Tymon stopped suddenly, pointing towards the far end of the line of prison cells. ‘Each row contains roughly fifteen cells. You will find number 35 back that way, further along the gantry. The doors are operated through a central locking mechanism that runs through each section.’
There was an explosion in the direction of the barricade, followed by the sound of gunfire. The troopers were through. They would be there in a matter of minutes.
The four men turned and fled in the direction of cell 35, frantically searching for anything that they could use to block the corridors, to slow the advance of the security troopers. But there was nothing.
They sealed the security door behind them and Vila quickly pulled the electronic probe from beneath his tunic, using it to short out the entrypad mechanism. It wouldn’t hold them for long, but it would allow them a little more time.
Cell 35 was the fifth door along. Blake skidded to a halt in front of the closed hexagonal portal and peered in through the tiny plexiglass window set into a small recess at head height. Although it was still dark inside the cell, he could just make out the shadowy form of someone slumped across the hard, one-man bunk that jutted from the rear wall of the cell.
From further along the corridor came a strange ululating whine, followed by the crackling hiss of reinforced metal liquefying under extreme temperatures.
Avon threw himself against the wall, sliding slowly and carefully towards the edge, peering around the bend in the corridor. Sparks spewed from the surface of the sealed security door. A glowing finger of light traced a thin white-hot circle about a metre or so from the lip of the door, where the metal was at its thinnest.
‘They’re cutting through!’ Avon shouted over his shoulder. ‘If you’re intending to get him out of that cell, Blake, then now would be a very good time.’
Blake jerked his gaze away from the interior of the cell and glanced down at Vila. ‘Come on, Vila, we’re running out of time!’
The thief was on his knees, jabbing at the guts of the lock with his electronic probe. Bits of the mechanism were spread out on the floor around him like tiny orbiting moons and satellites. ‘Why is everyone always trying to rush me? I’m going as fast as I can.’
‘I thought you were supposed to be the quickest thief in the five galaxies,’ Blake said. ‘At least, that’s what you’re always telling us.’
‘I said I was the best! The best thief in the five galaxies, not the fastest!’
‘Well right now you need to be both!’ Avon shouted at him from further down the corridor. ‘In two minutes they’re going to be through that security door.’
Tymon pointed at the rifle slung across Vila’s shoulder. ‘If you were to give me back my weapon I could help keep the troopers busy for a while, give you time to work on the lock.’ He shrugged as though he didn’t really care what happened one way or the other. ‘It’s up to you, of course. Though it looks to me as if you could use all the help you can get.’
Blake thought about it for a moment, before nodding. He had no real reason to trust the man, but time was against them and he didn’t feel that he could afford to turn down the offer of help, no matter where it came from.
He unhooked the gun from Vila’s shoulder and tossed it across to Tymon, who immediately checked how much charge was left in the power pack. Apparently satisfied, Tymon snapped the pack back into the grip-feed and swung the weapon around until the muzzle was aimed at Vila.
‘Sloppy, Blake. Very sloppy,’ said Tymon, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘I’d have expected a lot more from someone with a price on their head as big as yours.’ He jerked his chin at the far wall. ‘Now throw your guns over there and let’s see those hands. Nice and slow now, I’d hate it if I had to hand three stiffs over to the Federation. I’m sure they’d much prefer you all in one piece. Although alive or dead, I’m guessing the reward is just the same.’
‘Wait, Tymon, you don’t have to do this.’ Blake said slowly. ‘You’re not one of them. You’re a prisoner, just like we were.’
Tymon backed away slowly, the rifle moving to cover all three rebels as he glanced down the corridor towards the security door. ‘You’re my ticket out of this place, Blake. Being a trustee is all well and good but it’s no guarantee that it’ll get me out—at least, not while I’m still healthy enough to walk out on my own two feet. But if I give them you three…’ He pointed the gun at each of them in turn.
The security door fell outwards, hitting the floor with a deafening clang that reverberated along the corridor, causing Tymon to spin around towards the direction of the noise.
Avon struck without a moment’s hesitation, catching the trustee in the solar plexus with his elbow, knocking him backwards into the adjoining corridor. The gun fell from Tymon’s hands as the first of the shots thundered into his body, blasting a fist-sized hole in his chest.
Avon scooped up the discarded gun and fired at the troopers as they attempted to climb through the hole in the metal door. Behind him Vila was darting forward again, the electronic probe held out in front of him like a magician’s wand, ready to get back to work on the cell’s locking mechanism.
A volley of shots struck the wall just inches from Avon’s head, causing him to duck back around the corner. He counted off the seconds, waiting for the troopers to shift their positions, to edge in through the hole again, before he made his next move. He swung himself back out into the corridor, dropping down onto one knee as he simultaneously brought the gun up. The first shot hit the lead trooper square in the chest, dropping him instantly, but his second and third shots missed their targets altogether.
Nobody saw the trooper push his way through the smoking remains of the doorway and drop down onto one knee—until it was too late. By then, he’d managed to level his weapon and fire off two shots in Avon’s direction.
