by Adam Carter
“What just happened there?” he asked. “Did our plan just get hijacked?”
“If she’s doing all the legwork for us it means she’s taking the risks as well.”
“That girl is nuts.”
“They’re all nuts, Gordon. Gordy.”
“Stop that. The sooner we get off this weird world the happier I’ll be.”
“You’re not at all tempted by Cassiel’s feminine wiles?”
“You kidding me? She sounds like she’s twelve.”
Arowana laughed, but there was little humour to it. “She acts like she’s twelve, she sounds like she’s about eighteen, nineteen; and you know it.”
Hawthorn fought against the shrug he felt he was about to make. Arowana had a knack for making him feel bad about other women finding him attractive. It had never been something he had given much thought to prior to meeting Arowana, mainly because he was sworn off women. Arowana had not only changed all that but she had reawakened in him the ability to care about other people. It made him less grouchy, more approachable, and he could not accept that all Arowana’s jibes were in jest.
Before he could even think of piecing together the right words to say, Cassiel reappeared with Wraith. Wraith’s robes were even heavier than Cassiel’s, with great swathes of the things turning his arms into snake-like tendrils. His features were well-hidden, with a hood hanging over a scarf-wrapped face. His movements were ungainly under so many layers, but at least he was out of the cell.
“How are you?” Hawthorn asked.
Wraith gave a muffled reply which sounded something very much like, “Fine, thank you, how are you?”
“Let’s stop talking and start moving,” Arowana suggested.
“I hope I made you happy, Gordy.”
“You did just fine, Cassiel.”
“Please, call me Cass.”
“Your friends call you Cass?”
“No, but I’d like you to.”
Hawthorn coughed, said, “Let’s move,” and wished he had not asked.
The journey back through the church-castle was filled with far more tension, mainly because on their way in they had yet to actually do anything wrong. Wraith found it difficult to walk in a straight line, probably could not even see where he was going, and many times they would have to steer him in the right direction as though he was a drunken friend they were helping home. They did not happen upon many acolytes, and only then from a distance. Cassiel was able to wave cordially to them, call out a good-natured hello and keep their suspicions lowered.
Just as they walked back into the outside world they almost collided with some familiar robes Hawthorn could not quite place.
The bundle of robes stopped, stared at them, and was shocked into silence.
It was only as the silence lengthened that Hawthorn remembered this was Temeluchus, who had thankfully taken a vow of silence.
“Temeluchus,” Cassiel said, greeting him jovially. “How nice to see you again. How do you like Sister Ariel’s new look? She felt she was becoming too recognised in her old robes so took some new ones so no one would know who she was, which is kind of the point of them. Whoops! There I go, telling you who she is, what a silly person I am.” She laughed, or at least tried her best to.
“Have a pleasant day, Brother Temeluchus,” Arowana said, “but we’re eager to stop being so obtrusive to your religion and intend to shut ourselves away for a while.”
Temeluchus said nothing, although it was obvious to them all he wanted to scream from the rooftops that they were up to no good.
“I see what you’re thinking,” Hawthorn said. “Good luck with that.”
As they left him behind, Arowana said, “You shouldn’t taunt other people’s religions, Gordon.”
“Really? Come on, what good does a vow of silence do anyway? And why do you never hear of women taking a vow of silence? That’d be something I’d pay to hear.”
“You really are an obnoxious boor.”
“A boor?” Cassiel asked. “I think he’s wonderful.”
Hawthorn opened his mouth to tell her to stop saying things like that, but he did not want to alienate their only native ally on the whole world. Instead they all took a vow of silence until their sword-ship came into sight. Arowana typed in the code which would lower the ramp, and they waited anxiously as it did so. Hastening inside, they raised the ramp and only then did Hawthorn breathe a literal sigh of relief.
“That could have gone worse,” he said. “Iris, start the engines. I’m going back for Hart. When I return, we’re going to have to get out of here in a hurry.”
“You know I can’t pilot this thing.”
“I gave you a lesson, didn’t I?”
