by Jaine Fenn
She is your daughter.
A roaring began in Ifanna’s ears. She saw Maelgyn’s grip tighten on his weapon.
I am his daughter.
I am his DAUGHTER.
The roaring grew, and she turned and shot Maelgyn in the chest. As he fell, she glimpsed the monitor behind him bending over his own crossbow and she sent out a great wave of formless pain. The man let go of his weapon, clutched at his head, and went crashing to the ground. Ifanna ignored him. She flung her crossbow away and rushed over to . . . to—
She threw herself down beside him and screamed, ‘Tell me it is not true! Tell me!’
Maelgyn’s gaze was already clouding. ‘You— You are everything she should have been. I am so sorry—’
‘No!’ she cried, ‘please, no—’
His eyes closed, and he managed one last word, as soft as a breath: ‘Aelwen . . .’
Someone nearby, speaking so quietly Ifanna could barely hear him over the roaring in her ears, said curiously, ‘And Aelwen was your mother, was she not?’
The roaring grew to fill the world and Ifanna scuttled backwards until she came up hard against a wall. She fell onto her side, hugging her knees so tightly to her chest that she thought her body would break – she wanted it to break, for it had betrayed her . . .
. . . and yet it did not, and the roaring grew louder, until she had no choice save to start screaming, just to drown it out.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Taro and Kerin accompanied Damaru and Jarek to the Setting Sun’s cargo-hold while Nual stayed on the bridge, searching the ship’s comp for the code to unlock the weaponry. The shuttle would reach the beanstalk in just over half an hour. Jarek had voiced all their thoughts when he’d cursed and said, ‘I just wish we had some way of knowing who’s on that shuttle and what they’re up to!’
‘If wishes were feathers, we would grow wings and fly to Heaven,’ Kerin said, and at the blank looks, explained, ‘It is something my mother used to say. There is no point worrying about what we cannot know, Sais.’
Normally he lived his life by just that sort of maxim, but with his enemies closing in and his friends looking to him for leadership, it wasn’t much use to him right now. His state of mind wasn’t improved by having to wear the v-suit that had once belonged to the Setting Sun’s pilot, and from Taro’s expression, he didn’t much care to remember the man either – but they could worry about the emotional baggage later; right now they needed to concentrate on surviving the next couple of hours.
When they reached the Setting Sun’s hold, Kerin persuaded Damaru to shuffle into the transfer-station until he was free of gravity, so Taro could hoist him up by his armpits. He let out an alarmed squeak, quickly followed by loud giggles. ‘I can fly!’ he cried delightedly as Taro bore him off, ‘I can fly!’
Taro responded, a little breathlessly, ‘Yeah, so you can.’
Jarek wasn’t travelling by Angel; he’d dug out his old propulsion-pack from the Heart of Glass. It had been a couple of years since he’d done any zero-g work; he used the trip across the darkened transfer-station to get some practice – better to screw up in here, in private, than out there in space. He’d only managed to get halfway across by the time the others touched down at the airlock on the far side.
While Taro waited for him, he got Damaru sealed up in his v-suit. Then he gave Jarek a hand to crank the door open and, stuck to the deck again, suit-lights blazing, they shuffled into the airlock in single file. There was a certain farcical element to the proceedings, but Jarek couldn’t stop thinking of how damn long everything was taking. They had nineteen minutes until the shuttle arrived, and counting.
As soon as Taro closed the inner door, Jarek started cranking the outer one, just far enough to let them all through. It opened tantalisingly slowly, showing a slice of space and, far below, the globe of Serenein itself, with its ice-locked poles and crumpled band of habitable land around the equator. They killed their suit-lights, then Jarek exited carefully. When he turned to help Damaru the boy looked terrified, and Jarek could hear him breathing hard over the com.
‘Damaru,’ he said, ‘come to me – it’s all right.’
‘The beyond, it does not stop!’ he muttered frantically.
‘I know – try closing your eyes.’
‘No! Feel funny!’
‘All right then, keep your eyes open, but Damaru, look at me.’
Damaru’s terrified gaze locked on Jarek.
‘That’s good. Now, listen to me! You have to come out here because this is where the tech is. Do you understand?’
Silence.
Jarek switched to the private channel. ‘Taro, just lift him up, slowly.’
‘He don’t sound happy, Jarek.’
‘No, but if he really couldn’t handle space he’d have done something drastic by now – I know him: he’ll deal with it when he has to. We just have to take it easy.’
