Eventually, the reassuring words dried up. She heard Misaki turn to leave.
“Why am I so calm?” she said.
He stopped, half-turned.
“It’s the drugs, Katherine.”
“Drugs?”
“We’ve been keeping you pretty heavily sedated for the past seventy hours. You’ve had a shock. Lie back. You need time to recuperate.” He gave her a final sideways glance, then stepped past the armed guard, out into the corridor.
“Try to get some rest,” he called as he hurried away. “You’ll feel better.”
Alone, Kat closed her eyes.
“Screw you,” she said.
An hour later, wearing her coat draped over her shoulders, her new arm held tight to her chest like a sling, Kat stepped unsteadily from the floating jetty to the Ameline’s rear airlock. One of the coat’s arms was ripped, torn off just above the elbow. The fresh wind blew through her hair. Both the ship and the jetty moved on the ocean swell, and the unfamiliar weight of the prosthetic arm unbalanced her.
As soon as both her feet were aboard, she closed the outer airlock door and strode forth through the echoing cargo hold toward the bridge at the ship’s bow. Passing through the passenger lounge, her eyes lingered for a second on the couch so recently occupied by Toby Drake. What would he think if he could see her now, like this? Climbing the ladder to the flight deck, she screwed her eyes tight. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at the black alloy struts of her new hand.
> Girl, you look terrible.
Her lips twitched. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. She clenched her teeth.
“Get your systems fired up, we’re leaving.”
> Are you sure you can fly? My records show you discharged yourself against the advice of your surgeon.
Kat shrugged off her coat and tossed it over the back of the co-pilot’s couch.
“He was an asshole.”
> But still, you’ve been under sedation. Are you fit to fly?
“Do you want to stay here?”
The ship gave an electronic snort.
> Have you any idea what this salt water’s doing to the underside of my hull?
“You’ve been waterproofed.”
> Thirty years ago. That stuff wears off, you know.
Kat stepped onto the bridge. “Well, we’re leaving now,” she said.
> For Djatt?
“Where else?”
> You know Victor blew out of here three days ago?
Kat settled herself into the pilot’s chair. “We’ll catch him.”
> He left something behind.
“What?”
> Seth Murphy.
Kat swallowed. She pictured Murphy as she’d last seen him, framed in the doorway of the Ticonderoga’s observation deck.
“See you in Hell, Abdulov.”
Her fists tightened.
“Where is he?”
> The police found him floating in the sea, near the Tristero’s docking pontoon.
Kat frowned. “Floating?”
> Shot through the head.
She sat back with a huff, as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Even after everything he’d done, she found it hard to believe Victor capable of cold-bloodedly executing one of his own men.
Her good right hand had begun to shake. So far, she’d been running on the drugs Misaki had given her. She needed time to rest and recuperate, but knew she couldn’t afford to waste another second. She had to reach Djatt before Victor conned the locals into dealing with him rather than waiting for an Abdulov ship. If he scooped the lion’s share of the cargo, she’d be left scrabbling for scraps.
“Let’s go,” she said quietly.
There was no answer. For the first time, she sensed reluctance in the ship. She said, “What’s the matter?”
> He has a three day head start. We could give up now and return to Strauli.
“But we’d have failed.”
> We’d have survived.
Kat flexed her metal hand. She could feel a phantom ache in the black, artificial bones of her forearm. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
For a moment, the ship remained silent.
> I’ve been monitoring traffic reports on the local grids. It started at Strauli. I noticed two flights from Djatt had been declared overdue. Since we arrived here, I’ve noticed another one, making three altogether.
“What are you saying?”
> The last three ships to visit Djatt have failed to return.
Kat bit her lip, considering the idea. “Do you think they ran into trouble?”
> Something’s going on. I can’t believe all three ships suffered more-or-less simultaneous malfunctions.
Kat thought of the Kilimanjaro, sabotaged before it reached Tiers Cross and the Bubble Cloud.
“Do you think Victor’s behind it?”
> Unlikely given the distances involved, unless he planned this entire thing decades in advance.
