Gaia's Brood

by Nick Travers

  Chapter 43

  We cross the marketplace. I squat down beside the kid in his doorway and place a coin into his outstretched hand. “Want to earn another one.”

  The boy looks me up and down, sly calculation in his eyes. “Maybe.”

  “There are a lot of Science Guild about today. Is there a squadron in?”

  The boy nods. “One squadron on shore leave.” He holds out a grubby hand for my coin.

  I show another coin, but clasp it firmly in my fist again. “What are they doing here?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Who knows?”

  Well, that’s a dead end then. I pass him the coin and make to rise.

  “There’s more.” He’s got that sly look back in his eyes—he’s better at this game than I am.

  Survival breeds new skills—I have never been as hungry as he looks so my incentive to learn was less. I let my morals get in the way too much.

  “More?” I remain where I am—half standing. He holds out his hand again.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Summer, what’s yours?”

  I ignore Summer’s question. He’s cheeky. I don’t blame him for trying to get as much money out of me as possible, he’s desperate. This game could go on all night—I’ve got to put a stop to it before I lose all my money. “I’ll pay you on the quality of your information.”

  He stares at me, taking in my looks. Calculating. “How much?”

  “One coin for basic information, three for something useful.”

  “Who decides what’s useful?”

  “I do. I can always ask someone else…”

  “There’s a whole Guild fleet hovering over the horizon. Arrived two days ago. They take shore leave one squadron at a time.”

  This is certainly news. “A fleet? Heading where?”

  “There’s rumors of a Reaver hive to the North. They been preying on lone shipping.”

  “And?”

  “And the Guild don’t seem much interested. All those ships and they’re just hanging around.”

  “And?”

  “And I reckon they’re looking for someone specific.”

  “Who?”

  Summer stands and holds out his hands. “You owe me three coins.”

  I push him for the information I need; I know I shouldn’t, but I push him anyway. “Who they looking for Summer?”

  The kid shrugs. “I don’t know.” His eyes dart round the market place and he begins to sidle away. I look around too, but all appears quiet.

  Izzy taps me on the arm. “Give him his money.” There’s an edge to her voice and I know she’s not just concerned about Summer’s welfare. I’ve known Izzy a long time and I trust her instincts: she’s spotted something that I’ve missed, so I hold out the coins for Summer.

  As he reaches for the coins, Izzy snatches his wrist and holds fast. Summer doesn’t struggle, but his eyes dart all over the place: me, Izzy, the market, me. “And, if you give us a ten minute head start,” Izzy says, “two more coins. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Summer says without hesitation.

  Still not understanding why Izzy is intent on giving all my money away, I pile five coins into the boy’s grubby hand. As soon as he has his treasure, Summer scurries away. His family, if he has one, will eat well tonight.

  Izzy drags me out of the doorway. “Move fast, but don’t run.”

  As we hurry away I lean in close to her. “What was all that about?”

  “He was looking to run without your money. That means he has a better offer for reporting us. I reckon he’ll give us a two minute start.”

  Away from the bustle of the market I start to run. “A Guild war fleet looking for us? Is there no end to this nightmare?”

  “Not while we have Leanne.”

  “But if they catch us and we don’t have her…”

  “I know. We’re stuffed either way.”

  We race back to the Shonti Bloom. Any moment I expect to see a squad of Guild troops forcing their way through the door. Nothing happens. Again. Soon we are headed away from platform sixty-nine.

  Fernando sidles up to me. “Call me paranoid,” he whispers close to my ear, “but why is no one chasing us? First the Reavers, now the Guild, how did we get away so easily.”

  “Maybe Summer took his time,” I reply, not bothering to keep my voice down. “Maybe the Guild doesn’t believe him, or maybe they have no interest in us at all.” But I don’t believe my own words. Every instinct in my being says the Guild are here for us or Leanne, or both. If the Science Guild hasn’t moved against us it’s for a reason—I just wish I knew the reason.

