[05] Elite: Reclamation (29 page)

Nothing had changed. As far as she could see, the dunes rolled endlessly. The mountains were the only thing to break the monotony. They were clearer now and she could see snow atop their peaks.

She sat down, pulling a bottle of water out and taking a gulp, rinsing it around her mouth and spitting it out to remove the sand. She considered taking another but knew she had to ration herself, there was no telling how long she might need to make it last.

Always assuming there is some water on this planet … if there isn’t …

She pushed those thoughts away. One thing at a time.

She pulled the radio out of the backpack and switched it on, bracing herself for disappointment. It seemed unlikely there would be anything on this remote world.

The radio scanned up and down its frequency ranges. Crashes and crackles of static were all she could hear. She sighed, it was too much to hope that there would be anything here. Perhaps she’d have better luck in the mountains.

A beep and then a pulsing sound.

Salomé looked at the radio. It had picked up something; a regular beacon of some kind. She tapped at the device’s small screen and squinted, shielding the view from the bright light of the star with her hand.

Transponder Beacon Detected. Range 35.2 kilometres.

Salomé remembered Hassan talking about transponders, something to do with identification.

Another ship?

She switched the radio onto wideband and pressed the transmit button.

‘Hello? Can anyone hear me? I’ve crashed and need help. Is anyone there?’

There was no answer, just the slow and steady pulse of the beacon. She sighed.

With a little experimentation she was able to triangulate the direction of the beacon. It was located in the mountains directly in front of her.

‘Thirty-five kilometres,’ she said to herself. ‘Guess I’m walking.’

She stowed the radio and slung the backpack across her shoulders once more, before trudging away across the dunes without a backward glance.

***

Hassan jerked his head up as the door to the hold clicked and opened. He gasped, the short intake of breath rasping through his dry throat. He couldn’t stop his body trembling. His stomach twisted and felt as if it would jump up through his neck.

Octavia was back. Her two guards following behind.

She ignored him for a moment, focusing her attention on the bounty hunter.

‘Take him to my cabin,’ she instructed. ‘I will deal with him later.’

Hassan watched as the bounty hunter was released from the bulkhead and roughly shoved out of the hold, both guards went with him. The door slid shut with a dull thunk.

Alone!

The sweet smell of her perfume wafted past. In any other environment it would have been enticing, exciting even. Here it was laced with the stench of dread.

Octavia walked across to him. He could see every detail of her face. The age lines, the twist of her lips, subtle make-up, expertly applied. Eyes that burned with fierce intention, anticipation …

She looked at him for a long moment.

‘Have you decided?’ she asked.

Hassan tried to answer, but his voice failed him. He managed a shuddering shake of his head.

Octavia sighed, pulling the dagger from her waistband. ‘That’s not good enough, little boy. You must choose.’

Hassan swallowed, trying to get a little saliva to lubricate his mouth.

‘An eye, a finger, a toe …’ Octavia said, moved closer until she was almost touching him. He felt her hand grasp between his legs, ‘… your manhood perhaps.’

Hassan jolted and bucked against the bulkhead, a muffled squeak escaping him. Octavia laughed.

‘Determine what you will give me.’ Her tone grew more intense, louder and insistent. ‘Tell me. It’s right and proper that you choose your fate.’

He turned away, clenching his eyes shut, trying to fend off the hysteria rising in him. He couldn’t stop an involuntary whimper of fear.

‘No?’

He heard movement, a faint rustle of clothing …

Utter agony shutdown his thoughts, almost causing him to black out. He jolted in his restraints, screaming in shock, pain and surprise. He heard his own shriek echo back from the bulkhead walls. Dizziness and nausea surged around him, pushing all other considerations aside. His hand was on fire. He looked up and saw the dagger embedded in his palm. She’d pinned him to the bulkhead. It was nothing like he’d ever felt before. Tearing, searing, liquid pain that coursed into his arm and grew in waves, each crescendo greater than the last.

