Tallow fell silent. Derward pushed his face up to the glass, trying to see him. ‘Hey, Tallow, my friend. Any chance of a glass of water?’
‘Use your dispenser.’
Derward glanced at the machine next to the door. ‘Doesn’t work. I think Lerek broke it.’
No reply.
‘Where do you normally work, Tallow? Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.’
‘Armory.’
‘Ah, you’re a gun man. What’s your favorite? The P-thirteens? Or the . . . the heavy one, what’s it called? The T-X . . .’
‘T-X four-forty heavy.’ Tallow replied.
‘Yeah, that’s it! You like that?’
‘It’s okay, I guess.’
Derward still couldn’t see him. He needed to make eye contact. ‘Not much of a gun person, myself. Never got the hang of shooting. Kept bruising my chest.’
‘You need to push the stock right into your shoulder, then you won’t get hurt by the recoil.’
‘Ah, right, thanks,’ Derward said. Where was he? ‘Look, I really could do with a glass of water. How about I go back to the far wall, then you can bring me one in. We can toast the new admiral together!’
Tallow said nothing.
‘Friend,’ Derward continued. ‘Tallow, please. You know what they did to me. You can probably see from the monitors on your desk. They pulled out my eye. Friend, it hurts like hell. Can you imagine? It’s taking all my strength just to stay conscious. All I’m asking for is a little drink of water. Then I’ll rest. Please, Tallow. I can tell you’re a good guy. You’re not like Lerek. Just a glass of water.’
Still, Tallow didn’t reply.
‘I’m going to stand over here, by the wall,’ Derward explained as he retreated from the door. He made sure his voice was weaker now, his words labored. ‘Back to the wall, hands out where you can see them. Tallow, friend, I’m begging you for some water.’
He waited there, ticking off the seconds in his mind until the door mechanism pinged. As the door opened the muzzle of a gun appeared, followed by a nervous Tallow. He was just a teenager, Derward realized. In his other hand was a plastic cup.
‘Water,’ Tallow said as he lowered the cup towards the floor. He would look down, any second now . . .
Tallow’s eyes glanced to the ground, just for an instant, and Derward moved. He was on Tallow before his finger could press the trigger, dragging him to the floor, his fingers on the pressure points on the boy’s neck and head. Tallow didn’t move, his eyes wide as he made little gasps for breath.
‘I’m sorry, friend, really.’ Derward pushed against Tallow’s head, just enough to render him unconscious. He took the guard’s gun and ID pass, then removed his uniform, swapping his own blood-stained rags for Tallow’s clothes. He pushed Tallow clear of the door and sealed him in the cell. There was no one else in the guard’s area. He found a first aid kit on the wall and took a length of cloth to hold up against his face, hiding his wound, then he checked the corridor outside and left the detention area.
He walked through empty corridors, towards the main conveyor station for this level. If he made it that far, there was a chance he could get to the hanger bay. As he approached the station he saw people waiting for the next pod. A huddle of four guards talked amongst themselves, hardly paying him any attention. He joined the other passengers, trying to look calm.
He sensed a young boy staring up at him, puzzled. Derward glanced at the child, then at his mother.
‘Training accident,’ he explained, gesturing to the cloth he was holding to his eye. ‘Heading to the infirmary now.’
The woman appeared nervous. ‘You want the pod on the other side. This one is going in the opposite direction.’
‘Towards the hanger bay?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Right, thank you,’ he said, smiling, retreating.
‘Will you be all right?’ she called after him.
‘Yes, I’ll be fine, thank you.’ He walked behind a pillar, waiting there until the pod stopped in the station. He watched the woman and her son step onto the front carriage. As the doors began to close, Derward ran to the rear pod and jumped on board. He kept his back to the others, his head down, as the pod accelerated out of the station. He checked the map, noting how many stops it was to the hanger bay, praying he could make it there without being stopped.
The pod slowed, the doors opened, and Derward found himself on the upper level of the hanger bay. He walked along the viewing gallery, trying to determine where his ship was berthed, hoping that they hadn’t impounded it.