  “Perhaps they’re waiting for something,” Fernando suggests.

  “I agree. Any ideas?”

  Fernando leans in close again. “Maybe they got a spy in our camp.” He nods pointedly towards Trent.

  I raise my eyebrows. “You mean two spies.”

  “Two?” he mouths.

  “One Reaver spy, one Guild spy.” Even Fernando can see the absurdity of that.

  He shrugs and raises his hands defensively. “I’m just saying. He’s… I’m just uneasy that’s all.”

  Whatever the cause of our clean get away, I’m not hanging around to look for answers. I check up on Scud and find him emerging from his comatose state. He’s stuffing all the leftover food into his mouth, so I fetch some fresh provisions.

  He eats in silence, but I can tell by his scowl that the data is defeating him. “These numbers aren’t behaving, Nina,” he mumbles with his mouth full. “They should make sense—numbers always make sense.”

  “You can’t crack the code?”

  He frowns and stares at the box in the corner containing the body of Leanne, where Izzy has tossed the two wigs from the market. Perhaps he’s wondering where they came from. “Maybe she knows.”

  “So where do we go from here, Scud?” I am so used to relying on Scud’s brain that it’s a shock to realize he cannot work something out.

  “That’s your job, Nina. You’re the —it’s your job to tell us where we’re going.”

  Scud wouldn’t be that sarcastic unless he’s really feeling defeated.

  “What about Fernando’s suggestion of coordinates?”

  “Too simple.”

  Why is simple bad? Probably because it’s Fernando’s suggestion. Scud likes to think of Fernando as simple minded, but he’s not, he just has a different view on things. Scud is right, though, I am the Captain and it’s my decision.

  “Right now simple sounds good to me and it’s all we’ve got.” I leave Scud furiously counting rivets and go look for Fernando.

  I find him, watching out the stern window for signs of pursuit. “I still don’t buy it. A platform swarming with Microtough and no one’s even slightly interested in a ship load of youngsters featured on wanted posters? It’s gotta be a trap.”

  The same thought had crossed my mind, but since even we don’t know where we are heading how could anyone else? Try as I might, I can’t figure anyway this could be a trap. Still, that doesn’t shift the bad feeling..

  I push the thought to the back of my mind and address Fernando. “You still think these numbers are coordinates?”

  “Definitely. Three coordinates, I’ve plotted them on a chart.”

  “Show me.”

  Fernando leads me to a map spread over a bench, weighted down with a brass compass and an expensive looking brass sexton. He scoops pencils, compasses, erasers, and rules to the edge of the chart, like flotsam washed up by the tide. He stabs his forefinger at a triangle drawn on the map, over a mountain range.

  “Okay,” I challenge, “so the coordinates—if they are coordinates—form a triangle? How is this useful?”

  “Watch this,” Fernando joins all the coordinates inside the triangle with straight lines to form a cross at the center. Then he joins the center and an apex of the triangle and projects the line out until it joins with another cross. “See, it points straight to the Village of the Damne
d.”

  It all looks a bit constructed to me. “Coincidence.”

  I lean in close as he projects a second and then a third line across the map. “Ashcroft Ascent. Newark. Both places where the journal sent us to find clues.”

  I study what he’s done for a bit, but I can find no fault. “I believe you.”

  Fernando looks pleased with himself. “Am I cleverer than Scud, or what?”

  I clap Fernando on the arm. “Whether it’s right or not, it’s worth a try, and at the moment it’s all we’ve got. Good job.”

  Fernando grins like I just tossed him a treat and I realize I need to compliment my crew more often.

  “Everything points to this mountain top.” He indicates the cross at the center of his triangle, situated on end of a range of hills. “Now,” he continues enthusiastically, “to avoid going over the mountains we must swing round towards Ashcroft Ascent and approach over this desert.” He worked it all out, and waited until Scud drew a blank. Crafty.

  “Okay, let’s do it. Set course for…” I wave my hand vaguely at the sprawling map. “Wherever it is we’re going.”