Suddenly, an alien energy interrupted her solitude. The familiar feeling of the ship manoeuvring as it passed over the source was amplified by her heightened senses in the machine and now, with all else silent, dominated. As the only living mage, her authority should be respected, not interrupted. The ship was gone now but it would be back within the hour and she would be ready. The time passed slowly but, now she felt she had a purpose, she was content with her task of preparing. When the Atlanta was next over the source, she was ready to respond. The next pulse from Atlanta's fusion ring was met with a massive surge from the planet which totally reversed the planned orbital correction. A further attempted correction, a few seconds later, achieved little except to signal to Lynella that she was not un-noticed.
Lynella now rose to the challenge. Nagging doubts about the real nature of the trap set by the Abbot were swept aside. This was just to be her demonstration of power, a brief gesture of freedom before an inevitable period of captivity by the Abbot when she had destroyed the machine. In the next orbit, the ship's pulse was stronger but, with increased confidence and pride, Lynella’s reply was also stronger. She decided to play again and next time she reversed the pulse from the machine causing a substantial over-correction by the ship.
The technician on Atlanta looked at the figures and called the duty officer on the intercom, ‘Sorry about this, sir. I can't get it right today’
‘What's the problem?’
‘I know it sounds stupid, but the planet seems to be fighting back.’
‘Perhaps the field is just turbulent, today. We're only five seconds out. We could leave it for a few hours.’
‘With your permission, sir, I suggest we miss one and then continue with small pulses just to try to find out what's going on down there.’
‘OK. Keep me informed.’
The officer started drafting a report for the Captain. In just nine weeks’ time, they were scheduled to land. All variations in the field strength were of critical interest.
26
The numbers on the ship were so large that a few deaths had been inevitable during the months of their journey. When this occurred, the email account was removed immediately. His was still there – at least somebody thought he was still alive.
Skimming through some of the mail confirmed what he had been told about the landing. Everything was going ahead. Thousands of details concerning the landing field and modifications to the ship had been attended to. Some fluctuations in the field from the planet had been noted with concern but, following an age-old tradition, the committee had called for more information and done nothing. Requests to send men out from the landing site to find out more had been rejected by the Mission Director himself as being economically unjustifiable.
He was shocked when he found out about the launch of the data bullet. Much of the technical information was unintelligible to him. He was a construction Engineer, not a flight Engineer. He only received the documents for information because of his involvement in the landing. As he read, however, two conclusions were apparent. The first was that the ship had only survived the incident by pure luck. The second was that some of the repairs were not possible until it landed. They were committed to landing; faster-than-light travel for the journey home would not be possible until the repairs were completed.
The most recent document was about the new, and far stronger, pulses from the planet. For a technical report, it was very strongly worded. Phrases such as ‘unjustifiable risk to the ship’ and ‘must be eliminated at all cost’ should not have been there. The writer was clearly scared. His report was highly unprofessional. It did, however, guarantee Paul a job for the immediate future.
As expected, he soon received a message from the Captain asking him to prepare a written report on everything he knew about the pulses and bring it to a meeting the following day. Since he was suspended without pay, he felt a momentary resentment at being asked to work. This was, however, soon forgotten as he set to work and felt he was part of the team again. He wrote in great detail about everything he knew but had to conclude that he did not know what had caused the pulses. He could not see why Lynella would have done it, and he was sure that she would have destroyed the machine, so the Abbot could not have done it either.
Two young officers were present at the meeting. He knew them by sight; everybody knew them by sight. They were almost a head and shoulders taller than the rest of the crew and powerful with it. Smith was normally to be seen weight training in the gym. Gardiner was equally fit and was in the medical team. They had read the report and moved directly to planning an attack.
‘You must have some idea what caused it,’ The Captain said. He was looking intently at Paul as if he might be able to read more from his expression than he could hear from his reply.
‘I suppose she must have done it; given she was in complete control just a few hours before.’
‘What was this control?’ One of the junior officers asked, sounding unconvinced. ‘We found those bits rather hard to follow, magic and all that.’
‘I have just reported what I saw,’ Paul replied.
‘You don't think it was some sort of battle for control of the machine?’ The Captain asked, showing himself prepared to take the information at face value.
‘No, the Abbot and his men were all camped outside, trying to work out what had happened.’
‘So why did she do it?’
Paul smiled at him hopelessly. ‘Don't ask me. I suppose I think I know her quite well but remember that I only ever spent a couple of days with her.’
At this point Gardiner decided that Paul's story was no longer credible. ‘You say she has magical powers. You ask us to believe it?’ His tone was condescending, so Paul slowly and deliberately held out one of his wrists.
The Captain had not seen the marker bracelets before. Paul had not told him about them but had mentioned them in the report. A few dry printed sentences had not, however, prepared the Captain for what he saw. In the cold, bright, environment of the office, it stood out as defiant beacons of another culture. The mysterious flow of the runes seemed to ripple slightly as he looked at it. One of the young officers moved to touch it. Paul nodded his assent and the man slowly turned it around. There was no sign of the joints which had been closed when the rings were formed. They were far too small to have ever passed over his hands. As if this was not enough to convince the officer, he was sure that he could feel energy in it. It might have been the feel of the perfect runes on the shining surface, but it sent a shiver through him and he jumped back.