He noticed a giant screen broadcasting the oath-taking ceremony. Valine’s proud face covered an entire wall. Orcades was there, presenting her with the deeds of office. Derward paused for a moment, then carried on, noticing that the people around him were distracted by the event. Derward took a chance and approached a holograph point, activating its help screen.
‘Where is the Far Horizon?’ he said quietly.
The holograph responded, showing him a three-dimensional map of the route through the hanger bay. Derward checked it against his surroundings, and walked towards his ship. Adrenaline subdued the pain in his head, robbing it of its anger, but all he could think about was resting. He fought the desire to stop, pushing onwards, through the hanger bay until he saw the familiar shape of the Lupaus up ahead. He could see the lights of the open entry ramp, and three guards coming from within.
Derward hid behind a storage container, watching the trio talking. Two of them left to patrol the rest of the hanger, while the third remained at the entrance to his ship. She was young, athletic, and carried a gun in her hands, ready to use it. They must have heard of his escape, he surmised. He wouldn’t have long.
He edged closer, keeping himself hidden, until there was nowhere left to hide. He stepped out, walking boldly towards her.
‘Did you see him?’ he shouted.
She raised her weapon towards him.
‘Hit me in the face,’ Derward continued, closing the gap between them. ‘He’s close by. Call it in.’
The woman kept the gun aimed at his head. ‘Close enough!’ she shouted. ‘ID card.’
‘Yeah, sorry,’ Derward replied, finding the stolen card in his pocket. He threw it towards her, distracting her just enough. As she looked up at the card, Derward pulled the weapon from her hands, and rammed it into her jaw. With a dull crack, she fell to her knees, stunned.
Derward checked to see if he’d been observed, then dragged the guard behind the storage container and ran back to his ship. He climbed the ramp and shut it behind him, bounding into the pilot’s seat.
‘Lupaus,’ Derward called. ‘Systems status check?’
The computer voice responded. ‘All systems flight ready.’
‘Good. Power up for emergency evac.’
‘Confirmed.’
Derward checked the hanger entrance. The entry and exit of merchant ships was controlled by the central hanger bay computers. He loaded up the worm program he had placed in their system, and cleared the Far Horizon for departure. The screen flashed at him as he waited for the ship’s status to change. Finally, the icon blipped to green, and he was given a flight path out of the hanger. He relinquished control of his ship to the Fenrir’s systems, and held his breath.
The Lupaus lifted from the pad, hovered gently in mid-air, then drifted towards the exit.
‘That’s it,’ Derward muttered, hoping he might just get away with this. ‘Keep going.’
The ship flew higher, gaining speed. The exit filled his view with the inky dark expanse of open space, tempting him away from the hanger bay.
‘Far Horizon . . .’ The voice crackled over the bridge’s com system. ‘Pilot identity required. Please respond.’
Derward tensed. Just as the ship reached the threshold of the hanger exit, it began to slow.
Cursing, he switched the com off. ‘Lupaus, give me control. Fire main thrusters on my mark.’
‘You have
control. Standing by.’
The Gilgore grid over the opening was just powerful enough to keep the atmosphere in. He could ram through it, he hoped. He had to take a chance.
‘Fire thrusters, maximum yield!’
The ship shot forwards, through the gap and out into space. The grid buckled, letting him through. Almost immediately, a proximity alarm sounded.
‘Incoming ordinance,’ the computer advised.
Derward took evasive action, plunging the ship into a steep dive that took it over the surface of the arkship. He smiled, feeling the response of the Lupaus. The Scribe hadn’t let him down. He weaved through the towers protruding from the surface, feeling the vibration of an impact close by.
‘Lupaus. Give me a list of Li Zhang arkships.’
‘There are twelve Li Zhang arkships: the Akenomyōsei-Maru, the Dākufurawā-Maru, the–’
‘List them by proximity to me.’ Derward shouted as the he swung the ship in a terrifying arc.
