by Майк Берри
Ella replied with a single word that, although shredded by interference, Lina understood to be fuck. ‘Is Lina with you?’ asked Ella, and Lina was touched to hear the note of concern in her friend’s voice.
‘I’m here,’ she said, but the words came out in a croak. She licked her lips and tried again: ‘I’m here, Ella. I’m okay.’
‘Good. That’s good. Hi, Lina.’ The relief was clear in Ella’s voice.
‘Hi,’ echoed Lina, feeling a little foolish. It seemed there were more important things to be said. ‘Have you seen Si’s team?’ she asked.
‘Look where you’re going!’ cried Ella, which seemed a pretty strange answer until Lina realised that she was talking to someone at her end. ‘No,’ said Ella in a more conversational tone. ‘But we last heard them only a minute ago. We could back-track and get a message to them, probably.’
‘Do it, please,’ said Halman, leaning his back against the wall of the passage and stuffing the pistol into a tool-loop on his suit. ‘I want them to head back to base and get me Alphe and Fionne. I know they’re fucking traumatised, but right now they can join the club. I want them, and your team, and Si’s team to meet us here soon-as. And tell them to bring every spare air cartridge they can find for these suits. I assume the prisoners have escaped back into the belt. But if they’re still in the hangar I want us to return in force. If they’ve left the station, then we’ll go ahead as planned, with the slight change that we’ll now take as many Kays as we can fly. Then we’ll cut our way into that shuttle and take it back.’
‘Sure,’ said Ella’s voice. She sounded pleased. Ella liked to have a plan. Even a plan that was, in Lina’s opinion, now one hell of a long shot. In fact, it was probably suicide.
‘I know the odds are sounding worse and worse,’ said Halman, as if reading her mind. ‘But what choice do we have?’
‘And Ella?’ asked Lina. ‘Will you give a message to Marco for me?’
‘Of course. What is it?’
Lina’s mind suddenly went blank. What could she possibly say to him that would make everything all right? How could any words even begin to do that? There had been more deaths. She was about to put herself right into the midst of a very grave danger. Hope was trickling away like sand through the waist of an hourglass. The assault on the shuttle now sounded like a death sentence. What could she possibly tell him?
‘Just tell him I’m okay,’ she said lamely.
‘Will do, then,’ said Ella. ‘We’re turning back. As soon as we can get a message to Si’s lot, we’ll come and meet you there. Stay put. Oh, and Boss. . .’
‘What?’ asked Halman cautiously.
‘I want a pay rise when all this is over.’
‘Dream on, Officer,’ countered Halman tiredly. And then he began to laugh. The sound was eerie in the deserted corridor, and a little too close to the edge of insanity. But after a moment, Lina found herself joining him. They leant against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, as the radio went quiet, and waited.
Chapter Forty-Four
Blinded! He was fucking blinded!
Carver lurched, sightless, feeling for the bastard who had shot him, but he couldn’t get his bearings. His eyes stung and burned, streaming with tears that he couldn’t even reach to wipe away.
‘Kill them!’ hissed the dragon. Its voice, although still faint, buzzed with raw, desperate energy. ‘Kill them! Before they get away!’
But he couldn’t — he couldn’t even tell where they were. His head was beating like a heart, the blood rushing inside it with audible force. He had dropped the cutter, but that seemed like the least of his concerns. He knew that he was in the open, vulnerable. The asshole friend with the laser might shoot him at any moment.
‘No, you idiot — they’ve escaped!’ scolded the dragon. ‘It’s too late.’
‘Fuck!’ cried Carver, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his sight, as if he could shed the blindness like a dog shaking off water. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he twisted away violently, lashing out. His fist connected with something soft and he heard a startled intake of breath over the radio. He didn’t care if the target was friend or foe.
