The animal crashed down, wrapped up inside the cloth. It thrashed madly, moving across the grass, but couldn't escape.
Rowan looked up at Emet, grinning. "I did it, sir!"
"Now hurry!" He ran forward and grabbed one end of the writhing animal. "With me, grab the other end, into the tunnel! Go, go!"
Rowan gripped the other end of the trapped hellbull. They lifted the heavy beast. It flailed, and they nearly dropped the bundled animal. They managed to haul the thrashing creature toward the canyon wall. Emet parted the vines, unveiling a stone door worked into the cliff.
He shoved the door open, revealing a tunnel. They carried their burden inside, then slammed the door shut behind them. It locked. They placed the struggling hellbull on a waiting gurney, then rolled it down the tunnel as it flailed.
A hundred meters down the tunnel, they reached a chamber and a waiting shuttle.
"Faster!" Emet said.
They shoved the struggling animal into the shuttle, leaped into the cockpit, and fired up the engine.
They tore through a curtain of vines and soared into the sky. The shuttle rattled. Emet's ears popped. Rowan grimaced, clinging to her seat, turning green. The shuttle clattered, roaring out fire. Within three minutes, they were in space.
The rest of the Inheritor fleet awaited them there.
"Go, go, faster!" Emet said.
Rowan gripped the controls, directing the shuttle toward the hangar of the Jerusalem. She slid into the hangar—moving too fast. She winced and hit the brakes. The shuttle banged onto the floor, chipping metal, raising sparks.
The hangar door slammed shut.
"Warp speed, go!" Rowan shouted into her comm.
In the hangar, a blue light turned on, emulating warp speed.
Rowan let out a shaky breath. She looked at Emet.
"Time, sir?" she whispered.
He checked his watch. His heart sank, and he grumbled.
"Thirteen minutes and ten seconds since we caught the animal. Too slow. Too damn slow! If this were your sister, her strikers would have pulverized us before the jump to warp."
Rowan glanced behind her. In the back of the shuttle, the hellbull was still kicking in its trap. It floundered in the cape like a fish in the net, banging against the shuttle walls.
"Sir," Rowan whispered, "if this were my sister, she would recognize me. She would listen to reason. She was coming around last time, and—"
"Corporal, enough," Emet said. "We've been over this. This is our plan. We will wait for Jade's fleet to arrive. We will battle her in space. We will pretend to crash the Jerusalem into the ravine. Jade will follow us down onto Helios to investigate. She'll want to capture us herself, whether we're dead or alive. When she approaches you, you'll sing your song. The one from your childhood. When Jade is disoriented, you'll trap her in the electric cape."
Rowan nodded. "Then into the tunnel, then into the shuttle, then up into space, then into the Jerusalem, then to warp speed. Yes. I know. But I think, sir, that if I could just talk to her, we can—"
"No!" Emet said. "Jade is dangerous, Rowan. More dangerous than you realize. This is the creature—not a woman anymore but a creature—that murdered millions. She is no longer your sister. She is a hybrid, part humanoid, part scorpion, part machine. No longer human. We're capturing her so that we can interrogate her. That is all. Not to bring her back into humanity's embrace." His voice softened. "I'm sorry, Corporal. I know you want your sister back. I want my own slain family back."
"Jade was not murdered like our parents," Rowan whispered. "She's still alive. She's still inside that hard white skin they gave her. Somewhere inside that cyborg, that creature, Jade Emery is weeping and begging for help. I know it. And you'll see, sir. I'll help you trap her. Like you planned. And I'll help you interrogate her for information on the scorpions. But sir, I know that we can bring her back, that we can return her sanity, that we can make her human again. Or at least, I believe. I hope." He eyes dampened. "All my life, I've run on hope. It hasn't let me down yet."
Emet stared at the girl. They sat together in the shuttle, quiet for a long moment.
Yes, let her believe this, he thought. Let her have this hope. It will motivate her. She needs to believe.
He nodded.
"All right, Corporal. We'll see. Now come, down onto the planet. We have time for another few drills. This time, we'll use a tougher, stronger animal." He smiled grimly. "I'll be throwing all sorts of beasts at you over the next few days."
Rowan winced. "Are you sure we can't just tranquilize Jade?"