‘The Kanzan-Maru, the Tateishi-Maru, the–’
‘That’s it! The Tateishi. I remember now. Bring the Cube drive online and take us to the Tateishi-Maru as fast as you can.’
‘Navigation plotted . . . Cube drive activated. Clearance required.’
‘Got it,’ Derward replied, turning the ship towards empty space. Once he left the relative safety of the arkship’s hull he knew he only had seconds before one of the Fenrir’s weapons hit him.
‘Minimum clearance in eight seconds,’ the computer advised.
Derward swung the ship into an erratic series of turns, avoiding the flashes of weapons fire streaking past him. Even so, he felt the jolt of several impacts. It was just a matter of time before they hit something critical.
‘Minimum clearance reached. Cube drive initiated.’
Derward felt the yoke pull away from him. He was no longer in control of the little ship. In the same instant, one of the Fenrir’s gunners found its target: an explosion tore through the nose of the Lupaus, cracking the windows.
‘Decompression alert,’ the computer said, its voice barely registering over the rush of air. The metal structure in front of Derward began to twist, and hairline fractures grew over the cockpit’s walls. He had seconds to react. He popped the seat’s harness and rushed towards the cockpit door. Behind him, he heard a series of quick pops, followed by the tearing of metal.
‘Cockpit integrity failing,’ the computer announced. Derward’s fingers gripped the edge of the doorframe, pulling him through. At the same moment, he felt the pain of decompression as the Cube drive dragged the ship out of harm’s way.
‘Seal the door!” Derward shouted, his breath leaving him.
There was a sudden rush of air, then silence, as the door slammed into place. Through the window in the door he could see the damaged cockpit, exposed to the glare of cubespace. The front section was missing, just a tangle of torn bulkhead and exposed wires.
Derward dropped to the floor, panting to catch his breath. ‘Lupaus . . . status?’
‘Decompression of cockpit caused by major hull breech.’
‘You don’t say?’ he muttered.
The computer continued, oblivious. ‘Cube drive is functioning, as is navigation. Manual control is not possible at this time. We are on course for rendezvous with the Tateishi-Maru.’
‘Good. Any sign of pursuit?’
‘None detected.’
His eyes explored his tiny cabin. The decompression has pulled at his few possessions, scattering them over his bunk, and onto the floor. He had been lucky. He was still alive. Not bad, considering his half of the cockpit was missing.
Derward rested, thinking about the Draig trap. How had it happened? ‘Lupaus, link with the Icarus mainframe . . . you have my authorization codes?’
‘Yes,’ the computer replied. ‘Data link may take several hours at this range.’
‘Wake me,’ he said, closing his eyes to rest.
The computer pinged, and he opened his eyes again. It felt like seconds had passed, but a quick glance at the ships chronometer told him otherwise.
‘Link established with Icarus mainframe,’ the ship announced.
Derward picked up the pad and scrolled through the Church archive. The link was slow, and it took him another hour to find what he was looking for. He compared the data with the information stored on his pad, noting the discrepancies. He felt a fool. He had been betrayed by trust. He threw the pad down, waiting for his rage to subside. Fatigue took its place, and his eyes became heavy again.
‘Okay. I’m going to sleep,’ he told the computer. ‘Unless you pick up anything on our tail, don’t wake me until we’re in communication range of the Tateishi-Maru, I need to speak to her captain as soon as possible.’
‘Understood. Sleep well.’
Derward climbed into his bed, and, as his nerves calmed, he fell into a deep slumber.
A SECRET BURDEN
Reader Keres Mallory sat alone in the cool dimness of the chapel, the only light coming from the stained-glass image of The Infinite that dominated the wall behind the altar. Her eyes danced over its soft colors, resting in their soothing embrace, but she could find no comfort there today.
She had betrayed him.
She had betrayed Derward Tarkkail.
Keres held her stomach, feeling a physical reaction to her thoughts, and she let the convulsions of sorrow course through her.
Did he know yet? she wondered. He was a clever man, he would have figured it out by now, she was sure. Her body trembled again, and she felt her breath leave her.
