The hammering noise faded, but the flames remained, streaking by the viewport. The air screamed at the falling craft. The lifeboat had finally steadied, but the warning claxon continued. Miron nudged Zakhar with his elbow and shouted over the noise, "What's that?"
Zakhar turned his head slowly and gave him a chagrined look. "Brake chute damage!"
Miron went still. It was over. He was going to die in here. All the deaths he'd failed to answer. The lives he'd spent like currency, all for a final outcome that would justify everything. Instead, the Commonwealth would fall to the floaters. Everyone, every last human being, would die. He balled his fists, the impossible rage in his chest consuming him from the inside.
In the end, he was completely helpless.
A different alarm howled with urgency. Miron only felt the first instant of the impact.
Chapter Sixteen
Turbulence buffeted the landing craft, and Shura kept an iron arm around Kirill as the ship shook around them. He sat huddled in his harness, legs pulled up and fists curled under his chin, staring at the floor and muttering to himself. Guilt gnawed at her as she watched him. She'd utterly failed to protect him. Whatever had appeared in the dust to scare off Koldan, it hadn't been her doing. She'd yet to put much thought into what it might have been, afraid of the answers she might find.
The porthole between two other frightened evacuees sitting across from her showed grey clouds whipping by, pierced occasionally by bursts of light. All at once, the clouds fell away and revealed the deep dark blue of the high atmosphere. A new wave of fear rolled over her. She'd never been to space before.
Bright flashes from the porthole behind her made her turn to look. A massive spaceship drifted what seemed like within arm's reach. She knew it as a Commonwealth ship by the somber, dark grey tint of the hull, even though little remained that wasn't scorched, twisted or torn away. It burned in a dozen places, fierce blazes feeding off the air escaping the ruined ship. A damaged section of the hull blew open, spilling debris―
She looked closer, then recoiled, blood draining from her face as she realized what she saw. A few pieces of debris still moved as the ship fell away from her sight.
Startled gasps from those seated near the front preceded a wall of grey cutting off her view. She caught glimpses of other ships docked at a structure, of a vast space filled with small ships and tugs moving in apparent chaos. A sudden maneuver of her ship tore her eyes from the view.
The craft slowed down, then shook as it docked. A fleet guard stepped out of the cockpit. "All right, listen up, because I'm only saying this once. You are on board the titan Incomparable. You will file out of this craft in a calm and orderly fashion. You will be given directions to a mustering station. You will receive further instructions there." He slapped a button and the hatch opened. "Let's go!"
Shura threw her bag over her shoulder and joined the line for the exit. "Aman, you're hurting my hand!" Kirill whined, but she didn't loosen her grip. She couldn't know for sure, but she fully expected to find Koldan somewhere on this ship. He'd already made it clear that he wouldn't let minor inconveniences like enemy invasions interfere with his duty. The only thing that gave her confidence was these guards seemed much more attuned to reality, and she didn't think they'd be interested in helping the auditor find her. At least, not yet.
A tunnel connected the landing craft to the larger ship. When they emerged into a bright, steel-blue corridor, a cordon of stone-faced guards bellowed repeated instructions to keep moving, walk in an orderly fashion and keep children close. Once, the deck trembled, and one of the guards cast a worried glance at the ceiling before catching Shura's gaze. He looked away as she passed, the moment's fear hidden behind the guard's mask.
She hadn't believed for one second the announcement that claimed the evacuation was a 'temporary relocation,' but somewhere inside, she'd thought that someone was still in control, that this crisis was within the Commonwealth's means to handle. What if it wasn't?
What if these were the last days of her kind?
She looked down at Kirill, then scooped him up and wrapped him in her arms, smelling his hair as she followed the crowd. She squeezed him until he complained, immersed in the sorrow she felt for him. His future had always been uncertain, but now, she wasn't sure if there was a future left for anyone.