“You gave me a lesson, yes. One lesson. I can’t fly a sword-ship after one lesson.”
“I thought that brain of yours knew a little of everything?”
“Yes, and I know a little about flying. I know enough to know that if an inexperienced pilot is put behind the controls, everyone’s likely to be killed.”
“You need more faith in yourself.”
“I have more faith in you, as a pilot anyway. I’ll go back for Hart.”
“She’s my responsibility.”
“Why? Because every young woman we’ve met on this trip seems to have latched onto you?”
“No, because I agreed to use her as bait.”
“You agreed? I thought we made joint decisions here.”
“We do, but I …”
“Ladies, ladies,” Wraith said in a voice which did not sound at all like Wraith’s. They both turned to see the man struggling out of the robes was not Wraith at all, but someone of a ruggedly handsome appearance and dressed like a poor man’s Robin Hood. “Ladies, stop fighting. There are plenty of young women to go around, I’m sure.”
“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” Hawthorn asked. “Cassiel, this is most certainly not Wraith.”
“Goodness, in the hurry I must have grabbed the wrong prisoner. Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Hawthorn ran a hand through his hair as he desperately tried to think this through. They had taken a huge risk and everything seemed to have actually gone right for once. He should have known something was fishy from the way things weren’t falling apart.
“Wyatt Harman,” the gypsy said, extending his hand. “Charmed.”
“I don’t care who you are,” Hawthorn said. “What have you done with Wraith?”
“Nothing. He was asleep last time I saw him. Might I say, this is a truly grand spaceship you have. A Carpoan sword-ship, mighty fine, yes.”
“I don’t believe this,” Arowana said. “Cassiel, how could you free the wrong prisoner?”
“More to the point,” Hawthorn said, “what do we do now?”
“Do? We take him back and get Wraith out of there.”
“Take me back?” Harman laughed. “Don’t you think I might have something to say about that? If you take me back, you admit to absconding with me in the first place, and then you lose everything.”
“He’s right,” Arowana said with a scowl.
“My dear, I’m always right when it comes to saving my own life. And might I take this opportunity to remark that black definitely suits you, my lady. It brings out your eyes and compliments your figure tremendously.”
“Oh God, he’s hitting on me.”
“I would never hit a woman.”
“There’s a way out of this,” Hawthorn said. “We just have to think hard enough.”
Just then a loud noise reverberated through the sword-ship. It was the frantic clamour of a very large and very loud set of bells being rung.
“That’d be Temeluchus,” Cassiel said. “He might not be able to speak, but he knows where the alarm bells are located.”
“Alarm bells,” Hawthorn said. “Why didn’t you mention alarm bells before?”
“Sorry, I thought it was obvious he’d do something like that. Did you think because he couldn’t speak he was just going to wander ar
ound silently cursing himself or something?”
Hawthorn resolved to take Arowana’s advice and never insult a man’s religion again.
“Forget recriminations,” Arowana said. “Focus, here. We still need to rescue Wraith and we still need to rescue Hart. You, gypsy, are staying right here.”
“Certainly, my lady. I promise your sword-ship shall await your return.”
Arowana snapped and Hawthorn backed off, having witnessed her snap before. She grabbed Harman by the arm and marched him across to the mechanic’s area. With the gypsy protesting the entire way, she shoved him into a metal locker and slammed the door closed, snapping the padlock sealed.
“One problem sorted,” she said, returning to Hawthorn. “Gordon, you take Hart, I’ll fetch Wraith. We meet back here as soon as we’re done, then we’re off this world forever.”
“Sounds like the perfect plan to me.”
Hitting the door-release control, Hawthorn watched as the ramp was slowly lowered once more. As it touched the ground, his jaw dropped. Themistonians ran in every direction, for there was panic in the air. Through the sky, something large and menacing swooped. Hawthorn had seen it before.
“I think Temeluchus might not have been ringing those bells for us,” he said. “It looks like the pirates have got bored waiting.”
