by Allen Stroud
‘Uh, yes, yes!’ Kaspet breathed. ‘We go to the armoury first. I’m to make sure you don’t get captured.’
‘Which way?’ Pietro yelled as another explosion rocked the crater.
With a shaking hand Kaspet pointed at a tent fifty yards away and Pietro took off at speed, his knee twinged with the first few steps, but it was better than before. He wondered what other medical tricks the boy James had up his sleeve. Off the metal grates, the mud was hot and slippery, making it difficult going.
He was halfway there, when his destination exploded.
The shockwave knocked Pietro flat; the wet dirt caked his clothes and scalded exposed skin. A second and third explosion confirmed his fears; the tent had been full of ammunition and weapons.
He scrabbled to his feet and looked around. Muzzle flashes and peppering gunfire filled the air. He saw dark figures climbing over the lip of the crater in the distance. Which way? Kaspet had disappeared, but the tent he’d come from was still there. James might still be inside.
Pietro ran back.
* * *
‘Run girl, run!’
Pasion pushed Gebrial out of the tent as bullets raked the canvas. For a split second she hesitated, but then she was moving, scrambling across the bubbling ground. She didn’t know where to make for, so ran for the edge of the crater, hoping to reach it and cope with what lay the other side.
A flash and the ground shook beneath her, making her stumble. Above, she heard aircraft engines and bright lights blazed down, searching for targets.
She reached the edge clambered up the stones until she got to the top and found herself staring at a steep drop into darkness.
The rocks were rough and warm. She lowered herself down carefully, fumbling her way in the gloom and hoping her eyes would adjust before anyone found her.
She slipped.
Another split second; she felt weightless, the world seemed to stop and she hit hard stones. Her ankle twisted and she came down heavily on her side. Intense pain in her leg and elbow, then she found herself falling once more.
The second impact took the breath from her and something snapped in her chest. Her legs began to slip again. She dug her fingers into the stone, held on and pulled herself towards the rock wall. Air came in deep wheezing gasps, each intake bringing more pain. Above, another explosion illuminated the sky and she glanced down. The light revealed the sheer drop below, a long way into darkness. The rockface was an impossible descent; she’d never climbed anything like this, she wasn’t even sure she could go back.
‘Grab my hand!’
A woman’s voice. Helplessly, Gebrial reached up and fingers grabbed her wrist, hauling her up. She found herself face to face with Jallin.
‘You hurt?’ she asked.
‘My ankle and chest—’
A hand grabbed her neck and fingers jammed her mouth open. Gebrial felt two pills in her throat. ‘Swallow!’ Jallin snapped. Gebrial did and the woman let her go. ‘You need to keep up,’ Jallin said. ‘Slow down and they’ll have you!’
Gebrial bent down and coughed hard, each heave, making her lungs burn, but there wasn’t time to wait. Jallin was already far away, running around the edge of the crater. The battle seemed over. Search lights from above continued to roam the base, occasionally picking out figures. Each time, a shot rang out and they’d fall to the ground.
Gebrial struggled after Jallin as fast as she could. The pain in her chest eased a little, but she still couldn’t catch her breath. Her ankle wobbled under weight, but it didn’t hurt, the pills had taken care of that.
Twenty strides and another bark of gunfire, she dropped immediately, cutting fingers and palms on the stones. Then she was up again, running hard, stronger this time, as bullets slapped into the dirt nearby. A hundred metres to go. Fifty. Twenty. Ten. Somehow she kept moving, until she joined Jallin, pistol in hand, hunched behind a large boulder.
‘Well done, didn’t think you’d manage.’
Gebrial couldn’t reply. The world had become unsteady. She clutched the stone and tried to concentrate, to make everything stop spinning. ‘How ... far?’ she asked.
‘A long way until we escape,’ Jallin said. ‘We’ll steal an overlander and drive out. They’ll follow, but it’s the best chance we have.’
* * *
Pietro reached the tent and ducked inside, to find James aiming a blowtorch at the guts of his computer terminal. ‘We have to go!’ he yelled.
