Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4)

by Mark R. Healy

  “Haunted?” Rojas said thoughtfully. “Yes. It makes sense that Ciro would be drawn to such a place. He is a malevolent demon, a nexus of all things corrupt.” His eyes widened. “This is where it ends. This is the place where I will finally banish him into the void that exists outside the very bounds of the Greatness.”

  The old man’s eyes darted to Yefim, then back to Rojas. “I don’t know nothin’ ’bout that.”

  Rojas stepped forward, past the old man, as if he had already forgotten he was even there. His eyes were fixed on the mountain.

  “Fifteen long years I have waited,” Rojas breathed, and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. He thought of his mother, lying beaten to death on her bed, the marks of Ciro’s knuckles still fresh on her pale skin. “But tonight, I will finally be set free.”

  Rojas turned and swept past Yefim, then swung his leg over the quad bike. He gunned the engine, and without waiting, started off toward the mountain.

  Yefim hurried to follow, and as he was about to start the quad bike, saw the old man standing nearby with an odd grin on his face.

  “You’d best be takin’ shelter, mister,” the old man said.

  Yefim glanced over his shoulder at the dark sky. “I’m not afraid of a splash of rain.”

  The old man cackled. “It ain’t the rain I’m talkin’ about.”

  36

  Darkness descended upon Sunspire Mountain, and Talia’s unease grew.

  The climb to the summit was not as physically demanding as she had anticipated. Although in a poor state of repair, the road that led upward still provided a gentle incline and relatively stable footing. She had to remind herself that Sunspire had probably been a busy spaceport in its day, shifting people and cargo up and down the elevator day and night. A decent access route to the summit would have been a necessity.

  However, it wasn’t the road itself that bothered her.

  It was everything else.

  Someone had gone to great lengths to warn people away from Sunspire. Every hundred metres or so they came across a sign bearing some kind of dire warning, much like they had seen at the base of the mountain. These had been painted messily on hunks of scrap metal and wooden crosses that had begun to sag, slanting off at acute angles as the soil beneath them eroded.

  Talia wasn’t superstitious, not in the least. But she couldn’t help but be unnerved by what she saw. It wasn’t the supernatural aspect, the so-called ‘haunting’ that worried her, but the fact that someone had gone to this much trouble to scare people off.

  What were they protecting up there?

  Further on, attempts to thwart the passage of trespassers became more direct. At a narrow section of road that passed close to a cliff face, an old military transport had been parked sideways across the road, effectively blocking access. Covered in barbed wire, it made a considerable obstacle, especially in the failing light, and the four of them were forced to pick their way across carefully to avoid injury.

  “Do you think that maybe we’re not welcome here?” Roman muttered.

  “I get that impression,” Talia said.

  With the truck safely negotiated, Kolos took the lead, sweeping his flashlight across the road as he attempted to uncover more surprises. It didn’t take long to find one.

  “Hold up,” Kolos said, raising a hand. “I see something here.”

  Norrey stopped dead and shot a glance at Talia and Roman to indicate they should take the warning seriously.

  “What is it?” Norrey said.

  Kolos edged forward slowly, his flashlight trained on an uneven patch of ground not far ahead. He knelt at its edge and then lightly touched his fingers into the dirt.

  “What’s going on?” Talia said.

  “There’s something here. An explosive device,” Kolos said, dragging several wires from the broken asphalt, their ends frayed. “Long since discharged, luckily for us.” He got up. “You can come forward.”

  “So this was some sort of trap?” Roman said as they joined Kolos.

  “Yes,” Norrey said. “And it looks as though someone walked right into it.”

  “But not recently,” Kolos added. “Judging by the erosion, this happened some years ago.”

  “So we’re walking into a minefield,” Talia said. “Literally.”

  Norrey pursed his lips. “I would assume this won’t be the last surprise we’ll stumble across tonight,” he agreed.