He tried to force his eyes to open — they burned like hell, as if somebody had rubbed salt into them — but he could already see a little better. The world was still a vague, shifting haze of light and dark patches, but he thought he might not be permanently blinded after all. Staggering, hands outstretched, he reached a wall, where he turned around and sat, holding his head in his hands, wishing he’d brought the strip of fader caps with him. Not, he supposed, that he’d have been able to take them with his suit on.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, not caring if the escaping cowards heard him or not. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t concern yourself too much,’ said the dragon a little more calmly. ‘We can still do what we need to do. Find somebody to fly the loader first. I don’t think you can do it right now, and you need to get away before they return. Welby can be trusted — ask him to find another pilot for you.’
‘Yeah, Welby thinks you’re his god. Maybe you are,’ Carver said. The dragon didn’t answer, but he knew that it was right, that Welby would do as he said. How much control Welby had over the other ex-prisoners remained to be seen, however. ‘Welby!’ he called. ‘Come here!’
He felt the clanging of approaching footsteps through the deck, and when he looked up he could make out the shadow-shape of the little man standing over him. ‘Carver,’ said Welby’s voice in his earpiece. ‘What shall I do?’
‘Find out if one of the others can fly the loader — the big ship in the middle. It’s big enough to take us all out of here.’
‘Certainly. Would it be impudent of me to ask where we intend to go?’
Carver felt his jaw clench as he answered. ‘It might be, Welby, it might be.’
‘Some of these men will follow me to the grave. They are my congregation — the faithful — and they have been awaiting this salvation. I believe that the Old Ones have sent you. This one you call the dragon. I am eager to find out more, I confess. My people will obey you without question. But others among them — those who are lost, who will not listen — will want to know what we intend to do.’
‘What others?’ demanded Carver rudely, blinking his eyes.
‘This might work well for us,’ said the dragon slyly. The eager, hungry note was back in its voice now. ‘These unbelievers.’
‘Did you hear that, Welby?’ asked Carver with sudden suspicion. He had to know. Before going any further, before bringing this little cultist and his friends right into the court of his precious dragon, he had to be sure.
‘Hear what?’ asked Welby neutrally.
‘I thought there was someone else on the radio, I guess,’ said Carver with immeasurable relief. Of course, Welby could be lying. But he thought not. ‘Just ask about the loader, will you? I need you to help me until I can see properly. And we’re going back to the asteroid. Where it lives.’
‘Fine.’ The dark patch that represented Welby faded away, and then Welby began talking to the other ex-prisoners. Somebody asserted that they had flown an identical ISL at Platini Dockyard and the matter was quickly settled. Doubtless they’d be better at it than Carver was. That was good and soon he’d be back where he belonged, in the dragon’s lair. And this time he’d have an army with him. He was wondering what the dragon had meant when it had said that the presence of the unbelievers might work well for them.
Interesting. . . he thought. It’ll be interesting to find out. He couldn’t wait for his vision to come right again. His eyes still stung like nothing he’d ever known and the burning was almost more intense than before. But those patches of light and dark were already beginning to crystallise at the edges. The others were talking excitedly. It sounded like the new pilot was starting the ship up. Carver felt a hand on his shoulder again. He turned to see the now-slightly-clearer shape of Welby standing over him again.
‘Come on,’ sa
id Welby. ‘We’re good to go.’ He helped Carver to his feet. Good old Welby. Carver was lucky to have found him. He just hoped Welby could maintain order until he himself could see properly again. Surely the dragon wouldn’t let things fall apart now. Its own freedom was near at hand. It needed him. He needed the prisoners. Maybe when his eyes were truly better he’d kill one or two of them, just to make the point.
‘That’s right,’ said the dragon, reading his mind.
Maybe that was what the unbelievers were for. . . Carver grinned to himself, despite his stinging eyes and ringing head.
‘Get my plasma cutter,’ he said. ‘I dropped it, but I’m not sure where.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Welby, helping Carver along with a hand under his arm. ‘I already retrieved it.’
‘Good,’ said Carver significantly. ‘I’ll be needing that.’
Chapter Forty-Five
They soon received word from Ella that she was on her way, having sent Si back to base to retrieve the two techs and as many air cartridges as they could find. Lina checked her own air reserve. It showed just over sixty-percent. Halman’s, he being somewhat larger, was down to just over half.