He felt hot blood running down his arm. Another eruption of pain spurted through him as Octavia twisted the dagger and pulled it back out. Another yell was wrenched from him. He hung there, feeling his legs giving way in shock. That placed more pressure on his wrists, releasing another torrent of pain. He screamed again, jolting back up. He felt a hot wetness in his trousers and felt a moment of embarrassment and shame.

‘There are many nerves in the hands,’ Octavia said, her voice even and level. He struggled to take in what she was saying. ‘As good a place as any to start.’

***

Salomé struggled across the empty landscape. Within minutes of setting out a few things were very obvious to her. First the gravity was lower than she was used to; walking at a normal pace was almost impossible. She found the best compromise was to lope along in a series of slow strides, bouncing from one foot to the other.

Harder to bear was the dryness of the air. Her throat was parched almost as soon as she set out and she realised she was going to rapidly lose water. She ripped part of her flight overalls and improvised a simple face mask. That helped, but made another problem worse. The air was thin and she found herself gasping, labouring for breath. It forced her to stop every few hundred metres.

She’d walked for hours and the star was slowly dropping towards the horizon ahead. Before long it would set behind the mountains. Still there was no sign of vegetation or animals, not even insect life. One of her bottles of water was empty and she’d need to start on another before long. At the rate she was going, she’d make the mountains with time enough to search for the signal, but if there was nothing useful there …

She angrily pushed the thought away, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other.

Keep walking.

The dunes had given way to more rocky terrain, which was easier to navigate, but harder on her legs. She ached all over. As the star flickered and disappeared behind the mountains she decided the time had come for a rest. She found a small rocky outcrop and sat down with a sigh, rubbing at her legs to ease the strain.

After a drink she took out the radio again and checked it. The signal was still there, beeping away reassuringly.

Transponder Beacon Detected. Range 12.7 kilometres.

Again she tried the wideband comms.

‘Hello. Can anyone hear me? If you can hear me, please answer?’

She fancied that she heard a faint clicking, but when she leant in close she could only discern a faint whisper of static.

She’d make it come the morning. It was too dangerous to continue walking in the night without some kind of illumination. She might fall down some unseen chasm or pit. She needed a rest too. She left the radio on, its faint light comforting in the growing darkness.

Above her the stars were already beginning to shine. She could see the darkness of the terminator sweeping across as the sky faded to black. A stiff breeze began to blow and she felt goose pimples across her exposed skin. The temperature was falling fast. She huddled into the outcrop, shielding herself as best she could.

She made herself a frugal meal from her rations by the light of the radio, then switched it off and eased herself down. As the last vestiges of light faded around her, the wind dropped. The stars were clear and bright, just as dazzling as they’d been from the cockpit of Hassan’s ship.

She looked up forlornly, wondering if, amongst the myriads of distant worlds out there, there might be one, just one, she could call home. Somewhere out there was the Frontier too, was she any closer to this mysterious edge of space? She had no idea how far she’d come or even where she was.

Perhaps this is the Frontier?

That dark and sombre man. He’d stabbed her through the heart with a sword. She could see his face clearly now. Salomé ran her hand over the faint scar on her chest. There was more, another woman, a woman with blonde hair. Her pretty face was splattered with blood, her sightless eyes bereft of life, her face forever locked in an expression of shock and terror. A face familiar, so familiar, accompanied by a strong taint of regret and remorse.

Salomé swallowed. Had she caused this strange calamity to befall them all? If only her memory …

Guns firing. Delicately wrought decorations shattering in slow motion. Ducking to avoid the debris, then running, running in fear of her life, fingers clutching. A hand, the blonde-haired woman’s hand …

Blood, a door slamming, peppered with bullet holes. Smoke …

And then darkness until she found herself on Hassan’s ship, sick, confused and angry. Hassan, what had happened to him? That sombre man would have caught him. She felt a moment’s regret at what she’d done but then the expression on her face hardened. He’d surely planned to use her, either as a travelling companion or a cheap deckhand until he found out who she really was and sold her to the highest bidder. Yes, she’d panicked, but he’d been a fool.

