Daniel Coldstar #1

by Stel Pavlou

  Wiping down his goggles, Daniel followed the sound over to the other side of the dilapidated tower, scoping out the city through a crack in the outer wall.

  A GoLoader with a train of cars several miles long hurtled toward the distant outpost, the same transports he’d ridden down in the mine. The cars, so loaded down that their repulsors barely kept them hovering over the peaks of the ruins, had carved out a well-worn path through the fallen city, a path with buildings tumbled along the route.

  As far as Daniel could see, there were maybe a handful of hiding spots between here and there. This was his chance. The way he figured it, so long as he took it slow, and didn’t do anything stupid, he stood a good chance of making it.

  He just had to stay alive long enough to climb on board. He cupped his hands together, breathing into them. No heat, no gloves, no food, no water—wait . . .

  Icicles, hanging down between one or two of the cement seams. He managed to snag one and it stuck to his fingers, but he didn’t care. He ran his tongue down the ice like some kind of animal, and when that didn’t work, he bit off an end and chewed until his teeth hurt, sucking down the rusty meltwater.

  Now to find an exit that didn’t lead straight into a trap.

  Rubble crunched underfoot as he made his way through the inside of the dilapidated structure, but every time he looked outside, all he could see was flat, exposed ground.

  The closest hiding spot on the way to the GoLoader sat about a hundred paces away. The corner of a building had broken off, looking more like a miniature pyramid in the dirt. But it was a long way to go without being spotted. Another potential hideout sat only about twenty paces away, but in the wrong direction. It was anyone’s guess if he could find a route from there, but if he didn’t decide soon, the rumble from the GoLoader would be gone, and its masking effect on the sound of his footsteps gone along with it—

  Daniel jumped down and ran, sprinting for the safety of the closest cover, the shattered remains of a wall. He threw himself to the ground behind it, listening while he caught his breath. . . .

  Nothing. No flap of wings. No yawping. They hadn’t spotted him. Yet.

  Good. Which way now? Behind the wall, some of the inner structure of whatever this building used to be still remained. A partition led down to a sunken section of ground that had obviously been some kind of basement. Jumping down into it, and staying very low, Daniel hugged one edge, following it as far as he could.

  And then he ran out of options.

  “Surrender, Daniel . . .” whispered a voice, breathing in his ear; the familiar, untrustworthy voice of the Sinja. “There is no shame in giving up.”

  Daniel jumped out of his skin and spun around. But he was alone.

  “I know you hear me,” the Sinja persisted, in that awful rasp like grinding metal.

  Daniel closed his eyes, refusing to answer.

  “There is no use in hiding.”

  Daniel ground his teeth. He just wanted to scream—

  “Or are you too coward to face us?”

  He jammed his fingers into his ears to curb the temptation to listen. It didn’t help shut the voice up, but at least he had some control. There had to be a way on to that GoLoader, there had to be! No hiding place? Fine, he’d just have to deal with it.

  Daniel jumped up and ran faster than he could remember ever running in his life. It was a dumb move.

  Twenty paces out and Daniel could already hear Nightwatchers launching from their perches and screaming down his neck. Forty paces out, and he watched his own shadow in the dirt being consumed by the shadow of gigantic wings, swooping in from behind.

  Fifty paces out, and its talons were ripping into his shoulders—sixty paces out, and it had him.

  Dangling in the air, Daniel kicked his legs, desperate to get it to release him. Instead, another rancorous Nightwatcher shot underneath, grabbing his feet, pecking at him, trying to rip the silver relic from his chest.

  With so much extra weight, the first beast sunk its claws deeper into Daniel’s shoulders, struggling to stay airborne and make the long, slow turn back toward the mine.

  Searing pain shot through Daniel’s body, made all the more agonizing by being flown so low over the rumbling GoLoader. He could smell rotting Passava on it.

  And all the while, the Sinja laughed in his ear.

  Daniel refused to believe this was how it ended.

  No, no, no. This was not over!

  Struggling to block out the pain, he concentrated purely on the silver relic and the power it was capable of unleashing—

  “No!!!” Daniel screamed.

  The fury of the tornado that followed was so absolute that for a moment even Daniel could not comprehend the power. Air swirled around them so viciously, it ripped the wings off both Nightwatchers. Howling in agony, the beasts released their grip, and all three tumbled toward the ground—

  Slam!

  Daniel landed with a thud on the roof of one of the GoLoader cars, holding on to whatever he could find, peering down into the car and finding an Overseer pressed against the opening, staring back.

  21

  ARMOR OF THE OVERSEERS

  Daniel froze, expecting an attack.

  But none came.

  Why didn’t it move?

  Or say something?

  Wait a minute—this wasn’t an Overseer.

  This was an empty suit of armor strapped to a pile of identical armored suits, probably recovered from the chamber Daniel had inadvertently unlocked on his way to freedom. The grubs were alive and still working the mines. They must have found these.

  He jumped down between two of the cars, clinging to the cages with numb fingers. It wasn’t a place anyone was meant to be standing. His feet were planted on two small Fusers, one on each car that kept them magnetically linked to each other. The problem was that each time the GoLoader sped up, or changed direction, they would pull apart, taking Daniel’s legs with them, exposing the ruins of the Fallen City speeding by beneath him.