Her arms burning, she reluctantly put him down. They passed through a gaping doorway into a cavernous space spanning several stories. Refugees filled the space, sitting or standing in groups. Three titanic red loaders rose like mechanical islands from the murmuring sea of humanity. Strange faces tracked the newcomers, the initial hope for new information replaced by resignation and disquiet. Shura made sure to stay in the middle of the crowd, scanning the faces around her for the auditor.
There he was, barely entering the holding area. In the instant she saw him, his eyes flicked across the assembly. She crouched before Kirill and put her hands on his shoulders. "Okay, cub," she said, "We're going to move ahead. We're going to slip right in between all these people, just like an eel. They're all slippery all over, so you can't get stuck anywhere. Okay? Just don't let go of my hand."
"Okay."
She surged ahead, staying low and trying not to crush Kirill's hand as she slipped through the crowd. She weaved left and right, watching people's eyes and gestures to anticipate where they'd go. Repeated glances assured her Kirill put his small size to good use. She left behind a muttered curse or two, but no one had the heart to confront her.
She made for a bright red loader close by, where a few other people had sought refuge from the crowd. Kneeling behind one of the loader's hover pads, she tried to look for Koldan without being too obvious.
"Hey," a voice said behind her.
Her body jerked at the greeting, and adrenaline blasted through her veins even as she spun around, pulling Kirill close. The man who had spoken raised his hands and took a step back. "Sorry to scare you," he said, though the dour expression on his square, bearded face held no apology. "Not my intention. I'm Rodion. Saw you looking for a place to hide, and I think I saw the man you're hiding from. He will find you here. Just a matter of time."
She tried to steady her breathing as she looked him over. She'd never seen his kind of clothes before, all roughly woven fabrics in brown and grey. "You have a suggestion?" she said, her tone sharper than she'd intended.
"Yeah. You're not the only one trying to stay out of the auditors' way. It's a big ship. I got a spot that's good for now. At least until they get organized again." He half-turned to walk away and looked back at her. "Up to you."
She followed without hesitation, Kirill in tow. "We're coming with you."
Rodion led them to the back of the holding area. At first, she thought he headed for another corridor, sealed by a line of guards. Before she could protest, he turned away, stopping at a small door she hadn't noticed until they stood before it. He opened it, peered inside, then entered. "Come on," he said, holding the door open for them.
Past the door, Rodion led them down the narrow passage. Another distant tremor shook the ship, followed by two more, but he didn't slow down. Once, they crossed a fleet hand hurrying in the other direction, a tablet in his hand. The man shot Kirill a suspicious glance in passing, but said nothing.
Down the tight passage, through a door leading to a large empty space, then another, wider corridor. From there, Rodion took them through another small side door and yet another narrow passage.
"Aman, I'm tired," Kirill mumbled at her hand.
"Me too, cub," she said without slowing down. "Just a little more. Right?" she added, looking at their new companion. The further they went, the less she felt inclined to trust him. It had begun to occur to her that he'd given her no reason to believe a word he'd said. What if he had no intention of leading them to safety?
He shot her a guarded look over his shoulder. "It's a very big ship. But we're most of the way there."
Reaching behind her with her free hand,
she confirmed the presence of the stunner in her belt. If Rodion tried something, she'd make him regret it.
The journey continued, one corridor after another, each seeming darker and more neglected than the last. The last effects of the stimulant tablet faded away, leaving her limbs heavy and her mind sluggish. They passed through a section scorched by flame hot enough to leave the walls rippled and blistered. Debris blocked the way in places, threatening to trip her exhausted feet. She'd almost made up her mind to confront him when they took another turn and faced a dead end. The ceiling had collapsed, blocking the passage passage ended where the ceiling collapsed, but Rodion didn't stop until he reached a square hatch in the wall. He opened it with a grunt and looked back the way they'd come one more time before climbing inside.
Rodion helped her get Kirill inside, then herself. On the other side, the air was much colder, and she caught a glimpse of her breath clouding before Rodion closed the hatch, leaving them in darkness. "One second," he muttered. A beam of blue light pierced the darkness, illuminating the wreckage surrounding them. "Doesn't look like much, but it opens up a lot further down. You're about as far from active areas as you can be." He scrambled past them and led the way, following a path Shura hadn't yet noticed.
