Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4)

by Mark R. Healy

  Knile shrugged. “There’s no other way. I have to be down there to make sure we can launch again.”

  “But you’re needed here as well,” she said.

  “I can show you what you need to do here before I go. It’s really not that difficult. Just transfer control to me in the railcar, then sit back and watch the magic.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “The scheme is sound,” Lazarus announced. “This plan will give us the most chance of success.”

  Knile checked his watch. “And we’re running late. We have to get the railcar on its way if we’re going to make it down and back in time.”

  “I don’t like it,” Ursie said. “But if that’s the way it has to be…”

  Lazarus placed a hand on Knile’s shoulder. “I will accompany you on this journey, my friend. You should not make it alone.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Knile said. “Thanks for the offer, but–”

  “I will not stay,” Lazarus said, his eyes shifting to Ursie. “Not here. Not with this–”

  “Yeah, okay,” Knile said quickly, hoping to avert another slanging match between the girl and the Redman. “That’s a good idea. You come with me.” The thought of what might happen between those two should he not be around to act as peacekeeper was harrowing.

  “So, let’s go over this procedure again,” Ursie said, scowling at Lazarus before turning back to the console. “Just so I know what I’m doing.”

  Knile went over the steps one last time, pointing out the sequence Ursie would need to follow in order to transfer control to the railcar. Ursie seemed edgy, nervous that she was going to screw something up, but Knile had faith in her.

  She was a smart kid. She would figure it out.

  With that done, he initiated the launch sequence.

  “Five minutes till separation,” he said. “Let’s get over there.”

  At the departure gate a few moments later, they found a line of twelve short ramps that led up into the railcar compartments. Knile stepped over and opened the first, then stared up into the dim confines of the module. There was a chair within, with straps hanging loosely from its sides, and a console positioned before the window that offered a view of the outside environment.

  “This is the one I need to take,” he told the others. “It’s like the driver’s seat when control is passed to the railcar.”

  “I will take the second module,” Lazarus said.

  “Yeah, but no bashing your way out this time,” Knile said with a grin.

  Lazarus glanced down ruefully at his knuckles, which were still bruised and swollen, covered in abrasions from where he had smashed his way through the compartment window on the ride up from the Reach.

  “No. Not this time.”

  “You two better get back to control,” Knile said to Ursie and Tobias. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Ursie gave a hesitant little wave, her eyes fixed on Knile as if she were attempting to prevent him from leaving by sheer willpower.

  “Okay,” she said. “Uh… good luck.”

  “Bring me back a postcard, huh?” Tobias said with a wink. Then the two of them turned and shuffled off again.

  Lazarus began to walk up the ramp toward the open hatch on his compartment, then seemed to wince, sagging backward slightly, as if the effort of walking up the incline was too much.

  “You okay?” Knile said.

  “Of course,” Lazarus said, recovering quickly. “Simply preparing myself for what lies ahead of us.”

  Knile paused, suddenly feeling sorry for his companion. “You don’t have to do this if you aren’t up to it.”

  Lazarus’ eyes flashed. “Do not condescend to me in such a way. I wear the Crimson. Strength is the cornerstone of the soul. Without it, I am nothing.” He shook his head. “I shall not relent, nor shall I bow to infirmary. I shall prevail.”

  Knile pursed his lips. “If you say so.” To him, Lazarus’ words had sounded more like a mantra than anything, a collection of phrases that had probably been drilled into him during his years of training, and which he recited whenever the going got tough. Hell, the guy would probably say the same even if his legs had been blown off and his entrails strewn across the field of battle.

  He would believe he could prevail even in the face of certain death.

  In any case, it didn’t matter now. He was coming along for the ride, whether he was physically up to it or not.

  He watched as Lazarus negotiated the final part of the climb and closed the hatch behind him, then did the same. He nestled into his seat inside the railcar and clipped the straps into place, then took a deep breath.

  The railcar powered up a few moments later, and then it began to move.

  40

  Rojas hit the brakes and the quad bike slid to a halt, bouncing and jostling along the potholed asphalt. Yefim came not far behind, stopping abruptly in much the same fashion. The obstacle loomed out of the darkness, glinting under the glare of their headlights.

  Around them, the rain teemed down in torrents. Rojas was wet through and through, his hair slick against his scalp, his clothes sticking to his skin like glue. He was cold, fatigued.

  But inside he was singing. His soul rejoiced.

  They were getting nearer. He could feel it.

  “What do you think?” Yefim said above the clamour of raindrops on asphalt.

  Rojas stared at the military transport that had been positioned across the road, festooned in barbed wire. There was no way around it, no way to move it.

  “I think we’re walking from here,” Rojas said.

  Yefim killed the engine and swung his legs off the seat, then activated his flashlight.

  “Probably for the best,” he said. “They might hear the bikes if we get too close.”

  Rojas followed his henchman’s lead, shutting down the quad bike and climbing off.

  “Just be careful with the flashlight,” he cautioned. “Keep it low. We don’t want them to see us coming if we can help it.”