‘Almost done,’ James said as the circuits melted. He smiled grimly at Pietro, but then his expression changed. ‘Behind!’ he yelled.
Pietro was already moving. He dropped to a crouch on the metal tiles and turned, grabbing the barrel of a gun, as its owner pressed the trigger.
Bullets tore into the canvas. Out of the corner of his eye, Pietro saw James duck and roll under the table. He kept hold of the barrel and pulled, hard.
The soldier on the other end of the weapon stumbled inside. Pietro hit him with a straight left, connecting with the cartilage at the base of the nose, a practised punch, designed to stun and it did just that. The firing stopped and the man collapsed. Pietro grabbed the rifle and smashed the butt into his face. He turned to James peering out from his hiding place. ‘We must get out of here,’ Pietro said.
‘We’re surrounded,’ James said, ‘It’s miles to anywhere.’
Pietro moved across the room and pulled him to his feet. ‘I need you to be calm and focus,’ he said. ‘I understand you’re scared and you want to run or hide, but please hold it together. If you do, we may get out. If you don’t, we won’t.’
James gave him a glassy-eyed stare, but managed to nod. Pietro turned for the entrance, more gunfire right outside made him pause. ‘Under the side!’ he hissed and grabbed the edge of the tent canvas. The magnet securings were difficult to remove, but with a heave, he pulled up a section big enough. James crawled through and Pietro followed.
Outside, he caught a glimpse of booted feet. Bullets splashed into the dirt nearby. Pietro was up and running by instinct. His knee was weak, but held. James was standing close by. Pietro grabbed hold of his jacket and dragged him into a stumbling run. ‘We need transport!’ Pietro shouted. ‘Where’s the trucks?’
‘To the right,’ James said, ‘but we’ll never get to them, they’re across—’
A searchlight picked them out of the darkness. Pietro was blinded. He stopped running immediately, raised his hands and screwed up his eyes, waiting for the gunshot.
Chapter 29: The Execution
Gebrial saw Pietro and James standing in the searchlight. Instinctively, she started forwards, but Jallin grabbed her and hauled her back behind the rock.
‘No point in us all getting killed!’ she hissed.
‘We need to help them!’
‘We can’t, they’ll be interrogated and executed. The best we can do is escape and limit the damage.’
‘How do we do that?’ Gebrial said. ‘They’re all around us.’
‘We wait till they’ve gone,’ Jallin said. ‘When they are, we grab a vehicle and make for Ashoria, to a safehouse, where we warn the network.’
Gebrial peered out from the rock again. Three figures with guns forced Pietro to his knees. One shouldered his weapon and grabbed his new prisoner, tying his hands behind him. A second soldier grabbed James.
‘We need to stay alert,’ Jallin whispered. ‘Their bioscanners and themal imaging won’t work here, so they’ll try to sweep the area in teams. We must get behind the search line and wait until they leave.’
‘What if they stay?’
‘They won’t. It’s a station team. Means an orbital window to get off planet,’ Jallin said. ‘Just be patient.’ She looked at Gebrial and gave her a grim smile. ‘You don’t seem to bring much fortune.’
‘Not my fault,’ Gebrial said. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘Okay, okay, I’m not blaming you,’ Jallin said. ‘If I really thought you were responsible I’d have let you fall.’
&nbs
p; ‘Thanks … I think.’
‘No problem.’
Gebrial sighed as she watched Pietro being led away into the darkness. What am I doing here? Trapped on a planet I’d never heard of and no help to these people. I don’t even believe in their fight. She remembered the expression on Pasion’s face when he’d explained the situation, the remembered pain in his eyes. What she’d been through paled in comparison. ‘What about the others?’ she asked Jallin.
‘Dead or making their own escape,’ the woman said. ‘Nothing we can do, but hope a few made it.’
‘There is something,’ Gebrial said. She fished out the repaired dataslate James had given her. It had survived her fall intact. ‘We can send a message off planet, with this.’
Jallin frowned. ‘James also said they’d track the signal.’
‘Does that matter now?’ Gebrial said. ‘They’re already here.’
‘Good point,’ Jallin said. ‘Who would you contact?’