“This is all we need,” Arowana said. “Cassiel, we … Where’d she go?”
There were so many robed figures running around, Hawthorn could not distinguish one individual. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Mission hasn’t changed. We each have our targets, Iris. We meet back here, we lift off.”
Uncertainty flashed in Arowana’s eyes, but her resolve strengthened and she nodded. “Good luck, Gordon. Make it back in one piece.”
“Uh, yeah, I intended to.”
It was only as he ran off in search of Hart that he realised he had entirely ruined the moment.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Arowana knew only a little about pirates, but understood entirely that they were quite possibly the worst of human civilisation. They were murderers who lived every day to the full, knowing it could well be their last. They took whatever they wanted and gave back only bullets to the gut, all the while being entirely unanswerable to the law which failed to catch up to them. On the high seas they had known no masters, and in space there was nothing to curb their violence. Arowana had always considered pirates to view themselves above God, that no deity had either the time or the inclination to track down their movements. It was fitting, therefore, that they should attack Themisto, for the pirates’ callous disregard of God would provide a fitting foil for the zealots.
A missile struck the ground not twenty metres from where Arowana was running, sending a cloud of pebbles raining in every direction. She did not stop running but simply threw her arm across her face as she tried in vain to work out why the pirate captain had chosen this moment to attack. Perhaps she had grown bored of waiting, perhaps her non-existent crew had threatened to mutiny, or perhaps she had somehow found out Arowana and Hawthorn had kidnapped her first mate and was furious.
Whatever the reason, it hardly mattered. The Buccaneer was in the sky and hurling missiles behind flashes of powder. It was strange to see how similar the Buccaneer was to an old pirate ship, that it was firing what were essentially cannonballs instead of high-powered warheads. She supposed that firing ship-to-ship missiles against a castle would be likelier to obliterate everything and destroy any treasure worth taking.
No one prevented her from running into the castle. They recognised her for who she was and knew she was no pirate, and it seemed each Themistonian had their own position to be in when it came to planetary invasion. She heard the distant booms of return fire and hoped Themisto was equipped with enough firepower to take down the pirate vessel. It occurred to her she should have raised ship and lent the Jupiter’s Glory to the fray, but even had she managed to bring down the enemy, she would still have to answer to the Themistonians. Just because she had saved their lives, she could not see they would be willing to release both their prisoners. After all, the pirates only threatened the flesh of the acolytes, while the prisoners were to be judged by God Himself.
Arowana had enough knowledge in her brain to be able to respect almost every religion, but she was more than glad she did not subscribe to any of them.
Part of her enhanced mind was the ability of supreme recollection, so she had no trouble at all in locating the stairwell which would lead to the prisons. The entire castle rocked as she reached the area, but she caught herself and hastened down the spiralling stone stairs until she found herself before several sturdy doors.
“Arowana, here!”
Moving across to Wraith’s cell, she looked about for something to help her get the door open, but there were no crowbars handy and there certainly weren’t any keys lying around.
“What’s happening out there?” Wraith asked. His face through the bars was fearful and she could hardly blame him.
“Pirates,” she said. “By the way, your cellmate’s a jerk.”
“Harman? Oh, I figured they’d killed him or something. Not sure why they haven’t strung me up yet, actually.”
“Probably something to do with us. Thank us later. Stand back from the door.”
“You’re going to what? Kick it down?”
The castle rocked again and dust rained from above. Arowana had so much information accessible in her brain, yet nothing that could help her get through a locked door without a key or a handful of explosives.
“I don’t think I’m getting out of this one, old girl,” Wraith said.
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“Trust me, I too would prefer it if you didn’t. But you can’t get through the door, so you don’t have any choice. Maybe I should have died with the rest of my crew. Maybe this is God’s way of reminding me I’m a coward.”
“Shut up, I’m thinking.”
“When you need to think, Iris Arowana, the game’s already up.”
She looked at him, expecting he was making a joke or something, but Wraith was beyond joking. He looked afraid, but resolved. It was the most frightened that Arowana had ever seen him.
