by Casey Lea
Wing released Darsey and spun toward the navigation console. He launched himself toward it with a tap of his toe and she followed almost as quickly.
“What do you think?” the kres asked Free, who joined them at speed.
“Best plan we have. DS, convert ninety percent of our exM to exotic anti-matter. Will that be enough?”
He shared a glance with his cousin and they both laughed.
“Who can guess?” Wing returned to studying the figures the NS offered on the passage that they were traversing all too fast.
“We needs must drop free soon, sah,” she pointed out, “or we’ll move past the end point and be crushed by passage collapse anyway.”
The tension in Darsey’s gut rose to tighten the back of her throat, but movement from the link distracted her. An elderly kres in rich livery and a handful of followers slipped in to join them. They floated across the nest without invitation, but no one challenged them and they stopped to hover around the old lady.
“This could leave us flatter than a second date without sex,” a voice growled and Darsey jerked back to see the gray haired kres floating behind her.
“We’ve options of this or none, Gull,” Free answered calmly. “NS, surrender your station to Lord Nightwing. Quick-as.” He turned to gesture at his cousin and although his voice was steady a sheen of sweat had formed on his upper lip. “Wing, fly true.”
“Always do,” his cousin answered laconically as he slid into the rapidly vacated seat. Darsey pulsed her com to stop just behind him and clutched the back of the chair. The computer shrilled and a lightning bolt cut through the display, making her fingers tighten convulsively.
“What the hell was that?”
“The computer doesn’t like what I’m doing,” Wing said distractedly. “It’s programmed to stop any passage from being pulled to the heart of our galaxy.”
“What?” Darsey squeaked. “That’s the singularity you’re using? The black hole at the centre of the galaxy? That’s where we’re going?”
“It was your idea,” Wing murmured, his fingers flying. “Don’t worry. I’ve overthrown the safety protocols.”
“What a relief,” Darsey managed dryly, but the response to Wing’s override was frighteningly fast. A new light filled the chamber, bright and harsh, rendering everything in the nest stark against the slow spin of a massive passage.
“Holy Gods,” someone croaked as the Grace dived into it.
An eerie silence fell, broken only by the faint hum of Wing’s hands within the control field. He didn’t seem to be piloting the ship through that extreme tunnel, letting it twist as it wished, while he pushed their newly created exotic anti-matter ahead, searching for the faintest hint of an exit.
Darsey leaned closer, breathless and shaking. There was nothing. The massive passage looked solid and unbreachable. Wing hunched forward too and sweat appeared on his upper lip, in belated mimicry of his cousin. Darsey saw it and gulped, but managed to stay quiet. For an agonising moment the ship skidded on, then it quivered and the hull groaned. Wing bared his teeth and released the ship’s entire store of exotic anti-matter. Darsey watched it stream ahead of their crumpling vessel and finally saw a response.
There, at last. A flicker in the forces surrounding them, a weaker spot in the passage wall. Wing’s lip curled further and he made a feral sound when he forced their small supply of anti-matter into the exotic matter flow of the passage. The side of the tunnel split and, as it ruptured, Wing collapsed the rest. He let it fall in on them and ordered full thrust from the engines, driving the ship back into space and time.
There was a moment of intense pressure as the universe became a vice that made the Grace squeal. Darsey was briefly caught in amber and then the air changed back from a solid to a gas and she could breathe again. The strobing light of the monster passage vanished to leave the nest in darkness. She sagged over Wing in his seat until her vision returned, along with the soft lighting of the consoles. The crew had collapsed too, but the weird distortions in the ship’s structure were gone.
“Gods,” Wing murmured, and looked wearily up at Darsey. “Never ask such again. Kay?”
She found a shaky grin and offered it in response. “We’re alive and I don’t think anyone’s going to follow us.”
“They’d have to be mad,” he agreed, and they shared a more genuine smile.
“At least.”