“Then he could be walking into trouble himself, same as the other ships?”
> Quite possibly.
Kat looked out at the shadow pattern of clouds on the surface of the sea. Flecks of sunlight shone through the gaps and rippled on the water. She thought of the beach below the family compound on Strauli, where she’d kicked through the surf as a girl, dreaming of life as a trader captain. She could be back there in a few hours, she realised, if she allowed the ship’s fears to discourage her from her goal. She could give up her pursuit of Victor and run home to her mother and father, and let the family doctors grow her a new arm. She could see Toby and take him walking on the beach... She closed her eyes and shivered, thinking how good and warm the sand would feel between her toes.
She let out a long, ragged breath. She’d come this far, and she couldn’t chicken out now. She couldn’t go home one-armed and empty-handed. Victor couldn’t be allowed to win. Hooked into the ship, she felt power building in the engines. The daylight on the hull itched at her skin like sunburn, and she longed for the soothing coolness of space. If she gave up the chase, she’d be letting her family down, and she’d also be disappointing her younger self—the girl who’d dreamed of piloting her own ship, who’d studied and worked and been through hell in order to get where she was today, and wasn’t about to quit.
She opened her eyes and gazed down at the metal hand resting on the arm of her couch.
“Getting knocked down makes you tougher,” her great aunt Sylvia had been fond of saying, “and setbacks are opportunities in disguise.”
Kat frowned, trying to be dispassionate. Looked at objectively, stripped of the abhorrence it stirred in her, she supposed there was a kind of functional beauty to the sleek design of the matt black bones and hinged knuckle joints; and with that thought, she realised it wasn’t the arm she feared. Her revulsion sprang from her unwillingness to face her own guilt at her failure to save her friend. The arm was a badge of shame. For a second, Enid’s face swam before her, blonde, blue-eyed and terrified. Kat blinked it away. Enid had died because of her squabble with Victor. Innocent people had been killed and hurt. She gripped the sides of her couch.
Time to end it, she thought.
For the first time since leaving Strauli, she considered the six missiles her father had installed. Converted from probes used for asteroid prospecting, the nimble little rockets had become delivery systems for single megatonne nuclear mining charges. They were small, manoeuvrable and designed to be guided remotely. If trouble waited for her at Djatt, she’d be ready. No-one would expect a ship like the Ameline to be armed. If anyone came at her, all she’d have to do would be to detonate one of those bombs within a few hundred metres of their ship.
Her hand came up to touch the pendant hanging around her neck. She gave the knife-sharp, watery horizon a final glance.
“You know we’re going anyway, don’t you?” she said.
The Ameline shivered. She could feel its excitement overriding its cautio
n. Like her, it itched for the up-and-out.
> Oh, yes.
They quit Vertebrae Beach with as much style as they could muster. The Ameline rose a few metres into the air and shook like a wet dog. Water poured from its hull. Kat scanned the green telltales on her head-up display. All systems were clear.
“Ready?” she said.
The ship tipped back until it stood on its tail, nose pointed at the sky.
> Always.
It leapt heavenwards, like a prayer. It left the atmosphere at full acceleration and activated its jump engines the second it hit hard vacuum, levering itself out of the universe with a brilliant white flash like the burst of a miniature nova, the reflection of which momentarily flared off the waters of Vertebrae Beach, a thousand kilometres below.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
RAPTORS
The gunshots echoed away across the grass plain. Standing in the marsh, Ed went cold inside.
“Alice...”
He felt Kristin move and looked down, to see that even though she still clung to him with one hand, she’d managed to pull her sidearm free of its holster.
“Get me to the bank.” It was an order. Not knowing what else to do, he obeyed. He pulled her forward, moving as quickly as he dared. Rank-smelling mud slithered and slipped beneath the soles of his boots. Twice his leg went in up to the knee in cold, gritty water, and he hardly noticed. All he could think of was Alice. Was she hurt? Had Krous killed her?
He stumbled on, using all his strength to keep Kristin upright.
A few steps from the shore, he heard a splash. Something slithered beneath the surface. He caught a glimpse of a sleek, powerful tail.