‘Renner’s people could help us,’ Gebrial said. ‘They were at the mining station in the asteroid belt.’
‘How will you reach them?’
‘I was hoping you’d know that.’
Jallin shook her head. ‘I’ve no contact with the Spacers. We use a message drop on the space station.’
Gebrial chewed her lip. There has to be something we can do. She powered up the slate. James had reconfigured the connection so it didn’t log on automatically, which meant it wouldn’t give away her position. She opened up the options.
The planetary data system was available and so was the in-system network. Below that, greyed out was the slate’s previous connections list. The short-range communication with the huge Alliance carrier was the last direct contact they’d made. In the address code was the ship’s identity number. ‘I can message a ship we docked with,’ she said. ‘They’re a long way from here.’
‘Will they help us?’
‘I don’t know,’ Gebrial said, ‘but what else can we do?’
* * *
There was a hiss of external hydraulics and Heldaban Kel watched the hangar bay disappear.
I could have handled that better.
The beat-up Sidewinder emerged onto the launch deck and to a magnificent view of the Alliance carrier’s escorts. The targeter casually roamed the vista, picking out each ship in turn: the Ronin – Panther-class clipper, commissioned 3191; the Havillard, support frigate, 3214, all of them old, but restored and retasked; the Furnace itself was clearly the same. He’d heard some of the independent shipyards produced huge behemoths that’d been sent out into deep space back then. The prize, more resources and the chance of xeno-contact, everyone knew the Thargoids were out there somewhere. Ships like the Furnace were mobile stations for explorers, maintained by research grants, tithes on finds and mining contracts.
The docking clamps released and Kel keyed up the manoeuvring jets. The Sidewinder shuddered and began to pull away from the carrier. Kel sighed. The ship would take years of work to be anything more than terrible. He’d managed to rig some improvements whilst docked at Castellan, but to make a big difference, a trip to a decent shipyard was essential. Somewhere like Reorte, Zaonce ...
Or Lave Station.
Kel’s fist came down on the console with a crash. I screwed up the best chance we had in a century! The display flashed, launching several different screens at once. Kel sighed and cancelled each in turn. He knew the history and what he’d lost. The rebellion on Alioth in 3228 had been a huge undertaking, starting with a battle in the gas mining platforms and spreading to the system’s planetary settlements, but the rebels had benefitted from the ongoing conflict between the Empire and Federation who regarded Alioth as a prize asset. A three-way war with both factions far from their bases of supply had led to them ceding the territory. The creation of a space fleet out of research vessels like the Furnace had stopped the Federation and the Empire coming back.
And now they’re here ...
As the Sidewinder pulled away, he wondered if the Alliance navy presence was connected with Walden’s trade deal, the one he’d prevented by killing the clone called Finch. It seemed out of character for the Good Doctor to be working with anyone, but then, why would the Alliance be here and why else would they be in force?
I don’t have the answers, Kel thought and sighed. I never will.
The mass reading pinged, indicating a safe distance from the Furnace, Kel brought up the hyperdrive engine and stared at the countdown with a sinking feeling.
So close ...
Abruptly, the comms transmission light flashed.
Kel smiled, cancelled the jump and keyed up the screen.
‘Faith to Kel, you out here?’
He recognised the blonde woman, flying her own ship and pressed the responder. ‘Yeah, I’m here, good timing.’
‘We’ve been waiting at a distance,’ Faith replied. ‘Are we going with plan A or plan B?’
‘Plan B, I’m afraid,’ Kel replied.
‘Understood,’ Faith replied. ‘Want us to pick you up enroute?’
‘If you can,’ Kel said. ‘Only make sure they don’t see what you’re up to.’
‘Acknowledged,’ Faith said.
* * *
The hiss of the door panel opening awoke Bertrum.
He sat up blearily wondering when he’d fallen asleep. The viewscreen had gone back to one image, showing the main office outside. A hint of orange light suggested the approach of dawn.
‘Doctor Walden would like you to come through,’ Gramos said.
‘I can’t I’m afraid,’ Bertrum said. ‘My legs ...’
Gramos’ eyes flicked over him, his expression unreadable. ‘The Good Doctor insists,’ he said.
