Iástron

by James C. Dunn

  ‘Preferable!’ Ferranti declared.

  ‘How so?

  The Captain offered his glass to Naffan. ‘Drink?’

  ‘Oh, no thank you.’

  Ferranti grinned and winked at Anna. ‘More for me then.’

  Naffan frowned, but Anna understood what he meant. The less people there were to appreciate it, the more remained for those that did. It would not become tainted and overcrowded like everywhere else.

  Many of the guests eventually began to leave. The sound of chatter died down and Ferranti excused himself, disappearing back into his quarters. A moment later he returned, sat back in his seat, and offered something to Anna. ‘It’s from Earth,’ he told her. ‘They call it an old-swiss army knife. Happy birthday!’

  Anna almost couldn’t find the words. ‘I’ve enjoyed tonight so much,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Thank you for this.’

  ‘Two-thousand years and rumour has it no invention has been more practical than an old-swiss knife.’ He grinned and took the entire wine bottle from the attendant, then stood and disappeared again. She sat back, playing with the old-swiss knife, uncovering a small torch, a knife, and a dozen more mechanisms. Avila and Naffan pulled their chairs closer. They all looked at the gift and watched Ferranti reappear, stumble about, and knock over a tall vase and a rack of silverware.

  ‘How much has he had?’ Anna asked.

  ‘About a bottle and a half, I think,’ Avila replied.

  ‘Make that four and a half,’ Naffan corrected.

  ‘And that’s good for him,’ the lieutenant said. ‘Normally he doesn’t drink at all!’

  Anna gasped. ‘Really?’

  ‘Why do you think he’s not allowed to attend military functions?’

  ‘He’s not?’

  ‘Have you ever seen him at one?’

  ‘Well—’

  Both Naffan and Avila raised their eyebrows and nodded slowly. ‘Just wait,’ she said. ‘Soon he’ll be—’

  Suddenly a wonderful sound rumbled through the room, louder than the remaining guests could speak.

  Avila sighed. ‘I spoke too soon.’

  Anna spun in her chair to see Ferranti on his feet, raising his hands as though to conduct the beautiful music pouring from every corner of the room. ‘You know what this is?’ he asked, reaching out a hand in gesture to dance.

  ‘It’s a waltz!’ she cried, recognising the music she would make Callista play when she visited her as a child.

  The captain stole her from the chair and they began to dance around the room, albeit badly, laughing hysterically. Gílana jumped up and she and Avila joined the waltz. Commander Naffan refused to stand, but a couple of others capered across, entering into the merriment. As they spun, stepped, turned, and interchanged parts, doubling up in wonderful hysterics, Anna finally surrendered control. What was going to happen would happen. Captain Ferranti had taught her one thing: that amongst all the chaos and cold and sadness and death, it was the little things which made a person the most happy.

  * * *

  The Titanese Guard looked into the Crilshan assassin’s cell. Gordian didn’t move. He hadn’t spoken all day, not even to the Captain. But now he was staring at the Guard, black and red eyes piercing through his skin and his mind. Something was very wrong. Gordian smirked with an unnatural pleasure. The Guard slammed the hilt of his coil on the opaque, armoured glass.

  ‘Don’t look at me!’ he said.

  Gordian remained motionless. ‘Ibrahatima katha.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re going to die first,’ Gordian said. ‘Very soon, when I get out, I’m going to snap your neck.’

  The Guard shuddered. He turned away from the cursed Crilshan and felt his heart race. Clutching his chest, he leaned over. After a moment the pain passed. But he did not turn around again. He could not look at his prisoner anymore.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CONSTANTINE LESPER STUMBLED about his office. He knocked a large jar onto the floor, covering the place in a foul-smelling liquid. The silver journal in his hand bore his sweaty fingerprints, and he placed it back onto the shelf. ‘It’ll be safe here until I come back for it,’ he mumbled, checking the monitor of his PCD-comm. Security footage confirmed that the dock was relatively clear; two or three soldiers on duty. Easy enough to get past. He took hold of his brandy bottle and staggered from the room.

  His head spun. Legs shook.