"Rowan, I've seen railgun bullets shatter against Jade's skin. A tranquilizing dart isn't going to work. Not will gas. Our rebels report that Jade can breathe in anything we lob at her. It has to be you—with a trap. Ready for another round? I want this done under ten minutes. Think we can crack ten?"
She nodded. "We'll get it done in seven minutes, sir. I know we can do seven. From canyon to warp—seven minutes. Let's do this."
Emet gave her an approving nod. "There's fire in you. Good. How are your ribs?"
"They hurt, sir. Badly. But so what?"
He smiled. "Come on, Emery. Fly the shuttle down to the planet. I want you to become an expert pilot by the end of today, as well as an expert trapper. In case anything happens to me, you need to complete the mission yourself—including flying this shuttle. Let's—"
Before Emet could complete his sentence, Rowan fired up the shuttle and burst back out into space. Fire filled her eyes, and her lips were tight. They dived into the atmosphere, wreathed in flame, and back into the canyon.
They got it down to seven minutes.
Then to six.
Within only days, maybe hours, the scorpions would arrive.
They would be ready.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"There it is." Coral pointed, tears in her eyes. "Elysium. The birthplace of weaving."
"They must sell great baskets," Bay said.
Coral glared at him. "Don't joke. This place is holy to us weavers." She returned her eyes to the planet ahead. "Long have I wished to gaze upon ancient Elysium, a world of myth and wonder."
They sat together in Brooklyn's cockpit. The small ship rattled across space, badly damaged but still flying fast. The planet floated before them, green and mottled with white clouds. Elysium was just slightly smaller than Earth, its atmosphere rich with oxygen, her temperature just above water's freezing point. Most planets were hellholes—barren deserts, flaming ovens, frozen wastelands, or jungles filled with bacteria that would eat your flesh faster than piranhas. Here was a rare clement world.
"It's here," Coral whispered. "On this planet's surface. The Weeping Weaver Guildhall. It's here that Gadriel the Good founded the order. Here that we'll find the Godblade, the weapon that can defeat the Hierarchy."
"Are you sure this place is abandoned, Coral?" Bay stared at the green planet. "It looks beautiful. A Goldilocks planet."
She frowned. "Goldilocks?"
Bay nodded. "Yeah, like the chick from the fairytale. She wanted porridge that's not too hot, not too cold, just right. Goldilocks planets are just right. The temperature keeps water liquid. The gravity is just right. The atmosphere is rich with oxygen, but not so thick that it'll crush you. Goldilocks planets are rare. One in a million. Usually you see a bunch of aliens fighting over them."
Coral stared ahead, a small smile on her lips. The planet's light reflected in her eyes.
"Only weavers may enter the skies of Elysium. In ancient legends, all others are cast away."
"Great." Bay leaned back. "Another planet I'm not welcome at. I'll add it to the list. At least this one isn't because I got drunk in the pool."
Coral rolled her eyes. "You're with me, Bay. You'll be fine. But do try not to drink until you fall into any bodies of water."
"No promises," Bay said.
As the planet came closer, Bay barely noticed any bodies of water. There were certainly no oceans or lakes. The world of Elysium was
a single continent, its mountains towering, its canyons deep. Vegetation covered most of the world, receding only from the poles and tallest mountains. Soon the planet filled their field of vision.
"Um, dudes?" Brooklyn woke up from sleep mode. "I'm detecting something weird ahead. Whole lotta radiation hitting me."
"Divert more power to shields," Bay said.
"Done." Brooklyn shuddered. "Dude, I feel all tingly. Like a million space ants hitting me. I—coming from—can't—"
Her monitors began to crackle with static.
Her camera wilted.
The starship all but shut down.
Gravity seized Brooklyn and began pulling her toward the planet. At this angle, they wouldn't even survive atmospheric entry, let alone a crash on the surface.
Bay grabbed the controls, desperate to pull them back up. But the engines were dead. Life support shut down. Oxygen masks dangled from the overhead compartment.
"What the hell?" Bay said. "Coral, what did your damn planet do to my starship?"
"It's not my planet!" she said. "Your starship is just old and broken."