  “I’ll keep an eye out,” Kolos said, and he began to stride forward fearlessly once again.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Norrey said with a knowing smile. “He can take care of himself.”

  They continued to make their way upward, and Kolos proved to be a worthy scout, guiding them around two more buried explosives and a third object that may or may not have been dangerous. At a time like this, Talia was glad that the two bodyguards had agreed to accompany them to their destination.

  By now the stars had been blotted from the night sky. The heavens were lit only by intermittent flashes of lightning on the horizon as the storm continued to close in. In those brief moments of vivid light, Talia could see the space elevator above them, a shaft of glinting metal stretching upward from the mountain’s peak like a taut silver filament.

  That’s it, she thought, trying to harness that positive thought. That’s what you came for.

  But she continued to feel nothing but dread as they closed in on their target.

  “There!” Roman exclaimed not long after, pointing as the lightning flared again. “I can see the top of the mountain.”

  Talia watched, and as the sky lit up again, she saw that he was right. Nestled in the mountain’s crown was an unspectacular building, a structure several stories high with a smooth, flowing facade. The space elevator appeared to terminate at the far end.

  Everything up there was dark and still. Silent.

  “We made it,” Norrey announced. “Wasn’t so hard.” He turned to Talia. “Do you think your friends are here yet?”

  She gave him a wry smile. “I doubt that.”

  Norrey gestured at the building. “So let’s go find a way in.”

  The main entrance to Sunspire was locked tight as a drum, so they began to circle around the outer walls in search of an easier way to gain passage inside. Under the glow of Norrey’s flashlight, Talia could see that the pale concrete exterior had been smothered in paint. Initially she thought it was just random graffiti, haphazard scrawlings with no purpose, but after a time she began to see recurring themes. A yellow sun with rays of light stretching from it in every direction was the primary motif. In addition there was a tall black stripe stretching up into blue skies that was either a building or perhaps a representation of the elevator itself. The words ‘salvation’ and ‘light’ had also been written in several places.

  “No ghosts yet,” Roman said.

  “No,” Talia said. “So why is it so damn spooky?”

  They made their way through an old security gate that had all but fallen apart, and beyond that they came upon what looked to be a maintenance door.

  “Try here,” Norrey instructed. Kolos nodded, then reared back and launched his boot at the door. It resisted twice, but on the third attempt it crashed open, revealing a darkened corridor beyond.

  From within emanated a stale, unpleasant odour, along with a deathly silence.

  “What’s that whiff?” Roman said.

  “Take this,” Norrey said, offering the flashlight to Kolos. Then he raised his rifle and began to move forward. “Follow me.”

  They crossed into Sunspire, Norrey on point with Kolos right behind him lighting the way. The corridor opened out into a workshop of some kind, comprised of scratched and worn benches but no tools. Beyond that was another corridor, and this branched off in several directions. Norrey paused there for a moment as he tried to figure out which way to go.

  “We should do a systematic sweep of the area,” he said, thinking out loud. “Make sure there’s nothing hiding in here.”

>   Talia looked behind them, where the corridor had been quickly swallowed by darkness. She couldn’t deny that she was unnerved, expecting something to jump out at them from a shadowy corner at any moment. The foreboding in the place was almost palpable.

  Something wasn’t right here.

  “Wait a minute,” Kolos said, and he abruptly disappeared down a side corridor. Talia brought out her holophone, and the light from its display fell across the walls around them; a meagre substitute for the flashlight.

  “What’s he doing?” Talia hissed.

  Norrey merely shook his head. They waited, and now Talia could hear thumping and clicking noises not far away. A few moments later, a soft ambient light filled the corridor, not much brighter than a candle.

  “How’s that look?” came Kolos’ voice.

  “Better,” Norrey called back.

  A few moments later, Kolos returned. “It looks like they were using a fusion core to power the place. There’s still some residual charge, but I’m not sure how long it will last.”

  “Better than nothing,” Norrey said. “It’ll do for now.”