Bertrum sighed. He pushed the chair back from the desk to make room and leaned forwards until he fell to the floor. Using his hands, he pulled himself towards the door, crawling on his belly. Gramos didn’t move. Instead he waited, holding the panel open.
For Bertrum, the experience took him back to childhood, the days spent in his room when his parents had guests. There would be no one to help, so he had to manage; his father called it character building. Sometimes he wouldn’t get to the bathroom quickly enough, so he’d lie in his own filth for hours, waiting to be found.
In those times, he learned to disappear, to let his body fall away and be somewhere else. His imagination needed a trigger, a hairline crack in the ceiling or a strange pattern on the wall. In the worlds he made for himself he could walk and run. There were fields and bright sunshine. Sometimes he’d fly too, high up over familiar landscapes, but no one would look up and notice.
Now, he tried to go back to one of those places, to hide away from the shame and self-recrimination, but it was no use. The words from his childhood bubbled up, spoken in his father’s voice. I’m a cripple and it’s my fault ... my fault ... over and over with every inch he dragged himself along.
‘Ah, Prefect Kowl, glad you could join us.’
A chair was pushed towards him. Bertrum grabbed the frame and hauled himself up into a sitting position on the floor. Bit by bit, conscious of the stares in the room, he pulled himself up and into the seat.
‘Good, now that’s settled we can get started,’ Walden said. ‘You needn’t worry about your colleagues Prefect, we closed the building for the day.’ He stood a few feet away beside a desk, where Anna used to sit. Two men carrying pistols were behind him. Slumped in another chair was a dishevelled man with a long unkempt beard. His wrists tied with plastic strips to the arms.
Hennel Tallis, the former Imperial ambassador.
‘Why am I here?’ whined a familiar voice. Federation Ambassador John Graham sat the other side of Bertrum.
‘Because I’m not a fan of secrets,’ Walden said calmly. ‘I don’t like it when people who are guests here, abuse my hospitality.’
‘But I haven’t. I did do—’
The sound of a blunt instrument connecting with the back of Graham’s skull made Ber
trum wince. He let his gaze drop to the floor and kept it there.
‘You will have your chance to speak,’ Walden said, ‘but please, wait until then.’ He turned to Gramos. ‘Is the woman secure?’
‘Yes Doctor.’
‘Good,’ Walden took a seat himself. His stare flicked over Tallis and caught Bertrum’s eye. ‘Prefect, do you understand why you are here?’
‘I disappointed you, Doctor,’ Bertrum said.
‘You did,’ Walden said. ‘I suggested you needed a break, you didn’t take one then you ignored my request to prioritise the retrieval of the crashed ship. I corrected the problem as you saw. Lave Station commandos discovered an unauthorised settlement in the northern territory and took action to eliminate it. You have explained your actions, but now I need to test the truth of your words.’ He pointed at Graham, who was wiping blood from his forehead. ‘What did you ask of him?’
‘To obtain records of the Federal investigation and retrieve the evidence,’ Bertrum said.
‘You spoke only once?’
‘Yes Doctor.’
‘And you gave your wife no instruction to communicate with him?’
Bertrum shook his head. ‘No Doctor, she has nothing to do with my work.’
Walden’s gaze moved to Graham. ‘What did you do when the prefect asked you for this information?’
Graham stared at him with wide eyes. ‘I forwarded the request,’ he said.
‘No, you didn’t,’ Walden said. ‘You contacted Kowl’s wife and ignored it.’
The Federal ambassador flinched. ‘If you already know—’
‘Why am I asking?’ Walden finished the sentence, ‘to judge your character, Mister Graham.’ He nodded to one of the soldiers who drew a blade and in one swift motion slashed open Graham’s throat. The ambassador’s eyes widened in surprise, he coughed, made a gurgling noise and blood spattered onto the floor. Then his head dropped, hanging forward into his lap.
Walden turned back to Bertrum. ‘Now, you went from your office down to the detention cells to speak with Ambassador Tallis. Why?’
‘I wanted to be prepared before I spoke with his successor, Ambassador Godwina.’