A hand fell on each of their shoulders and Free floated behind them. “I’ve no understanding of what you just did, but for all on this ship I say thanks. I owe a debt to you both.”
“True enough.” Gull cleared his throat in awkward gratitude. “But, ah… where are we?”
They all turned to the main data console, which was already lit with local data. A yellow sun glowed above her, circled by six planets. Four were marked as gas giants, but the two closest to the star were both solid, with magnified views of their surfaces projected beside them.
“I’m still tracking stars to fix our relative position, sah,” the Data Senior said. “We’re well into this system and it shows two habitable worlds. There’s no sign of sentient life. No buildings, no chat, no artifice light sources. Atmospheric readings are all plus and no negatives. The air’s breathable.”
“On both?” Free wondered, and she spared him a smile that seemed unusually warm for an officer.
“They both seem liveable.” The DS stopped and frowned at her console. “This is super odd, sah. They share almost the same orbit. Both planets are a similar distance from their star, but on opposite sides of it.”
A surprised murmur filled the nest and Free floated away, to rest his hand on the back of his officer’s seat. “When will they strike?”
“They won’t, sah, because they travel at the exact same speed. They’ll all times circle opposite each other.”
This time there was silence, until the old lady cleared her throat. “So the pretty purple planet and the pretty cream planet are perfect matched in size and speed and orbit. Where are we, girl, and how far from home?”
“Of course,” the DS muttered, tearing her gaze from the planetary visual and back to her calculations. “Still working, but we’re well clear of known space.”
Darsey ignored the murmurs around her to keep her attention fixed on the primary data console. The image above it zoomed out and then out again, until much of the galaxy appeared. Kres territory was highlighted, along with the ship’s present position.
There was a single, soft cry, but otherwise silence. Even to Darsey the crew’s home looked impossibly distant. She noticed something else and blew air sharply over her teeth in a low whistle.
“Lucky we broke free when we did. The surrounding stars are already densely packed. Any further into the galaxy and we’d never survive their radiation.”
Gull ignored Darsey’s comment and pushed straight past her. He clutched the back of the Data Senior’s chair so violently that Free had to snatch his hand away. Gull claimed his leader’s spot, hovering beside the blonde officer and studied her data so closely that he leaned forward into her projection.
“We need to step back through those same passages again,” he ordered. “Match them perfect plus and fly home. We could finish with three quick-jumps to kres space.”
“Not possible, sah,” the DS protested, trying to point out the system they had first fled to from Gratuity, without poking her superior in the eye. “Even if we could find the path back, that system was held against us. Before we left I scanned eight enemy ships and fresh debris. They destroyed the ch't'kar trader that jumped through ahead of us.”
A chill trickled down Darsey’s spine, making her gasp, but Gull had no chance to respond. He was pushed aside when Wing grabbed the arm of the Data Senior’s seat.
“The ch't'kar?” he husked. “You’re sure it was hit?”
“Certain-sure, Lord. I read it clear and here’s the data store. That ship was gone. There was only debris, with no life signs left.”
44
Whe
els Within
Lady Grace turned away from the sense of bitter loss pervading the nest and wafted toward the link with her second-in-command, Sparrow. She beckoned with a finger to gather her clustered acolytes closer and in that relative privacy, her fronds shared unexpected horror.
Are we where I think? Sparrow pulsed back and Grace replied at once.
Indeed.
A cursed place.
For always. Space has been damaged here, past all repair. That must be how Wing managed to enter this system.
The BGP Senior wafted closer to his leader, bringing his emotions with him, to discretely share them only with her. Returning here, I feel so...
Grace sighed softly at the projected feeling, but her mental response was sharper. Sad? You feel sad? This is the site of two feedings, the culling of two entire civilisations. It’s drakking tragic. Her mind softened as she pushed agony aside, stamped it down on top of guilt and instead shared happier memories with Sparrow. They both saw a more welcome vision from her past, undulating fields of flowers, waving between gold and cream forests that were thick with blossom. Do you think it can still be so lovely?
