Authors: Jaine Fenn
‘Isn’t that Nual’s shimmer-cloak? Won’t she need it?’
‘We thought it’d be more use to you out here.’
‘Thanks.’ Jarek grinned at him and clamped the bundle under his arm.
Taro pulled his own cloak tight around him, half disappearing into its dark folds, then took off. ‘Good luck,’ he said over the com as he flew back towards the lip.
‘You too.’
Jarek double-checked his suit readouts and looked around, orienting himself. His heartbeat sped up when he spotted a wavering star off to one side: the Sidhe shuttle, coming their way. How good were the shuttle’s sensors? Could it spot them from this range? Time to use Taro’s gift; no point in making it easy for the Sidhe bitches. He unfurled the cloak – which turned out to be easier said than done without gravity – and fastened it round his neck, then smoothed it down over his suit as best he could.
He turned to Damaru, who was standing motionless, his elongated shadow streaming away across the bright surface. ‘We need to get going, Damaru,’ he said. ‘You just walk slowly, same as you did inside the transfer-station with Taro. I’ll be right beside you.’ He’d have had a better chance of hiding Damaru with the cloak if he’d been able to stay behind him, but he was pretty sure the boy would panic without having someone to focus on.
‘Too big.’ Damaru’s voice was barely audible over the com.
‘Don’t look, Damaru. Keep your eyes down, like this.’ Jarek bent his own head, exaggerating the gesture to encourage Damaru to follow suit. ‘Good! That’s the way, Damaru. Now focus on the place you’re about to put your foot, then move that foot.’
‘Darkness there . . .’
‘Yeah, that’s just your shadow. Ignore it. Try the other foot now.’
Their progress was excruciatingly slow. Damaru held himself hunched over, his arms pressed to his sides, as though shouldering the invisible weight of the void. His breathing was just this side of panicked.
Jarek could see the beanstalk cable ahead, a slender line of silver against the darkness. The shuttle would arrive in – he checked his com – seven minutes. His shoulders tensed further.
Finally they reached the right panel. Fortunately it was only about ten metres from the edge – if they’d had to cross the entire top of the station they would have been in trouble – but that wasn’t so good from the point of view of remaining out of sight of the approaching shuttle.
‘Right, we’re here, Damaru. You just stay still. Keep looking at your feet; I’ll open up the console.’
The panel had a pair of latches on one side. Jarek crouched, careful to keep his feet flat, and tried to undo the first, but it wouldn’t budge. He reached into his pack for a set of grips and tried again. By the time the latch finally moved, Jarek had cramp in his hand and burning shins from holding himself in one position. Everything was so much more complicated without grav. He straightened carefully. Damaru was still staring at his feet. Jarek took a shuffling step to the side, crouched down again and went to work on the other latch. He was expecting the panel itself to give him grief too, but it slid back relatively easily to reveal a shallow hole about a metre square and a quarter of a metre deep. At the base of the hole was a raised cube with handles on either side of it. He guessed those handles were designed for the user to hook his – or rather
her
– feet through. As Jarek slid back the inner cover to reveal the screen set into the top of the cube he noticed Damaru looking on with interest. ‘Do you want to come over and sit down, Damaru?’ he asked.
After a few seconds of fruitless and dangerous flailing from the boy, Jarek activated his pack, picked Damaru up and lowered him over the hole. Damaru didn’t complain, and he put his feet in the restraints as Jarek directed, then crouched down over the screen. Jarek landed next to him and scrunched himself up awkwardly to keep the soles of his feet in full contact with the solarfilm. He pulled a hardened flat-comp out of his pack and handed it carefully to Damaru, who’d already located and uncovered the plug socket. Old, clunky tech, but solid, and vacuum-proof. Jarek let out a quiet sigh of relief when the console’s screen lit up, displaying the words R
EADY FOR INPUT
.
‘Damaru, we’ve got some codes; we’re going to try them first, so you might not need to do much at all. Shall I enter the codes into the comp for you?’
‘No,’ said Damaru possessively.
‘Do you – er – do you know how to use a keyboard?’ Jarek asked carefully.
His voice full of pride, Damaru said, ‘I have learned my letters and my numbers!’
‘That’s great,’ Jarek said, meaning it. ‘Before we go any further, I’m going to spread this over us.’ He draped Nual’s cloak around Damaru’s shoulders – it wouldn’t hide them completely, but they were both sitting down so it would help keep them from any casual observers.
Damaru entered the first code.
No response.
The same with the second.
According to Jarek’s com, the shuttle was less than a minute away, though he couldn’t see it – presumably it was occluded by the transfer-station. That was fine by him; it couldn’t see them either.
Damaru tried the third code, but again it had no effect.
Looked like he was going to get to play after all. Jarek said, ‘Over to you, Damaru.’