"Smiley says it's okay," Kirill whispered. "The man's not going to hurt us."
"Yeah, it wouldn't really be his problem, would it?" she muttered, but she followed Rodion anyway.
The walls to either side ended in ruins, leaving only darkness all around. Rodion stopped. "You can't see it, but we're in a damaged section near the stern of the ship. The outer hull was destroyed, and panels were put up to restore pressure. They haven't repaired anything else. With the evacuation, they probably won't. No more shipyards."
Shura put down her bag and reached into the emergency kit for her own hand lamp. When she turned it on and aimed it at the ceiling, the faintest spot of light appeared in the distance. She moved the light across the surface, dazzled by the distance and what it meant for the size of the space.
Rodion said, "We're set up to the left, in the debris. We're clearing an area. You're welcome to join us."
More people she didn't know. She hadn't even decided she trusted Rodion yet. "We'll be fine on our own," she said. "Kirill's been through a lot, and he's not used to other people." Rodion said nothing, so she added, "Thank you. For taking us here."
Rodion nodded. "If you change your mind, you're still welcome. We're going to keep quiet and keep the light down until the fighting's over, then we'll set up the heater. Do you have something to keep you warm?"
"We'll be fine," she said again.
"All right." He made to speak again, but he stopped as a deep, steady rumble rose from within the ship. "That's the distortion drive," he said. "Looks like we're making a run for it. There shouldn't be any more fighting for now." After a moment's hesitation, he offered a half-smile and added, "I'll see you around, then." He disappeared behind a pile of debris on the left.
Shura faced Kirill and summoned her best smile. For the first time since he'd been born, Kirill was safe, if only for the moment. She kissed his forehead, then hugged him close. "Okay, cub," she said. "It's you and me again. Let's go find a place to settle in." Taking Kirill's hand in her own, she led him into the dark.
*****
Azial stalked through the rain, barely feeling the drops on his skin. Everyone else hid from the weather, and the only light in the village leaked out through doorways and windows. Pirisati slept at home, utterly spent after hours of wailing grief. At least the rain had abated long enough for Musuri's pyre to burn out.
He reached the tent and reached out to tap on the leather, but hesitated. He didn't even know what he wanted from Merodakh. The medicine man couldn't turn back time, nor bring back the dead.
"Enter. You're making my skin crawl standing out there."
He lifted the flap and ducked inside. Merodakh sat cross-legged on a woven bamboo mat by the light of a single torch, grinding leaves in a mortar in his lap. His dark eyes tracked Azial from underneath his wild eyebrows as he sat down across from the medicine man. "Your troubles are defeating you?"
Merodakh's poorly shielded amusement rankled him, and he had to look away before he answered. "I seek your guidance, Merodakh. What was clear and simple is now muddied and complicated, and all I can see is my dead son. How can I unite the tribes now?" He bit his lip to cut short the confession that he didn't even know if he even cared anymore.
"You are a great warrior and a good leader, but you are also a fool," the medicine man said. "As we all are. We speak of responsibilities, and dole them out like parts of the hunters' kill. When we fail, we are made to answer for it, as if responsibility bestows control in equal measure. If jaguars eat all the hunter's prey, has the hunter failed? If you aim your arrow at a deer, and a hornet sting sends it running just as you loose your shaft, did you make a mistake? This is where we differ from animals. We think we have control."
"But the outcome is the same," Azial said. "We set goals, and try to achieve them. If we don't, for whatever reason, we have failed."
Merodakh reached into a pouch at his belt and scattered red powder into the mush he'd made of the leaves. "When you aim to kill a deer, is your goal to kill the deer, or to feed your people? If your prey gets away, find another."
Azial sat in silence, trying to make sense of Merodakh's words. "I don't understand," he finally said. "What you say is true, but I don't see how it matters now. Balbasu has lost his mind with grief. He thinks revenge will quell his pain. He's sent messengers to the loud men, with invitations to speak. The tribes have never been at war, but that's what I see in our future." He crossed his arms.
