by Peter David
And how had they known that Riella was there, anyway? The more he thought about it, the less sense it made to him.
He continued to dwell on it, though, for doing so was much easier on him than thinking about just how much his shoulder was hurting him. The slice had been vicious, and he had already lost a good deal of blood. It had stopped flowing, apparently, but his upper shirtsleeve was red and sodden, and every move he was making with his arm was a fire of agony up and down his biceps and triceps. “I'm going to kill him,” he muttered, “presuming I don't get myself killed first.”
He got to the bottom of the shaft. The ladder ended about ten feet above the bottom, for no reason that he could think of other than that it had been constructed that way for the sole purpose of annoying him. Realizing that he had no choice, he dropped the sword down first, waited until it had clattered flat on the bottom, and then dropped down after it. Under ordinary circumstances such a drop wouldn't have been particularly daunting. But he had almost been killed by a few words from the Overlord, almost lost an arm in a sword fight, and was now trying to make his way to his ship without getting himself killed. This was not developing into one of his easier days.
He landed in a crouch and remained that way for a moment, making sure that he hadn't twisted his ankle or in some other way injured himself. When he was satisfied that he was intact, he picked up the fallen sword and then stood in front of the door that was blocking his exit from the shaft. He started prying at it with the sword, as he had done with the lift door.
The lift above him chose that moment to start to move. Descending, of course, straight towards him. Well, naturally that would happen. Heaven forbid it might actually go in the opposite direction and spare him a few moments of aggravation.
He worked faster at the door. The sword wasn't sliding in as smoothly this time as it had with the other one. He worked as quickly as he could, trying not to think about the heavy lift car descending upon him. It seemed as if he could almost feel its weight crushing him. The wall at the bottom of the shaft curved inward; there was no space for him to angle himself away from the descending car.
He pushed with the sword, growled in fury as he saw the car coming right at him. He wasn't going to make it.
Desperately, not expecting anything except the terminal sensation of the car crushing down on him followed by the blackness of oblivion (which, frankly, he was ready to welcome at this point) Xyon flattened himself on the floor of the shaft, grimaced, gritted his teeth and waited. The one thing he refused to do was cry out in frustration or anger or pain.
Well, maybe pain.
The lift came closer . . . closer still, and now he could sense the car directly above him. He closed his eyes, prepared himself.
The lift car came to a halt half an inch above his head.
He opened his eyes, not quite able to believe it. The car remained there a moment longer; he could hear the sound of running feet, very likely belonging to Redeemers as they pounded out of the lift and down the corridor.
He had caught a break. The lift's natural motion brought it to a halt just above the floor of the shaft. In retrospect, it made perfect sense. Why have the thing banging up against the floor of the shaft every time, after all? But he hadn't been considering such niceties of design when he'd been busy flattening himself on the floor to avoid being crushed, even though it turned out that there was no danger of that happening.
After a few moments more, the car reversed itself and started back up again. Instantly Xyon was on his feet, and this time—without the pressure of the oncoming lift car—he was able to use the sword to pry open the door out of the shaft. He braced himself, waiting to see if a barrage of ammunition from the Redeemers would be waiting to greet him. If that happened, he had no defense handy. He would wind up more pitted than an asteroid.
But such was not the case. Instead the corridor was mercifully empty. He stepped out of the shaft, allowing the door to slide shut behind him, and offered up a prayer that that would be the last time he'd have to deal with rooting around in a turbolift shaft. Then, gripping the sword firmly, he dashed down the corridor.
As he ran, he felt the ship shuddering around him. It was a series of quick, sudden sensations, and he was sure he could hear in the distance quick rushes of air. Then he realized what was happening, and he couldn't help but be amazed at their ingenuity. The Dogs had arrived in some sort of vessels that had actually attached themselves to the hull of the Redeemers' ship, like so many parasites. They had then burned their way through the hull, creating small enough holes for them to clamber through and into the ship.
Except ...
Where had the Redeemers' shields been? Had the Dog ships actually been able to penetrate the Redeemers' shields? It was remotely possible, particularly if the Dogs had found some way to jam the harmonics, alter them in some fashion that allowed the ships to slip through. But even so, it seemed terribly unlikely. The pieces of the entire business were just not fitting together for Xyon.
Ultimately, though, it didn't matter. His major concern had to be getting off the ship and going after Riella. The latter should not prove to be too major a problem. After all, he knew where they were going. Unlike the Overlord, who refused to believe the answers that were being handed to him, Xyon knew perfectly well that the Quiet Place (whatever it was) was where Riella said it was. Or, at the very least, that it was where Riella was going to take them, even though the general environs didn't seem particularly promising, considering the fact that there didn't appear to be any sort of planet there. That, and the fact that—even though he had been running around like a lunatic ever since stumbling over the phrase—Xyon still had no really clear idea of just what in the world the Quiet Place was. Or what it represented. He knew of the offhand comments by the Dogs and the vague allusions made by Riella, but that was pretty much it.
