The Orphaned Worlds

by Michael Cobley

  When it was finished, Gideon sat immobile in his couch, just staring, and Theo wondered if he was well. Then the Tygran leaned forward and spoke into the shipwide comm.

  ‘This is the captain – we shall shortly be leaving for Base Wolf. Any crew member who feels unable to continue under my command may see me before we arrive. Otherwise, thank you for your loyalty.’ He then turned to Theo. ‘My apologies, Major. I had intended to return you to Darien, but I am now compelled into a race against time – I must get to Base Wolf before my men are moved, and hopefully before any of them suffer at the hands of the base commander.’

  Theo sighed. ‘I understand your position, Captain – were I in your place I’d be doing the same, especially in the light of Rawlins’s sacrifice. And for what it’s worth, you can count on whatever help I can offer.’

  ‘Thank you, Major. I may take you up on that.’ Gideon faced front. ‘Mr Berg, plot in a course for Base Wolf.’

  ‘Course already processed and loaded, sir.’

  ‘Good man. Execute jump.’

  CATRIONA

  Less than an hour before the mysterious ship came down in Segrana’s northern uplands, Cat had been inspecting the repairs to a filter-root cluster near a high-canopy leaftown called Raintiderill when an eager young Uvovo came swinging and scrambling down from above.

  ‘Pathmistress! Listener Okass told me to fetch you up to see – there are new stars in the sky!’

  By the time she reached the high open platform where Okass awaited her, several other senior Uvovo had arrived to peer up into the night sky’s faint veils and hazy swirls. Some were regarding a particular quarter of the firmament, then they broke off to bow as Catriona joined them.

  ‘In the region of the Ineka constellation, Pathmistress,’ said Okass, pointing.

  Cat took her binoculars from a waist pouch and turned them to that particular direction. Brighter stars shone through the faraway streams and clouds of interstellar dust while others made diffuse glows, like specks of embers. But between those distant lamps and Darien, hanging in space, were formations of silver pinpoints unlike any stellar arrangement she had ever seen.

  She lowered the glasses. Those had to be ships, so was this an invasion? Or was it Earthsphere? Or an intervention by the Imisil Mergence? And what was happening down on Darien? Not for the first time she inwardly cursed not having access to long-range communication. She turned to Listener Okass.

  ‘I will need a trictra and a rider,’ she said. ‘I have to travel down to the Stone Temple to speak with the Sentinel of the Ancients.’

  Okass nodded. ‘I shall have one brought for you immediately, Pathmistress.’

  Some minutes later she was strapped to the back of one of the furry pseudo-arachnoids and descending into the perpetual twilight of Segrana’s depths, following the mazy paths of branchways and strengthened vine-web ladders. And she was nearly halfway to the forest floor when she felt the ship crashing into Segrana.

  Cat could sense the shattering of ancient trees, the tearing of vine curtains, the splintering of branches, then the long furrow gouged into the forest floor as the vessel’s momentum carried it through the undergrowth. The not-quite-pain, courtesy of Segrana’s weave of being, forced her to tell the trictra herder to stop. For a moment she sat there, physically assailed by a pulse of ache that ran straight through her. As it gradually diminished she began to get a more accurate idea of where this was happening, north and slightly east of Raintiderill, almost three thousand miles away. And that gash in the forest floor was more than half a mile long. Segrana’s presence was already moving to that area, trying to assess the damage and begin the healings. Cat realised that she would have to put off talking with the Sentinel and told the trictra herder to take her back up to Raintiderill. By the time she arrived, some of the Listeners had received sketchy accounts that the ship had many passengers on board and that there were many survivors. Other messages reported that two large flyers had taken off from the Brolturan base and were heading north to the crash site.

  Without delay she had sought out one of the town’s vudron chambers and seated herself within its woody darkness. With her Enhanced abilities she swiftly calmed her thoughts, then drew about herself the lucid trance state that provided that vital link with Segrana’s weave of being. It was like setting off to swim down a widening river, moving with its great flow of strength as it poured into a great ocean of senses and images and interconnections, echoes and hints of ancient memories, and the voices of being and nonbeing, all tied to the vast presence of Segrana.

