by Jo Zebedee
It was a standing joke; he knew Kare would never inherit. That he’d prefer any future to that one. Not just because of the visions, but because of Karia and what her death meant, for what the Empress had done to his father. They stood in awkward silence for a moment until Kare said, “Your mum. Tell her…”
What? Thanks for risking her life for his? Thanks for being a mother, for giving him some sort of childhood where he was loved? For being the person who’d pulled him out of the loss of his family, who’d helped him find himself? There were no words. He shrugged. “You know– just tell her.”
“I will.” Silom squinted down the hill. “I better go. Good luck.” He left, practical as ever– drawing things out wouldn’t make the day easier– and made his way down the cinder-path, through the stunted shrubbery at the edge of the industrial zone, his height and red hair making it easy to follow his progress.
Kare waited until he was out of sight. Now or never. Time to go. He followed the path into the Needles, the narrow streets around the docks. He walked, head down, and couldn’t have said if it was because he was afraid to find the yard his father had left him in and have to face it, or frightened he wouldn’t recognise it.
He kept off the main thoroughfares, feeling exposed. He never came into the city in daylight. Hell, he never left the house in daylight. He pulled his hood up, hiding his eyes, and kept his thoughts off anything other than getting to Shug’s.
The sound of a ship coming in to land pulled him out of his thoughts. It came down low, no doubt plotted for one of the yards, shifting dust in the air, its engines loud enough for him to want to slap his hands over his ears. It landed, and Kare took stock of where he was. Satisfied, he turned the corner and saw the familiar legend, slung over a yard entrance between two comms-masts:
SHUGS YARD– SHIPS BOUGHT– SHIPS SOLD– NO OFFER TOO SMALL
He smiled and crossed over. One quick chat to Shug and he was away. He ducked into the entrance to the yard. Two ships stood in the yard, one a good-sized, but old, corvette, no doubt being wrecked for parts-resale. The other was a small planet-hopper, presumably his transport to the Nova hub, where he’d do what had served his father well for years and bury himself amongst the space waifs, carving out whatever life it gave him.
He crunched over gravel to the small office Shug had taken him into when he’d arrived, all those years ago, shivering and shocked. He remembered Shug’s matter-of-factness, his making of hot drinks, sending his son to get Marine, dealing with what needed to be done.
Kare knocked on the door. The yard was quiet, no sound of work being carried out on the ships, no voices cursing. Unease tickled the back of his mind, touching his Empath skills. He tried to tell himself it was paranoia, nothing more, but knew better; if he had a hunch about something, it should be listened to.
“Come on in.” Shug sounded normal, his voice relaxed, and Kare put his hand on the handle. He thought about the office– the door opened inwards. Anyone could be behind it. He took another look around the yard. Business was slow, evidently. And his skin was worth a lot of money.
Damn it, if Shug had wanted a quick buck he would have turned him in years ago. He pushed the door open and Shug was behind his desk, smiling, his eyes crinkled. Nothing emanated except a sense of quiet relief that Kare wouldn’t be his problem anymore. Kare closed the door after him.
“You’re right to go.” Shug’s eyes were appraising. “You’re too like him.”
He knew. He’d caught sight himself a month ago in the mirror and had gasped at how much of his father shone out, even with the blond hair. “That’s what I thought. Are we ready?”
Shug slipped some documents across the table. “These will get you past hub-security. The papers should get you some work, too, even if it’s just as a deck-hand.”
A deck-hand was fine. Anything was fine. He took the papers. “I can’t ever repay you.”
The shipper waved his hand. “I owed your father a life debt.” He stopped smiling, leaned closer, eyes glinting. “But it’s paid now. Yes? You don’t come back.”
“No.” He’d never see Marine again, or know if Silom did marry Liane like she hoped he would. It was surprising how sad it made him feel, when his life here hadn’t consisted of much more than hiding.
“Planet-hopper out on the yard.” Shug jerked his head. “Pilot on board, ready to take you. You’ll be there in half a day.”
