She swung around to the inside face of the ladder, to make herself less of a target, and began to half climb, half drop through the space between the floors. She needed to get a good few more floors between herself and the Sellites above, although they were obviously affected by their exophobia: their aim was thankfully far from accurate.
Grace slipped and dangled and fell and struggled down the steps, relying on the bodywrap to survive the friction burns which the desperate descent was causing. More than once she was left hanging off one hand, her body almost pulling the arm out of its socket. Still the plunge continued. The little orb tumbled effortlessly down beside her, keeping her company.
At last she reached the rexelene blocks, and was finally able to fling herself bare planet. She took off as fast as she could and raced across the sand towards her old skyrise.
Wake up, Arcan, she wished. Please wake up. We are completely lost without you. Not only was she worried sick about the orthogel entity, but if he were injured then all the work tagging the missiles would have been for nothing, and Kwaide would continue to be in imminent danger.
Chapter 21
SIX CAME TO with a start, and then wished that he hadn’t. His head was splitting. He looked around him. He seemed to be aboard the Resistance, but he had obviously been dropped from a large height, and for some reason he was in the top galley. He scrambled painfully to his feet and reeled for a moment. He felt dizzy. He clutched at his head, and felt a severe burn right along one side. The heat of the laser had cauterized the same wound it had caused, but there was a clear cleft gouged out of his upper cheek and scalp. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it of befuddlement, and then set off for the control room at high speed. The Sellites! They would have pinpointed his position by now! And something had clearly gone wrong with Arcan. He pressed anxiously on the orthogel bracelet but it remained stubbornly silent.
He slithered into the control seat, just as the panel emitted a shrill and urgent warning of incoming missiles. Six jabbed at the buttons in front of him viciously. His chances of avoiding being pulverized were diminishing. Even though he knew that they wouldn’t use the nuclear weapons they were still carrying, it was four to one, and the Resistance was an obsolescent model. He tried to think clearly. He had to disappear.
He looked at the screen in front of him, which was now flashing with ever larger red letters, warning of imminent missile attack.
“Yes, yes, I know,” he muttered to the screen. “Tell me how to get out of it, will you?”
The screen flickered, and then delivered its verdict: evasion impossible.
Six kicked at the console. “Fat lot of use you are,” he told it. Then he settled himself more firmly in the chair and began to push more buttons. “Well, if you can’t do anything about it,” he said, “I shall just have to manage on my own!”
He disengaged the automatic function, and took control of the ship. Suddenly he remembered Grace’s story of the space station. Could he manage something similar? Was there anything he could jettison which would confuse the intelligent missiles? He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to visualize the plans of the ship from the manual he had been forced to study all that time ago, when he had been slowly orbiting Nomus.
And suddenly he had it. His fingers flashed to the screen, beginning a digital race against time. The Sellite ships carried nearly all of their fuel in two long ‘arms’, which protruded on the starboard side of the ship. He remembered reading that failsafe hatches had been placed strategically at the junction of both arms. In the case of a fire in the fuel deposit, the arms would automatically detach from the body of the spaceship, and he ought to be able to manoeuvre the spaceship to a safe distance on the contents of the smaller and individual port tank arm.
This meant that he would have to set fire to his starboard fuel deposits, risking the consequent explosion. That should create such a flaring heat source as to confuse the most intelligent of missiles.
His fingers sped over the console. If only he had time! First he had to raise the temperature in the deposit. That meant overriding all of the security failsafes in that area. He looked back at the large red figures announcing the impending disaster. He only had five minutes before impact! Whatever happened, he was going to be horribly close to an extremely large explosion.
At last! He dared to breathe again. The temperature was creeping up in the fuel tank, but it would not be enough on its own. He needed to increase the pressure, and add a mixture of oxygen. Well, he could do both at the same time if he force-fed pure oxygen into the tank. That should bring the auto-ignition point way down.There! He slapped both hands on the console as he circumvented the last failsafe, and watched the console anxiously. The pressure was rocketing, and the temperature was still slowly crawling up. He had done a quick calculation of the kindling point, but his was a rough estimate, at best. He couldn’t afford to be more than five percent out, either way.
His heart was racing, adrenaline pumping around his body. He was ready, but couldn’t fly or fight. The build-up of tension was almost unbearable. Then, with a dull ‘oomph’ the forward tank ignited, and spurts of fire billowed out, seeping through large cracks caused by the explosive mixture igniting under the already straining hull plates. Almost immediately a second dull crump announced the ignition of the second starboard tank.
There was a harsh grinding sound as the two starboard failsafe hatches closed firmly against the fire. Alarms were now sounding all over the ship.
Six waited, hardly able to breathe. Not too soon, he told himself. The two starboard tanks had to detach completely before he could pile on the speed and get himself away from the sure explosion of the fuel tanks and the possible explosion of several incoming missiles.