‘What's wrong?’ Paul asked, trying to resist the temptation to mimic the man's earlier condescension.
‘OK, I'll believe you now’
‘Come to think of it, I might be able to do better,’ Paul said, starting to enjoy himself. ‘The books said that when a lot of power passes through marker bracelets sometimes,’ his voice trailed off... ‘I think I know how to do it if it will.’
He held both his wrists out. A dull blue glow hung between them. By its light, Paul saw three shocked faces trying to come to terms with a new reality. The discussion began to move forward on a very practical level. Arrangements were made to use the ship's workshops to manufacture ceramic bullets. These could be made with fibre reinforced composites and would be unaffected by the magnetic fields in the monks' auras.
‘What am I going to tell them?’ Smith asked.
‘Just tell them the Captain wants them,’ Paul replied, and the Captain nodded to confirm it.
Finally, Paul brought the discussion around to his status.
‘We agreed that I would probably be locked up if the Director found me,’ he said. ‘I need to know where I stand, and I think that these men should know as well if they are going to work with me.’
The Captain replied, speaking slowly and deliberately, ‘I am not Director of this mission but as Captain I still have considerable power. I can promise you this. If or when we manage to complete this mission, I shall use all
of that power to ensure that you return as a free man with your proper share of the bonus. We all know that you ignored the Director's strict orders when you left the landing field. I now accept, however, that you did it to help the ship and we are better off because you did.’ He looked around before continuing, ‘I am now ordering these two officers to accept your leadership.’
27
The Abbot's final strategy of retreating and waiting had paid off. For some hours, cautious attempts to re-enter the monastery had been met with more flying rings. Their movement had, however, become progressively more erratic and finally ceased. The monks and their servants had moved back in and taken Lynella's unconscious body from the chair to where it now lay, in a small cell.
Awakening in severe pain, she opened her eyes and saw a lighting globe above her. It was glowing dimly and illuminating the rough walls carved from the rock. Realising the extent of her failure and, wanting to destroy the only thing she could, she tried to focus her power on the globe. The effect was quite unlike anything she had felt before. The power seemed to reflect back onto her and made her feel as if an overwhelming force was stopping her. At the same time, she felt burning pain on her forehead. Reaching up to remove the source of the pain, she felt a metal band around her head. When she tried to pull it off, she found that it was secured by a network of fine metal chains which encompassed her head and held it in position. Running her fingers around the circlet, she felt runes on it. For the first time since her childhood, she found that even the simplest uses of her power were now impossible. Thinking back, she realised that she had actually seen a device before like the one that was on her head. It was displayed in the hall of the castle where she lived and had been used on a mage who had been captured in one of the great battles for the source. It had remained on his head to the end of his life and beyond. His skull was still inside it.
The door opened, and the Abbot entered with two other men. Lynella was pleased to see that both of the other men wore bandages. The Abbot was not, however, visibly injured. He asked her, ‘Can you hear me?’
She nodded her head painfully. The band felt enormously heavy.
‘You have killed more than twenty people, injured over a hundred and caused substantial damage to this monastery. If you were not a Princess from a royal house, you would be executed for it.’
Lynella made no reply. The comment did, however, give her some hope that Angus had escaped. If he had been captured, the Abbot would have been certain that her family would not find out whatever he did. The Abbot continued, ‘You will be tried before the monastery Council who will establish the full details of what you did. I must, however, have immediate answers to some questions. I need to know how you attacked the ship.’
This achieved an immediate response. ‘I never attacked the ship.’
‘You did, and I want to know how.’
‘Why would I attack the ship?’
‘I don't know. I assume you had an argument with Mr Evans.’
‘I never saw him.’ She stopped to think. She shouldn't be giving information away. She decided to meet a question with a question and added, ‘Why not ask him?’
The Abbot replied, ‘We have a number of unidentified dead who were badly mutilated by your rings. He will be one of them.’ He had intended to shock Lynella but saw no reaction. She knew that Paul had gone through the outer door and took this reply as a good indication that he had escaped. The Abbot repeated his question, ‘Why did you attack the ship?’
In truth Lynella didn't really know why she had attacked the ship. She could hardly say she had done it because it gave her a headache while she was trying to face up to something she could not do. She tried another question, ‘How do you know what I did?’
‘Our monks felt the strength of your pulse and the reply from the ship. Now tell me why you did it.’
‘I don't know.’
The Abbot looked at his aides in exasperation.
‘Just tell me then. Will you help us to attack it?’
‘How can I with this on my head?’
‘We would take it off you.’
The thought of further access to the machine gave her a quick flash of hope, followed by an overwhelming sense of terror when she thought about the reality of what had happened to her. She just said, ‘No, never,’ and closed her eyes.