Sparrow smiled sadly, but then his face froze and his fronds abruptly stiffened. Dear one, can this be fate? Is returning here after so many lifetimes a sign? Should we tell our latest children the truth? Tell them all?
Grace's fronds bristled in response, their thin strands scratching past each other. You think we should admit to being immortal? To lying to them, while living in disguise among them? To making body after body?
Sparrow paused to consider his response. Perhaps we should admit to that and more.
Grace grimaced, despite the discomfort when it pulled her face into even deeper folds. Not my favorite plan. Admitting that my actions doomed them all, long before they were born, carries more than a sting.
Such was not your intent, but see where we are. Back at Talisman and all by chance?
Grace looked again at the images filling the nest, but the circling planets faded when memory took her. The memory. The memory from her first life that always followed her into each new body. She felt the pain of being stabbed and then loss and overwhelming fear.
I was selfish, Sparrow and we've all paid for that. I've no wish to confess further. I would if needed, but these youngsters should never have to know that death is coming for them. And what would we say anyway? Tell them we’re not kres at all? That we’re ancient beings, reborn many times in an effort to stop the evil that hunts them? That we’ve spent millennia scrabbling to defeat the Devourer?
Sparrow frowned gently back. Not scrabbling, dear sister. We were close last time.
Grace clenched her teeth to hold back a bitter laugh. Close? Tell the seventy-two billion dead how close we were. Grief/ loss/ shame.
They shared the burden silently, until Sparrow lifted a translucent hand. It fluttered like an insect to land on Grace’s arm. Let me help further. You should distract the Devourer while I lie on the altar-
No. Never. My mistake made that monster and I must be the one to mend it. I have no option, brother. The sacrifice must be mine.
Sparrow’s fingers tightened on Grace’s arm, but his grip was no heavier than a gold chain. He made a last attempt to persuade her anyway.
But is confession not a temptation, love? Isn't that why you're so harsh with the children? To keep them distant and so resist it?
The old lady gave a grating laugh at that insight. You know me well. But the confession I want is not for myself. I need to be cold, even cruel, or I would rage at them. Rage, Sparrow. Yell at them to obey me, warn them that time is running out and spread fear and fear and more fear-
Lady Grace broke off when she remembered where they were and her head jerked up to look around, even as Sparrow draped a comforting arm across her shoulders.
However, the distant crew remained oblivious to the elderly couple’s exchange. Grace found the energy to lift her face into a wry smile. Being old was drakkingly inconvenient, but at least it made you invisible to the young. And that was what she needed to stay. Invisible. Hidden and waiting so that when evil returned, she could finally defeat it.
45
License to Kill
Far from Freefall’s battered vessel, the author of the Grace’s misfortune was rapidly losing his temper. Arck Sharpeye could scarcely control his fury. It hummed inside his head, shrill and fierce, like high-tension wire stretched tight across his temples.
He spun on a heel to fix Raptor, the leader of his intelligence service, with a glacial stare.
“Lost? How can you lose two priority targets? What of the spy in place? Do agents of the BRP not have tracking implants?”
The square-jawed kres facing Sharpeye flinched at that sibilant interrogation, but his voice was calm.
“Sire, although the Grace has vanished with no confirmed kill, I do carry good news.”
The Arck sniffed and one of his fronds jerked, before its tip lifted, granting permission to continue.
“My thanks, Mightiness. The last contact with our agent revealed your prime target’s where-as.”
The Arck hissed and glided across the room to stare eagerly into his subordinate’s face. “The traitor?”
“Certain-sure, Sire. The most-abhorred has joined his cousin. All three top priority targets are now close grouped, on a single ship.”
“I knew such. I told you there was no need to chase after him. I knew they would gather against me and now I can end them. This is perfect in truth. Send the code to move my assassin soon-as. Tell him to kill all aboard if needed, but ensure my nephews die. And, Raptor, be certain-sure too, of that drakking, desiccated, BGP vulture. I want all three dead, as soon as contact returns.”
