Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4)

by Mark R. Healy

  There was a crashing noise from the office behind him, and Nurzhan heard the strangled voice of Consul Hanker as he loosed a cry of frustration.

  “Redman!” came Hanker’s voice. “I need you!”

  “Dust and ashes,” Nurzhan muttered tiredly. “Give me strength.”

  He turned and wound his way back inside the complex, and in moments arrived at the room in which Consul Hanker had stationed himself after they’d fled from the consulate a couple of days prior. The old man was still red-faced, irate, just as he’d been when Nurzhan had left him a few minutes ago. Now, however, a stack of papers and pens lay strewn across the floor, which Nurzhan could only assume had been swept off the desk by the consul in his rage.

  “Fucking prick!” Hanker shouted, pacing about angrily. “Fucking little prick!”

  Even though it had been several hours since Hanker’s plan to destroy the habitat – and Administrator Valen along with it – had been thwarted, the old man had not come close to regaining his composure. He had spent the duration stomping around the makeshift office, cursing and muttering to himself as he’d tried to come to terms with the fact that his years of scheming had come to nothing.

  Valen, and the rest of the Consortium staff on the habitat, had escaped. Hanker’s carefully laid plans for revenge had been ruined by Knile Oberend’s distress call to Valen.

  The habitat had been evacuated. Valen was, most likely, sitting comfortably at one of the moon bases right now, planning her retirement to the Outworlds.

  “You think you’re so clever, Knile,” Hanker said, lost in his own thoughts. “But old Hank hasn’t played his last hand. Not yet.”

  Nurzhan waited patiently for a few more moments, then cleared his throat noisily.

  “You called for me, Consul Hanker?”

  Hanker snapped his head around, as if surprised to see him standing there. The consul’s eyes were feverish, intense. He had the look of a man who had become unhinged.

  “Redman,” Hanker snapped, “we need to make preparations to leave.”

  In all the years Nurzhan had served him, Jon Hanker had never addressed him by his name. It was always ‘Redman’ or ‘Guard’ or sometimes simply ‘You’.

  Nurzhan suppressed his displeasure, keeping his voice even. “Where are we to go, Consul?”

  Hanker dropped down into his chair again and began to shuffle through more papers, which were filled with untidy scribbles in his own handwriting. He began to mutter to himself again as he flicked between them, and Nurzhan waited patiently once more.

  “Where are we going, Consul Hanker?” Nurzhan prompted.

  Hanker ceased his frenetic shuffling and glared at the Redman. “They think they’ve won, but they haven’t,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

  “Who?”

  “Valen!” Hanker said. “The Consortium. They think they’ve found safety, but they haven’t. Not by a long shot.”

  Across the other side of the room, Kazimir appeared, having returned from his inspection of the perimeter. He nodded to his fellow Redman, then stood at attention.

  “I don’t understand,” Nurzhan said to Hanker. “How can you touch the Consortium now? The Wire has been severed. We’re trapped here forever. All of us.”

  Hanker grinned sardonically. “Well, no one ever accused you of having a brain in your head, Redman.” He lifted a small device from the edge of his desk. It was a metallic grey colour, and a silver antenna protruded from one end. “If you’d been listening, you might have figured it out.”

  Nurzhan bristled at the insult. “What do you have there?”

  “This,” Hanker said, lifting the device and staring at it appreciatively, “is a custom built receiver. It allows me to tap into any channel used by a longwave registered to the Consortium.” He raised an eyebrow. “You know what a longwave is, don’t you?”

  Nurzhan nodded. “A device used for off-world comms.”

  “Correct. And I happen to have had this receiver tuned to a specific longwave, ever since I got the call from that little brat Ursie up in the habitat.” Hanker leaned forward. “I know what they’re doing. Knile and his friends.”

  “And that is?”

  “They’re taking the Skywalk over to the old Sunspire elevator. They’re going to try to get it started again, get their friends off-world. They even have a cruiser waiting out there to pick them up.” He waggled the receiver at Nurzhan. “That’s our ticket out of here.”

