The Gathering Room. Of course. She could remember the way, could she if she was running? Yes, yes of course she could, she would get to the Gathering Room, find a communications device, and send out an emergency message on all frequencies, and then just pray that the Elite sent help before the Nabilats found her, before something terrible happened to the others because of her…
But surely, surely to do something was better than to do nothing at all, better to do something than to just sit there and wait, better to act, now, right now!
But just as they approached the entry the door to the cell flew open, banging inches from where she was, and David flew out, barged past Jocasta and ran straight into Murf’s midriff. Murf grunted with pain and shock and then, unbelievably, crashed into the wall behind. David, filled with some mad, frenzied enthusiasm, whipped round and pushed Jocasta along the hall, yelling something that Jocasta couldn’t decipher, but half a second later Ed, Bella and Will toppled out after him, and suddenly they were all flying down the corridor, bumping into each other and Jocasta was yelling to David but she couldn’t hear anything over the blood in her ears and the pounding of their feet- then suddenly there was the sound of a shot reverberating through the air behind them, and Bella’s fingers were gripping into Jocasta’s shoulder.
‘It’s the warning shot,’ she gasped, her voice edged with something worse than mere anxiety. ‘It must mean the Elite are close by. They… they’re going to-’
The sound of an explosion rang through the hallway; Jocasta could feel the shock of it through her fingertips pressed against the wall. She tried to turn but a pair of hands pushed her forward, faster even than before. There was no time to think about anything except the relief that they were, at least, together and that hopefully gave them a better chance of getting through this.
Then, and somehow it was all too soon, they were spilling out into the Gathering Room, and all thoughts of finding a communications device disappeared from Jocasta’s mind as she landed hard on the rough floor, her foot caught between the metal legs of an upturned chair.
All else was chaos. There were Nabilats, helpless in their confusion, some holding makeshift weapons, others yelling orders or crying out for guidance. Jocasta’s ankle, twisted between the metal bars, was throbbing, and her palms were grazed from her fall, but she forced herself upwards, meaning to clutch onto David for support, but he was gone. She nearly overbalanced, but steadied herself against one of the curtains, and she had a sudden and unbidden thought about how silly she would look if the curtain fell down and she got caught underneath it. She clung to it, looking around for David, or Ed or Bella, but all she could see was Delilah striding into the chaos, her face etched with a terrible fury, and her eyes blazing with what appeared to be contempt and disbelief that her city could be so easily dissolve into a state of panic. She stalked up to the metal disk in the centre of the clearing, past one of the lecterns, which had been broken into a jagged point, and through the bits of stone and dust that scattered the floor, her steps long and purposeful, and her posture full of a steely determination.
Jocasta couldn’t seem to look away, though she knew she was a fool for remaining still for so long, and she watched Delilah’s fierce gaze sweeping through the rubble of the Gathering Room. Very slowly, Jocasta lifted her foot slightly and then tried to lean on it. The resulting pain caused her to swing on the curtain, and she glanced up in time to see Delilah’s harsh eyes meet hers for the briefest second. Next thing she knew, she had let go of the curtain and dropped to the floor, her hands over her head, as the curtain loosed from its bindings landed, heavy and suffocatingly.
Delilah was screaming something, her voice shrill but authoritative through the noise, and Jocasta heard somebody’s heavy boots on the ground near her. Then all of a sudden she was being half lifted, half dragged to her feet, her swollen ankle refusing to take any of her weight, and her arms were locked behind her in a vice-like grip.
She cried out, but her voice was lost with all the other echoing voices, desperately she struggled, twisting from side to side, afraid that her arms were surely going to be pulled from their sockets. Then her footing slipped and her kneecap connected with the ground with a sickening crunch.
Her head snapped upright in pain, Will’s unrestrained curses carried over the rest of the din as he fought vigorously; her eyes took a few seconds to focus- and then she saw Bella across the cleared space, the other side of the broken lectern, scrambling, terrified, away from the man who pursued her, his fingers wrapped around a piece of rough-hewn stone. Bella’s hands reached out, her eyes searching for an escape route, the ribbons in her hair flying out as she sought sanctuary, waiting for the lump of cold rock and iron to smash through her skull.