“As you desire,” the BRP leader intoned, and bowed low, before backing to the door.
Sharpeye watched him slip through it with immense satisfaction. A delighted chortle escaped his control and he skipped across the room to the far wall, made from a single sheet of crystal. He pressed himself against its cold, clear surface and shivered, imagining the night sky beyond lit by a distant explosion.
I am the hunter. I am strong. I fear no-one. I deserve to be arck. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, until his reassuring mantra was broken by an urgent whistle from his console. He turned, to see an image of his wife, but for once it was easy to find a smile for her.
“Serenity,” he greeted her formally, and she bowed her head in response.
“Mightiness, you look glowing. Fatherhood truly agrees with you.”
“Indeed,” Sharpeye purred, and gestured at her distended belly. “You look most well too. Now, what aid can I offer, sweet?”
“A little more than you most times give. You’re usually too busy to notice me.”
“And now I’m to full-pay for that.”
“Tish, silly.” She looked him in the eye for the first time. “I never make you full-pay. All I wish is another tower, most tall, to get more sunshine.”
“The whole palace gets total sun.”
“Indeed, love, but a new top floor would be closer to the sun.”
There was a pause while the Arck’s teeth ground together like glaciers shearing rock. “How true,” he eventually managed in a strangled tone. “I will build a new level and you may sunbask as you wish.”
He turned away without acknowledging his wife’s thanks, closing their conversation with a slash of his hand, to instead open a highly secure multi-step connection. The leader of his Hidden Service answered at once.
Sharpeye asked, “Have you made contact yet? What news, Raptor?”
“Only a minute has passed since our meeting, Sire, but your instincts are good. A report has arrived. As feared, all outer attacks have failed.”
“So I thought, but have they caught my agent?”
‘No, Sire. The spy remains well placed and will strike soon. The order is given and all three will die.”
46
New Worlds
Darsey
paused outside the door to Wing’s quarters and wondered why she was hesitating. Yes, it was likely to be awkward, even excruciating, but they had to forget their kiss and get back to normal sometime. Anyway, her embarrassment was irrelevant compared to Harrier’s fate. Darsey was the last person Wing would be thinking about right now. She straightened her shoulders, but before she could move forward, a soft query broke the silence.
“Do you wish entry?” Pertwing asked in the friendliest tone it had ever directed at Darsey.
“Yeah, I really do. Is that a problem?”
“Not in any way. We offer you warm welcome.”
The image of the door in front of Darsey wavered and then vanished to show a darkened room beyond. She frowned in surprise and suspicion at the console’s greeting, but strode into Wing’s cabin anyway. Unfortunately, the atmosphere inside was an even greater shock than Pertwing’s courtesy.
The cold would have been crushing without her com’s protective field and Darsey could hardly see in the darkened room. Intermittent flashes of lightning blinded her further and she stopped in confusion. She tried to call out, but the air was simply sucked from her lungs. She cursed silently and realized what a futile gesture it was anyway, to try to be heard over the noise.
Wing’s room had become a hostile wilderness ruled by the wind. Darsey had to push forward against the storm just to stay upright and her mind automatically screamed for him. His reaction was instant. The wind noise dropped to a breathy whine and its buffeting faded until she could straighten. She gulped a breath of the calmer air and raised her eyes to the end of the room.
Wing’s features were still hidden in the dim light, but his silhouette was clear, sitting in a window that ran the width of his living quarters. His form was stark against a glacier rising behind him. It dominated the window, white and chill beneath a night sky. That sky was no longer filled by lightning, but by sheets of color that brightened the room more sanely.
“Aurora,” Darsey breathed, before moving forward to join Wing. She stepped carefully across the ice-crusted carpet and belatedly realized that the window ahead wasn’t a window at all. Instead, it seemed to be a hole. She could feel the cold growing more intense as she approached, despite her com’s protection. When she finally reached the window frame, she had to straddle drifted snow to reach Wing.