  Unspoken worry swirled about her, unease and discomfort, and there was an odd rushing, falling feeling. Without warning brightness and interwoven shapes burst upon her. She was disorientated for a moment or two, until she adjusted to a distorted view and odd perspective, of the crash site seen from a high branch.

  It was a creature’s eyes through which she observed figures moving in the harsh light of powered lamps. In the half-light the ship was a long, indistinct shape except for the prow which was crushed and split open from its collision with an outcrop of boulders. She couldn’t tell how many were gathered about the wreck, scores certainly, but before she could attempt a quick head count her vision suddenly quivered and wrenched away to another viewpoint, another pair of eyes.

  Lower down this time, peering through branches towards the ship, but from the other side of those big boulders. In the glare of the lamps she saw several different forms, some two-legged, some four-legged, a few tall and vaguely birdlike or reptilian. On this side of the wreck there were fewer light sources, just a handful of maintenance spots spaced along the hull. Yet illumination reflected off the ship’s flank revealed a curious area of ripped-up bushes and trees, shattered stumps and charred foliage. And a small blast crater around which a dozen small forms lay still. Dread suspicion grew into horrified certainty the longer she looked. And a sorrowful voice spoke in her thoughts.

  They saw the ship come down so they hurried to offer assistance … and they were killed without mercy. My poor children …

  Segrana. Catriona could feel an unsettling threnody of grief welling up from deep places, bringing with it anger.

  More renders and despoilers will come and repeat this slaughter. I need your help, Catriona. Help me save my children, my world, my existence …

  Abruptly her vision was back at the crash site, seen from above, a perspective that wheeled and soared, then snapped round as two large shapes swooped down towards the grounded ship. It was the military flyers from the Brolturan base, bulky hawklike vehicles with curved wings bearing weapon pods … then she was looking through the eyes of a high-branch insectivore, watching a large pack of crash survivors grouped around a number of cases and packs near the tree line, watching as they unleashed a volley of small-arms fire … while a long-tailed forest creature saw ricochets spark and clank off the Brolturan vehicles’ armour as they decelerated towards the ground, right over the downed transport, their deployment hatches opening …

  The explosion was gigantic and shattering, a red and black fireball that burst out of the crashed ship and upwards, engulfing both the flyers. Catriona’s viewpoint jumped quickly from creature to creature, all of which were startled and fearfully diving for cover, until the fifth which held steady, gazing across the treetops at the mass of rising fire. One of the flyers pulled out of it in a steep climb, trailing smoke and flames, arced over in a curve that turned into a nosedive, plunging to its destruction some distance away. The other, likewise ablaze, executed a tight turn into a flat trajectory heading north for a few seconds before blowing apart in midair.

  Well, she thought. Invading Crazies 2, Home Teams 0.

  Segrana’s presence withdrew but her song of grief went on, a sombre yet resolute undertone. Catriona focused her Enhanced mind and all its abilities on the defence of Segrana and the Uvovo, not allowing herself to be daunted in the least. With the weave of Segrana’s being flowing through her mind, she was able to extend her senses ou
tward and downward, attempting to grasp all that was happening. Ambition almost got the better of her as she tried to cast her sight-smell-sound awareness as far as the four quarters, only to find herself stretched taut over the vast and endless intricacy of Segrana’s corporeal territory.

  Once I was able to comprehend my own entirety from sky to soil, from coast to coast, when I was whole, when the Many-Eyes were with me. Now, such understanding is beyond me. Preserve the self that is you, Catriona, or you will be lost …

  Segrana’s thoughts loomed large, like a world whispering to her. Intricacy gaped beneath, a temptation to the Enhanced instincts that still lay within her like the fragments of an old skeleton. Webs within webs of potential, a shining darkness that overlaid slumbering primal forces, all calling to her, drawing her towards them. Cat had known of this from Segrana’s hints and passing references but this was her first encounter with the fundamental source of planetary energies, and she could sense how much danger she was in.