"Hey! Brooklyn is not old. Well, okay she is, but she's not broken. Okay, she's broken too, but your planet still sucks." Bay yanked a lever, switching on emergency power. Life support came back on, but the monitors remained dead. "Brook! Brook, can you hear me, girl? I—"
A shimmer of light caught his eye.
He stared toward the planet.
Oh hell no.
"A shield!" Bay cried, pulling the joystick.
He managed to slow Brooklyn, to raise her prow, but not pull free from the gravity well.
They slammed into the transparent shield engulfing Elysium in a huge bubble.
Brooklyn jolted and skidded. The floor dented. Sparks flew. If not for their seat belts, Bay and Coral would have flown through the windshield. The starship careened back into space, tumbling, rolling back into the distance.
Once they were far enough, the power came back on.
Lights blinked and Brooklyn's camera rose.
"Whoa." The starship moaned. "I feel like a frigate ran over me. What the hell happened?"
Bay glared at Coral. "Somebody neglected to tell us that an invisible shield encloses Elysium."
Coral grimaced and rubbed her neck. "I didn't neglect to tell you anything, Corporal Bay Ben-Ari. I didn't know. I've never been here." She winced. "Rattled every bone in my body. At least now we know what the old legend means. The shield must be what casts out anyone who isn't a weaver."
"Um, last I checked, Miss Coral the Weaver, you got your ass cast out pretty bad too."
She ignored him. "Brooklyn, can you turn back toward the planet? I need to take another look."
"Sure thing, dude," Brooklyn said, turning back toward Elysium.
Bay raised an eyebrow. "Why do you obey Coral right away, and it's always an argument with me?"
"She doesn't demand obedience," Brooklyn said. "She just asks, doesn't order."
Bay groaned. "She doesn't own you! You are my starship, you know."
"Actually, Bay, I was reading the Galactic Charter of Android Rights, and according to that, I'm an EFA. That's Electronic Free Agent. And according to the charter, you are a slave owner."
"Yeah, well, according to your user manual, you're a shuttle that belongs in the ISS Jerusalem's hangar. Which, I am told, is a breeding ground for ants. But if you want go back, I can—"
"I'll be good!" Brooklyn said.
Coral glared at them. "Will you two be quiet? I'm trying to focus." She took a deep breath. "I hesitate to spend aether so soon, but . . . I must see."
She began unbuttoning her shirt, revealing a tattoo between her breasts. The rune was shaped like an eye. It began to glow, and soon Coral's real eyes shone too, filled with starlight.
Bay found himself staring. He quickly looked away, cheeks flushing.
Brooklyn's camera lens dilated. She gaped at the weaver but said nothing.
"I see," Coral whispered. "A sea of radiation shielding the planet. A force field. An impenetrable wall. And . . . a door." Coral smiled. "Brooklyn, can you take us closer to the pole? And over the horizon. Yes. We're closer now. A gateway reveals itself. But the door is locked. It . . ." Her eyes and rune went dark. She buttoned up her shirt. "I dare not use more."
She slumped in her seat, winded.
"You all right, Coral?" Bay said.
She nodded and closed her eyes. "There is always a cost to summoning aether. I'm not yet a master. It wearies me."
"I know what you need," Bay said. "A nice, strong cup of coffee, black as a moonless night."
"That would be nice," she whispered. "But add some creamer. Black coffee is just hot bean water, you know."
Bay left the cockpit and brewed some coffee in the kitchenette. As he worked, he tried very hard to ignore the memory of Coral unbuttoning her shirt, revealing the sides of her breasts.
Don't, Bay, he told himself. She's a damn weaver. You don't want to get into this mess.
Brooklyn's voice emerged from the kitchen's speakers. "Dude, why don't you ever make me coffee?"
"I fill you up with fuel. That's your coffee."
"Yeah, but you're never nice about it," Brooklyn said.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine, next time I'll serve your fuel in a mug with creamer, happy?"
"And make sure you add crumpets," Brooklyn said.
He poured a mug of coffee. "Brook, you don't even know what a crumpet is, and neither do I."
"Well, we don't know what a Godblade is either, but we've let Coral take us to this planet in search of one."
"Touche."
Bay added creamer to the mug, then brought the drink to Coral. She took a few sips, and some life returned to her eyes.
