As the missiles on their loaders angled smoothly up into the hold, the Enhanced were guided to where extendable steps led up into an open hatch lower on the hull. Inside, Henkayan guards took them along a narrow gloomy passage to a medium-sized chamber with a metal deck and bulkheads, and well-worn racks on the walls. A cargo hold, Julia realised just as Corazon Talavera entered.
‘Finally we’re getting off this sand-blasted hellhole,’ she said. ‘Soon we’ll all be back on board the Sacrament, just one big happy family, while the missiles continue on to Hurnegur’s own ship.’
Julia leaned against the bulkhead, pushed back the thin hood, and crossed her arms.
‘So what job do you have lined up for us next? Cooking up new, nasty bioweapons, maybe, or some kind of mind-control ray, or perhaps just a toy for your desk, something that pulls the legs off small animals …’
Talavera laughed amiably and took a leisurely step or two towards Julia, one hand reaching out. There was a blur of motion. Julia’s right arm was suddenly snatched, twisted between Talavera’s left hand and upper right arm. Bright pain screamed from several points and reflex forced her down, crying out.
‘Luckily for you,’ Talavera said into her ear, ‘none of my guards understand Human languages, otherwise this would have been much more unpleasant. So see this as a free lesson in watching your tongue.’
Releasing her, Talavera straightened and stepped back. Julia gingerly rubbed several tender spots up and down her arm then unsteadily got to her feet. Konstantin and the others stood mute but angry-faced, held in check by Talavera’s henchmen with their odd, stubby-muzzled weapons.
‘To answer your risky question, we shall be accompanying the armada to its destination.’ Talavera’s smile was sardonic. ‘For you see, you’re all not quite done with Darien, not yet …’
There were the sounds of footsteps and voices from the corridor outside. Talavera glanced at the entrance then swept her gaze over all five Enhanced.
‘Someone very important has asked to meet you,’ she said. ‘So replace those hoods, keep your hands out of sight and if you are asked anything be careful what you say. Very careful.’
The hoods were pulled back up and since the thin robes had no pockets they kept their hands hidden within the wide sleeves. Then the door opened and a tall, old Henkayan entered at a slow limp, supporting himself on a stout walking stick gripped by the hand of his right-side kindly arm. The Henkayan was bare-headed and almost bald, and was attired in many ribbons of red and brown cloth, some wide, some narrow, some neatly wound, others looser, their ends embroidered or decorated with tiny metal tokens and draped over shoulders and arms … and it was with a shock that Julia realised that the elderly Henkayan was missing its upper arms.
Under the red and brown attire, the elongated torso was evident, as were the broad shoulders from which well-arranged folds hung, a polite veil clearly not intended to conceal the absence of those formidable limbs. Was it due to some genetic defect or some horrific form of torture?
The rebel general Hurnegur then entered, closely followed by two of his bodyguards. He bowed to the crippled Henkayan then the two engaged in a brief dialogue. During this, Julia stole glances at the others but saw only varying degrees of fatigue and resentment. Then Hurnegur spoke to Talavera.
‘Chandler Talavera, the Prophet-Sage wants to know if all Humans on the violated world are like these ones.’
The Prophet-Sage? The Voice of the Epiphanous Spiral Prophecy was probably the single most revered being on Zophor 3 and his presence here clearly set the seal on the armada’s purpose, of which the modified missiles were the most crucial element. And now, apparently, he was curious about the Humans who had been instrumental in providing those fearsome weapons.
Talavera cleared her throat. ‘No, General, these Humans were bred for scientific work. They have special brains that allow them to do many complex calculations.’
The Prophet-Sage listened to Hurnegur’s translation and came back immediately with another question. His voice was soft and slightly hoarse yet his gaze was cold and steady.
‘Did the Human settlers see them as abominations?’ Hurnegur said. ‘How would other Humans from their homeworld regard them?’
Talavera was silent for a moment and Julia felt a quiver of unease over the direction of enquiry.
‘These aren’t the kind of questions I was expecting, General.’
‘Nevertheless, I must have an answer.’
