalp. The sound of his own breathing was oddly claustrophobic. His armour’s auxiliary arms were set to neutral, the smaller hands tucked into midriff pockets.
Gideon, on the other hand, was clad in a dun-coloured, nondescript onepiece, his hands bound, his neck hung with a muting loop. With his head bowed, he looked beaten.
Then suddenly they were standing before the buffer gate and its doors were opening to admit them. Through the transparent wall inside Theo saw three bare-headed men in partial body armour seated at holomonitors, not even acknowledging their presence. Base Wolf was garrisoned by the Shadow Watch commandery, whose captain was Nathaniel Horne. Earlier, Malachi had told Theo that Horne had a reputation for sadistic cruelty and had been known to torture his prisoners. He was also one of Marshal Becker’s closest allies.
One of the gate sentries looked up.
‘Good day, brothers. Let’s have the prospectus.’
Theo had been coached for this and stepped forward.
‘I am Field Lieutenant Brandt, Scoutship Starfire commanding, holding the prisoner Franklyn Gideon for conveyance to Alecto. Main drive malfunction has necessitated our stopover for repairs; also, the prisoner complains of chest pains but the shipboard automed has an intermittent fault, leading to a request for examination in your sickbay.’
The man behind the glass gave Gideon a despising look, then went back to Th
eo. ‘Your access code docket, Lieutenant.’
Theo produced the oval laminate prepared and given to him by Gideon, and dropped it into a slot on the counter top. The Shadow Watch sentry retrieved it and swiped it over a metal pad. Meanwhile, Theo moved over to a dark, reflective panel by the inner door, unsealed his right glove, took it off and pressed his palm against cold smoothness.
Would it work or would alarms start screaming? His palm had been imprinted with a pattern virus, using a skin dye almost invisible to the eye but highly visible to the data processors running the system.
The seconds were never-ending. Theo’s mouth was dry and his heart was thumping. He looked around to see the sentry frowning at his holodisplay, then shake his head and throw up his hands.
‘This thing is cranked,’ he said to one of his companions. ‘We might have to respin the boards … wait, it’s coming through. Okay, Lieutenant, now your retina.’
Hands trembling, Theo fingered a collar stud and his visor parted. He bent to let the panel scan his eye and when that too was verified the door opened and he walked through. One by one Malachi and the others submitted to the scan, each of them possessing an invisible tag in that same skin dye on their palms, allowing the now hijacked system to ID them as Grey Sentinels. Except for Gideon who had to be correctly identified.
Minutes later everyone was through to a seating area. Like the rest, Theo’s visor was still open, exposing his face: he hoped that the improvised makeup was enough to get past any further encounters.
‘Sickbay is up the corridor and to your right across the hall,’ said the guard.
‘Thanks, I know the way,’ said Theo.
‘Uh, Lieutenant, don’t forget this.’
From behind an open counter, the sentry tossed the access docket through the air. Theo barely had time to react before it struck his armoured midriff and fell clattering on the floor. The Shadow Watch sentry’s eyes hardened and his two companions looked up, as if aware of the sudden tension.
‘Is there a problem with your aug-arms, Lieutenant?’ he said.
‘Only with your discourtesy.’ Theo bent to pick up the docket then went over to the counter. ‘Is it Shadow Watch custom to greet the brothers of other commanderies this way?’
‘No, but I …’
‘Ah, so this obnoxious, insulting behaviour was produced on your own initiative! I must relate this to Captain Horne, that a soldier of the Shadow Watch would so casually bring his commandery into disrepute …’
He was interrupted by a regular beeping and red and amber glows pulsing in one of the holodisplays. The aggravated guard swung away and angrily demanded to know what was happening.
‘Subsystem error, Sergeant,’ said one of the others. ‘The cognitives are running a virus hunt.’
‘Right,’ said the sergeant, his hand straying to the weapon at his waist.
There was a chorus of faint clicks and red target spots appeared on the necks and faces of all three Shadow Watch guards.
‘Don’t,’ said Theo. ‘All of you, hands on heads and turn away – do it!’
As soon as they did, Theo and the other Stormlions fired trank rounds into the backs of their necks. They dropped without a sound.
‘Well done, Theo,’ said Gideon, snapping his tie restraints and moving to strip the tallest sentry of his body armour. ‘That steel in your voice certainly had the tenor of experience.’
‘Had to reprimand cadets more times than I care to remember,’ Theo said. ‘Most of the time a little carpeting is all it needs, but sometimes you have to wave the big stick.’
Gideon chuckled as he worked at one of the holodisplays. A moment later the beep alarm ceased and the red and amber alerts vanished. ‘Okay, the virus is still in place and the comm network is down but only for five minutes, imitating a system respin. So Theo and Malachi, take Klein and Jones and get to Security – the rest of us will head for the garrison quarters and lock it down. And remember – today, nobody dies.’
This was where Malachi took the tactical lead, not least because he knew the base’s layout from years of assignments and stopovers. From the waiting area, a wide corridor sloped up to a high hall decorated in a heroic fashion similar to the dockside: commandery shields and banners, austere statues in wall niches, and lamps positioned for effect. It was quiet, deserted, and the two groups went their separate ways, helm visors sealed, boots clicking on polished tiles.