She touched the golden symbol of her faith hanging on a chain about her neck, hoping it might calm her. Her fingers traced the contours of The Infinite, as she whispered a prayer.
‘Did I do the right thing? Is this your will? Show me a sign. Show me the way forward.’
The silence pushed against her skin, suffocating her.
‘You should have stayed,’ she said, talking to Derward now. ‘You would have been safe. Why did you go?’
It had all seemed so simple. She had been certain her actions were justified. Passing information to the House of Draig would bring an end to this war. Luring the Kenric arkships to a final confrontation would save lives. The prince would surrender quickly. Yes, simple, justified . . . righteous! It was the will of the Infinite Gods!
Wasn’t it?
The attack would be swift, Kenric would surrender, and she and Derward would be spared. But then he left. In the middle of the battle, Derward disappeared. And the attack failed. Now, her actions seemed questionable . . . self-indulgent, even. As she prayed in the quiet sanctuary of the chapel, her doubts about her motives grew.
After all, she was Draig herself, at least by birth. But Derward had taken her away from that life, removed all trace of her origins. It was for her own good, he said. She would have died. Instead, she had spent a lifetime in training with the Church, years of duty and service. This was no life! Sometimes, she wondered if death would have been better. Derward had stolen her heritage, then left her to rot in the Church, thinking it a mercy! Her growing questions had eroded her love for him, and allowed hatred take its place.
At least, if her plan had succeeded, she would be Draig again. She would be happy. Wasn’t that what the Infinite Gods wanted for her?
‘Well?’ she said to the glass image. ‘What do you want me to do?’
There were no answers on this arkship for her, only accusations and interrogation. At least the disciplines of the Church’s training had allowed her to hide her guilt from the Lord Chamberlain.
‘What should I do now?’ she asked.
Still, no answers came. The Infinite Gods kept their silence.
Tears consumed her once more. And with them came a new clarity of thought: They did not know. Her guilt remained intact, a secret burden. She must find the strength to carry on. When the time was right, the Gods would guide her back to the House of Draig.
Keres stood, bowing to the altar, real
izing there was more she had to do before she would get her reward.
DIVIDED
Wynn awoke and realized he’d been crying. The last fragments of his dream faded away, leaving just the vague hint of their meaning. He was left with a sense of loss, but not knowing why.
He climbed out of bed and showered, trying not to think. The hot water felt good on his face, soothing his troubled thoughts. The visions were getting worse, breaking in to fracture his waking moments, distracting him when he least expected it. He’d taken to writing it all down, hoping that he might make some sense of it, but the words just didn’t capture what he was feeling. Sometimes, he would experience a moment of clarity, when the visions made sense, but by the time he’d picked up a pad they had broken apart again. Nothing made sense, he’d even contemplated speaking to a doctor or a counsellor, someone who might be able to interpret what had happened to him. But he knew no one could help him. No one had ever experienced this before. He was alone.
Inevitably, his thoughts returned to Bara. He couldn’t escape her, even if he wanted to. Yet, going over those last few days together was torture. Could he have done more to make her stay? He should have tried harder. He should have made her understand . . .
Or maybe that was the reason she left: she understood perfectly. That was the truth he was trying to avoid. Bara thought he was wrong. Too many people had died, and she couldn’t stand by and watch him join the army of the dead. Perhaps, he should have gone with her, run away from all of this. How tempting it was.
Wynn got out of the shower and reached for a towel.
‘Who are you?’
His vision broke apart, and he was back inside The Infinite, with the voices he could never see.
‘You know me!’ he shouted. ‘I’m Wynn.’
‘The divided must be joined. Time is short.’
He wheeled about, realizing he was afloat in the shifting colors of space. ‘What do you mean? Who are you?’ Wynn shouted. ‘Show yourself?’
There was a blinding flash of light, and the strands of The Infinite condensed into a globe.
‘We are that which is beyond. We are that which is within. We are before and after. We stand outside. We are Infinite. Time is short, but you do not listen.’
Arkship Vengeance (The Arkship Saga Book 2) Page 13