  “I know,” Yefim said, sounding wounded. “I’ve hunted prey before. This isn’t my first time.”

  “Indeed.”

  Yefim stepped closer to the transport. “This blockade has been here for some time. It was not placed here by Ciro.”

  “No, more likely by his friends, those who came here before him. Those he seeks to meet with at the end of this road.”

  “How many of them do you think there are?” Yefim sounded edgy for the first time in Rojas’ memory.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does. We are only two. If he has a crew of twenty or thirty men up there–”

  “Then we will kill them,” Rojas said through gritted teeth. “We will kill every last one of them until only Ciro is left. And then we will kill him, too.”

  Yefim stood silent in the rain for a few moments, as if carefully considering his next words.

  “If we were to wait until morning, ride out the storm, we could scout the place more thoroughly. Plan our assault. In my experience, those who rush in–”

  “It happens tonight,” Rojas said. “There will be no waiting. This is destiny at work, don’t you see? We are meant to be here now, under the cover of dark and rain. And Ciro… he, too, is where he needs to be. Waiting will only cause the spirit worlds to slip out of alignment again. By morning, he will be out of reach. I can feel it.”

  “I know this means everything to you, but this is imprudent–”

  Rojas lashed out and struck Yefim high on the cheek with the back of his hand, sending a spray of water from the man’s face and hair as he rocked backward. Yefim staggered and almost fell, but regained his balance at the last moment.

  He lifted a hand to his cheek, astonished.

  “You question me again, and I will not be so gentle.”

  “Yes,” Yefim said, allowing his hand to drop away. “I understand.”

  “Now.” Rojas gestured up at the transport. “Start moving.”

  Ye
fim nodded, then did as instructed, climbing up on the back of the old vehicle and edging his way past the snaring grasp of the barbed wire. Rojas took a moment to look back at the quad bikes, which were already being swallowed by darkness, and wiped a stray lock of hair back against his scalp.

  The rain was like a baptism, he realised then. The ushering in of a new life for him. A new start.

  When Ciro was dead, everything would be better. He would finally find peace.

  He smiled and began to make his way up onto the transport.

  Duran stopped and half turned, staring back at the darkened road. The mountain was masked by rain and by the shroud of night, and below them there was nothing to be seen but a world of black. Now and then a flash of lightning would send illumination scattering across the void, but this only seemed to create more pockets of shadows, more uncertainties.

  More places where enemies might find a place to hide.

  “Problem?” Zoe said at his side.

  Duran waited, listening. “I thought I heard something back there.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know exactly. It almost sounded like engines.”

  “Raiders? Do you think they’re hunting around the place?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, it was probably just thunder in the distance,” Zoe said. “No big deal.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Anyway, we have more problems ahead of us than behind us,” she said.

  Duran turned back to the road ahead, and as lightning flickered he saw the outline of a set of buildings not far ahead, and a tall, thin line disappearing into the night sky.

  This was Sunspire. The space elevator. It had to be.

  “What problem are you referring to, exactly?” he said.

  “Well, there’s a few to choose from. Let’s start with the fact that we don’t know anything about the enemy we’re about to face off against.”

  “Not true. We know that Redmen are involved, and probably that scumbag Jon Hanker.”

  “Yeah, but who else? Exactly how far reaching is this operation? Did Hanker enlist other consuls, other Redmen? We know that two Redmen went and met Talia at the dirigible. Maybe the rest found another way here.”

  “So you’re saying that we might be about to go toe-to-toe with a full squad of Redmen? An army?”

  “I’m saying that’s a possibility.”

  Duran shrugged. “I have a .38, and you have an M4 carbine assault rifle. What more do we need?”

  “About two hundred men.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re not telling me it’s time to turn tail and head back down the mountain, are you?”

  “Fuck, no. Not after we came all this way. What I’m saying is that we need to plan this out.”

  Duran thought for a moment. “Okay, let’s focus on the objective. We didn’t come to kill dozens of Redmen. We came to thwart their plan, to let Talia and Silvestri know that they can’t start up the space elevator.”

  “Yeah, sounds about right.”

  “So we just need to find them so that they can get word to Knile. We need to stop the railcar from heading down to Earth.”

  “Right. So that means we take our time, infiltrate. Use stealth and avoid conflict. We search the complex until we find Talia or Silvestri.”

  “Then hope that they can do the rest.”

  Zoe edged closer in the darkness. He felt her lips on his ear. “I’m proud of you,” she said.

  Duran felt his cheeks flush. “Why?”

  “Because we’re doing the right thing, you and me. I mean, how many years did the Consortium and the Redmen rule over this world, plundering the last meagre crumbs and giving nothing back in return? They ransacked the place. Pure greed. They were the ones who drove us to the uprising. It was inevitable. And now that everything has turned to shit, they think they can just walk up and take the last ride off-world? They fucked everything, and now they get a free pass?” She shook her head. “Fuck that. They’re not leaving. Not a single one of them, if I can help it.”