  He had to keep reminding himself that he had bigger things to worry about. Every Nightwatcher out here had seen him land on this GoLoader. He had to get out of sight before they figured out an attack. Then there were the Overseers, who were no doubt going to be waiting for him when this rattletrap reached the end of its journey.

  Why were they shipping piles and piles of their armor off to who knows where? Heck, what did it matter? The point was, something was getting off this rock—maybe he could go with it. Maybe he’d get lucky and they wouldn’t check every car?

  Maybe.

  With the frigid air whistling past his ears, he tried opening the service hatch on the forward car. It moved a little, but he couldn’t get the latch to pop.

  He rummaged around in his utility belt. He had to have something he could use—what about this? He pulled out his Regulator. He hadn’t seen it since the cave-in.

  It had a commlink at one end, which he’d used before. But what else did it do? Oh yeah, it gave off a signal, letting the Overseers know where you were if you got into trouble. Great if you wanted to be found . . .

  Or if you wanted to fool somebody.

  Daniel held the device up to the side of his head, opening up his socket to activate it. After a moment, he felt a pulse under his fingertips.

  High in the sky, a flock of Nightwatchers suddenly changed direction in unison, heading for the GoLoader. Now they really knew where he was.

  Daniel smiled to himself. “Thanks, Blink,” he whispered, letting the device tumble from his grasp.

  The Regulator flipped end over end, disappearing into the chaotic ruins far, far below. A moment later, and the shadows of the Nightwatchers swooped past the GoLoader in their pursuit of a boy they believed had made the insane decision to jump from the train—

  The GoLoader lurched into a bend, shifting to a more direct route toward the metal towers of an outpost and the tiny ships supplying the vast freighter hanging above it. With every passing moment, he was a mile
or so closer. He didn’t have much time.

  Daniel checked his pouches again. He had tools, just not very useful ones—wait a minute. This one would do, some kind of impact driver, if he could just wedge the long handle into the latch—there!

  Bracing himself against the other car, he kicked at it with everything he had, over and over again—

  Bannng! Bannng! Bannng!

  The latch flew off, taking the impact driver with it. Daniel tugged at the rusted service hatch. It creaked open, leaving barely enough room for him to squeeze through, but it was all he needed.

  With breathing room tight on the inside, it took some maneuvering to climb up onto the bundles of armor. Every time he pushed against another decaying plate, he kicked up enough dust to have to keep coughing it back out. That ruled out hiding in between these things; he’d choke to death before he got anywhere. He snagged one of the helmets—not a perfect solution, but it would keep his airway clear.

  “Ouch!” Whoever, or whatever, wore this thing either had the weirdest-shaped head, or loved pain—what were these things all over the inside of the helmet jabbing into his skin?

  Daniel tried pulling his head back out, but the helmet had other ideas—

  Click.

  With the whir of tiny servo motors kicking into gear, a metal probe lashed out from inside the helmet, forcing his skin to peel back to reveal the socket beneath. And then it lunged, into the socket and into his brain.

  Daniel’s mind exploded with images.

  “Noooo!” he screamed, wrestling with the device. Yanking on the connection once, twice, he ripped the probe from his socket and tore off the helmet.

  About to cast it aside, he stopped himself. He needed this thing if he was going to blend in. He angled the helmet toward the light and took a look inside. A whole series of probes were waiting for him.

  That wasn’t happening. He reached inside and started snapping them off one by one.

  Outside, the metallic whine of thrusters blotted out all other sound, filling the air with the stench of burning fuel. Pressing up against the vent in the roof, Daniel watched the nose of a worn-out barge swing into view, taking its place in the freight cycle.

  The GoLoader had arrived at the outer reaches of the outpost, where gigantic metal platforms teemed with guards. It plowed through the billowing smoke and steam which smothered the industrial wasteland, until after a while a checkpoint emerged from the great noxious clouds—every car was being inspected before it could pass through.

  Daniel rooted around for a hiding spot.

  He crawled back to the armored suit from which he’d ripped the helmet. There wasn’t much space between its breastplate and backplate, but Overseers were a heck of a lot bigger than grubs. It would have to do.

  Squeezing his legs into the armor casings, he used his knees to try to pry them apart so he could wriggle in farther, except, what the heck was he caught up on—? This stupid utility belt was going to be the death of him!

  The car lurched from side to side. The barge sitting above it had taken control, gearing up for the checkpoint. Ten cars ahead, LightEyes crawled all over the GoLoader, looking for anything suspicious, hopping onward to the next every time the previous one had passed inspection.

  Daniel struggled with his buckle—at last! Ripping the utility belt from around his waist, he sandwiched the rest of his body down in between the weathered armor, reaching out and pulling on the helmet at the very last second—

  Clank! Clank!

  The LightEyes had arrived, crawling around, inspecting his car.

  Could they hear him breathing? Everything seemed louder echoing around inside this tin can.

  His breath had fogged up the visors. Was that it? Could they see his breath every time they swept their searchlights in his direction?