  ‘He wouldn’t!’ Lesper told himself as he descended a narrow ladder-well, scuffing his knees on the drop and wiping sweat from his eyelids.

  WOULD HE NOT? echoed the deep, rolling voice in his head. WOULD HE NOT?

  ‘He couldn’t!’

  YES, HE COULD.

  ‘I can trust him. The Córonat—’

  NO, YOU CANNOT. YOU DO NOT EVEN KNOW HIM, ASSUMING IT’S A HIM AT ALL!

  ‘Then what do I do?’

  YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO . . .

  Smash! The brandy bottle he’d clutched as tight as he’d gripped the ladder fell from his hold and coursed down through the next hollow.

  ‘Damn! Damn! Damn!’

  He left the shattered glass where it was and passed two men guarding the entrance to Section Six. He shouldn’t have read Edgar’s journal; he should have burned it like his Córonat commanded. Ignorance was more than blissful!

  It had been some days since he’d sent the new captain on his furtive mission, and he begged fate that he had found the right man this time. The soldiers would watch the young man. They had been briefed. They knew what they were doing. But after reading the silver journal he realised he had more pressing matters to tackle. Unusually unsteady on his feet he entered into the depths of Section Six.

  ‘Is Professor Kramer in . . . inside?’ he asked one of the sentries, clutching the wall.

  ‘No, sir,’ said one, quite obviously perplexed at the state of his commander.

  ‘Good . . . good!’

  He didn’t much fancy sharing the area with Kramer tonight. He hadn’t even been sure what he was going to do once he reached Section Six, but he pushed past the guards and entered, making sure the door was properly closed and allowing the low lights to come on by themselves. He made his way over to the command console and typed in the necessary pass codes.

  All sixteen cages were revealed. Fear and common sense stopped them from opening all cages at once, but tonight he felt unnaturally careless. The fear he experienced when looking at them, he had come to realise, was an addictive terror. There was something that felt almost forbidden about watching them. Especially when they gazed back. The reinforced metal hatches all opened, presenting the armoured, shatterproof clear barriers. Behind them, inside the enclosures, darkness swam. Pure darkness surrounded them.

  He sighed and leant against the control panel. If Edgar’s diary was correct then the whole Erebus Project had been a malicious manoeuvre by a foe more dangerous than Lesper could have imagined. They had all been deceived.

  Lesper tread slowly up to the dark-filled cages and peered in. He could see nothing. Only darkness.

  The Córonat was cunning. But so was he. Tonight was the night he changed everything. Tonight he would destroy Erebus for good.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  OUTPOST AURORA WAS an etiolated frontier soaking in the pastel glow of the remote sun, Accentaurib. It was panoptic in scale, with more space than required. At the extreme edge of the Fourth System it was generally not used to visitors. It had in recent weeks, however, become host to numerous aid vessels aimed at halting the explosive situation currently arising in the planetary systems of the Enusti Empire, which, like Rotavar, had been targeted by Crilshan blockaders.

  The star-speckled sky resembled an ocean of darkness as Anna stood gazing at the projected image on the viewing platform, presenting what would have been seen were there a clear window and not a twenty-meter-thick wall. Space was a cloud of obscurity, of insignificance; it sparkled with hopeful light and waned in a fashion forsaken, beggaring description
.

  They had stopped the leap some two hours before. The best view of the looming outpost and the planet around which it orbited was to be found right there in the vessel’s viewing centre. Outpost Aurora circled a chaotic world known as Ammisaduqa. Among its moons there lived the Ammisaduqai: a reclusive people she had only heard of in passing stories back home. Anna knew very little of them, but she did know that the outpost itself was in neither Samosian nor Enusti space. It was separated from all civilization by a million miles. She savoured the pensive hush which filled the room while the crew monitored their stations.

  According to Captain Ferranti the stopover would be no longer than a few hours. Another Titanese vessel was docked at Aurora; their job was simply to aid its resupply so that it could return to one of the beleaguered worlds of Enustine.

