“A call, milady,” Votal interrupted again. “Inspector Galvirst on the long beam.”
She nodded, and Galvirst’s rough face appeared, with much interference, on the screen.
“Had a devil of a time locating you since you left Yesturian,” he said jovially. “I see you haven’t had any luck yet.”
“Get to the point,” she insisted.
“Come now. Let’s not be gruff. I’ve held your annoying friend Dundee on charges for a week, as you asked. Highly irregular, you know. He threatened to sue, so we let him go. I wanted to warn you. Also, I want to warn you that you are on the edge of our protection. I’ve got two ships standing by in the Antares Lane, but you’re almost in the maze, and we can’t follow.”
Spacebread glanced off to where the string of freighters and pleasure craft hung in a massive traffic pattern, waiting for their turn to enter the Antares Hole. It was the same hole that was slowly drawing the Shadowmaze toward it across space.
“Yes, I know,” Spacebread said. “I’ll be on my own.”
“You mean you’re going in?” Galvirst hooted. “But that’s crazy! Listen, I’ve got a project waiting on you, cat. Don’t go getting lost in some—”
“End transmission, Votal,” Spacebread snapped. Galvirst’s startled image faded.
“About time!” Gorsook bellowed. “Strap yourself in, priest, we’re going to your legend-planet.”
Niral sighed with a rattle of glackules. “I pray that we find healing instead of treachery this time.”
Spacebread manually eased the ship toward the first bank of black swirls, aiming for an enormous gap that led within. “Just let me know when we’re headed in the right direction, Votal. I want to do this visually, through the clearer parts of this thing. There may be chunks of stuff in there that the dust screened from our perceptors.”
“Aye-aye.”
Spacebread freed a hand and slid the cryo-box out of its strapped berth beside her. It fitted securely in her lap. She pulled the armaments handle above her, a move that Gorsook noted with anticipation and Niral with dread.
Darkness swallowed them. No starlight filtered through the choking gasses surrounding the ship. Here and there the flare of its jets glinted off a larger particle. Spacebread turned on the powerful ship’s lights and banked slowly as they revealed a steep turn bordered by blackness.
The Shadowmaze was stunning in its immenseness, numbing in its monotony. No colors shone from the walls of the twisting lanes, only absorbing hazy darkness. Sometimes their channel would narrow to closing, and Spacebread would either push ahead until they entered a new clearing or back out of the cul-de-sac and go around. But there were also spaces inside huge enough to swallow planetary systems. They traveled hours through these cavernous pockets in tense silence.
A day into the maze they began encountering wrecks. A whole knot of antique ships floated lost in one gargantuan chamber. And their sensors sometimes picked up blips concealed by the gas—lost, forgotten explorers.
“If this is indeed the home of Osghan,” Spacebread murmured, “I can understand why it was so cleanly forgotten, engulfed by this stuff. Do you detect anything in that position yet, Votal?”
“Negative, milady. But there is an anomaly showing up in the returns now. Odd angles of exit for the perceptor beams.”
Spacebread felt doubt close up inside her breast like a fist.
Another black day they wove through the patterns of dust, until Spacebread wearied and set the Bridgetender to pilot and tried to sleep. She crawled into her bunk above Niral but could get little rest. The Korliss was quietly, steadily chanting.
At last she slept, but it was a troubled sleep. In a dream she played with stones outside their hut while her mother sang within, a scene that recurred often in her nights. A great cloud came and darkened the sun, so that the small Spacebread began to cry. Mother called.
“Milady. Waken. Something lies ahead.”
She sprang up and floated into the control pod, her heart pounding. They were gliding around a sharp twist in the path, the way hidden. Suddenly she killed the ship’s lights.
But the farther wall remained softly illuminated, and the light gradually brightened as they turned.
“A ship, milady. But it is not the source of the light.”
“A dead ship?” Spacebread asked sharply, eyes wide in the dimness.
“Negative. I monitor activity.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Gorsook snorted.
The pitch of Niral’s chant rose.
As they approached the ship, however, interest in it lessened. For beyond it was a narrow hole in the dust, a hole that blazed through with the warm light of a star. The other ship rested in the hole’s center, blocking entrance.
“Only visible from a tiny angle,” Spacebread mused.