‘Dan?’ said Lina, turning to him. They were sitting next to each other on the floor of the corridor, facing the darkened doorways of the refinery team’s living quarters, their suit-lights making two bright circles on the opposite wall like eyes.
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve been thinking. . .’ she began slowly. ‘About this dragon thing. . .’
‘Yeah,’ said Halman unenthusiastically. ‘So what’s up with that?’
‘I’ve been wondering if it’s a real thing.’ She scanned his face, trying to gauge his reaction. Perhaps he’d think she’d finally gone nuts. Perhaps she had. ‘You know — if maybe there is really something out there.’ She indicated the vastness of space with a vague sweep of one arm. ‘In the belt.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Well. . .’ She shuffled her backside closer to the wall, trying to make herself comfortable. Halman was holding the pistol in his hand again, toying with it. ‘When it was just Eli, I thought he’d simply gone crazy. That the whole dragon thing was something out of his drug-riddled head. But now this Carver. . . you know, that fucking monstrosity he made in the hangar.’
‘Mmm. . .’ grunted Halman. ‘A dragon, yeah.’ He was silent for a moment, then he turned to Lina. His primitive face was lined in thought. ‘Maybe he passed the delusion on to Carver in some way. Carver sounds like a pretty messed-up individual — the sort of freak who might believe any old shit. Maybe he’s on the same drugs. I can just imagine the two of them sitting in that damned asteroid, smashed out of their tiny brains, talking about dragons and emissaries.’ He paused, then added, ‘Bastards!’ in a vicious snarl, so heartfelt that Lina almost laughed.
‘Yeah, I thought that. Everyone knows that fader causes mass hallucinations. Or maybe just Eli suggesting it was enough to make Carver believe in this dragon, too.’
‘You don’t sound sure, though,’ said Halman, looking at her with his brows raised in question.
Lina sighed, rubbing at her knee. She couldn’t remember hurting it, but it ached deep inside the bone nonetheless. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said, looking away uncertainly. She could make out the spindly silhouette of a dining chair through one of the doorways opposite. It had been upset in the evacuation and now lay with its legs in the air like a dead thing, shiny with ice. ‘I know it sounds pretty tenuous, but I’ve been feeling as if there is something out there. Something. . .’ She searched for the right word at some length, then settled for, ‘. . . else.’
‘Something else?’ repeated Halman. ‘A dragon?’ He laughed, but it sounded a rather bitter laugh. ‘As in here there be dragons?’
Lina was struck by a sudden pang of sadness, so sour that it burned inside her like acid. She remembered Sal joking about that, out in the belt, what seemed like a million years ago. Here there be dragons, right? That’s what they used to write on the uncharted parts of the map in times of old. It seemed like ancient history, but Lina remembered the words exactly. Sal. Sal Newman. The woman who had almost stolen her husband, long after he’d been worth keeping. The woman who had earned Lina’s trust and friendship over the years since, and who had then died in a cloud of shredded guts. She remembered that tooth hitting the glasspex canopy of her Kay and shivered.
‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘Something like that.’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Halman in a slow and measured voice. ‘I don’t know. There could be any number of things out there that we aren’t aware of. But I do know that if this dragon is a real thing — be it some Predecessor relic, or an evil spirit from another dimension, or some fucking military experiment gone wrong — then it has our shuttle. Without those parts and those supplies, we die. So we’re gonna go out there, and if it is real. . . well. . .’ He made a noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh. ‘. . . Then I guess we’ll find out.’
‘Maybe we can kill it,’ said Lina. ‘If it is real.’
Halman shrugged. A reply formed on his lips, but was forestalled by a voice from the radio — Ella’s voice.
‘You still there, guys?’
Halman sat up straighter, looking around himself. ‘Yeah, still here.’
‘Si’s team have headed back. We’re on our way to you. Everything all right there?’
‘Yeah, fine here,’ answered Halman. ‘You know Tryka? We’re right outside his place.’