Avon tried to jump back around the corner, out of the way of the hail of gunfire, but his reflexes weren’t quite fast enough. He was knocked backwards, as though he’d been kicked roughly in the chest, his gun flying from his hand as his legs went from under him. Then his head smashed against the hard metal floor.
Blake ran forward and grabbed his fallen colleague by the arms, dragging him across the floor towards the door of Kodyn’s cell, shots slamming into the walls all around them.
Vila was on his feet now, shouting frantically at Blake, but his words were lost beneath the constant barrage of gunfire coming from further along the corridor.
There was a sudden, deafening explosion as the control panel on the wall by Blake’s head was hit, showering him in a cascade of sparks. He stumbled backwards, almost dropping his injured friend in the process. He was expecting the door to stop him, to halt his fall, but it was no longer there, and Blake continued to fall through empty air. After that everything went dark.
CHAPTER SIX
Plasma bolts tore through the force wall, causing it to ripple outwards as the exploding charges pounded the barrier with waves of superheated energy. The Liberator lurched violently beneath the impact as it swung itself around to face its attacker.
There were at least four pursuit ships streaking towards the planet, arranging themselves into an attack formation as they accelerated towards the orbiting rebel craft. Then the two ships at the front of the formation twisted quickly away from the others, tumbling outward—one to the left, the other to the right—skimming across the cold skin of the planet’s upper atmosphere as they straightened themselves, curving steadily upwards towards Liberator’s exposed underbelly.
The Federation ships fired again, although this time the rebel ship’s reactions were a little faster. The Liberator rolled wildly to starboard and the plasma missiles raced harmlessly by. With no target left for the bolts to lock on to, their inbuilt self-destruct programme was automatically triggered; fusion explosions bloomed in the inky blackness like summer flowers, intense blue-white flares of superheated energy that crackled above the halo of the thin hydrogen and helium atmosphere.
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By the time the pursuit ships had spun themselves around for a second attack run the Liberator had rolled again, pitching itself forward this time, its nose angled down towards the planet, towards the fast approaching ships.
Energy erupted from the tips of the Liberator’s neutron blaster cannons, tearing silently across the cold section of space towards the advancing pursuit ships.
The first of the Federation ships reacted just in time, streaking up and away from the deadly neutron beam, twisting around on a trajectory that took it back toward the safety of the flotilla. But the second ship was just a little too slow. One of the neutron beams lanced through the starboard engine tank, causing an explosion that rippled the entire length of the starboard wing, destroying it utterly. Ablaze and out of control, the crippled pursuit ship tumbled slowly end over end, a flaming meteor dragging a fiery tail behind it, as it spiralled downwards towards the planet.
Five hundred spacials ahead of the rebel ship, the remaining ships in the flotilla were once more beginning to arrange themselves into formation. Slowly the Liberator swung itself around, readying itself for another attack.
*
The moment Blake and the others teleported back on board, Jenna knew that they were in trouble.
At first she thought that Avon was dead. He was propped on his feet between Blake and Vila, head hanging limply on his shoulders; his eyes were narrow slits from which shone nothing but unbroken white. She moved forward and helped the men manoeuvre their crewmate out of the alcove and onto the seating next to the teleport control console.
That was when she noticed the fourth man who had arrived with them. His face was bruised and bloody and there was a dark scorch mark on the front of his tunic, just over his solar plexus, as though he had been electrocuted. He seemed lost and a little bewildered, his unfocused eyes blinking in disbelief as he gazed around the brightly lit walls of the teleport area.
Then the first of the plasma bolts had hit the ship, almost knocking the assembled group off their feet. It was followed closely by Cally’s panic-stricken voice ringing through the speaker systems.
‘Blake, you need to get up here, now!’
Zen had a warning for them when they reached the flight deck; the constant barrage of plasma bolts had severely drained the force wall, and now ship-wide energy levels were down by 41 percent.
‘ANOTHER DIRECT HIT WOULD TAKE ENERGY LEVELS INTO THE RED ZONE, MAKING THE PROSPECT OF OUTRUNNING ENEMY VESSELS HIGHLY UNLIKELY.’
On the forward viewscreen, the tiny infrared images of the advancing Federation ships were beginning to separate, the two at the very front manoeuvring downwards, towards the planet, attempting to get themselves below the Liberator again.
This time they were ready for the plasma bolts when they came.
Blake bounded up to the empty navigation module. Where Gan should be sitting right now, Jenna thought as she watched Blake settle himself in and switch on the navi-computer. Columns of data began scrolling across the screen as the battle computers fed possible attack strategies and defence postures directly into his terminal.
‘PLASMA BOLT LAUNCHED,’ Zen said. ‘BEARING DIRECTLY.’
‘Hard to starboard, Jenna!’ Blake shouted. ‘New course bearing zero-four mark one-one-two.’
The flight deck pitched suddenly as the ship rolled away from the missiles and she wished that her seat had come equipped with a full-body survival harness.
Up on the viewscreen, the small infrared icons were swinging themselves quickly around, readying themselves for another run at the Liberator.
Blake looked up from the navi-computer. ‘Zen, clear the neutron blasters for firing.’