Then, faster than lightning, in one swift, smooth movement, Bella spun around to face him, her hand snatching out at the air between them with noise like a whiplash and a tremor of light shimmered from her hand. The rock shattered like a bomb, and her pursuer was thrown backwards in a high arc, past David, who had discarded his glasses and was running towards the central plinth, dodging bits of rock and avoiding the debris that covered the floor.
She caught sight of Ed across the cleared space, the other side of the broken lectern, his arm in the grip of a Nabilat, whose eyes were wild and feral, his teeth bared and a trail of spittle clinging to his chin. A knife blade clamped in his fist. As she watched, Ed struggled, but the Nabilat just dragged him closer, the blade glinting in the half-light of the lanterns.
Jocasta’s head felt suddenly quite light, dizzy almost. All logical thinking disappearing as an unbidden rage rushed through her, all the pent up emotion of the previous hours seemed to ignite in her brain and overcome her. Her nostrils flared, sucking in air, her teeth clamped together and her hands clenched into fists. Her breathing came in jagged breaths, and a heavy, uncomfortable weight settled in her stomach. Her mouth burned with a metallic taste, every muscle tensed; no longer even feeling the pain in her ankle.
Don’t you dare, she thought, even knowing as she said it that there was nothing she could do. She knew, after all, that it was her fault; she had brought Ed here, she had convinced Will to let him come, it was her, all her…
The rage was building in her guts, growing like wildfire, spreading out to her fingertips, filling her head in a rush of dizzying blindness, her anger wanted to rip out of her in a scream, she wanted to press her knuckles into her eye sockets to block out the fierce burning desire that had consumed her.
How could this happen? She couldn’t let this happen?
She found her teeth clenched and her fingernails digging into her palms. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was prickling with indignation, her very lungs were screaming out in fury, her anger was so immense that it was as if she was somehow outside herself, her rage so all-consuming that it no longer belonged to just her – suddenly her arms were released, and she was standing firmly on two feet, adrenaline pumped through her veins, the blade solid in her hand.
Her eyes widened. She turned to stare at her right hand, which was now holding a large knife; she looked down, and there was Ed, at the other side of the lectern, and behind Ed… no, surely not?
Jocasta looked, and saw, unmistakably, herself. Her own body, strangely vacant, her stance slumped, her head down, Murf with a secure hold on her forearms…
The knife slipped from her fingers without a second thought, and her hands, her hands that were too big and too manly, came up to hold her face, that was now covered with bristles, as a terrible pain shot through her head. She took a step backwards, the foot heavy and ungainly. There was a commotion at one of the entrances. She could hear Delilah’s voice ringing out, could hear cautious gunfire, could hear orders being snapped out, could hear crying, noises of pain… Her eyes closed, her arms dropped, her knees buckled…
Jocasta’s skin tingled all over as she fell back into herself, and was only dimly aware of a different pair of strong hands catching her as she fell backwards,
and then watched her vision turn to blackness.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Alright Jenny!’
Jocasta heard the two words as if from far away, taking a long time to travel from her ears to her brain, where she tried to make sense of them; Alright Jenny! All she could think was that she didn’t know anybody called Jenny. Her head gave an unpleasant throb, a warning that she was in no condition to be thinking. She became dimly aware of how impossibly heavy her limbs were. She tried to shift her arm from where it was laying at her side; her index finger twitched once and was still. Her eyes were glued shut and sore. The pain in her back was excruciating, it was how she imagined torture victims must have felt after they’d been stretched on racks. Her legs might’ve been sunk down into the floor of the chamber for all the movement she thought they were capable of doing.
She didn’t want to move. She wanted to fall back into sleep. But there was that nagging feeling; who was Jenny?
Her head gave another painful throb as she forced open her eyes; light flooding into her pupils. With an almighty effort, she brought her hands flat at her sides and pushed, curling her back and forcing her head up off the floor. It was going well, but then her elbows and wrists gave way and she fell backwards in a heap, even more exhausted than before.