"Balbasu will do what he will," the medicine man said. He reached behind and retrieved the furry green stalk of a plant. Grimacing with the effort, he squeezed clear liquid from the stalk into the mortar. "You don't control him. You control one thing only: the choices you make."
"Of course," Azial said, trying to keep his tone respectful. "But what choice can I make that will heal Balbasu and bring the tribes together?"
Merodakh's eyebrows shot up. "Heal Balbasu? You would do better trying to steal the moon from the sky. You tell me my words are obvious, but what's obvious to me is that you don't listen." He closed his eyes and murmured a rhythmic chant under his breath. When he stopped, he spat once in the mortar and resumed mixing the contents. "You think one thing must lead to another. Balbasu is aggrieved, therefore he will lead his tribe to war, therefore the Kith will be destroyed. You manage to forget that things are as they are because one thing did not lead to another. Your efforts should have united the tribes. You did everything you could to achieve this. Yet it didn't happen.
"I'll give you an example. When Tihamtu banished your sister, it was expected that I would choose another to succeed me when I die. I didn't. And look! We still exist! The Elders still say that I endanger the Udaki, that they will be forced to look to another tribe to provide training for a replacement. I say: I'm still alive." He lowered his pestle and looked up, piercing Azial with his dark stare. "And so is Seruya. Now, what do you think will happen? Who can say? I couldn't stop Seruya's crime. I couldn't prevent her banishment. But I had already chosen my successor." He resumed his work. "You worry far too much about others, what they will do or not do. What will you do? That's my question to you, Azial. Do away with this conceit that you have considered every outcome, and decide what you will do."
Outside, a gibbon gave a frantic hoot, swinging up into a shriek. More voices joined it, until the night echoed with hysterical howls. Azial and Merodakh shared a look and scrambled outside.
A trail of fire tore through the dark clouds, lighting them from within and leaving them roiling in its wake. As it sailed past, a thunderous crack split the air. A few curious villagers who had come out gave fearful cries and fled back inside.
He looked back at Merodakh. The medicine man stared after the trail of fire. "What was that?" Azial said.
"An omen," Merodakh said. A distant tremor shook the earth, and he licked his lips. "A deep omen. Something old. Something... something returning." He looked at Azial, eyes wide. "What will you do?"
There was no doubt in Azial's mind. "I'm going to see what that is." He headed for home to collect his weapons.
Chapter Seventeen
Khariton sat down in front of the terminal in his cramped quarters, one hand pushing his damp hair out of his face. The shower had been the best he'd ever had, hot water draining the tension from his body and leaving him comfortably drowsy. Combined with the deep satisfaction he felt at the mission he'd just returned from, he wondered if this was how it felt to take narcotics.
He slipped a hand into the control glove and prepared a message to be sent to the Supreme Command, using the code he'd been given to ensure priority transmission and the highest level of encryption. Once the message was ready, he began the recording.
"Greetings to the Supreme Commanders. This is my first periodic report. I've completed my first combat assignment without injury. Chief Raisa has taken great care to maintain my safety, and is an exemplary leader in all respects." He paused. "I made a difference. My analyst experience allowed me to identify a floater ambush, and we were able to turn it and eliminate the enemy force. Over a hundred were killed on the ground, and seven floater ships were destroyed. The 114th took eleven casualties, including four dead."
He looked away. "I know why you chose us for your tests. Lab-born have no families. No attachments. You assumed we'd be best suited to make an unbiased determination of what we can afford to offer up for peace. But you were wrong. We don't belong, but we desperately want to, more than anything else. These guards you sent me to are very impressive. They don't weigh the cost to themselves; they simply do what must be done." He hesitated, trying to segregate his emotions so he could understand them. "I want to be one of them. I want the respect they give each other, the trust they share. I'd kill floaters for the rest of my life if it meant I could have that." He looked into the display. "I don't think I can do what you asked me to."
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