  With an act of will she turned her mind away, pulled in her thoughts, withdrew her awareness from far-flung outwilds of Segrana. As her self strengthened she began to focus on essential reality, and the crises now ongoing. Like the heavy fighting taking place around the Brolturan base sited near Pilipoint Station in the south-east. A group of small combat craft from the still-unknown invading armada were attacking, scoring several damaging hits before the base’s force shield went up. Now missiles were flying back and forth and a number of attacking flyers were shot down, some veering off to crash into Segrana’s shoreward fringes.

  This event impinged strongly on her awareness when one of those burning wrecks crashed through a gatherer village, killing three-quarters of the Uvovo inhabitants. Racked with sorrow and feelings of guilt, Cat spoke to some Listeners in the south-east and persuaded them to begin evacuating those settlements nearest the fighting. Such evacs were already under way in the north, around the area of the crash site and the valleys to the south. Since the explosions and gunfire had terrorised most wildlife in the area, Catriona was finding it hard to track down the gang of invaders. Instead she had to rely on the vaguest of sense impressions and the sporadic reports of hard-pressed Listeners.

  Then an urgent contact pierced the shifting tracery of information and sensation, a message from Sorjathir, a Listener whom she had sent to scout around the crash site and check for survivors. She cleared a path for his thought-flow, and words began to filter through – See the things that they all wear, Pathmistress, and their marks of meaning – followed by a sequence of images, contorted alien forms lying on the grass, clothes illustrated or embroidered with a spiral emblem, others with facial tattoos or wearing a pendant, also in the form of a spiral.

  She sent heartfelt thanks to Sorjathir, then sat back in the dark of the vudron, recalling what the Sentinel had told her about the Spiral Prophecy and the involvement of Julia Bryce and her team of Enhanced. The Sentinel had asked if they were likely to give in to demands to work on weaponry. Were they part of that invading armada?

  Segrana’s weave of being surged around her. More impressions flowed in from the extremities, more chaos and violence. Knowing that Nivyesta and Segrana were under attack from religious zealots was not a great help so she put that aside and bent all her will and thought to managing the inflow of information, to speculate on the invaders’ purpose and direction of attack, and to prepare some kind of countermove. Wherever they were, she would make sure that Uvovo fighters were in place to harry and chase them along avenues of her choosing, leading them to utter and complete defeat.

  KAO CHIH

  Pyre turned out to be far worse than he had imagined.

  On field-generated lift surfaces Silveira’s ship, the Oculus Noctis, spiralled down towards a sullen grey-brown world. Stealthing their way past inner and outer sensor shells, they descended through the fringes of a three-hundred-mile-wide dust storm. They rode out buffeting turbulence as they flew north towards the mountain range where the Human settlement was located. According to Roug information, the colony settlement was tunnelled into the base of a lone mountain east of that spine of high peaks, and a contact was supposed to be waiting for them in a high gully in amongst them. Homing in on the coordinates, Silveira brought the Oculus Noctis in for a quiet, smooth landing in a steep-sided dried-up river bed. They had already changed into garments matching the Pyre Humans’ fashion, although the plan was to avoid being seen by too many of them.

  Silveira wore a grubby orange pau over a yellow jacket and heavy trousers, and a pair of dark goggles concealed his eyes, all beneath a brimmed hat held on with a strap. Kao Chih had on ordinary dun work clothes and over them a hooded blue coat. Their Roug companion, Mandator Qabakri, had chosen an immense dark grey robe with what seemed like acres of folds, a strange, drooping hood that hid his features, and large, stubby-fingered gloves.

  Regarding the muffled and disguised Roug, Kao Chih again wondered about the Roug’s reasons for coming on this mission – in his mind’s eye he could still recall the shocking revelation that only he had witnessed back on the Retributor, Qabakri’s physical transformation into Human form and back to Roug. Why had he revealed this incredible talent? Kao Chih found himself bedevilled by this mystery – what was Qabakri planning? What might he hope to achieve and why?

  ‘Both Mandator Qabakri and myself are able to converse in Mandarin,’ Silveira said to Kao Chih as the hatchway opened and they stepped outside. ‘Which of us do you think should be the spokesman for our venture?’