“It is starlight, milady. Type 52, a dwarf star. My readings now indicate some sort of shielding matter in the cloud hiding the star from all perception. It appears the cloud swallowed the system long ago, but recently layers of the star exploded and blew a great bubble-like clearing around the system.”
“Osghan is inside,” Spacebread said, caught for a moment by the wonder that the story was true. “Circling that blue star only two days flight into the shadowmaze. Hail the ship blocking us.”
“Aye-aye—”
Suddenly their ship lurched, before Spacebread could lash out at the beamfuzzer.
“They have us in a grabber beam, milady.”
“Not for long,” she growled.
But before she could act, a crackling noise filled the cabin. She spun to see a holo-image materializing among them. The image was Quan’s, all four arms crossing his chest, his eyes glimmering at Niral.
Korliss Niral stood with only the slightest waver. This time he faced his tormentor.
“Do not be concerned,” he said firmly to Spacebread. “The Ability cannot reach with the broadcast image. He has no power here.”
Quan hissed. “I have all the power of the Korlann at my disposal, and full authority to bring you back, traitor!”
Gorsook’s good hand clutched the air compulsively. “So this is the grub that dares invade Kesterole and shoot its citizens! Did your Korlann send you there?”
Quan ignored the jab. Slowly his image revolved to face Spacebread, who clutched the coffer closely and glared.
“I have no quarrel with you, madam,” he said. “Even though you have interfered dangerously with the affairs of the Korlann. The Korlann is mercy. Honor my authorized mission and transfer Korliss Niral to my ship. After that, you will be free to seek the Flame. Osghan is beyond, hidden, a planet of that dying star. On it you will find the knowledge you have been seeking, the power to restore wholeness!”
Spacebread still leaned in the pilot’s chair silently. A grim, wicked smile slowly curved over her face. “You meant to have the figlet shot, didn’t you, Quan? I began to understand that back on Yesturian, when your map came my way in so timely a fashion. Now I know. You are the cleverest, coldest fiend I have yet come across.”
Quan gestured in acknowledgement. “One must be clever, clever and patient, to spend a lifetime acquiring influence and power. Too quickly, and someone will suspect ambition. My only regret is perhaps an excess of patience, for now I have only a few days to secure the fruits of my planning. If that weak youngling had not bolted my care, I would today be the Korlann and turning my planet back to its ancient path.”
“What did you mean he meant to have Klimmit shot?” Gorsook said in a deep, hollow voice to Spacebread.
“It was all a shrewd trick to lure us here,” she answered. “Quan knew he had to retrieve Niral without the slightest hint of scandal or risk of interference. He drew us here, where no allies or police could stop him, by sending us in quest of the only cure for a poisoned figlet. He could not force us out of ISP protection, so he enticed us.”
Quan bowed with extreme stateliness. “I took the time to find out who Niral’s protectress was
before I dispatched my agents after you. Your reputation at the Festival on Kiloo was vast and well documented, fortunately. There were dozens of sources eager to tell of your adventures, madam. All told of an exceptionally resourceful and resilient foe. Your instincts are impeccable. I knew I would stand no chance of killing you without a prolonged battle or endangering Niral’s life. And I could not steal him without your famous honor leading you back to Marghool in pursuit. I had to attack you at your weakest point.”
“Klimmit!” Spacebread hissed drily.
“Exactly. I arranged things so you had to come to Osghan eventually, in search of a cure. I knew that Niral knew of its location, but I did not count on your doubt. That is why I had to give you the map to urge you here. You delayed too much.
“But I am not malicious. There is Osghan, where my information tells me you may restore your friend. Go, but leave me Niral.”
“Do you want to go?” Spacebread looked at Niral.
Slowly, proudly, Niral shook his head.
“You may convince him all you like,” Spacebread said as she leaned forward, fire in her eyes. “But you may not take him!”
Quan’s four hands clawed in frustration. “Niral! By the Sixteen Laws and the sacred magma I command you—return! Your youth leads you in folly. We can restore Marghool to the old, good ways, you and I.”
“By breaking each of the Laws in turn?” Niral said defiantly. “No. It was my youthful folly that led me to run from the fear of you instead of walking into the central hall and declaring your treason. I will not yield to your corruption. A Warrior does not despair.”