The sombre man’s face formed in her mind again. Tall, stern and austere, his image struck quivering fear into her, an instinctive response to the latent aggression and finely controlled rage she sensed. A brutal killer lurked under the calm and measured exterior, she was sure of it.

Words came into her mind, shocking and unbelievable. She railed against them for a moment before realising they were her own; trusting, accommodating, even friendly.

I’m in debt to your guidance, wise old man. Will you always guide me?

She shook her head, she couldn’t have said such a thing! And yet she knew it was true, her very core attested to it. The memory was sound and whole. She held a sword herself, an honourable bow and a smile of satisfaction.

She felt the memories start to fade.

‘No … remember, just remember …’ She clenched her eyes closed, but it was futile. The images slipped away once more and she was left in the darkness of the desert, bereft, alone.

   A trickle of sand cascaded into her lap. She frowned in surprise, struggling to bring her thoughts back to the present. She looked up to see what had caused it.

   A pair of rough and calloused feet. A grunt of surprise. Something whistling through the air. Too late to avoid.

The stars spun into a whirling darkness.

***

Hassan tried to stand up, but his legs refused to steady, the pain blanked his mind each time he tried to control it. He could feel his arm shaking uncontrollably. He saw Octavia turn the dagger in her hand, its blade slick with blood. His blood …

‘Do you feel a sense of justice?’ she asked. ‘Do you understand how you have wronged me? If I allowed the likes of you to steal from me and escape without retribution …’

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t cope. Terror and panic overwhelmed him. He couldn’t stop the tears, his resolve crumbling into dust. His body wouldn’t obey his commands. He couldn’t act, he could barely think. There was nothing but a desperate wish for it to be over, coupled with horror and a growing realisation that he alone was responsible for his predicament. He had decided to steal from her. Such a stupid, idiotic move. He could see that now. What had he been thinking? That she’d overlook his little heist because it was small? He knew her reputation, he knew how far her influence spread and she was going to make sure he understood that. She was going to kill him, but she was going to take her time.

Should have listened to Sushil …

‘There are many points on the human body which can sustain a deep wound without damaging internal organs ...’

He looked up in dread. Her face was set with a faint smile as she saw his expression.

‘I see you are beginning to appreciate what you’ve done,’ she said. ‘This is good. We should all endeavour to learn.’

Octavia swung the dagger towards him. He watched helplessly as she drove the dagger into his shoulder near the collar bone. He felt the blade scrape his bone.

Then there was nothing but the screaming. Lights flickered at the edges of his vision, a redness closed in on him. Pain streamed through his body like an electric current, burning and stinging its way across his chest. Once again he lurched in his restraints, his hand lending its own refreshed burst of fire to the mix. Conscious thought was obliterated. His legs gave way completely and he hung by his wrists and his impaled shoulder. Incinerating pain lanced across him as his flesh tore under his own weight, crashing through his mind and overwhelming him.

He heard an unearthly shriek and dimly recognised it as his own before the blackness swallowed him.

***

Salomé woke. Her first sensation was biting cold. She moved feebly, trying to raise her head. That was a mistake. Her neck pulsed with pain. Something had hit her.

The memory flooded back. There had been a dark figure. A bare foot, a man’s foot; calloused and hairy … then nothing.

The faint sound of dripping water reached her ears.

She was freezing and shivering uncontrollably. She looked around. She was in a simple cell, featureless apart from a tiny hole cut in the roof through which a narrow beam of light speared the gloom. Three walls were bare, the same unforgiving rock as the floor. The fourth contained a small gated doorway, with a crudely made set of bars set on rusty hinges. Beyond that a narrow corridor led away, rapidly fading into darkness.

Casting around the room she saw little else save a pair of indentations in the stone floor. One was filled with water, the other with some unidentified white mulch. On the opposite side of the room was a hole in the floor from which a foul smell was wafting. She tried to move, only then finding that her hands were bound behind her back. She found herself dressed in a simple dirty white frock, tied at the waist with a rough piece of rope. Of her other clothes, even her boots, there was no sign.