‘Okay, tell him this – other Humans see them as oddities, as if they had large feet or big noses. In fact, they are also a source of amusement and are often referred to as “big brains”.’
Apart from a widening of the eyes, Hurnegur’s features remained unperturbed. Then he gave a slight nod and relayed the answer. As the Prophet-Sage listened, Julia glanced at Talavera. The woman seemed relaxed, her expression amused and sardonic, yet one hand was buried in a waist pocket, the knuckles outlined as if gripping something.
Having listened, the Prophet-Sage replied and Hurnegur again translated.
‘The revered one says that your observations may not be reliable, given your recent rise in the ranks of the Chaurixa. The former leader, Castigator Vuzayel, was reportedly encouraged to lay down his sins and burdens in the name of Sacred Revenge by yourself.’ Hurnegur smiled faintly. ‘Did you really throw him out of his own airlock, Chandler Talavera?’
She shrugged. ‘Vuzayel was an incompetent. He let a prisoner escape from the Sacrament; I flew off in pursuit and as a result ended up marooned on Shafis Four. Luckily, I found a way off that rathole and returned to the Sacrament, where I showed Vuzayel the error of his ways.’ She paused. ‘You can reassure the Prophet-Sage that my devotion to the Great Sower is as profound as his faith in the Father-Sages. And that we look forward to great successes when the armada reaches its destination.’
The Prophet-Sage listened, a wintry smile creasing his leathery cheeks, and when Hurnegur was done he came back with a few words then hobbled out of the hold. The Henkayan general frowned as he looked at Talavera.
‘He said, “Even abominations can be useful.”’ Then he considered Julia. ‘How does it feel to be one such as you?’
Suddenly all eyes were on her.
‘General, I would have to say that, mostly, it’s hard work being disliked while trying to achieve great things. Otherwise, we are not so different from other Humans, like friend Talavera. We laugh, we argue, we become excited and we become bored. We grow up with these abilities so they are normal to us, but compared to other attributes’ – she indicated the Henkayan’s broad shoulders – ‘it is like having an extra pair of hands.’
Hurnegur laughed deep in his chest and nodded.
‘I have little time for most Humans but you I like – more than Chandler Talavera. And yet I trust her more than I trust you.’ He looked at Talavera. ‘We shall be docking with your ship in half of one hour.’
He gave a sardonic bow of the head and was gone, followed by his guards. Talavera then turned to Julia.
‘Don’t think you’ve made a brand new friend,’ she said. ‘If the Prophet-Sage told him to gut you like a fish and cut your head off he’d do it without a moment’s thought. And given the revered one’s prejudices that would be a safe bet, but only if you fell into his hands at some point. Which is not part of the plan.’
‘But going back to Darien is,’ Julia said stonily.
Talavera went to the door and paused to grin. ‘You can lay money on it. By the way, Hurnegur was being ironic since he doesn’t trust anyone.’
A moment later she and her guards were gone and the door was locked. At once the others turned to Julia, feeling free to show their panic and fear.
‘She knows,’ said Irenya in a hoarse voice. ‘She knows!’
‘How could she?’ said Thorold. ‘How could anyone not involved … ?’
They meant the dark antimatter research, and even this oblique reference was too much. Julia gave them both a sharp look and m
ade the ‘overhearing’ gesture. Ever since their capture they had been using a variation on the old signalogue from Vyshinsky Hall days, and now she was getting them to clam up about the dark AM project. Irenya and Thorold nodded, Konstantin shrugged, but Arkady replied, ‘Who cares?’ and went off to sit by himself, anger in his posture.
Danger on all sides, Julia thought. And we have to trust that bitch-terrorist will keep us safe from the god-zealots. But what price will we have to pay and how much blood will be on our hands by the end of it?