He heard Redeemers shouting in the distance, heard the calls going out for repair crews. Clearly they had bigger things to worry about than Xyon making a break for it, considering the fact that their ship suddenly had an array of holes in it. Xyon made it to the docking bay without incident. Once he entered, however, there was a serious incident awaiting him: two heavily armed Redeemers standing on either side of the door just inside.
He could tell from their attitude that they had not been waiting for him. They had just been mindlessly following their orders, doing their duty, guarding the door. They hadn't really expected any intruders; so when Xyon entered the first thing they reacted with was surprise. It is always dangerous to take a follow-up action while surprise is setting in, but that was the unfortunate decision that the two of them made. They swung their weapons up and aimed them squarely at Xyon. Xyon, for his part, hesitated only a moment, to make sure they had a lock on him, and then he simply ducked, throwing himself flat on his back and shutting his eyes tight. The blaster bolts crisscrossed directly over him, his eyes slammed shut against the impact. When he opened his eyes, he looked to either side and discovered that (to his astonishment) the manuever had worked. The guards had been far more concerned with aiming and firing on Xyon. When he had managed to absent himself from the paths of the weapons, the two Redeemers had rather deftly managed to blow each other out of existence. There was still enough left of them, what with their shreds of uniform and such, that Xyon was confident they could still be identified.
In the meantime, however, he dashed across the bay to his ship. “Lyla!” he shouted, and for a moment he felt a cold, clutching sensation in his stomach as he wondered if somehow they had managed to wipe out the ship's personality or, worse, physically remove the bodily remains that was Lyla from the ship herself. Either move, particularly the latter, would be nothing short of catastrophic for Xyon. Fortunately, however, neither seemed to be the case. Apparently, they just hadn't been there long enough, for the door obediently opened. “Hello, Xyon,” Lyla's voice said pleasantly. “Did you miss me”
“Terribly,” said Xyon, all business. “Get us out of
here.”
“The bay doors are not open.”
Xyon did not even hesitate. He tapped the weapons array, bringing a plasma discharger on line as it snapped into view on the underside of the vessel. Pushing a button, he blasted apart the offending door with no effort. “They are now,” he said sanguinely.
With no further hesitation, the ship lifted off and angled towards the shattered door and out into space.
“Did it!” called out Xyon. “Lyla, take us to cloak and bring us around to—”
He did not, however, have the opportunity to complete the thought. Just before the ship went invisible, an array of heavy-duty fire power erupted from the Redeemer vessel. The impact was so severe that it knocked Xyon clean off his feet. He skidded across the floor of the vessel and had the misfortune of smashing his already throbbing shoulder against the far bulkhead. He let out a yelp of pain.
“You have injured your—” began Lyla.
“ I know, I know!” shouted Xyon, cutting her off. “Are we cloaked?”
“Yes. But they are bracketing the area. It would appear they know generally where we are.”
“Then get us out of here! Right n—!”
Before he could get out the rest of the sentence, the ship was hammered once more. He heard something then that was truly frightening: He heard Lyla scream. It wasn't in panic; more a shriek of general alarm. But it was a disconcerting sound nevertheless, and one that he had never thought he would hear emanating from the ship's onboard personality.
Looking out the viewing port, he saw the Redeemer ship spiraling away into the distance. There were a few stray Dog ships as well; the Redeemers were fighting a multifront war, and that was the only thing that Xyon had going for him. The Redeemers were firing at everything in sight rather than any one thing. Xyon saw one of the Dog ships blow up, then a second. The rest of them angled away, and Xyon then found himself in a curious position. On the one hand, he wanted to pray that, of the ships that had been hit and destroyed, Riella hadn't been on one of them. On the other hand, the prospect of the poor girl in the hands of the Dogs of War wasn't particularly appealing either. For all he knew, the moment she told them what they wanted to know, they might tear her apart just for sport.
No. No, they wouldn't do that. He was suddenly certain of that. It would just be bad tactics, that was all. They couldn't go on the assumption that she was telling the truth until they saw it with their own eyes. At the very least, Riella was safe until they managed to get to the legendary Quiet Place.
The Redeemer ship had moved off completely, absenting itself so quickly (perhaps going in pursuit of a Dog vessel) that in no time at all, Xyon found himself alone in space. “Lyla,” he called. “Are you okay? I heard you scream.”
“Do not be absurd, Xyon,” Lyla said with just a hint of primness. “I am incapable of any concern over my personal well-being anymore. A scream would indicate alarm, even fear, and these are not aspects of—”
“Fine. It was my imagination. Set course and head for Star 7734. Move us out.”
“Unable to comply at this time, Xyon,” Lyla said.
“Unable? Why?”
“Damage to operational systems, including warp drive, navigation, and life support.”
It was the last one that immediately caught Xyon's attention. “Life support?”
“That is right.”
“How much damage?”
“Estimated repair time, twenty-seven hours, once replacement parts are found.”
“Once replacement parts are—” He couldn't quite believe it. “Where would we find those?”
“Closest reliable merchant is in the Apel system, nineteen hours from here—”
“And the opposite direction from Star 7734.”