  They kept going, moving through more nondescript rooms that seemed to have no purpose. Further along they found dishevelled rags on the floor, along with more of the crude paintings that they had seen outside.

  “Someone’s been sleeping here,” Norrey said.

  “Seems that way,” Talia said.

  “So where are they now?” Roman said, glancing around. “Hiding in the dark?”

  “Let’s keep looking,” Norrey said, and he stepped around the rags and continued on.

  “Wait,” Kolos said calmly. He pointed up to the ceiling, where exposed wires ran along the ceiling, terminating at what looked like a wad of grey plasticine. “Another surprise.”

  “More explosives,” Norrey muttered.

  “Goddammit,” Talia said. “Another minefield?”

  “No,” Kolos said. He followed the wires along to where they terminated at a switch on the wall, the handle of which was bound by flaking bits of gaffer tape. “This one is activated manually.”

  “What for?” Roman said.

  “Probably a defensive mechanism in case the place is overrun,” Norrey said.

  “They could throw the switch and kill whoever was coming through the corridor.”

  Talia examined the tape. “This is brittle. Old. Hasn’t been touched in a long time, I’d say.”

  “Let’s leave it that way,” Norrey said. “Come on.”

  Along the next corridor, the odour that permeated the building seemed to intensify. The walls and floors were covered in more graffiti, and the words that accompanied the images became nonsensical, unreadable. It was like witnessing a slow descent into madness, manifested in every surface of Sunspire’s interior.

  “Right about now,” Roman said, “the Reach doesn’t seem like such a bad place.”

  “Be quiet,” Norrey said curtly. “I thought I heard something.”

  Talia strained to listen in the ensuing silence, and thought that maybe she could hear the rumble of thunder and perhaps even rain.

  There was nothing else.

  She opened her mouth. “I don’t–”

  “There’s something in the next room,” Kolos said, directing the flashlight ahead of them.

  “What is it?” Roman said, his voice taut.

  Norrey simply held up one hand, indicating for them to wait, and then he and Kolos worked their way up the corridor. They made it to the next room, then halted, conferring over something. Kolos kept going, disappearing from view, and Norrey raised his rifle to his shoulder.

  “Norrey?” Talia said, but the bodyguard offered no response. Norrey remained in that position for ten, perhaps twenty seconds, although to Talia it seemed much longer.

  “Clear?” he said, and Kolos muttered something in return. Finally he turned back to them. “We’ve found your ghosts,” he said.

  37

  Behind the perspex doors, the three space suits sat waiting.

  Knile kept looking from one to the next, trying to figure out which one to choose. The most striking difference between them, obviously, was the colour: white, grey and dark orange. Aside from that, the differences seemed minimal. There were some extra gauges here and there, some discrepancies in the clips, and the orange suit had a camera mounted on the side of the helmet.

  Aside from that, they were indistinguishable.

  Why am I wasting my time with this? Knile thought irritably. As if I know the first thing about space suits. Just choose one!

  He reached out and opened the door to the first suit, the white one.

  “Why that one?” Ursie said behind him.

  “Because I look good in white,” Knile said. “Or haven’t you noticed?”

  “Come on, seriously.”

  “I don’t know, Ursie. I’m taking a stab in the dark here.” He turned back to Lazarus. “Are you sure you can’t offer any advice on this?”

  The Redman eyed the suits carefully. “As I said, I received moderate training in extra-vehicular activity during my days at the Citadel, as did all of my brothers. There are missions where the Crimson Shield must enter the vacuum of space, at least in the Outworlds.” He shook his head. “But the equipment that I used did not look like this. It was developed specifically for the Crimson Shield.”

  “So, we’re all in the dark about this,” Knile said, fumbling with the catches on the netting that secured the suit against the wall. “I’m making an executive decision and taking the white one.”

  “In all likelihood, the differences are negligible,” Lazarus said. “They may have been designed for differing technical specialities, but they all perform the most basic function – protecting you from the void.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Knile said. He grunted, struggling with the catch, then took the bone shiv from his belt and simply sliced the netting away. “Give me a hand getting into this thing.”