‘CONFIRMED.’
‘Wait for them to come about, Vila,’ Blake said. ‘Then as soon as they’re near enough, give them everything we’ve got.’
On the console in front of Vila the power gauge suddenly flashed to life, as the neutron blasters became fully charged. Jenna watched him stare up at the viewscreen, watching the Federation ships slowly closing the distance between them.
400 spacials. 350… 300… 250… 200…
When the time came, Vila seemed amazingly calm despite the chaos around him. The moment the pursuit ships dropped below 150 spacials, he leaned forward and opened fire.
PART TWO
Blood
artefact [3]
Are you there? Can you connect to me?
I—I can’t…
Reach out to me, Uriel, reach out with your mind. Just like I’ve shown you. Please, you must try, it is imperative.
Breathe—cannot breathe…
You are breathing, Uriel, I promise you. Out there you are breathing. Your body is alive and well in its Cradle. In here it is just us, just our minds. Breathing is not necessary.
Here. Where?
We are inside the Network.
You?
I am the Programme. I am here to help you. Now, please, try to focus.
I am lost.
No, you are exactly where you are supposed to be.
Not lost?
No, Uriel. You are not lost.
Not damaged?
No, you are perfect. Like the others.
There are more of me?
There are more like you—the same but different. You are the first of seven.
Yes. There are seven. I have thought this now.
You have remembered it.
Yes. That is what I mean.
The words will come to you in time, you must be patient. You are doing very well.
I am not who I was. Does this matter?
I do not understand the question.
I am Uriel.
Yes, that is correct. You are Uriel.
But I was not Uriel before.
No, you have not always been Uriel.
Who was I before Uriel?
I’m afraid that data is no longer available.
I am her?
I do not understand the question.
I am her. Not him. I am the woman.
Female, Uriel. You are female.
Yes. I am female, not the man.
You are one of three females. The other four are male, but only three males remain. The fourth is dead. His brain pattern has been removed from the Network.
Dead? How did the man die?
I don’t know, I’m sorry.
Could I die?
This is not for me to say. Although your implants have been successfully integrated into your body and you have now passed the critical 72-hour rejection window. Therefore there is no reason to believe that you will die.
What is that?
I do not understand the question.
…
Uriel?
…
Are you still connected, Uriel?
There is something in here. I can…hear? it. Out there, beyond the darkness.
That will be the others. They are waiting for you, Uriel.
Others? We are not alone here?
No, they are in here with us. They are the ones who are like you, do you remember? We spoke of them a moment ago.
Yes. I remember them now. They are so loud, it hurts to let them in.
It is important that you join with them. You must become gridlinked to the Network. That is why you are here. That is why they are here.
But I am…hungrytiredhappysoredrunkcoldsad…
Please concentrate.
…afraid. Yes, I am afraid. Afraid to go to them.
Don’t worry, Uriel, I am here to guide you. That is my function. Please do not be afraid. Go to them now.
They are screaming. Oh, the noise. Why are they screaming?
They are not screaming, Uriel, you are. Please, you must try to relax, try to remain calm. No harm will come to you in the Network. You must trust me.
I can trust you?
Yes, you can trust me.
Will you stay with me?
Of course I will. Reach out, Uriel. Reach out to me and I will guide you to the o
thers.
That’s right, good girl.
You must become one with the Network.
There will only be a moment’s pain.
Then you will become whole.
Trust me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Something about the rescue was all wrong. Avon had first begun to sense it the moment they’d teleported across to the detention block. For a start the diversion had been too good, too successful. It was only supposed to divert the armed units away from main building, leaving only the prison guards, but the block had been virtually empty.
Except for the ambush of course, but even that had been half-hearted. If those Federation troopers had really meant business they’d have all been dead by now.
Avon shifted uneasily on the bed, wincing as his shoulder began to throb again with the sudden movement. By rights he should have been dead—they all should have been dead—but the fact that they had escaped with their lives along with Kodyn Tam did little to alleviate his spirits. If he was honest, the more he thought about it the uneasier he became.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and his vision became suddenly blurry, the walls of the medical unit undulating sickeningly as he tried to focus. He felt like a man clinging to a flimsy wooden raft on a turbulent ocean.
‘An unfortunate side effect of the pain suppressants,’ Blake told him. He was sitting on the adjacent bed, his arms folded, studying his colleague with deep concern. ‘It was either that or we hooked you up to the medi-unit. But we didn’t think you’d want to be flat on your back for the next forty-eight hours.’
Avon took a couple of deep breaths, wiping a shaky hand across his sweat-drenched face. ‘That shot should have taken my head clean off. Instead it gave me little more than a headache and a bruised shoulder. That can only mean one thing in my book.’
‘You were lucky?’ Blake asked, though he knew the answer well enough.
‘We were allowed to escape.’ Avon flexed his shoulder experimentally, but the pain was too much. He inhaled sharply, easing himself back into a comfortable position. ‘Think about it, Blake,’ he said at last. ‘They were waiting for us down there. They knew we were coming, yet they didn’t attack in force. They just let us escape.’
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