"Thank you, Bay," the weaver said. She held the mug in both hands, waiting for the drink to cool. "All right. The shield around the planet? Weavers built it. It's woven of aether and air and energy. There's a gateway, large enough for a starship to fly through, but it's locked. The gateway is a giant weaver artifact. Remember what I told you about artifacts?"
Bay nodded. "Yeah. Like your dagger. Like the old weavers' looms. Like the Godblade we're seeking. You need the right rune to unlock them."
"Exactly." Coral reached for a notebook and pencil, which Bay had been scribbling with during the journey. "May I?"
He nodded. "Go ahead."
Coral began to draw, tracing an elaborate sigil. It was shaped like a filigreed circle, enclosing stars and keys.
"When I was using the sight, I saw this rune engraved into the gateway, glittering with aether," Coral said. "It's called a skylock rune. This rune can open the door."
"Great," said Bay. "So after your coffee, can you turn on your skylock tattoo and open the gate?"
Coral sighed. "I don't have a skylock rune."
Bay's mouth hung open. "Are you sure? Maybe if you unbuttoned your shirt a bit more?"
Her smile was tight. "I'm sure you'd love that, Bay, but I assure you—I've never been inked with a skylock."
"All right." Bay nodded. "No problem. We take a little detour. We find a tattoo parlor, we get you a skylock tattoo, and Bob's your uncle."
"Bay!" Coral's eyes flashed. "Have I taught you nothing? It's not that simple. A weaver can't just stroll into a tattoo parlor and get a new rune. These are ancient sigils of power, inked with aether. A weaver must earn each rune. Only the ancients, when they deem us worthy, may bestow the runes upon us."
Bay grimaced. "Well, that certainly puts a damper on things. So how do you earn a rune?"
"Depends on the rune," Coral said. "The one I just used, the sight? I had to meditate and pray for a week in the wilderness, gazing into nature and into myself. My rune of healing? I had to serve for a year in a hospice, tending to the dying, before the ancients granted me a rune to save lives. Often, the ancients demand a task, a mission, something to help a weaver learn the true value of a rune."
"I'm almost afraid to ask," B
ay said, "but what quest do you need to complete for a skylock rune?"
"I don't know," Coral said. "I must meditate and pray to the ancients for wisdom. It might take a while."
"Coral, I thought we didn't have time," Bay said. "The whole thing about, you know, this planet being behind enemy lines, and the scorpions flying here to find the Godblade too, and Jade hunting humans everywhere, and us basically needing the Godblade really, really soon? You know, that thing?"
"Oh, don't worry, Bay, we can defeat the scorpions with your sarcasm, I'm sure." Coral rolled her eyes. "I'm aware of the time concerns. But unless you have a few antimatter weapons on Brooklyn, or a fleet of warships armed with hydrogen bombs, a skylock rune is the only way to open the door."
"Brook, any anti-matter weapons?" Bay asked. "Hydrogen bombs? Nope? Well, as I thought, the only doomsday weapon around here is somewhere in the Weeping Guildhall down on that planet. All right! Get to praying, Coral. While you're at it, can you pray for some crumpets?"
Coral tilted her head. "Crumpets? You mean the old English griddle cake made from flour and yeast?"
"So that's what they are!" Brooklyn said.
Coral went into the hold, sat cross-legged on the floor, and began to meditate.
She meditated for a long time.
Brooklyn went into sleep mode, shuddering sometimes in a dream, mumbling in her sleep about ants. Bay kept to the cockpit, wanting to give Coral privacy, but soon grew antsy and began to pace the small starship. Brooklyn was only a few meters long, but Bay made the most of them.
All the while, Coral remained still, eyes shut, meditating.
Bay lounged on the bed, reading a book.
He paced again.
He made more coffee.
He drew a few elven warriors.
Still Coral meditated, seemingly in a trance.
Don't you even have to use the bathroom after that mug of coffee? he thought, daring not disturb her.
He yawned. He hadn't slept in a long while, but he felt too anxious to nap, knowing the scorpions might arrive at any moment.
Brooklyn woke up and whined. "What's taking her so long?"
"Hush, you'll disturb her," Bay said.
"Good." Brooklyn rocked from side to side. "I'm bored."
A Memory of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 2) Page 15