  Nurzhan glanced at Kazimir, but the other Redman remained stoic, emotionless behind his gas mask.

  “Then we would not be consigned to live on this forsaken wasteland,” Nurzhan said, his spirits lifted. “We would escape Landfall.”

  Hank placed the receiver down again. “All we need to do is keep an ear on what they’re doing. We can journey across to Sunspire and take control of the elevator ourselves.” He leaned back, a faraway look in his eyes. “From there, we can go after Valen. We can track her down, make her pay for what she’s done. And why stop there? Once we’ve escaped this shithole, we can go after the rest of the Consortium. We could go after the hierarchy itself.”

  “Why would we want to do that?” Nurzhan said.

  Hanker broke from his reverie and glared contemptuously at him. “Leave the thinking to me, Redman. I’ll make the plans, you just do as I say.” He jabbed a finger at the door. “Now get out there and make sure we have a clear path out of Gaslight. We need to locate Talia Anders and her companions before they can slip out of the Reach.”

  Nurzhan reached over his shoulder plucked the pulse rifle from his back. He took a moment to adjust a dial on the stock, then pointed it at Jon Hanker.

  “I have a better idea, Consul.”

  Nurzhan pulled the trigger once, and Hanker’s body slammed backward in his chair as the pulse round took him full in the chest. He rebounded from the wall behind him, then flopped headfirst into the desk. He lay there motionless, his eyes unseeing, as wisps of smoke curled from the scorched hole in his torso.

  Kazimir looked on impassively as Nurzhan dropped the pulse rifle unceremoniously on the desk next to the dead man.

  “I thought he would never shut up,” Kazimir said.

  “You and me both, brother.”

  Kazimir began to walk forward slowly. “What do you intend to do, Nurzhan?”

  “Some of what he said made sense, but I couldn’t care less about his desires to punish the Consortium. His revenge has no meaning to me.” He took a deep breath. “In fact, Consul Hanker’s selfishness has all but left us stranded here in this forsaken place.”

  “Do you believe we must suffer Landfall, then?”

  Nurzhan glanced at his companion. “In your years at the Citadel, did you ever hear the story of the red moon blossom?”

  “Of course. Every acolyte knows the fable. They say that only a chosen few have ever seen it flower, that the first High Priest himself planted it in the Citadel grove.”

  “And that those who find it in bloom are themselves destined to one day become the High Priest.”

  Kazimir shrugged. “A bedtime story for the young. What of it?”

  Nurzhan shook his head. “It is no story, brother.” He reached under his garments and pulled out a tattered cloth, then laid it reverently on the table. Pinching the corners of the cloth delicately, he revealed a pressing of a stunning variegated flower, bone white on the tips and crimson in the centre. “Here is the proof.”

  Kazimir stared down at the flower, bewildered. “Walk in the light,” he breathed.

  “It is not my destiny to die here on Earth,” Nurzhan said, covering the flower once more. “The day that I left the Citadel, the High Priest himself told me that I would one day return to Mars, to take my place on the Council. He told me that this journey to Earth was merely a stepping stone along the path, not the final destination. That one day I would succeed him as High Priest.”

  “So what do we do?”

  He turned to the radio. “We have the receiver. If we l
isten, we can trace the movements of this woman, Talia Anders, and her crew. We stay close to them, allow them to organise the rendezvous at Sunspire. Then we strike when the time is right.”

  “You intend to kill them?”

  “Without question. There is no other way.”

  “Should we gather more of our brothers from here in the Reach? We could save more of them from Landfall.”

  “No. This pitiful creature,” Nurzhan said, nodding at Hanker, “has disgraced the two of us. Our names have been smeared along with his. I would not face our brothers after that.” His mouth twisted sourly. “This is something we must do alone.”

  He tugged at his gloves, removing them both and slapping them down on the desk, then began to unclip his breastplate.

  “Remove your armour, brother,” he instructed Kazimir. “We must make ourselves less conspicuous if we are to watch over our targets undetected.”