Jarek needed Damaru with him for more than the boy’s technical abilities: the Sidhe would scan for sentiences as soon as they were in range, just as Nual had done; Damaru’s presence would shield him, and that was the only way to make sure the Sidhe didn’t head straight for them – and the cold-start console.
Of course, if they hung around the airlock too long the Sidhe wouldn’t need to rely on their powers to spot them; all they’d have to do was look.
Taro said over the open channel, ‘I’m gonna lift you up now, Damaru, and we’re gonna fly, just like we did inside. You keep looking at J— You keep your eyes on Sais now, and everything’ll be fine.’
Damaru flinched when Taro’s arms snaked around him, but he didn’t resist. Jarek kept smiling at him, encouraging him, as Taro lifted Damaru clear of the airlock and floated out. He could still hear Damaru’s harsh breaths, and Taro’s face, visible over his shoulder, was set in a frown of concentration.
So far, so good. ‘Now we’re going to fly again, Damaru,’ Jarek said calmly. ‘You just keep looking at me.’ He thumbed the controls on his chest and began to move slowly up the side of the transfer-station. Taro matched his pace. He was wearing his shimmer-cloak and the bottom corner had partially wrapped round his leg, creating the disconcerting illusion that Taro’s knee was missing. Jarek looked away.
Suddenly the light brightened as they came into full sunlight. A fraction of a second later, the v-suits’ visors darkened automatically. Damaru cried out, and began to struggle in Taro’s arms.
‘Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!’ said Jarek, ‘don’t panic, I’m still here!’
Damaru’s head was twitching from side to side, and even through the darkened visor the rolling whites of his eyes were visible.
Jarek could see Taro was having to fight to keep hold of him. ‘Damaru!’ he said sternly, deliberately mimicking Kerin’s tones, ‘calm down!’ At the same time he opened his arms in a welcoming hug. ‘I’m still here, I’m still with you. Do you hear me, Damaru?’
Damaru’s panicked flailing eased off a little, though not before he’d managed to accidentally head-butt Taro, who responded with the sort of language Kerin probably wouldn’t want her son hearing.
Jarek said, ‘That’s it, Damaru, you’re doing really well.’ He surreptitiously checked the time. Thirteen minutes.
Jarek’s com chimed. He took the call, and was relieved when Nual announced, ‘I have found the unlock codes: there are three possible combinations. I’m sending them to you now.’
‘Got them. What happens if I try all three and we don’t get a result?’
‘Nothing, as far as I can tell. There is no additional security: either you enter the right code and the grid reactivates, or you don’t and it doesn’t.’
‘That’s something, at least – I was worried we’d have to get it right first time, or be locked out forever.’ Not that the approaching Sidhe ship wasn’t incentive enough to succeed quickly. ‘The shuttle’s twelve minutes out, according to my suit timer. How about the main vessel: is it still incoming?’
‘It is, and I
’ve got a visual on it now: it looks like a military transport ship. Though it is probably wise to assume it is armed, I do not believe the Sidhe would be stupid enough to use space weaponry near the beanstalk.’
‘Let’s hope you’re right. Though a military transport also implies trained soldiers . . .’
‘Quite possibly.’
‘Just what we need. Right, we’re nearly there. Jarek out.’ They’d travelled most of the way up the side of the transfer-station. Above them was the distant, shining rock of the counterweight, and beyond that, the star-scattered darkness of space.
‘Where to now?’ Taro asked as they reached the ‘top’.
A good question. Jarek’s suit inertials would direct him to the right panel, but all he could see was a shining expanse of solarfilm. ‘Let’s get clear of the edge, and then you can put Damaru down. We’ll cover the rest of the way on foot.’
‘Yeah, ’cos I need to get back inside, ready to repel boarders.’ Taro was trying to make a joke of it, but his voice showed his nerves.
‘Here’s as good a place as any.’
Taro touched down more gently than Jarek did, and kept his hands hovering above Damaru’s shoulders in case the younger boy needed any help. Jarek said, ‘Right, Damaru, flying time’s over; you’ll have to walk for a while. Remember how you walked inside, always keeping your feet pressed down? That’s how you have to walk here too. Do you understand?’
‘Understand.’ He wobbled slightly, then stood stock-still.
Jarek said, ‘That’s great, Damaru. Now just stay where you are while I clip this on.’ As he shuffled over to the boy he found the solarfilm didn’t provide as good a grip as the decking inside the transfer-station; they’d need to watch that.
Once Jarek had attached his wrist to Damaru’s with a long tether, Taro said, ‘Here, Jarek, take this.’ He held out a small dark roll of cloth.
‘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 READY 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.’
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
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 t
he 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.’