‘Okay,’ said Ella. ‘Ten minutes max.’
‘Fine. We ain’t going anywhere.’
‘Out,’ concluded Ella simply.
‘Maybe it’s a bit of both. . .’ said Lina, mainly to herself.
‘What is?’ asked Halman, turning a bemused expression on her.
‘The dragon,’ she explained. ‘Maybe it’s both real and a product of the fader.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Maybe it is something real, something left by the Predecessors. And fader acts as a sort of tuning device, that allows the user to listen on its frequency. Nobody ever noticed before because this thing exists only here, in the belt. Or this is the only one people have ever found. Maybe the Predecessors left fader for us to find, for just this purpose. Everyone knows the urban myth about it coming from one of their worlds. You and I can’t hear this dragon’s voice, or see it, because we haven’t taken the necessary drug.’ Halman’s puzzled expression exaggerated into a caricature. ‘Unless you want to confess something to Doctor McLough, that is?’
‘Me?’ he asked, his eyes widening. ‘I never so much as smoked a joint, Lina. I’m still a military man at heart, I guess.’
‘Well, maybe something really is out there in the belt, maybe physically inside that rock. I’ve had a bad feeling in the belt recently. Even looking at it. I know that’s hardly submissible evidence, but still. . .’ She realised just how painfully stupid and unlikely this all sounded, but she needed to say it. ‘And Carver has also been taking fader, hence that horrendous sculpture he made for us. Maybe Eli started him on the drug, or maybe he already had an addiction. I don’t know — I haven’t seen his record.’
‘Hmm,’ grunted Halman, who had seen his record but couldn’t remember if Carver had a drug addiction or not, truth be told. ‘Maybe. But I have to say, Lina, I don’t like where all this is going.’
Lina realised that he had essentially shut the question out of his mind. He didn’t really have the right sort of brain for such abstract considerations, she knew. She didn’t think he cared, really. He was concerned with the practical problems of getting the shuttle back and repairing the station before it was too late. Fair enough, she thought. That does seem like a reasonable prioritisation.
They waited in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, something glimmered in Lina’s mind — something she had shelved for later consideration. She brought the thought forwards and examined it. She had to ask. She
took a deep breath and said, ‘What was it that Ella didn’t want to tell you in front of me?’
Halman gave her a sideways look. She could see that he was debating whether he should tell her or not. And that was enough to confirm that she was right. It was something about her. Halman sighed, the expelled air boiling around him, cloaking him.
‘Shit, Lina,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to tell you this. But I almost did anyway. . .’
‘Dan,’ she said, turning what she hoped was an imploring expression on him, ‘we might not have long to live. I don’t know if you’ve done the maths but I have. We still have to get that shuttle. And now there are sixteen nut-cases out there, assuming they are going back to the shuttle. Maybe eighteen if Eli and the pilot are still alive, although I honestly doubt that very much. Carver trashed four of the Kays when he came in. That means we can, at most, get ten people out there. Those aren’t great odds in my mind. I’d never accuse you of genius, Dan,’ she continued, offering him a smile, ‘but I reckon you’ve done that sum yourself by now. If we’re gonna die, I think you might as well tell me. I know it’s something that concerns me, so. . .’ She spread her hands and let this filter through to him for a moment.
After what seemed like a long pause Halman said, ‘Ella went to Eli’s quarters after he was supposedly confined in medical. Before he killed Jayce and Tamzin.’ Halman was staring intently at the corridor floor now. His voice was flat and robotic. ‘She found a lock of hair in Eli’s bedside drawer.’
‘What?’ asked Lina, genuinely puzzled. ‘Is that what she told you?’
‘It was your hair,’ said Halman. And then he forced himself to look at her. His eyes looked hollow and incredibly sad. ‘She was sure that it was yours.’
‘What?’ asked Lina again, utterly failing to decipher the intention behind these words. ‘He had my hair? Is that it? Is that your big secret? Well I can die happy now. Thanks, Dan!’