He exhaled shakily. It was taking an aeon to separate the fuel tanks. He glanced at the console. Less than one minute left! He would still be far too close to the explosions even if they did deviate to the new and higher heat source. Prickles of cold sweat stood out on his forehead.
There! A green light signaled complete detachment of the two burning fuel tanks. He had little more to do now than hit the enter button and pray to Sacras that he would be in time.
The little ship shot backwards from the burning tanks. There was no time to turn her around so Six limited the movement to an increasing backward velocity. It meant that he had an excellent view of the burning tanks in front of him.
They still looked awfully big. He was perilously close to them. His heart was racing, furious that the impulse to run faster was being ignored by the brain, trying futilely to spur him on. He found himself left gasping for breath.
Then he caught a glimmer of one of the missiles coming in. Its rotation had caught the distant Sacras, and had telegraphed its position by an instant’s gleam. It was coming straight for him, totally ignoring the burning tanks!
In front of him, through the rexelene visor covering all of the front part of the ship, he saw the blossoming of an explosion from the fuel tanks. A blue-white sheet of light burgeoned outwards.
He couldn’t see the turning of the missile, but almost immediately he heard another muffled crump, and another explosion flared angrily out, much larger this time, hurting his eyes. He cried out, and waited for the shock wave to reach his small and fragile vessel, still courageously trying to outrun the after effects of the chaos he had left behind.
Then there was another explosion, and another, and another. And then the small craft began to shake. Six wedged himself as best he could into the pilot’s seat, but still he was flung onto the floor as the ship was tossed lazily over and over in its race to escape.
Six waited for another siren to tell him of a hull breach. Then he began to breathe again, slowly, hardly daring to believe his luck. He pulled himself back onto the pilot’s seat, and shut down all systems. Now was not a good time to be visible to the Sellites.
The four dots on the screen continued on their way, apparently unconscious of the drama unfolding behind the
m. Would they assume he had been destroyed? Or would they break formation to come and investigate? His life depended on the answer.
He watched, and watched, and watched. Slowly the four dots began to draw away, all keeping formation, all heading straight for Kwaide. For now he was safe.
Six waited until they were out of proximity range, and then engaged the remaining forward thrust. The fuel would not last for very long, but he could get some momentum up before he ran out. That was all he could do. Point the ship towards Kwaide, and sit back to wait. Even with no fuel she would limp back in the right direction. He hoped his air supply would last out.
He found himself shaking. Perhaps Diva was right. Naming a ship did bring good luck to the vessel. He would never dispute that again. She could call his next ship anything she liked.
Chapter 22
GRACE LET HERSELF into the 256th skyrise, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least she would be able to find some more mask packs – she had left it a bit close this time. The little sphere buzzed around her head worriedly.
“What are you going to do?” it asked her.
“What are we going to do, you mean. Arcan definitely needs your help now. You have been telling us how superior you are – now might be a good time to prove it!”
It whirred. “I don’t know what we can do.”
Grace gave it an exasperated look. “Don’t know what all those brain cells are doing up there, then. They don’t seem to be much good for anything.”
“There is nothing to be done in this situation. Logic tells us that Arcan will either recover or not, and that must determine the outcome.”
Grace gazed at the orb in disgust. “Terrific,” she said, “and while we are sitting around waiting to see if Arcan recovers, Diva will be taken to some secret place and we may never see her again. Dream on!”
“I am fully awake!”
“Well it doesn’t seem like it!”
The little globe maintained a dignified silence, and Grace considered her options. Then she stood up.
“I am going to get Diva out,” she told the video camera. “I think it is best to make an attempt now. The orthotubes and ortholifts are out, which means that they can’t move her anywhere else right now. She must still be in the Valhai Voting Dome.” She picked up ten mask packs and began packing them in a back pack. She added a spare bodywrap for Diva, in case hers had been damaged, and then turned to the video camera. “Coming?”
It gave an uncomfortable whine. “Your chances of success are minimal.”
“They are zero if I don’t even attempt it.”
“I am obliged to go with you. You will be assured of failure if I do not accompany you.”
Grace smiled. “I am going – with or without you.”
“But I am only authorized to help Arcan, not you.”
“I will not ask you for help,” Grace promised. “You could accompany me merely to document the trip.”
“In that case, I will come with you.”
Grace let herself out onto the terrace and made her way silently down the rexelene blocks onto bare planet. It would take her at least an hour to reach the Valhai Voting Dome, so she set up a brisk pace. This time she hardly noticed her surroundings: she was too worried about the others.
Then she thought of something. “You travel much faster than me, don’t you?” she said.
“Naturally. A snail could travel faster than you,” it informed her.
“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind going to the lake and checking out whether Arcan’s colour is all right. That might give us an idea if he is going to recover or not. It almost seems as if he has been knocked out by chemical agent, or a pulse of some sort. It must have been that orange glow you told me about. We need to know what it is that the Sellites have invented.”