“It doesn't matter all that much, Xyon, since our engines are also down. I am working on rerouting through subroutines in hopes of bringing them back on line. At the very least, we will have impulse power back in two hours, twenty-seven minutes, allowing for full repair time.”
“So we're dead in space at the moment.”
“That is correct. That situation, however, is only temporary.”
“Uh-huh. And just out of curiosity, with damaged life support the way it presently is, how long before I'm dead?”
“Nine hours, eleven minutes.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Terrific. Lyla, has it occurred to you that death is a situation that is most definitely not temporary?”
“I have considered that,” Lyla said reluctantly. “I was, to be honest, hoping you would not notice that part of the problem.”
“Well, it was pretty hard to miss. A distress signal, Lyla,” he added after a moment. “Can you send one?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it. And drop the cloak; it's not going to do us a great deal of good if someone shows up to try and rescue us, and they can't find us.”
“Xyon, have you considered the possibility that either the Redeemers or the Dogs of War might detect the distress signal, return and destroy you.”
“Yes, I've considered that, Lyla.”
“If that happens, do you have any plan?”
“Yes. If that happens, then I plan to die.”
Lyla appeared to consider that for a moment. “I can't say that's one of your better plans, Xyon.”
“You're absolutely right, Lyla. Hopefully, should the circumstance arise, I'll be more inspired.”
Xyon lapsed into silence then. He puttered around the ship at first, but he knew better than to try and aid in the ship's repair. The nano-based technology that Lyla had at her disposal was hopefully going to be more than enough to get the job done. Instead he found his thoughts turning towards the missing Riella.
“Do you miss her?” It was as if Lyla was capable of reading his mind.
“Who?” he asked.
“Riella. Do you miss her?”
“No, Lyla, I don't. But she's a loose end, and I wound up taking her in. I owe it to her to try and see this through.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Why?”
He sighed. “Lyla, it's been a long time since you had a normal body. But if you'll cast your memory back, you'll recall that sometimes there are things you do, not because they necessarily make logical sense, but just because you feel you have to do them. Helping Riella is one of those things.”
She pondered that one. “I suppose you are right, Xyon.”
“I'm glad you underst—”
“It makes no logical sense.”
He sighed once more. “No. It doesn't, does it?”
“Riella reacted negatively when she learned that you were a thief. Why would she feel that way?”
“Because,” Xyon told her, “she's lived in a nice, isolated little existence where everything she ever wanted has been handed to her. She's never had to fight for anything in her life. She doesn't know how difficult or harsh or cruel the universe can actually be. Because of that, it's easy for her to stake out the moral high ground and look down disdainfully at those of us who have been living in it for years just trying to survive.”
“I see.”
“It must be nice to live on the moral high ground.”
“Perhaps, in my old age, I'll move there myself.”
XI.
RIER STRODE INTO THE HOLDING FACILITY in which Riella was being kept, Atik and Krul flanking him. He stopped at the entrance, however, and stared uncomprehendingly.
The girl was lying on the floor, which was odd considering that there was actually a couch and chair available. Her eyes were closed, her body trembling. Her hands were clenched into fists so tight that her fingernails were digging into her palms and small trickles of blood were flowing from the wounds. She was whispering things, but the words were incomprehensible. Every so often she would mutter something that Rier was barely able to make out, but then the rest of it was lost.
“I'll wake her,” Krul said, and took a step forward.
; But Rier put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “No. Let it run its course, whatever it is.”
And so the Dogs stood there, watching the girl writhe about for some minutes, in the throes of something they could not even begin to guess at. Suddenly she sat up, her eyes not focusing on anything at first. It seemed as if she was looking inward somehow. And what she was seeing within was possibly the most frightening thing of all. Then she looked up at Rier and became fully aware of her whereabouts.
“Do you know where you are?” Rier actually sounded remarkably solicitous.
She nodded.
“And do you know why you're here?”
“You brought me here.” Her voice cracked slightly, as if her throat were constricted.
“Yes. And do you know why?”
“Does it matter?”
“We want to know of the Quiet Place.”
She laughed softly at that. “Do you. Do you now. And what is the point of my telling you?”
“The point? The point is that we will not kill you if you are cooperative.”
“I was cooperative with the Redeemers. They did not believe me.”
“The Redeemers are fools,” Atik spoke up.
“They can actually be a guide to us in their actions,” sniffed Krul. “All we have to do is observe the way they go about their business, and then do the exact opposite.” He then chuckled at his own joke.
“But I warn you,” Rier said intently, and he approached Riella slowly, ominously, looming over her. “If you lie to us ... I will know.”
“Oh really.” She seemed curious rather than intimidated. “And how will you? Know, I mean.”
“Because when one lies, there is a certain scent of fear that is inevitable. And I can smell fear.”
“And you like the smell, don't you.”
“What?” He inclined his head slightly. “What do you mean?”
Rier was accustomed to an assortment of behaviors among prisoners, but he'd never encountered anything quite like this before. From the girl's voice, from her attitude, it really seemed as if she did not give a damn what he thought or what happened to her. It was as if she was addressing him from some great, lofty place that he could not even begin to aspire to. He wasn't sure how to react to it.