  War. Nothing but conflict and war. Did these people never tire of clashes and conflicts, disputes and disagreements, all of which were over minor issues truly of no importance? Not like the stories she had heard of Earth. There was never war on Earth. The Von, elected leaders of the paradise, kept the planet safe and beautiful. But Titan was her home, and that was where she would return. The decision had been made. Anna would go home. She smiled at the thought of seeing her uncle, of having him hold her close and protect her again.

  As she sighed a deep sigh, content in her choice, a dark sphere appeared on the projection screen. Only small, it rose like she imagined the sun would appear over a horizon. In seconds it grew larger and she could make out a dark green veil enveloping the entire globe. It was beautiful. Within minutes they had arrived at Outpost Aurora, and moved slowly through the vast metallic maze of shining steel turrets.

  She rushed back to her room. Gílana had to see it. They would never again get the chance. Out of breath she reached their room. To her surprise, however, she found her sister silently weeping into her pillow.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, closing the hatch and sitting on the bed beside her.

  ‘It’s . . . It’s nothing,’ Gílana said, sitting up and drying her eyes on her sleeves.

  ‘Of course there’s something. Nobody cries without a reason.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she sobbed, her eyes red and sore.

  Anna tilted her head. ‘I’m your sister. Who else can you tell if not me?’

  ‘You’re the one person I can’t tell.’

  ‘Please. Let me be here for you. What is it?’

  Her little sister gulped and sighed deeply. ‘I . . . loved Jon.’

  Anna reached out and took her hand. ‘We all loved him.’

  ‘You felt it more. And so did I.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I loved Jon the same way you did, Annie.’

  Anna paused. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘You know. Please don’t make me say it.’

  She sighed. ‘It was obvious you always liked him, sis. It’s all right.’

  ‘No. You don’t understand. He felt the same. He loved me back. We were . . .’ She turned and looked away.

  Anna released her sister’s hand, stood up, and backed away.

  Gílana followed. ‘Annie, please.’

  ‘No—you’re lying.’

  ‘I can’t lie anymore.’

  ‘I don’t believe you!’

  ‘It’s true. We loved each other.’

  ‘Be quiet! I don’t want to hear!’

  ‘We were going to tell you,’ she said. ‘That’s why he wanted to leave. To leave me. To be with you.’

  ‘Just stop talking. You’re my sister!’

  ‘I’m going to be sick,’ Gílana said, and she lurched forward.

  ‘Be sick then! I don’t care!’

  ‘I’m . . . sorry.’ She fell to her knees and vomited on the floor, reaching for Anna’s hand.

  She pushed her away. Unable to grasp her sister’s words Anna left the room and stormed down the corridor. How could the only person she had ever trusted betray her completely? She had lost Jon. The only unchanging memory she had was of a hero, a man she could always count on. That memory faded with each furious step. She hated her sister for taking that away. Things were clear once again.

  * * *

  Antal Justus stepped foot off the Fated Chaos and entered into the hectic floor of Outpost Aurora. His soldiers gathered upon the access ramp behind him. ‘North dock,’ his lieutenant told him.

  ‘North dock,’ he repeated, watching the many men and women go about their business. Were he to squint, he fancied he could see his old crew stood not too far away. Dimal was giving her orders, while Raj taunted Shree, and Noah sat sulking nearby. But it wasn’t them. He would never see them again.

  A loud thud from a hanging crane brought him from his daze. He knew he had to forget them. Leaving Erebus had brought him out of his recent escape. You can’t run away from thoughts; they’ll follow you to the edge of the universe, and beyond.

  He turned to his crew, stood waiting. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s get started. We have work to do, and very little time.’

  * * *

  It was not difficult to leave the Stellarstream. Moving through the ship’s docking bay Anna followed the line of supplies currently being wheeled through and into the Auroran hangar. She made sure Lieutenant Avila was not following then, still wearing the black and gold overalls she had been given on board, made her way along the reinforced passage of tubing from the vessel and through to Aurora. Heavy machinery filled the open spaces while dozens of men and women from all the different docked vessels marched to and fro. The place was alive and bustling and she counted at least seven vessels attached to what was signposted as the south dock of Aurora.