  “We’re going to stop them,” Duran said, the inspiration of her words causing the fatigue in his limbs to lapse for a moment. He felt invigorated, ready for the challenge. “We’re going to get Talia and the others to safety, and while we’re at it, we’re going to piss on the Consortium’s parade. Score one for the little guy.”

  “Goddamn right,” Zoe whispered vehemently in his ear. She planted another kiss, then briefly swept her tiny LED torch across the road. “We’ve just got to keep an eye out for these IEDs that have been planted around the place. Getting ourselves blown up would really spoil the party.”

  “You think?”

  She began to move forward again, and Duran followed closely on her heels.

  Up ahead, Sunspire glimmered in the light of distant lightning for a moment, then disappeared into darkness once again.

  41

  “Okay, take a deep breath,” Knile said patiently. “We’ll figure this out. Let’s start at the beginning again.”

  “We’ve started at the beginning seven times already,” Ursie said through the comms uplink. Knile watched the image of her face on the console, her brow furrowed, lips pressed tightly together as she fought to hold it together. “I feel like an idiot. A complete idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot,” Knile said. “There’s probably just a step I missed somewhere. We’ll work it out.”

  As per the plan, they’d been trying to shift transit control from the habitat to the railcar itself since departure. Once that was done, Knile could control the descent himself, even without input from the Earthside control station.

  The problem was, Ursie couldn’t seem to transfer control. Knile had gone through the procedure with her before he’d left, but for whatever reason, the system wasn’t responding as they’d anticipated.

  “How long do we have left, anyway?”

  Knile checked his watch, then looked out the compartment window. Earth was getting awfully big out there.

  “We should reach the bottom in less than an hour.”

  “Goddammit. That’s not much time.”

  Knile knew that she was right, but didn’t want to admit it to her. “Plenty of time, Ursie. We’ll get this done and still have time to sit back and watch the inflight movie.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She made an effort to compose herself. “Let’s start again.”

  “Say it out loud as you go through.”

  Ursie began to fiddle with the console at her end. “So, I start with the ‘Control Interface’, then ‘Current Operation’.”

  “Right.”

  “Then I select ‘Override’. Now I get a menu, and I hit ‘Confirm’. A list of options comes up, and I choose ‘Other’, and then ‘Transport Module’. That’s it.”

  “Sounds correct to me.”

  A beeping noise sounded through the comms. “It just keeps saying ‘Module Unavailable’. Why the fuck is it doing this?” she said, exasperated.

  “That’s the correct procedure, according to the training manual we saw. Go back to the previous menu and try a few other options.”

  “All right. Hang on a second.”

  Ursie continued to plug away at the console, and Knile could do nothing but wait. His mind was racing, as it had been for the past few hours as they’d tried to solve this conundrum, but now he was out of ideas. He’d literally tried everything. There was no reason why the system shouldn’t have transferred control. It just didn’t make sense.

  Unclipping his safety harness, he wriggled forward and looked out through the window at the planet below. Everything was shrouded in the dark of night. He thought he could see pulses of sporadic light, perhaps a storm passing over the region, but otherwise there was nothing much he could discern.

  The compartment was starting to feel like a coffin. He realised he may never live to step out of it again.

  After all this? It can’t end here.

  He glanced across his own console one more
time. The terminal on the right handled comms and some other onboard controls, such as locking and unlocking cargo bay doors and altering climate control in each compartment. It seemed to be working fine.

  The one of the left, however, simply displayed one word: Offline. This was the console that he needed, the one that would provide access to more advanced features, such as controlling the speed of the railcar, handshaking protocols of the docking sequence, and so on.

  He’d been staring at it for hours, waiting for that glowing red Offline warning to disappear. Waiting for the console to spring to life.

  But, obstinately, it refused to comply.

  “Come on!” he muttered, reaching out and giving the console a thump, a futile attempt to wake it up. “Don’t just sit there–”

  He stopped, peripherally aware that something wasn’t right. His mind had processed something when he’d hit the console, but he wasn’t sure what it was yet.

  He reached out again and gave it a nudge.

  That was it. The stainless steel housing on the console was loose.

  Leaning forward, he saw that four tiny screws were missing from the corner of the console.

  How had he not noticed this before?

  Shaking, he drew the shiv from behind his back and carefully levered the edges of the housing upward, far enough to slip his fingers underneath. He drew the panel outward, then turned it over. On the underside was a circuit board trailing a dozen or more wires, some of which Knile recognised as power conduits, while others were used for data.

  A small PCB wafer jutted at right angles from the motherboard – an expansion card – and beside it were three empty slots reserved for more. Knile blinked, disbelieving, then ran his eyes over the slots again.

  His heart sank.

  “Ursie,” he said, lowering the panel back into place with trembling fingers. “Ursie!” he said again, louder this time.

  “What?”

  “You can stop what you’re doing.”

  Ursie’s face appeared on the console, perplexed. “Huh?”

  “I said you can stop what you’re doing. I’ve found the problem.”

  Her face lit up momentarily, thinking he had found a solution, but then she saw his dour expression.