Kristin waved her gun at the disappearing shadow.
“What was that?”
Ed didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to keep his balance, and all he could think of was Alice possibly lying hurt somewhere up ahead, beyond the rise. With a last effort, he heaved Kristin ashore and they both fell to their knees. Kristin had her gun raised, scanning the grassy skyline at the top of the slope. Ed dropped his pack and dug out the semi-automatic pistol he’d stolen from the Iraq War veteran in the flat down the hall from his place in London. His hands shook. He could hear his pulse battering in his ears.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The gun felt cold and heavy. His feet squelched wetly. The sun-dried grass beneath his knees smelled like hay.
Beyond the rise, another shot.
Still on one knee, favouring her injured leg, Kristin readied her weapon, covering the skyline.
“Stay low,” she said, “and try to cover me.”
She squirmed forward on her elbows. Ed watched her go, holding the stolen pistol awkwardly, unsure exactly what to do with it. There was nothing to point it at, so he held it loosely, ready to swing it towards Krous if the man appeared over the hill.
Ripples in the water made him glance back, into the marsh. Three or four of the creatures now slithered through the water, getting closer and closer without directly approaching the bank, like sharks circling before an attack. He got the impression of large, otter-like creatures swathed in muddy grey fur. Their claws flashed in the sunlight.
“Kristin—”
“Shush!”
The American woman had her gun raised. He followed her aim and saw a figure with auburn hair, partially-silhouetted against the sky, pushing her way through the long grass at the top of the rise. His heart leapt.
“Alice!”
Scrambling to his feet, he saw her turn in his direction.
“Ed?” She stopped in her tracks. “Ed, get away from the water!”
With a flick of its tail, one of the creatures leapt from the swamp. It landed, crouched and snarling, on the bank, ready to spring again. Ed saw six legs, powerful shoulders, a muscular tail and sleek, black fur. He scrambled backwards up the slope. The creature took a step after him. It was the size of a Doberman, with the body of an otter and the claws of a velociraptor. Wicked yellow teeth glittered from its wide mouth.
“Kristin...”
Six limbs tensed. Yellow eyes glowered like hungry embers, and saliva dripped from the open jaws. Without a word, Kristin turned and snapped her arm up. Before the animal could pounce, she put three bullets through its face. Then, with her good leg, she sent its twitching body rolling back into the marsh, where three of its brethren set upon it, tails lashing the water to bloody froth.
“Come on.” She started to limp towards Alice. Ed scrambled after her, covering her back. Two further creatures crawled onto the bank, and he waved his gun at them.
“We need to go faster,” he said, taking her elbow.
By the time they reached the top of the hill, there were six of the otter-like creatures slinking behind them through the long yellow grass. Alice ran to him and he caught her in his arms. Her eyes were wild, her hair and clothes lank with sweat.
“Oh, Ed, I thought I’d lost you.” She kissed him hard, her dry lips crushing his.
“Krous told me you were dead,” she said, between kisses. “He said we should head for the other arch. I didn’t want to go, but he made me.”
Kristin scanned the grassy plain between the rise they were on and the arches, which stood atop an outcrop of shattered rock much like the one where they’d lost the Land Rover. “Where is he now?”
Alice turned to her. “He’s holed up in the boulders near the arch. There are more of those—”
The grass rippled behind her. One of the horrors flung itself at her, and she went down into the grass with a scream, knocked off her feet. Ed tried to kick the animal in the side of the head, but it snapped vicious teeth at his foot.
“Shoot it!” Kristin barked. It was an order. Obeying without stopping to think, Ed jammed his gun into the creature’s midsection and pulled the trigger. The recoil jarred his arm. The animal yelped and fell. It lay flapping and keening, trying to curl around the gory hole punched in its side. Its jaws gnashed. Blood sprayed from its mouth.
Ed helped Alice to her feet. Her arms and chest had been clawed. Her t-shirt gaped raggedly. Blood ran down her arms and dripped from her fingers.
“Kristin, get me the first aid kit.”