  Kazimir took his pulse rifle and dropped it on the table next to Nurzhan’s.

  “Another disgrace, to shed the crimson,” he said distastefully.

  “A means to an end, Kazimir,” Nurzhan said encouragingly. “Thus begins the path to redemption.”

  5

  Silvestri reached out and snared Roman’s collar as the boy began to slip. Roman cried out, and for a moment the two of them swung disconcertingly far from the wall, their feet dangling into nothingness, but then their momentum shifted and they went slamming back into the side of the Reach again.

  “Gotcha!” Silvestri gasped, straining as he lifted Roman toward the next rope. “Now, grab on!”

  Roman struggled ungainly for a moment before righting his balance, then clutched gratefully at the lifeline that dangled beside him. Silvestri glanced up to see Talia and the others clinging to their ropes uncertainly, their eyes fixed on the nauseating drop below their feet. Further above, Silvestri could see the roof of the Reach splintering and shaking fearfully, shedding huge chunks of steel and concrete as it began to break apart.

  The noise was fearsome, like a mountain being torn asunder by an earthquake.

  “Drop!” Silvestri shouted over the din. “Drop! Go!”

  Silvestri began to slide downward at a rapid clip, and the others were somewhat more reserved until, moments later, a wedge of reinforced concrete dropped down against the balustrade above and went spinning over their heads in close proximity. After that, their urgency increased markedly, and they scrambled their way down the wall as fast as they could manage.

  The drop was a blur. At one point, a piece of metal clattered against Silvestri’s shoulder and almost knocked him off the wall. Talia was screaming something, but it was lost in the roar of splintering steel from above. He couldn’t be sure exactly how far they’d travelled, but by the time they hit the ledge at the bottom, he guessed that they’d descended at least twenty or thirty metres.

  He helped Yun and Roman as they reached the ledge, and Talia dropped nimbly beside them, followed by Duran and Zoe.

  There was a gaping rend in the wall nearby, what looked like the result of an explosion, and together they ducked through as the debris continued to rain down around them.

  Silvestri realised that they’d made it to somewhere in the Plant Rooms.

  And they weren’t alone.

  As they started forward, a gun muzzle flashed as a warning shot went whizzing over their heads.

  “Who the fuck are you?” someone called from the gloom. Silvestri looked and saw a smattering of faces peering at them from behind the cover of metal cabinets and bulky machine parts that had been turned into bulwarks. Each of them toted a rifle, and these were now pointed at Silvestri and his companions.

  Another voice. “What’s going on up there? What happened?”

  “The Wire’s been cut,” Silvestri shouted at them. “We need to get out of here.”

  “The Wire? That’s bullshit,” one of the men said. “It can’t be done.”

  “Why don’t you head up there and see for yourself?” Talia suggested hotly.

  “Look,” Silvestri said, “we’re not here to fight anyone. Just–”

  There was a thunderous crash outside, and Silvestri turned to see a massive wad of jagged metal smash through the platform on which they’d been standing moments before. Splinters of metal and grit exploded through the rend in the wall, and Silvestri stumbled as he tried to put some distance between himself and the danger.

  “That’s far enough!” one of the men called out. “Get down on the ground until we sort this shit out!”

  “Are you fucking stupid?” Zoe replied, nursing a cut on her forearm. “Can’t you see what’s going on?”

  “All I know is that you’re full of shit,” the man said. “Now, get down or we’ll put you down.”

  Zoe dropped her hand to her rifle and glanced across at Silvestri, and he could see the question that was in her eyes.

  Do we just take these bastards down?

  Silvestri glanced around them again, trying to count off their enemy, but then he shook his head. They were sitting ducks out here. Their enemy had the advantage of numbers, as well as cover. The odds were against them, no question about it.

  Silvestri sank to one knee. “You heard him,” he said. “Do what he says.”

  Zoe scowled at him disapprovingly, and Duran just shook his head. Talia followed his lead, dropping to her knees in submission.