“Thanks.” Kare turned away, but the niggle was still at the back of his mind, warning that something wasn’t right. He opened the door and stepped into the muggy day. The yard was in silence, watchful. He crunched over to the planet-hopper, scanning. If he were a dog his hackles would be raised.
Someone moved, someone in the shadows, and he found himself crouching, ready to run, but it was only Shug’s son. His face wasn’t friendly. Kare homed in on his thoughts and there was the betrayal. He backed away, heart hammering. Sweat broke between his shoulder blades. The Empress knew about him: Shaun had taken her money.
“You stupid bastard,” he said, teeth clenched. Shaun wouldn’t gain from this. He’d be stamped out for knowing Kare existed. Anyone who’d known him would be.
A military transport appeared, just behind the planet-hopper, engines roaring. He spun and ran. He ducked out of the yard, into the narrow street, and reached with his psyche. Were Silom and Marine safe, or had they been found? He sought for their familiar minds, but didn’t find them.
Shouts came from behind him, the trap springing. His feet beat on the hard streets, his breath was short, growing painful. He dropped the backpack. His clothes, his few books, his holos of Marine and Silom, gone. All he had was the beacon in his pocket, banging against his breast bone.
A beam passed him, touching his arm, which tingled and started to grow numb. Stunners. Hell: all it would take was one to bring him down, and he’d wake in Abendau palace. He sped up at another buzz, and, frantic and panicked, thickened the air behind him, forming some sort of shield.
Kare, go, leave the planet. The thought was as clear as if it had been his own. They’re here. He caught the sense of his aunt’s fear, of Silom’s anger. He homed in on them, ducking into the Needles. The alley was narrow and shadowed. He criss-crossed into another, jumping over a shocked toddler, careering off her mother, turned a corner. Let the soldiers try to find him in the maze of streets.
He let his shield fall away; he’d need some power left when he reached Marine and Silom. Following the sense of them, he came out near the main army station and crouched, breathing hard. This was it: the day he’d dreaded all his life, when he'd find out if he was the man he needed to be, if he could do what had to be done to keep his own safe. And if that person was someone he could bear to be.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Two sentries were on duty at the main gate, and there had to be more inside the barracks. Not easy, and made harder by the urgency coming from Silom and Marine, the escalating threat in their thoughts. This was no false alarm. The soldiers knew about Kare, they knew about Shug, they presumably knew where he’d been hiding. It made him cold, to think he’d left Marine sleeping, had watched Silom go to work, and walked them all into a trap.
He crept forward, listening for the pursuing transport. It wouldn’t be long before they’d give up the search of the Needles and come back to the barracks. Whatever he was going to do, it had to be now.
He flexed his fingers. He needed to get closer. Decided, he got to his feet. Confidence, his dad had told him. Every psycher had to be confident, to know their power could do the impossible. He straightened up.
You can’t see me. I’m just something moving in the corner of your eye, nothing important. He sent the thought to the sentries, putting his whole focus into it, and walked directly to the gate.
He couldn't breathe, sure they would see him, but the soldiers stared ahead, watching the street, paying him no heed. It worked. Bloody hell. He paused at the gate, thinking about the security pad and how to
bypass it. A hand scanner. He lifted the nearest soldier's hand. You can’t see me. He set it on the pad, and the gate opened. He slipped through and scurried across the yard, bypassing four soldiers at the door of the barracks, to a service entry. His heart was beating so hard and fast, he was sure the soldiers should be able to hear it. None of them looked his way.
He crouched in the shadows, grinning. All the practice, kept up over the years after his father had left, the manipulation of objects, the quiet learning of how people in the street were feeling, had paid off.
Don’t hurt her. Silom’s thought, loud and desperate. Kare’s grin fell away. All he’d managed was to get into the yard. He needed to get into the barracks, find Silom and Marine. To do that, he’d need more than a little misdirection of the soldiers– he couldn't afford any coming after him.
His hands broke out in a sweat. He’d always known he might be faced with this, that one day he might be cornered into killing. But he didn’t think he could. Not men standing by a door, their weapons not raised.