“I will go and check the lake,” agreed the machine, disappearing so fast that she couldn’t track it with her eyes. She trudged on across the thick sand, glad to have a few moments to herself.
It was back shortly before she reached the Dome.
“The lake looks fine,” it told her. “I can’t detect any change in colour. I think he has only been temporarily knocked out. But he didn’t talk to me.”
Grace nodded. “That is a relief.” She told it about the last time that Arcan was ill, how the lake had become muddied with trails of dead scum on the surface.
“Then the prognosis is better on this occasion,” the voice behind the machine told her.
She nodded. “I think so. It sounds as if they have somehow disabled his way of communication – the quantum part of things. I don’t know how they could have done that? Hopefully he will recover on his own. The thing is; it sounds as if they have Diva attached to something which will make it impossible for Arcan to transport her, even if he does ‘come to’ on his own.”
“Then your strategy is the most correct. You are Diva’s only hope of rescue.”
“Yes. So I have to succeed.”
THEY FINALLY ARRIVED at the entrance to the Valhai Voting Dome. It was a simple matter to get in: the machine was able to give Grace the passwords. Once inside, the machine explained where Grace would find Diva – if she hadn’t been moved.
Grace pulled off her mask pack, and hid it and the back pack behind a nearby column, under one of the tridi screens. She took a rather shaky breath. She was feeling slightly sick.
“Your body is weak,” observed the machine.
“I was just resting for a moment!”
“Your pulse is racing, and your skin is cold and clammy. You are scared.”
Grace glared at the machine. “I am not!” She put her chin up. “I am not scared of anything,” she said mendaciously. “I was simply catching my breath!”
The machine gave a crackle. “If you say so.”
“I certainly do!”
“It seems my data banks are wrong,” it said. Then it gave a scratch of static. Grace looked at it suspiciously.
“Are you laughing?” she asked it.
The machine whirred. “I am speaking to you through a video recording device,” it told her. “How could a machine laugh?”
“No-o-o, I suppose you are right,” she agreed, “but—”
“Hush. I detect movement on the other side of this chamber.”
Grace froze. The machine activated the blending device and disappeared from sight. Grace hoped that it had gone to find out where Diva was, and how many guards she had. It could at least make itself useful, she thought.
Suddenly she heard the familiar metallic voice very close to her left ear.
“There are two guards at the entrance to the vault. But once you get past them, there is nobody else. Diva has not been moved yet, so once you get through you will be all right. I can find nobody else in the Voting Chamber.”
Grace gave a quick nod to show that she understood, but she was trembling. Two guards! How on Almagest was she going to get past two guards? Both of them would be twice her size! Think, Grace, think! How can you get rid of two burly guards?
Well, she certainly couldn’t overcome them by force, which meant that she would simply have to be smarter than they were. She needed them to leave their posts—
“Are you still there?” she hissed at the machine.
“Yes, of course I am,” it hissed back.
“Would it be against your principles to move first over there,” she indicated the far right of the chamber, “and then over there,” this time she pointed to the far left, “and howl like a sick Cesan catumba falling off a cliff?”
“It might not …” said the machine cautiously, “if I knew what a Cesan catumba was …”
“I want a horrible, long-drawn out squeal that will curdle their blood.”
The video camera examined the two Sellite guards dispassionately.
“They don’t look as if they are very prone to having their blood curdled,” it decided. “It would have to be an extremely harrowing howl.”
“The worst you can come up with,”
she agreed. “Can you do it?”
“You wish me to distract the guards by moving quickly around the room, making disturbing sounds, while you sneak past them down the corridor into the vault?”
“Exactly.”
“And how do you propose to get out again?”
Grace spread her hands apart. “I will have Diva with me,” she told him, surprised he couldn’t see the obvious. “She will get both of us out.”
“You deposit much faith in your friend.”
“You don’t know Diva. She can do anything.”
The machine gave a faint chirrup of doubt. “I hope I don’t regret this,” it said, “but here goes.”
A few seconds later the most ghastly sound came from Grace’s right. She jumped, even though she was expecting it. Both guards turned and took a few steps in that direction. Grace sneaked one column nearer to the entrance to the vault.
The next howl came from her left. It was indeed a harrowing howl, because it set off a shiver which ran all the way down her spine and then all the way back up again. She made it two columns nearer to the vault.
Although the guards took care not to move too far from the corridor, they couldn’t help but look around, try to see what was causing the noise. She smiled. One more and she would be through.
The noise this time was even more nerve-wracking, a caterwaul that would have instilled pure terror in the legendary sabre-toothed tiger from Xiantha. Without waiting to see the result, she raced across the remaining few metres and flung herself down the corridor which descended abruptly to the vault. She didn’t look back.
Ammonite Planets (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #1-3 Page 45