  Should he stop breathing? What was taking them so long? Daniel reached up inside the armor breastplate and carefully pulled his shirt up over his mouth to muffle the sound and hide the steam.

  They were going to find him, weren’t they? He was dead meat. It was only a matter of time.

  Out on a platform, an Overseer barked something unintelligible. There was a loud alarm, and then—nothing.

  The car rose gently up into the air on its brief journey to the freighter.

  Straightaway, his ears popped as the air pressure changed. Instinctively he wanted to rub the pain away, but if he did that he’d have to take the helmet off and the game would be up, so he just gritted his teeth and suffered through it until the hollow roar of air blasting through the cage began to fade, and he realized he had other problems.

  Daniel had trouble catching his breath. The air was so thin up here he was starting to feel dizzy. He gasped, his head bouncing around inside the helmet while he desperately tried sucking down more oxygen—but there wasn’t any.

  His eyelids fluttered. His strength evaporated. His jumbled thoughts quieted as though he were falling into a deep sleep. But this was not sleep.

  On the edge of space, on the edge of freedom, his mind slipped into a terrible blackness.

  22

  TAKING OUT THE TRASH

  Jink. Jink. Joooom.

  Daniel had no idea where he was at first. His head pounded, and the cacophonous blare of some kind of alert wasn’t helping. He lay on his side, his face all smushed into the helmet. A crust had formed over his eyelids, so it took him a moment to pry them apart. When he did open his eyes, nothing looked as it had before.

  How long had he been out this time? How had he gotten out of the car? Come to think of it, where was the car? Where were any of the cars? The entire GoLoader was gone, and most of the armor along with it.

  He was in some kind of immense cargo hold that stretched on for miles, its walls dull and metallic. Oily equipment hung on tracks along the ceiling. Massive doors, dented and scratched, studded the walls at regular intervals—

  This wasn’t like anywhere in the mine. He had to be on that freighter—except the freight was gone. Junked equipment and broken crates littered the deck; some had been swept into neat piles, but there was no one around now, no Overseers, no Nightwatchers.

  It was safe to get up, assuming he could get up. He was still curled into a ball inside the Overseer body armor, and—oh, great. He was pinned under a pile of trash.

  Gritting his teeth, he struggled to move his arms and legs. Rocking from side to side seemed to help, until—

  The shifting junk slid this way and that until what looked to be an unstable part of a compression unit came crashing down on his head with a BAM!

  Daniel winced, figuring his head was about to cave in, but this Overseer helmet sure could take a beating. Problem was, this compression unit was so heavy, now his head was pinned.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” he said to no one but himself.

  Jink. Jink. Joooom.

  What was that? Mixed in with the annoying alert that hadn’t stopped since the moment he woke up, a second alarm?

  “That can’t be good.”

  It reminded him of a timer. The kind they had on the pulverizers back in the mine to let you know something bad was about to happen.

  Daniel didn’t want to be around to find out what that something bad was.

  He reached over to make sure he still had the silver relic stuck to his chest. He’d warmed up enough he could actually feel with his fingers again—still there. Good.

  He just needed a little blast, something to free him up a bit—

  Whompff!

  The trash heap exploded, sending otherwise immovable junk flying in every direction, broken machine parts embedding along the bulkheads with a thunk, thunk, thunk.

  “Oops.” Not what he’d had in mind. Oh well. Too late now.

  It took a moment or two, since his muscles were sore from being in one position for so long, but eventually Daniel managed to pick himself up off the ground. The armor was so heavy; the Overseers had to be incredibly strong to wear this stuff.

  Exhausted, he
pulled the helmet off and let it drop to the floor, his hair matted in dried blood where his socket had been pierced by the probe.

  He took a moment to catch his breath. The air was different here. He could smell the faint odor that came from the chemicals they coated on electrical circuits—

  Jink. Jink. Joooom.

  What was that? Trying to figure out what it might be signaling, Daniel eyed a series of five lights above one of the doors: three of them lit, two not.

  Daniel stumbled over toward them, his legs still trying to remember how to work, when the nearest junk pile suddenly got up and started bumbling rapidly toward him.

  Daniel’s mouth hung open, a dim light shining on a corner of his mind as a memory came forth.

  “Enginoid . . .” he said. “You’re an enginoid. . . .” He remembered! He couldn’t quite put his finger on where he’d seen one, but he knew he’d seen them before.

  This one, all worn out save for a few scratched-up lime-green markings, came straight at him, sweeping up the trash. Daniel held his hands up. “I . . . I don’t want any trouble,” he said.

  As robots go, it appeared harmless enough, tottering like a small child, taking a few bouncy steps in between rests, but Daniel didn’t want to provoke it. Who knew what else it was programmed for?

  “I just need help,” he added, taking another step back, the robot edging closer.

  What was it about enginoids that he needed to remember? Something important.

  The enginoid dithered before rumbling toward him faster than before.

  “Please?”

  Jink. Jink. Joooom.

  Another light went on above the door. Daniel wagged an accusing finger, refusing to get out of the way. “What does that mean?” he said. “That has to mean something—”

  Three paces, two paces, one . . .