Not even for Marine? Or Silom? He sucked in a breath, readying himself. For them, he could. For Marine, he'd do anything. She'd risked so much for him, had brought him up as much her son as Silom was. The whine of a transport sounded, high in the sky. A military-grade searcher, heading for the barracks. In a moment he wouldn’t have four soldiers to deal with, but a squad.
Voices reached him. Two soldiers at the barracks palmed the door open, a double security bar. His aunt stumbled forwards. Her hair was wild, her clothes askew. She’d been woken by the soldiers, he guessed. She was pale, a red mark standing out on one cheek, but she caught her footing and straightened, casting a glare at a soldier who’d moved beside her. It would take more than being taken unawares to steal her composure.
Silom took her elbow. He scanned the yard, his eyes seeking, seeking, before he drew in a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing. He must have thought Kare would run, that he’d leave them to face the Empress on his behalf. His fists clenched: did Silom know nothing? Or, in hiding, had Kare seemed weak?
The transport landed and a squad disembarked. Crap. He should have acted quicker. Marine and Silom were pushed towards it, two soldiers alongside each of them. In a moment, they’d be taken off-planet.
Kare stepped out of the shadows. He couldn’t take on so many soldiers, but he could make sure they took the right person. Fear coursed through him, raw, making the moment sharp, too real. He swallowed it and managed to keep his voice steady. “I’m here. Let them go– it’s me you came for.”
“Kare!” Marine tried to wrestle free. “You can’t do this!”
He could. He had to. He took a step forward, and it was easier this time. His father had been right: his mother would never give up the search. Not now she knew he was alive. The type of military transports seeking him hadn't been called in quickly; they'd been on-planet, waiting where his dad had died. She'd never given up on someone surviving.
“Get away!” Silom had more luck with his guards, freeing one arm. “I said to run!”
Kare ignored his cousin. He faced the squadron leader. “Let them go.”
“Bring the three of them in.” The leader had a hard face, his eyes dark pools with no edge of friendliness. “The Empress will want them questioned.”
Questioning meant the Empress’ interrogators. Was that where his father’s screams had come from? Was this the point that led to that history? He thought of Marine, of Silom, thought of them facing that and planted his feet. “Just me. They’ve done nothing.”
“Harbouring a fugitive.” The soldier holding Marine tightened his grip on her arm. He pulled her head back. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, trying to get air, but still she didn’t let out a sound. She wouldn’t give the soldier the satisfaction, Kare knew. “That’s against the law.”
“Leave her alone!” Silom launched himself at his mother.
"Don't!" Kare tried to reach him. The soldiers were armed, they were twitchy, they were on a do-not-fail mission. A first shot sounded. Silom yelled, a red line appearing on his throat, and dropped to his knees.
“No!” Kare ran forwards, but another shot fired and Marine fell to the ground. Her red hair spilled across a ground that turned redder. Her eyes were open, stilled. Kare stared at her, stunned. Grief rose in him, a familiar mix of shock and dread, making his legs shake, his stomach clench. It had happened so fast, and he'd let it, damn him. He should have taken charge, dealt with the soldiers. He was supposed to be something special.
Silom crawled to his mother. One of the soldiers was on a comms unit, no doubt asking for backup. He had no more time to delay, no more opportunity to doubt. If he wasn’t strong enough, he’d lose everyone.
He focused on the soldiers and pushed them back to the transport. They tried to fight, but he held firm, tumbling them in one after the other, sending his power out in short, sharp pulses. Sweat broke across his brow; to manipulate so many at once, to draw on enough resolve to do that, was harder than he’d known. But no one blocked him; there were no psychers amongst them. At least he had that advantage– they didn’t know what he could do. Hell, he didn’t know what he could do, held in this anger, this moment.
The last soldier slammed into the transport. He closed the door. Sealed it. Thought about what was needed. Oh, hell, he couldn’t do this.
He had to. He turned his attention to the fuel cells, imagining heat building around them. Silom was crouched beside Marine, close to the transport: too close. He wanted to find a way to take her away from here– it was obscene to leave her lying here.