Kerin would have found it easier to dislike Nual if the Sidhe had not been making such an obvious effort to be patient with her – she must be frustrated by Kerin’s ignorance of the workings of the
Setting Sun
, yet she was doing her best not to show it. And she had been so apologetic when she had interrupted the lesson because her ‘agent’ found the codes Jarek needed.
Nonetheless, Kerin breathed a sigh of relief when Nual left her alone on the ship’s bridge. For a while she watched the coloured dots in the cunning projection Nual had set running. It was hard to believe those glowing patterns represented the approach of their doom.
Her thoughts returned to Sais’ offer: while her instinct was to be appalled at the idea of the lives of her people being reduced to mere entertainment, she had to admit this option did have the advantage that it kept outsiders from her world – assuming Sais had spoken truly when he told her that those who held power in human-space would respect Serenein’s sovereignty. She did not think he would deliberately lie to her; but she did worry that he might not know as much about such matters as he thought he did.
It had occurred to her, when they first set foot on the
Setting Sun
, that she could simply ask Sais to take her and Damaru away with him. They could leave their problems behind and make a new life elsewhere. She had no idea whether he would agree to that, but it did not matter; she had entertained the possibility for no more than a heartbeat. She would stand – or fall – with her world.
A soft chime sounded; the accompanying message confused her for a moment – until she identified the
dirtside console
as the console in her room. After another short delay while she found the correct command to accept the message, Urien’s head and shoulders appeared on the main screen. ‘Ah, Kerin,’ he said. ‘I was beginning to worry my call would go unheard.’
‘No, I am here. What is wrong with your shoulder Urien? That looks like—’
‘A crossbow bolt? It is. But the bleeding has stopped and the wound does not pain me greatly.’ His pale face belied his words. He told her succinctly about the attempted coup, concluding, ‘This ingenious chair saved me – that, and my decision to borrow a crossbow from one of the duty monitors.’
‘And what was the final fate of the rebels?’ Kerin asked.
‘The priest and one monitor are dead. The other monitor and the girl are only incapacitated – I am afraid you will need new bed-sheets, for I had nothing else to bind them with. I have retracted the bridge, so no one can reach me here, but I hope to see you back soon, not least because of your skills as a healer.’ His voice was breathy and weak.
‘I look forward to seeing you in the flesh again too,’ she said, hoping she would not be too late.
‘May I do anything to help effect the repairs from here? After all, I am not going anywhere.’
‘We have things under control, at least for now, but I will call again if we need your help. Just rest and relax, Urien – and do not take any action that may reopen that wound!’
Though she would not burden him further with the details of the situation up above, if it looked like the Sidhe were about to retake the transfer-station Kerin resolved to warn Urien, so that he might flee. Not that she expected he would.
Taro had never really got his head round this ‘keeping fit’ fad, possibly because for most of his life he’d been too busy just staying alive. As he cranked the airlock shut behind him he could feel the sweat being sucked up by the v-suit. He allowed himself a few seconds to catch his breath before he got to work on the inner door.
As the door eased open his suit-light lit the familiar figure waiting for him on the far side, floating just above the floor. He was pleased to see Nual had appropriated one of the Setting Sun’s v-suits for herself; it might have some use as armour if it came down to a hands-on fight. He tried to com her, but her suit’s com wasn’t routed through the
Heart of Glass
’s system; something else they hadn’t had time to sort. Instead, he projected,
Taro tried not to get distracted by the intoxicating closeness of mindspeech.
Behind her, the transfer-station was in total darkness; the
Setting Sun
’s cargo-hold doors were shut, sealing the ship off from the transfer-station. He opened the airlock door just wide enough to get through, and squeezed out.
As they straightened after cranking the door, she grabbed him and he felt himself sucked deeper into her mind. He tried to ask <
Have we got time for this now?
> but her response was to pull him in tighter, and he gave himself up to it . . . then her mental hold relaxed.
Jarek’s ship is docked to it, so she should assume that she is sensing him.>
Jarek had watched Damaru with tech before, but he’d never seen anything quite like this. Except for his fingers, the boy was totally still. He had a half-smile on his face and a glazed look in his eyes. It was almost as though his consciousness had entered the machine – and given what he now knew about male Sidhe, it probably had.
It was ironic really, Jarek thought: the main threat Serenein’s space weaponry was designed to meet was not stray humans like him, but a concerted effort by the males, should they ever find this place. Yet here it was, being brought back online by a Sidhe male!
Jarek had another look around; while Damaru was deep in communion with the tech, his only function was to watch the boy’s back. A flash above caught his eye and set his heart racing, but it was gone before he could focus on it. He told himself not to panic: it was only the defences, doing their job. If anything, that should reassure him.
They rose slowly to hover just below the transfer-station’s ribbed ceiling.
Taro started as a faint tap sounded through the hull.
Taro knew about the mutes, the Sidhe’s human slaves: they had had their voices and wills stolen by their inhuman mistresses. He shuddered.
The resulting darkness was total, and Taro had to resist the temptation to hold Nual tighter in response. There was another faint tap, this one slightly louder.