14
THEO
At first he thought it was sunlight that had awoken him, leaking in through his eyelids. But the first moment of wakefulness was also the moment when he realised that he could not in any way move his limbs. Alarmed, eyes abruptly open, he found he was reclining in an odd couch, parts of which completely enclosed his arms and legs, curved shells of dull green polymer. Some kind of webby metal harness kept his torso immobile while a headband and a padded recess restricted his head movement. Overhead, a small lamp glowed amid a cluster of upside-down readouts, its radiance revealing that he was in some kind of small compartment, at least going by his constricted field of vision.
Thoughts came in a rush, the night-time abduction from the tree house in Segrana, the flight in the hold of the Ezgara/Tygran shuttle, the puff of vapour that put him out in seconds, and now this. Anger and frustration hit but, with an effort, he reined it in, forcing himself to stay calm, to think about the situation, to summarise its elements. Then something occurred to him: this restraint couch was a high-security method of moving prisoners, which almost implied that he was so dangerous that this was the only way to handle him. The notion made him laugh in the compartment’s gloom.
‘Theo?’ said a voice. ‘Is that you?’
‘Malachi?’
‘Yes.’ There was a sigh. ‘I am sorry for getting you captured. I took a chance that they would bring you if they thought you knew some important Tygran secrets. Otherwise they would have killed or mindwiped you.’
Unable to see the Tygran, Theo could only speak into the air.
‘Mindwiped? How?’
‘Bio-agent, pressure-injected. It’s supposed to chemically target and dissolve the previous forty-eight hours of memory but often it takes away more than that. Much more.’
‘Could have been … unpleasant.’
Now it was Malachi’s turn to laugh.
‘Don’t you think that our captivity is also unpleasant?’
‘Not really,’ Theo said. ‘But it is certainly inconvenient.’
Both men laughed but fell silent when a door opened and a wedge of light cut into the room, followed by footsteps. A moment later a man leaned over Theo’s couch and regarded him with cold eyes that then flicked over at the unseen Malachi.
‘Good, both awake, as scheduled.’
The man wore Ezgara body armour but no helmet. His hair was dark and cut to a bristle, emphasising the shape of his skull and the spare, well-defined lines of cheek and jaw. An officer, Theo was sure, perhaps in his early to mid-thirties, probably a combat veteran, dedicated and dogmatic.
‘Both of you will soon be transferred to the patrol scout Starfire, which has been assigned to convey you to Tygra for appraisal and judgement.’
‘In a court of the civics?’ said Malachi. ‘Or by Becker?’
Eyes darkened with anger. ‘By Matthias Becker, the Marshal Paramount. All disciplinary matters relating to the Commanderies now come under his jurisdiction.’
‘But did you not know that one merciless judge is more harmful to a society than a dozen rich lawyers?’
The officer sneered. ‘One of the Celestial Axioms, how quaint. Outmoded archaisms that are no longer part of the cadet curriculum.’
‘A decision that has lessened us.’
‘So you say and have said in the past, which is your failing. For when blades clash in the breach, even mere words are deadly.’
‘That must be from the Marshal’s pithy New Virtues, yes?’
‘I see that not all the reforms have passed you by.’
‘Reforms?’ Malachi’s voice rang with contempt. ‘Don’t you mean methods of indoctrination and a personality cult … ?’
‘Malachi, my boy,’ Theo said, deciding to get in on the act, ‘you should never interrupt your opponent when he’s making a mistake.’
The Tygran gave him a look of cold fury. ‘This is none of your concern.’
Theo laughed. ‘He says to the man he snatched away into the depths of space. Oh no, this is very much my concern.’
‘If you don’t hold your tongue, old man, I’ll dose you back into oblivion!’
‘You should find out about your prisoners,’ said Malachi. ‘Theo here is a former major in the Darien Volunteer Force. You should show some respect.’
The officer frowned. ‘Is this so?’
Theo nodded. ‘Major Theodor Karlsson, retired.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘And this is retirement!’
‘I am Field Lieutenant Hark. Your planetside colony seems to be based mostly on frontier resource management – what could a major achieve with herders and farmboys?’
‘A short temper and bad digestion,’ Theo said wryly, at which Hark gave a low chuckle. ‘More than you might think. Besides, a farmboy with a rifle becomes something more when his world is invaded – “It is the cause, not the death, that makes the martyr.”’