“There’s a way,” she said. “There’s always a way.”
“And my heart is warmed that you think so. But be honest with both of us, Iris. You’re not getting through this door. Go. Find your man and live happily together. You’ve never really needed a fool like me hanging around the ship, anyway.”
“Would you stop talking nonsense?”
“It’s not nonsense, it’s fact. And you know it.”
Arowana looked away, sought some means to win. A stone block fell from the ceiling, shattering on the ground at her feet, but her eyes found nothing in the rubble which could be of any use. For all her knowledge, all her mental resources, she was helpless.
“Go, Iris. Seriously, just go.”
She shook her head, unable to speak. There was a way, there had to be a way.
“Defiler! Demoness! Tempting harlot!”
Father Dumah stumbled down the stairs, almost tripping on his robes. In his hand he carried a large, curved sword, and Arowana did not need to see his eyes to know they were filled with a blood-red fury and lust for her death.
“You,” he spat. “It’s you who have brought this upon us.”
“I think you’ll find it’s the pirates,” she said, backing off a step. “You know, the pirates you sent us out to defeat.”
“And instead you bring a pirate strumpet into our midst and incur the wrath of her fellows.”
That was very unlikely to be the way things had happened, but Arowana could not fault the way the man saw things.
“Father, let’s put down the sword and talk about this civilly.”
“May the fires of my angel blade scour the woman’s flesh and make her clean.”
The room shook again and this time Arowana almost fell. It seemed Father Dumah did not even understand the co
ncept of civility, and if Arowana did not drill some sense into his brain they were all going to be buried by the pirate missiles.
“Father, maybe we should …”
Her words died and her eyes widened. Father Dumah’s blade began to glow. It was only a slight effect at first, caused perhaps by some kind of trickery. Then the entire sword burst into sudden flame, the intensity of the blaze flaring before becoming more focused on the metal, clinging to it almost as a second skin. Dumah slashed twice through the air and the flames trailed like fiery hair.
Arowana backed off a step. “Now, remember we were going to talk civilly, Father.”
“Brazen hussy, prepare your naked flesh to be smitten.”
Arowana wished he would stop calling her naked, but that was the least of her concerns as Dumah lunged at her with his flaming sword. She ducked, her training taking over, her brain automatically unlocking everything she knew about defensive manoeuvres. Unfortunately her brain was populated only by the experience of other people and she doubted anyone had ever been faced with an angel’s fiery sword.
With a roar of righteous fury, Dumah took another swipe at her. His movements were clumsy, hampered by his robes and lack of skill. If it was an ordinary sword, Arowana would not have had any problem disarming the man, but even a kitten could be dangerous if its tail was on fire.
Talking to the priest was not working, so Arowana blocked out everything and fell back on what she knew. Accessing her augmented brain was not difficult, for mostly things flowed to her as ordinary memories, even though they were memories of things she had never herself experienced. It allowed her to pull random facts out of the air, to be able to solve crossword puzzles in under a minute, to always win an argument. None of that ever took any effort, it was as though it came naturally to her. Focusing so intensely on one specific thing, however, always gave her a headache. It involved accessing other people’s hard-earned experiences, and was never pleasant.
At that moment it was the only thing which would save her life.
Arowana closed her eyes and could feel electricity fire through her neurons as her augmented brain processed what she was asking of it. For Dumah and Wraith, they would only see her standing prone for a moment, but from Arowana’s point of view it was like wading through a sea of data in order to find the specific pebbles at the bottom of the churning waves. She sifted through the various fencing techniques of Ganymede’s upper classes and dismissed them as inappropriate; she speed-read everything she could regarding ancient Sardian bludgeoning techniques, but what she required was a little less Nordic. Finally she came upon traditional Japanese sword-fighting practices and realised this was precisely what she wanted. She possessed no sword of her own and needed to disarm a violent opponent. Being masters of sword-fighting and respectful of the blades they forged and wielded, the Japanese had an answer for every sword-related problem.