“Silom! Get over here!” He had an authority in his voice he’d never heard before, born of desperation, of the sick knowledge he’d fucked up and it wasn’t him who’d paid the price. Silom pushed his mother’s hair back from her face, murmured something that may have been sorry, and then he ran, joining Kare.
“What do we do?” He looked around the yard. “There’ll be more. You can’t hold them in there forever.”
“I know.” Gods, this was hard. He could feel the panic of the men inside, how it was growing– the transport must be getting hot. With each pulse he sent, their thoughts grew stronger. Their fear was through him. It hurt, in hideous waves, part pain, part self-loathing. He found himself grabbing Silom’s shoulder to stay upright. He didn’t want to do this; he didn’t know how he could.
The transport exploded in a single sheet of flame, ending the thoughts of the men. Their pain carried to him, the residue of their fear, and he screamed in the pure knowledge of what he’d done. The transport burned. The air was thick with smoke. Someone pulled him to his feet, someone solid.
“Come on,” said Silom, and he had his arm under Kare’s shoulder, taking his weight, a weight that was too heavy. “We need to go. Now.”
They ran. A transport took off, hounding them through the Needles. Silom was on his comms unit, telling Liane’s family to get out now, now, now, and none of his calls were answered. They reached Shug’s yard, ducking under the sign. In front of the office, Shug and his son lay, their eyes staring. Already the carrion birds had gathered along the top of the office.
“Keep going!” yelled Silom. The transport wasn’t far behind them; it would find them easily, here in the open. Mouthing a sorry, Kare ran past Shug. Another person dead because they knew him. He caught up with Silom and they crossed the bare strip of ground before the yard.
The low whine of a shot reached him, followed by a bolt. He flung a shield up, a searing pain in his head making him yell, but he stretched it so it covered Silom. He was close to the end of his endurance, ready to give up, but no more people were going to die because of him this day. He raced to the two ships. Perhaps the bigger one wasn’t stripped yet. But, reaching it, he saw its innards spread out on the ground. Damn it.
“Where do we go?” yelled Silom.
“The planet-hopper!” He was drained, sick, his head thudding. At any moment, the shield would give.
<
br /> “We can’t use a planet-hopper! It might not even have a star drive.”
They’d have to. They were out of options. He followed Silom up the gangway. Shouts came from behind. The transport had landed, spilling soldiers after them.
He slammed the hatch behind them, and ran to the control-room. Control-cone, really. The pilot was gone, presumably fled when Shug and Shaun had been taken. Kare dove for the pilot’s seat, thanking his father for at least teaching him which end of a ship went up. Silom crashed beside him, starting the control panel, his work at the yard paying off as he checked off the engines, confirmed capacity. Dull thuds sounded– the troops were shooting at the ship.
He took it up, a vertical lift-off at a speed no planet-hopper should be forced to. The sky darkened as they cleared the outer atmosphere, into space beyond. It would take precious moments before the transport followed them, more to alert space-control. He punched in a course, taking them to the dark side of Dignad, away from the hub into deeper space. Let the authorities assume he’d go for the hub; it would be crazy to do anything else in this bucket, after all.
The noise of the engines settled. The adrenaline that had carried him onto the ship left with a crash, leaving him shaking, almost burning with tiredness. He had nowhere to go, he realised. Nothing was safe, and it never would be again.
Grief hit, familiar, borne once, and no easier for it. His shoulders shook as waves came at him, making him double in a silent, bitten off yell. Silom, opposite, looked ahead, his eyes empty. The cost of their freedom had been too high, and who knew how many people had been pulled in, and what would happen to them. All because he'd lived amongst them. It wasn't right. None of it was. With a shaking hand he set the vector-alarm and tried to think what to do next.
CHAPTER NINE
Steady. That’s what Dad used to say: when you were getting close to a planet, you had to keep the ship steady. Kare squinted as Holbec filled the viewing window, a green disc against the darkness of space. He concentrated on the control panel and tried to remember anything else his dad had said about landing a ship.