Hark smiled. ‘A Napoleonic maxim. And yet to have good soldiers, a nation must always be at war.’
By God, they love their epigrams, these Tygrans, he thought.
‘At war with what, though?’ he replied. ‘“One must not judge everyone in the world by his qualities as a soldier, otherwise we should have no civilisation.” That was from Erwin Rommel, who was—’
‘I know who Rommel was!’ Hark said, straightening. ‘Now, we must attend to your disposition. We shall soon dock with the Starfire, therefore we must have you alert and mobile.’ He reached up to the overhead panel and keyed in something. There was a series of clicks, a faint hiss and Theo felt muscular sensation returning to his limbs. ‘You have both been in a holding coma for over two days, thus you will need an energy-rich meal supplement before transferral.’ Then to Malachi he said, ‘You may discover that your commandery is unable to provide counsel. This is because most of the senior Stormlion officers have been declared antinomics. Some are already in custody on Tygra while a few have avoided rightful detention.’
‘Antinomics?’ said Malachi. ‘Opposed to the word of the Founders … how utterly ridiculous. This is a political purge by Becker and that AI he carries in his head. And I’ll wager that Captain Gideon is still unaccounted for, am I right?’
‘Speculation is worthless,’ Hark said. ‘In time, all antinomics shall come to face judgement, as will you.’
Ten minutes later they stood side by side before the main airlock. Theo’s legs trembled a little and he felt like he needed to shower for a day but at least he was out of that couch. There were tether cuffs on his wrists and knees, yet he was determined to maintain a hopeful state of mind.
See it this way, he thought. Soon I’ll get to set foot on another world of Humans kept secret for a century and a half. After that, who knows what’ll happen?
Two Tygrans in standard blue Ezgara armour but no helmets stood behind them while in front Hark and another waited for the locks to cycle. Moments later a single note chimed and the pressure hatch slid open, three layers of it, one by one. Another two armoured Tygrans were revealed, only these wore their enclosing headgear, visors dark and concealing. Prodded forward, he and Malachi shuffled into the airlock, which closed behind them. From there they were steered through the adjoining lock and aboard the Starfire. Nothing was said as they trudged along a blue-lit passage to a narrow chamber with a low metal bench. Ignoring questions, their guards pointed at the bench and with a shake of the head Theo sat down, followed by Malachi.
Seconds later, a third Tygran entered, likewise fully armour
ed. Another officer, Theo guessed. The newcomer folded his arms, with the secondary ones hung poised by his sides, and with his visored face studied them for a brief moment before fixing on Malachi.
‘Name yourself,’ he said in a deep, metallic voice.
‘Malachi Ash, tac-sergeant, third subunit, field squad Deimos of the Stormlions Commandery.’
Theo saw Malachi’s posture straighten as he spoke.
‘State your crime.’
‘Captured by indigenous forces who negated biophysical obliteration device, forestalling any attempt to take the Night Road. Subsequently, I decided against pursuing the Road by other means.’
‘There is more.’
‘I have revealed some of the Silent Secrets to a non-Tygran.’
‘You know of this ship?’
Malachi gazed steadily at his questioner.
‘It is the patrol scout Starfire, assigned to the Grey Sentinels Commandery.’
‘Indeed, and its orders are to convey you to Tygra and to Alecto City where judgement awaits in the Red Halls.’ The officer paused, reached up and began loosening the seal of his helmet. ‘Thankfully, they’re not my orders!’
The visored helmet came off to reveal strong-jawed features offset by a head of silver-white hair, closely cropped. Malachi gasped and leaped to his feet, face full of amazement. Then he seemed to remember himself, came to attention and gave a sharp bow of the head.
‘My Captain, I …’
‘That was a cruel deception, Malachi, but I had to be certain of your state of mind after the incarceration. But I can see that they failed to erase that obstinate streak.’
This had to be Malachi’s superior, Theo thought. What was his name … Gideon or some such?
The Orphaned Worlds_Book Two of Humanity's Fire Page 20