“There’s no time.” The American woman pointed down the slope. Grass stalks twitched in several places. The rest of the pack was closing in.
“We’re exposed. We need cover.”
“Let’s head for the arches.”
Alice hesitated. “But Krous—”
Kristin cut her off. “Later.”
Ed ducked under Kristin’s arm, taking her weight. He took Kristin’s gun and passed it to Alice.
“Keep watch behind us. Shoot anything that moves.”
Painfully, they limped across the plain, staying out of the long grass as much as possible. Three times, Alice stopped and fired at the shapes skulking in their wake. The recoil of the gun hurt her wrists. Even so, by the time they reached the rocks of the shattered tor, she was out of bullets, and Kristin had taken a turn for the worse. The strain of hobbling across open ground with a twisted ankle had exhausted her; she could barely stand upright without support. Desperately, Ed and Alice pushed and pulled her up towards the arches, taking it in turns to support her over the treacherous rocks. They were all sweating heavily. Alice’s wounds were still bleeding. Above, the two purple arches they strove for stood like impassive megaliths against the skyline. Below, five or six of the otter-raptors circled in the grass, nerving themselves to break cover and attack. One after another, they raised themselves up on their four hind paws, and snapped the air before falling back.
What am I doing here? Ed thought.
Yesterday evening he’d been settling down for a night in front of the TV, and now here he was facing something that looked like the bastard spawn of an otter and a pit bull terrier, with the teeth and social graces of a piranha. He’d once been cornered by a pair of Alsatians in the concrete front yard of a terraced house in Acton. He’d been trying to collect a fare, but had been fo
rced instead to take refuge on the lid of a plastic wheelie bin while the big dogs growled back and forth, teeth bared, ready to maul him if he tried to run. Then, he’d been saved by the arrival of the dog’s owner. This time he wouldn’t be so fortunate. Right now, his only thought was to get himself, Alice and Kristin to the arches before the animals below worked up the courage to abandon the shelter of the grasslands and scramble up the rock after them.
Looking back across the undulating plain, he saw the arch which had brought them to this planet and, wedged below it, a reflected glint of sunlight from the starred windscreen of the trapped Land Rover.
“Nearly there,” Alice gasped.
Ed looked up to find they were a few paces from the nearest arch. When he looked back down the slope, he saw two of the raptors advancing purposefully. They kept low to the ground like stalking cats. Their tails flicked and twitched.
“Come on,” he said. Muscles straining against their own weight, he gave Kristin an extra push, and watched her scramble to the base of the arch. She held her hand out to him.
Behind her, Otto Krous stepped from behind an arch, where he’d been crouched, watching their ascent. His peeling, sunburned face bore livid scratches. Part of his moustache had been torn loose. He’d used a handkerchief to bandage his left hand, and there were bloody gouges on his right leg, where sharp claws had ripped through the fabric of his black combat trousers.
He glanced at Ed and Alice, and then turned his attention to Kristin.
“Lieutenant Cole,” he said, lip curling. He bent over and yanked the white-haired woman one-handed to her feet. He seemed to have either lost or discarded the shotgun, but still clutched the machine pistol.
“You don’t know when to give up, do you, sir?”
Obviously irritated, Kristin slapped his hand away. “At ease, soldier.”
Krous sneered. He pushed his face into hers. “You don’t get to give me orders any more, sir.”
He shoved her in the chest and she fell back, landing heavily on her backside.
Ed stood up. “Hey!”
Krous ignored him. He raised the machine pistol and fired a burst into Kristin’s torso. The noise made Ed flinch. Kristin jerked as the shots hit her, blood splattering in the sunlight, shockingly red. For a frozen second, nobody moved. Then, even as the shots still echoed across the plain below, Ed’s feet were pushing him over the rocks, his hands grasping for the other man’s throat. Krous saw him coming, but Ed caught him off balance and he couldn’t turn the gun in time. Ed crashed into him and they fell, past the arch and down the slope on the far side, with Ed on top as they hit the ground. Loose stones and gravel skittered down around them.
The Recollection Page 14