28
Paul parked the Jeep a short distance inside the line of marker stones at the edge of the source. Having decided that surprise was impossible, they were not concerned when a lookout on the hillside ran into the monastery when he saw them.
‘They've seen the Jeep. Are you sure they won't take it?’ Smith asked.
‘Quite sure,’ Paul replied. ‘They won’t cross the line. Let’s get these packs together and get moving.’
The walk to the clearing took about five minutes. When they arrived, Paul was amazed at the efficiency with which the monks had cleaned up the effects of Lynella's attack. There was not a single sign of the makeshift camp through which he had escaped just four days previously. The clearing was empty as they approached it but, just as they arrived, the Abbot appeared along the path from the monastery door accompanied by at least fifty men. They wore gleaming armour and drew up in ranks. A number of monks formed a line in front of them, facing the three men from the ship and their guns.
Smith looked at the primitive armour and weapons and asked Paul quietly, ‘What do we do now?’
The Abbot heard the question and, seeing it as a sign of weakness, replied, ‘Your weapons don't work against our auras. There is nothing you can do.’
Paul sensed that time was not on his side. The line of men was slowly moving forward towards him. Despite everything, however, the idea of shooting defenceless men appalled him.
‘We demand the release of the Princess Lynella,’ he shouted. ‘Our weapons have ceramic bullets. Your auras will not stop them.’ The monks were getting close still looking confident. Paul looked at his companions. ‘They haven't a clue what a ceramic is. We can't just shoot them.’
The monks were just a few yards away now, moving fast with the swordsmen close behind. Paul shouted, ‘Stop!’ in a last desperate attempt but finally opened fire.
They aimed low but many of the bullets ricocheted off the flagstones to cause injuries in the ranks behind. With this and the injuries to the monks at the front, the three short bursts of automatic weapon fire caused appalling damage. The soldiers kept advancing, as if willing themselves to believe that it could not be happening. The line of fallen men in front of them slowed them slightly but did not stop them. Finally, as the swords came close, Paul had to raise his gun and shoot straight at them, leaving lines of holes in their armour. At last the attack faltered, and, dragging their injured with them, the entire troop fled back into the monastery. Paul and the officers moved back a short distance and just watched.
‘That was unreal,’ Smith said, looking very pale. ‘They were like zombies. Why didn't they stop coming at us?’
‘They've never seen anything that the monks couldn't stop.’ Paul replied. ‘This is a metal rich planet. Everything is made of it.’ Paul looked at him, but Smith was not listening. His face was now pure white, and he looked as if he were about to collapse. Paul realised that the last few weeks had given him a preparation that these men had never experienced. Even in that short time, he had grown hardened to the sights which would once have left him stunned.
It took the two big officers several minutes to prepare themselves to move again. The clearing was now deserted and, when they went up the short path and through the cave to the monastery doors, they found them closed. Massive new timbers had been fitted to replace those Lynella had broken. In the centre of one of the doors, there was a small observation hole.
‘Keep away from the hole,’ Paul ordered. ‘Remember they have crossbows.’
They stood either side of it and, once again, Paul felt compelled to try to save life.
‘Let us in,’ he demanded in a vain atte
mpt to avoid bloodshed. Knowing that this would not work, he shouted, ‘Stand back from the door. We are going to blow it up.’
‘They won't do that either, will they?’ Smith added helplessly as he placed the explosives against the door. They stood well back and watched the explosion. Soon, they heard coughing and saw a small group emerge through the smoke inside the doorway to tend to the injured.
‘I guessed right about the ventilation system,’ Paul said, watching the smoke go into the doorway. ‘No idea where it comes out, but it must be up on the hill somewhere.’ While saying this, he was pulling tear gas canisters out of his pack. Having done so, however, he decided to wait again. He realised that this would give the monks more time to prepare but he could not bring himself to attack the men who were working with the casualties. Taking care not to become targets for crossbows fired from the entrance, they watched and waited. The dead and injured were taken away and even the remains of the door were removed. No guard was posted. The open doorway was deserted. The faint glow of lights could be seen far within, but the entrance looked dark and dangerous. They put on masks, fired the gas in, waited for it to circulate, and ran as far as the first major intersection.
29
Adam stood in the doorway. The door was closed and, judging from the build-up of rust on the hinges, had not been used for some time. He was standing pressed against the rough stone where it curved round from the walls of the main corridor towards the old entrance. He felt calm but not safe. The gas was blowing down the corridor and not mixing with the dead stale air where he stood.
Safety, however, was a thought from another life in another time. Safety was in his village. Even when storms came racing over the horizon, catching him desperately trying to recover his fishing nets, he felt safe. Safety was a clear and certain knowledge of his surroundings, his family, his village, and his God. As the waves came higher, towering over his boat with their tops blown into a sheet of spray, he knew that his God was watching him. Others from the village had perished in storms, and it might be his turn now, but only if God intended it and there would be a good purpose even in death. He would be safe in God's hands.
Ringships Page 16