She couldn’t get up; that was impossible. But she managed to shuffle backwards until she could just about rest adequately with her back against one of the curtained walls. She blinked hurriedly, forcing the tiredness from her eyes. All around her, there were people crumpled in heaps on the floor. Nabilats strewn like discarded rubbish across their own Council Chamber; she saw the girl with the black feline nose perched on a chair, cradling a shattered wrist. Delilah was unhurt, or at least not badly; her handsome face pale and strained, a smear of blood across her cheekbone. She was standing, waiting with most of the other Nabilats, and staring haughtily towards Lieutenant Wing Commander Wren. Jocasta followed her line of vision, feeling the bones in her neck groan with the effort of turning her head, and realised who Jenny must be.
Next to Commander Wren was standing another officer that she had never seen before. He was tall and well-built, with sandy coloured hair and, though his uniform was clearly that of the Elite, it wasn’t the normal grey that she’d grown accustomed to, but an attractive brown. She could just make out traces of red sand in the creases of his trousers and coat, and for some reason she noticed that his scruffy boots were in such a state that she was certain her they would probably have offended her mother no end. He also had a pair of… what were they? goggles? perched on the top of his head. Jocasta couldn’t imagine that Alpha, the first city, had usable swimming facilities.
The officer slapped Lieutenant Wing Commander Wren fondly on the back; Jocasta was surprised that Wren didn’t go flying.
‘My name,’ said Wren, tucking an inconsequential scrap of hair neatly behind her ear, ‘isn’t Jenny. And I’ll remind you, Captain,’ she smiled, ‘I am a Lieutenant Wing Commander.’
‘And I will remind you, LTWC Wren,’ he retorted good-naturedly, ‘it’s Lieutenant Colonel now, not Captain.’
‘Whatever,’ Commander Wren waved away the correction. ‘You’ll always be Captain Jack Sparks to me.’
Oh, Jocasta thought, remarking at how slow her brain was functioning. Jenny Wren! How funny!
‘Um…’ Jocasta said.
Jack Sparks flashed a brilliant smile and gave a flourish with his fingertips from his brow towards her, in a sign of commendable achievement as he stepped forward.
‘If I’d known you had that kind of power, Miss Jackson,’ he said, surprising her that he knew her name, ‘I needn’t have bothered coming.’
It took Jocasta several seconds to process what he’d said, and more to figure what he meant when he’d said ‘power.’
‘Well done, Jocasta,’ Commander Wren said, side stepping the Captain, or Lieutenant Colonel, or whatever he was. She knelt beside Jocasta and went through the usual checks; no broken bones, no cracked vertebrae? ‘We didn’t want to move you earlier, but I think you’ll be alright. And the other cadets are fine, although…’
Jocasta felt her mouth go dry. ‘We’ll–’ she stopped, feeling the dryness crack her throat. ‘Be kicked out? Won’t we?’
‘I can’t say,’ Commander Wren replied, not unkindly, helping Jocasta to stand. ‘But what you did today was commendable, at least.’
Looking round for a familiar face; David, Will, or Ed and Bella, Jocasta was distracted by a loud shout.
‘JJ!’
Commander Wren scowled and turned with an accusatory look at Captain, or is that Lieutenant Colonel? Jack Sparks. ‘I said she wasn’t allowed to come!’ she hissed.
‘What makes you think it was me who let her?’ Captain Jack cried in mock indignancy.
Tara came running across the room, jumping neatly over bits of makeshift weapons and side stepping an armed Elite officer. ‘JJ!’ she cried again. She threw her arms around Jocasta and hugged her tight.
‘Tara…’ she whispered, feeling her vertebrae give a warning crack.
‘Honesty, JJ!’ Tara scowled reprovingly, stepping back. ‘Lab Rats and Nabilats, secret cities and people with… metal teeth…’ Her eyes followed Murf as he growled and snapped at the people trying to restrain him. Bits of blue ribbon were stuck up from Tara’s braids and her kohl had smudged over her face but her eyes were bright and she was twitching with ill-contained excitement. ‘I demand to know why I didn’t receive an invitation!’
‘Sorry,’ Jocasta grinned weakly. ‘I–’
‘I have been up all night worrying about you lot!’ Tara continued; letting her friend put a weak arm over her shoulder. ‘Sneaking off into secret Sin Cities, fraternising with metal-toothed–’
‘David!’ Jocasta cried, catching sight of her friend. He hurried up to her, followed by a smiling if weary looking Bella.