  “All the way down,” the man called out. “All of you. I want to see–”

  There was another ear-splitting squeal of shredding metal, and the entire room shuddered and jolted as if it had been slammed by a giant hammer. Daylight was suddenly pouring in around them, and Silvestri saw with horror that a huge swath of the wall of the Reach above them was being torn aside like the lid of a sardine can. He was on his feet a split second later, hauling Talia with him, and then they were running.

  The men who had confronted them were doing the same, scattering deeper inside the Plant Rooms as debris began to rain down from above.

  “Stick together!” Silvestri screamed, but he couldn’t be sure anyone had heard him. “This way!”

  He led them along a steel walkway as massive struts fell around them. The sunlight that had flooded into the room disappeared again as more of the structure collapsed, and then there was darkness.

  Silvestri’s holophone cut into the gloom, revealing a jumble of machinery and steel and rubble. The rumbling from outside seemed to have subsided, creating a moment of respite from the chaos.

  Perhaps we’re through the worst of it, he thought, although he didn’t quite believe it.

  Nearby, Talia came limping out of the darkness, Roman and Yun trailing close on her heels.

  “You okay?” he said.

  She nodded brusquely. “I’ll live.”

  They found Zoe and Duran a short way ahead, and something else – a captive who lay squirming under the considerable pressure of Duran’s knee.

  “Stupid bastard tripped,” Duran said as they arrived. He leaned down toward the man’s face. “Looks like your friends left without you, huh?”

  “Is he armed?” Silvestri said.

  Zoe lifted a rifle for him to see. “Not anymore.”

  Silvestri gave a curt nod. “Let him up.”

  Duran glared up at him. “What for?”

  “He’s no danger to us. Not now.”

  “A minute ago he was ready to put a bullet in our skulls,” Duran said.

  “I won’t hurt you,” the man croaked. “Honest.”

  “Duran,” Silvestri said patiently. “Let him up.”

  Duran waited a moment longer, clearly unimpressed, then stood, taking a step away from the man to allow him room to get up. The man rolled into a sitting position, then scooched backward clumsily out of their way.

  “What’s your name?” Silvestri said evenly.

  The man looked at each of them in turn, perhaps wondering if they might be toying with him, stringing him along until they decided to execute him.

 
“I’m Durbin,” he said. He was a dark-haired man in his mid-twenties, with a narrow jaw and a scar on his left cheek. “I won’t try to hurt anyone,” he said again. “You can leave.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Zoe said sarcastically. “Real nice of you to have a change of heart.”

  “That wasn’t me yelling at you before,” Durbin said. “That was Evans. He’s gone.”

  “Who are you people?” Silvestri said. “What were you doing here?”

  “We’re part of the militia, trying to take control of the Wire. A bunch of our men went on ahead to the Atrium last night. They were going to try to make it to the roof.”

  “And what about you?”

  “We stayed behind to stop anyone who might be trying to head through here from below.”

  “So what happened?” Zoe said.

  Durbin scratched at his face. “Redmen showed up last night, must’ve fought their way through the lower levels. Maybe four or five of them. We had a pretty good position, managed to hold ’em there for an hour or two. I thought they were about to break through, but then, they just left.”

  “Why?” Silvestri said.

  Durbin shrugged. “Fuck knows, man. We thought they were regrouping or trying to flank us or something, but they never showed up again.”

  “What time was that?” Silvestri said.

  “Maybe two in the morning, something like that.”

  Silvestri glanced across at Talia. “Do you think they got word that the habitat was destroyed?”

  Talia pursed her lips. “It’s possible. That would have made them turn around. I mean, why bother trying to control the roof if there’s nothing left above?”

  Durbin glanced between them, confused. “Wait a minute… are you telling me that you weren’t shitting about the Wire? It was really destroyed?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Silvestri said. Then he pointed his rifle at Durbin’s face. “Now, why don’t you roll over and close your eyes, then count to one hundred.”

  Durbin stared up at him, wide-eyed. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

  “No. I just don’t want you to see where we’re going.”

  6