Taking the security office was a textbook example of overwhelm-and-subdue. With a fibreye slipped under the door they scoped the number and disposition of the duty personnel – a man and a woman, both seated at consoles – before bursting in. Going high and low, Malachi and Klein tranked both the operators immediately then Jones hurried to the main command console, checking the activity logs. Then he turned to Malachi, his visor translucent.
‘We’ve a problem – our guy here was in mid-dialogue with someone up in Holding. Whoever it was quickly cut the line then put another call through to the garrison quarters but got no reply.’
‘It sounds as if Captain Gideon has succeeded, yes?’ said Theo. Malachi nodded but his frown was dark. ‘Is there an updated presence log? Where is Horne and who’s with him?’
Jones crouched over the holodisplay, fingering symbols, sorting and flicking data images to and fro with agile speed.
‘Presence log … updated seventy-six minutes ago; then, Horne was up in Holding Cell Omega with five Grey Sentinel guards. Omega is where they’re keeping our people …’
‘Sergeant,’ said Klein from the doorway. ‘Captain’s here.’ Gideon entered the now-cramped monitoring room, looked at the unconscious guards over in the corner, then nodded.
‘Good. Have we control of the base’s comms?’ ‘Seems so, sir,’ Malachi said, then gave a summary report on the calls from Holding and who was up there.
‘Good,’ Gideon said. ‘Hartmann and Boyd are heading up to level two to keep the techs out of the way. In the meantime, Jones will stay here to man the screens and comms while the rest of us head up to secure access to Holding Cell Omega. Short-range channel for now …’
‘Sir,’ said Jones from his console. ‘There is a call from Holding asking for you by name.’
Gideon was silent a moment. ‘Is it Captain Horne?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Put it up on the display.’
The holodisplay winked on, autoadjusted to larger dimensions and abruptly became a live feed. Theo stared as the frame pulled back to show a wall with a receding row of upright metal canisters, each containing a man, strapped and restrained, wires and tubes trailing from head and neck. The viewpoint panned to show a second row, back to back with a third, then a fourth and a fifth, while along the back wall were yet more prisoners. These had to be Gideon’s men, Theo knew. The sight sent a chill down his neck.
Then the cam came to rest on a burly, bearded man clad in black body armour and, strangely, a black, calf-length cloak. Two Grey Sentinels stood behind him, both in full SLAM armour, helmed and armed with short-bodied autoweapons.
‘Gideon, such an unexpected pleasure. You should have let me know – I would have had a banquet prepared.’
Gideon’s features were impassive.
‘Horne, no time for pleasantries. Just release my men and I’ll take them and withdraw without any need for unpleasantness.’
Nathaniel Horne smiled. ‘But that would lack manners, Gideon, to depart your host’s residence with such indecent haste.’ The cam tracked back as he stepped forward, and a metal trolley came into view, its shiny trays full of gleaming surgical instruments, some red with blood. ‘But you’re right, Gideon, there’s no time for pleasantries so let us move on to the meat of it, shall we?’
Horne took a handgun from his waist and strode over to the nearest imprisoned Stormlion. Unsteadily, the cam followed him, clearly being carried by an operator. Horne raised his weapon and pressed the muzzle against the prisoner’s forehead. The captive soldier stared at the gun, eyes unwavering,
tongue wetting his lips. Theo suddenly felt for Gideon, knowing what was coming.
‘Nathaniel, I’m warning you …’
A sudden fury tore across Horne’s face.
‘You don’t warn me in my own base! So here is what you do – go to the quarters, rouse my men and surrender to their custody or … I shall execute your men, all of them, one every minute, starting with this one. In fact, just to convince you …’
There was a flash. The camera jerked back, simultaneous with gasps and curses in the crowded monitor room. Then there were shouts coming over as the picture stabilised to show one of the Grey Sentinels pointing his weapon at Horne, yelling at him to lay down his gun. Horne was still grinning as he held the gun to the throat of the next prisoner along. The first hung forward out of his canister, bloody and still.
‘Put it down, sir, put it down! Stop this dishonouring of our commandery, stop it …’
‘I am your captain, Villem, I am your breath, your life, you owe me your obedience, your loyalty to the brink of death and beyond! Surrender or be destroyed!’
But the rebel Grey Sentinel was shouting over the words of his captain, his voice climbing to a crescendo of rage while into the frame came another Grey Sentinel, stealthily moving in on his blind side. Three weapons aimed, fury converging, targets acquired, no going back …
Suddenly, everywhere, men were staggering forward out of their canister cells. The rebel Grey Sentinel glanced to the side, and Horne ducked, firing at the prisoner and missing. The holodisplay showed bolts of energy striking the rebel Grey before a freed Stormlion trooper lurched into the frame and threw a punch. The cam picture shook wildly, blurred as if dropped, then came to a rest showing a violent scramble of legs. There were shouts, agonised shrieks, and the buzz-whip sound of energy weapons.
The Orphaned Worlds_Book Two of Humanity's Fire Page 36