‘Wow, I love your eyes!’ Tara exclaimed.
‘I love your hair, little Egyptling!’ Bella cooed, as she placed a cool hand on Jocasta’s forehead. She felt Bella reaching out and restoring a sense of calm to Jocasta’s frantic and panicking thoughts.
She was expelled, she knew it, she was expelled, just like David, and Ed… Her Elite career was in tatters, what would her parents say? What would happen to her now?
‘You saved Ed’s life, you know,’ Bella said quietly, breaking into her panic. ‘Just be content for that, if nothing else.’
Jocasta smiled, letting some of her worry dispel under Bella’s reassuring words.
And at least, she thought, as Will and Ed joined them, and they collapsed by a pillar, at least we’re all alive. Surely that had to count for something. She closed her eyes briefly, while Tara began giving them all a lecture on the consequences on not telling people that you’re going to a secret, apparently abandoned city on Mars. Then she heard Jack Sparks and Lieutenant Wing Commander Wren talking, and heard Ed shift his position and get up.
‘Ed!’ she hissed. ‘What are you doing?’ He had disappeared. ‘What’s he doing?’ she asked Bella.
‘Hiding from his father,’ she replied. Bella’s violet eyes were on the stonework of the floor.
Captain Jack’s voice rang out, oddly lightening the sombre mood which had settled over the Nabilats’ wrecked Gathering Room. ‘So, young master Will, know anything about repairing heavy duty terrain explorers?’
‘I’m afraid not–’ Will began, wrinkling his brow.
‘Ah, no matter!’ Captain Jack replied, giving him a clap on the shoulder. ‘Sure you’ll pick it up. C’mon, I’ve got to get this up to scratch before it’s used to carry these fine young cadets back to Mackenzie.’
‘Yes, sir!’ replied Will, who’d never taken orders from anyone in his life before.
‘And you better take care of yourself, Miss Jackson,’ said the Captain, pulling his goggles over his eyes. ‘’Cause one day I just might find a use for you, in an adventure or five.’
Captain Jack turned t
owards the explorer, his coat swirling out behind him, Will already examining the vehicle with fascination.
‘Don’t worry, Captain!’ Tara called. ‘I’ll take care of her! Argh!’ Her eyes widened as she focused on another figure who had just entered the Gathering Room. ‘Watch out, JJ,’ she whispered in Jocasta’s ear. ‘Here comes Doc Crow. Don’t let him take your leg.’
‘Doc Crow?’
‘He’s the Elite’s doctor–’
‘Their only one?’
‘At night he goes through the bodies at the morgue and steals the eyes to feed to–’
‘Thanks Tara, I get it.’
‘He turns into a bat as well.’
‘Oh? Not a crow?’
‘Please, JJ, that would be far too obvious.’
‘Right.’
A scruffy young man in a black overcoat approached them, a medical bag in hand.
‘Jackson?’ he asked.
‘Mm.’
‘Hold still please, this ought to relieve some of the pain.’ She let him apply a painkiller at the side of her neck, then he moved on.
‘That was the infamous Doc Crow?’ Jocasta asked her friend, eyebrows raised.
‘Aw, I love him.’
‘You what?’
‘Nothing. And it’s not like you needed stitches. He’s got a real needle and thread!’
‘I can tell he must be popular with his patients,’ Jocasta replied dryly.
‘Leave the poor girl to recover, Tara!’ Nikita’s voice rang out across the room. ‘She can’t possibly want you babbling on and on at her, like some over protective hen. She just needs rest and…’ she continued, rushing over and elbowing Tara out of the way, ‘a friendly, calm face to sooth her.’
‘Well that won’t be you, then!’ retorted Tara. ‘You’re just as likely to start grinning at her like a Cheshire cat or, something worse,’ she said, putting her fingers into the corners of her mouth and pulling it back into a peculiar grimace.
‘Girls, girls, that’s quite enough. Neither of you should really be here. Captain Sparks has really been quite irresponsible in allowing you to hike a lift in his Camel.’ Commander Wren was trying, without much effect, to sound as though she was annoyed with the said Captain Sparks.
Deborah Hockney Page 17