  Perhaps she could find news of a vessel heading out soon. Maybe she could slip aboard, escape. Provided that it was not going near Titan. She couldn’t return there. She had been stupid to think that she could. Facing up to what she had done, the pain and trouble she had caused, was too much. But more than that, she could not bear to look her sister in the eye, could not bear to see her uncle, however much she wanted to have him hold her close. She didn’t deserve to go home. Not without Jon.

  The dock’s ceiling reached as high as the vessels themselves, and she observed the many tube-tunnels leading off from the main dock and into the attached crafts. Behind a large metal drone she stopped and began to cry. She was alone. She knew what she had to do.

  A hand grasped the back of her jacket. ‘What do you think you’re doing?!’

  Anna turned to see Captain Ferranti’s concerned face. ‘I was—’

  ‘Never mind. Come on!’ He pulled her with him and quick-marched her through the dock. ‘I really hope you weren’t thinking of skipping off again, Anna. I think you’ve put your family through enough!’

  She already felt guilty, but coming from him it hurt that much more. ‘I wasn’t . . . I was just—’

  A strong form knocked into her before she could finish. She glanced at his face and her heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Miss,’ the man said. ‘I—’

  She was back in her dream. The darkness surrounding her. The orb burned black. GILAXIAD! A hand touched her shoulder. GILAXIAD! The pale face of the man stood with her.

  ‘Anna! Anna!’

  She opened her eyes, shied away from the bright light. Ferranti’s panicked face looked down. A crowd had formed. And the face of—

  ‘You!’ she gasped, gazing up into the face of the man from her nightmares. ‘You!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to knock you over. I’m sorry.’

  Anna sat up, realising she had fallen to the ground in her fit, and was now drenched in sweat, her heart beating madly. ‘It’s . . . all right,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t you. I guess I . . . fainted.’

  ‘All the same,’ he said, a look of worry on his pale, youthful face.

  With the help of Ferranti and the strange man she found her feet and the crowd dispersed, muttering amongst themselves disappointedly.

/>   ‘Thank you,’ Ferranti said to the man, before whisking Anna away. She turned as they left and watched the man glance back at her. A shiver ran the length of her spine.

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked Ferranti as he steered her back through to the Titanese vessel. ‘I’ve seen him before.’

  ‘I daresay you have,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’ve seen a picture of him at the Institute. I’d say by his uniform he’s rather high ranking. Handsome too.’ Anna looked at the growing smile on his face and grinned back. ‘Come to think of it, he did seem familiar.’

  Though a little worse for wear after the previous night of revelry, Ferranti suggested that they take a walk. Anna agreed, happy to explore the outpost. The two walked together through the south dock, along the station’s connecting passages, and amongst the comings and goings of the equally busy north dock. She didn’t want to go back to the ship and see her sister; she was happy thinking about other things for the time being.

  The two stopped walking in one of the passages that connected the two sides of the base, and looked out of the long pane of glass at the dark-green waves of the storm clouds over Ammisaduqa. Out of the window behind they could see all of the nearby docked vessels. None of the other ships were as large as the Stellarstream and so many of the crews were rather small in comparison. Beyond the masses of metal was nothing less than infinite space.

  ‘Is that all there is out there?’ she asked him. ‘I mean, that’s all there is to see?’

  ‘That depends upon what you do see, Anna. Everyone sees something different. Some see the future and others see the past; some see what could have been, and even more what they want to be. And some,’ he whispered, staring her in the eye, ‘go mad.’

  ‘I’m not sure what I see,’ she said. ‘Though I’d love to be able to see how far it goes one day. How far above or below I can reach.’

  He chuckled to himself and swept one of his curls over his ear. ‘Space isn’t like an ocean, Anna, and technically our vessels aren’t called ships. People really only call them that because it’s simple.’

  ‘What are they called?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Interstellar spacecraft transports.’

  ‘Spaceship sounds better!’ she said.

  ‘I actually agree,’ he grinned. ‘Curious girl, aren’t you? Anything else you want to know while we have the time?’

  ‘Well . . . yes,’ she said. ‘So much.’