  ‘I have no desire to assume the role,’ said the Roug. ‘But I was entrusted with an identifying code phrase.’

  Kao Chih eyed Qabakri’s tall, dark-swathed bulk. Numerous folds were flapping in the wind. ‘So, who is our contact?’ he said.

  ‘According to our local intermediary,’ Qabakri said, ‘it is one of the Pyre Humans, a person by the name of Sister Shi …’

  Silveira, who had been setting his ship’s camouflage, interrupted the Roug with an outstretched, pointing hand. A cloaked figure was climbing up the sloping river bed, arms and legs wrapped in pale green folds, face hidden by a hood. The newcomer halted several yards away and pulled back the hood to reveal the lined, distrustful features of a middle-aged Chinese woman. She regarded them one after another, dark piercing eyes giving nothing away.

  ‘Weiguoren,’ she said in Mandarin, ‘I am Sister Shi. Are you the ones sent?’

  ‘We are,’ said Qabakri. ‘Will you guide us to Dragon Gate Mountain?’

  ‘There and back again,’ she replied, then frowned and shook her head. ‘You speak like a schoolmaster. Keeping you concealed is more than sensible.’ She looked at Kao Chih. ‘You are of the Fugitives, are you not? The ones who ran?’

  ‘My name is Kao Chih. My grandparents escaped with Deng Guo.’

  She gave a tight nod. ‘This world has changed since then. Come.’

  Without another word, she replaced her hood, turned and headed back down the dusty river bed with the others following.

  Beyond the gully, they were exposed to gusting breezes that flung frequent billows of dust and grit into their faces. Qabakri was already well shielded but the Humans were forced to tug their own hoods tighter, although Kao Chih tried to leave enough of a gap to take in the surroundings. His parents had shown him an ancient digiframe inherited from his grandparents, and he had marvelled at the summery pictures of children playing by a stream while woods and meadows stretched into the distance. His first experiences of Darien, the river of smells, shapes, tastes, and shades of living green that had flooded his senses, had made him sure that was what Pyre had been like.

  But what he was walking through, what he saw in every direction, was desolation, a scoured landscape from which a kind of world-pain cried out. Pyre was a desiccated corpse.

  A mile-long trek took them around a couple of craggy hills to a stretch of rounded, boulder-strewn hillocks. And a thirty-foot-high armoured tower which Sister Shi said was part of a chain that maintained a se
nsor barrier around the mountain that lay ahead. She then produced a silvery handheld device with a small emitter dish which she pointed at the top of the tower. Kao Chih heard a high-pitched whine for a few seconds. Then she nodded and turned to them.

  ‘The sensory apparatus has been tricked into its diagnostic mode,’ she said. ‘It will only last about a minute so we must now run!’

  Abruptly she took off across the hillocks and the others followed suit with alacrity.

  The dark mountain loomed, its heights blurred by wind-blown dust. Sister Shi took them over the rocky summit of a nearby hillock to an almost invisible path that sloped up the bleak mountainside. Huge shards of stone jutted from the slope and it was behind one of these that they were led, to a dark and narrow gap.

  Lit by their guide’s hand-torch, they headed along a cold passage that wound through the rock. Somehow, Qabakri managed to keep up without getting his bulky garments caught or torn. At last they came to a wider section and a dark recess with a metal-faced door. Sister Shi knocked on the door in a brief rhythmic pattern. A tiny lamp winked on above the door, a narrow glowing slot appeared and nervous, beady eyes stared out.

  ‘Engineer,’ the woman began. ‘Don’t say my …’

  ‘Ah, Si Wu Chu and three mystery people …’

  ‘I was going to ask you not to say my name! You always forget to check.’

  The beady eyes suddenly looked hurt. ‘But Si Wu Chu, how often do you say not to?’

  There was a rattle of locks and the door opened. A short, round-faced man in shabby overalls ushered them in and quickly locked up again. His eyes widened on seeing Qabakri, who, wrapped in his robes, towered over everyone.