  The next several minutes were spent trying to figure out exactly how to accomplish that feat, and after a couple of failed attempts, Knile eventually found himself suited up, minus the helmet, which Ursie held in her hands as Lazarus ran a check over the suit.

  “I still don’t know why you’re going out there when your friend is the one trained to do stuff like this,” she said.

  “Simple,” Knile said. “There are no suits that fit Lazarus. Besides, he’s in a weakened state–”

  “I am not weak,” Lazarus grated, towering over him.

  “I said you are weakened. Not at your full strength.”

  “He didn’t need a suit last time he went out,” Ursie persisted.

  “You mean back at the Wire?” Knile said. “He was only out for barely a minute, and that almost killed him.”

  “It was nothing,” Lazarus said. “I slept it off as if it were nothing more than a hangover.”

  Ursie made a disparaging sound in the back of her throat, but a glare from Knile stifled her retort.

  “Oxygen gauge is flat empty,” Tobias said, pointing to an indicator on Knile’s wrist. “That ain’t good.”

  “But there will be air in the suit, right?” Knile said. “There should be enough for a few minutes.”

  “It does not work exactly that way,” Lazarus said. “Breathable air is only one part of the equation. You will also need pressure within the suit, otherwise your very blood will begin to boil out there.”

  “Like what almost happened to you?” Knile said.

  Lazarus gave a little nod, then pointed to a connector on the belly of the suit.

  “Perhaps there will be a device we can insert here.”

  “If not, I’m just going to have to work fast,” Knile said. “Let’s get moving.”

  Ursie held out the helmet for Lazarus to take, but the Redman simply glared at her, making no attempt to take it from her. She sighed and stepped forward, reaching up to place the helmet on Knile’s head.

  “You’re either the brave
st bastard I know, or just the dumbest.”

  He smiled. “Or maybe both.”

  Lazarus accompanied Knile out to the airlock while Urise and Tobias returned to transit control. The suit was cumbersome and heavy, like wearing an extra five sets of clothing, and it took him a few strides to gain his balance. Eventually he began to get the hang of it. The space around them narrowed until they found themselves in a small, circular conduit. A closed compartment lay before them – the airlock itself.

  A window on its exterior looked out upon the blackness of space.

  “This is it,” Knile said, taking a deep breath.

  Lazarus moved past Knile, to where a white hose dangled from a hole in the wall. He gave it a tug, then began to draw it outward.

  “Here, an umbilical has been spooled within the airlock,” he said. “Attach it to your suit.”

  Knile did as he suggested, clipping the hose into the connector on his belly. He reached out for a panel on the wall and soon found the initiation sequence for the umbilical. Moments later, cool air began to flood his suit.

  “It’s working. I can feel it coming in. Let’s just hope this suit doesn’t have any holes in it,” he said wryly.

  “If it does, you will surely perish.”

  Knile gave Lazarus a flat stare. “Yes, I know. That was my point.”

  They watched the gauge increase until it reached a yellow mark on the dial, then it seemed to level off. The suit didn’t feel terribly different now to how it had before, but Knile figured he just had to trust in the equipment.

  “It will take some time to become accustomed to the sensation out there,” Lazarus cautioned.

  “I don’t have time.”

  “Make slow, deliberate movements. Keep a grip on an anchor point at all times.”

  Knile grinned. “Why, Lazarus,” he said, slapping the Redman on the shoulder. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “You are a good man, Knile Oberend. I would take no joy in seeing your internal organs liquified.”

  Knile raised an eyebrow. “Comforting.” He turned away. “Enough of the pep talk. Let’s do this.”

  Lazarus exited the airlock and closed the door behind him. There was a hiss of air escaping from the chamber, but after a few moments it ceased. Suddenly there was no noise, no movement. Knile almost felt as though he were already in space.