Quan clutched the air. His eyes flared at Spacebread. “Give me Niral,” he hissed, “and you can have both the figlet and his life.”
Now Spacebread stood her full length, returning the coffer to its berth. She drew her sword, and pointing it to the floor, leaned upon it.
“Niral is not a thing, to be given,” she said. “And while I may not possess the power to restore Klimmit, neither is it in your power to take or give his life. That power lies outside our world and our grasp, and I seek its help. But if you continue to interfere with me, I will give you the full length of this blade, and that is all. Block transmission, Votal.”
Quan grimaced and lunged toward the pilot’s chair. His image faded in a blue shimmer as he reached it.
Gorsook roared in rage. “Let him bring his body to me! Can’t properly blow a ghost to smithereens!”
But Spacebread had already flipped herself into the Control Pod, flicking switches. “Reverse thrusters full, Votal! And amplify the beamfuzzer. Let’s break their grab!”
“Excuse me,” the computer answered. “But there is a new ship behind us. It must have been hiding in the screening cloud. The way is blocked.”
Gorsook laughed bitterly. “Blocked! He thinks he has us.”
“Lock the armor shields, Votal,” Spacebread growled. “Boost the charge in the rear ones. Arm the A-matter shells and all piercers. Lock in Evasion Style II. Prepare to blow the ship ahead of us to atoms.”
“May I remind milady these are Class 4 vessels, newest of the Vegan police fleet?”
“No you may not, damn you!” she snarled.
Suddenly a shrill alarm spun both Spacebread and Niral to look at the rear of the ship. Gorsook grinned from the open mouth of the disposal chute, suited for space. His treasured crate of grenades was tucked beneath his remaining arm, wedging the chute hatch open.
“Hargh!” he laughed. “They may be Class 4 Vegans, lady, but their perceptors aren’t tuned for a crippled old organic Warrior out of a garbage chute. Hoohar! One last battle for Gorsook! Justice for my kin!” The hatch flapped solidly shut behind him.
“Votal! Block him!” Spacebread shouted.
“Discharge completed already,” Votal answered. “And heading for the ship behind us.”
Niral began rapidly chanting.
“The old fool!” Spacebread cursed. “Then dive ahead as ordered! Attack!”
As the ship’s audio crackled with jubilant Sanguakkoid curses mixed with dull explosions from behind, Votal calmly stated, “A third ship approaches, milady, attack course.”
[13]
The Guardian’s Voice
SPACEBREAD turned long enough to recognize the new craft and what mission it was bent on. She kicked the ship into manual control and fired both banks of A-matter shells at Quan’s ship. Votal darkened the control pod window just in time to shield her from the flashes.
Quan’s ship answered through the flares with broad blasts of energy, intended to damage only Votal. Spacebread clung to the panels desperately as the ship bucked, jarred from in front by Quan’s fire and from behind by the destruction wrought by Gorsook’s last battle. Somehow she managed to release a barrage of piercers just as Quan’s ship noticed it was being fired on by the newcomer. A plasma beam crackled off its weapons mountings. When they swiveled to answer, Spacebread fired both shells and piercers at the control area. The new ship evaded Quan’s fire, dodging the beams expertly and distracting them from Spacebread with a lacework rain of plasma.
“Dundee, fool that you are, you have perfect timing,” Spacebread muttered to herself.
The jets kicked out in fury, slamming her into the pilot’s chair. She whipped the ship down savagely, ripping free from the grabber beams as their energy was drained by Dundee’s assault, firing rapidly into the underside of Quan’s ship with her free hand while rolling the ship to fit between Quan’s craft and the edge of the cloud hole.
“Energy hit amidships,” Votal droned. “Damage to flying vanes 2 and 3.”
Suddenly, they were beyond. The cloud dropped away rapidly on all sides and became a black smear at the edge of sight. Glowing gas buffeted them for a moment, then they were past it too, into a wonderful chamber, like a bubble, a light-year across, caused eons before by the explosion of the outer layers of what was now a tiny dazzling star, hanging suspended in mist at the center. Spacebread had seen many wonders in her travels, but this one was like no other. Ages before, the Shadowmaze had overtaken ancient Osghan, snuffing out its dawning civilization with a shroud of soot. Another age passed, and Osghan’s sun struck back, exploding a clearing in the shadow, enough to place the system in a bubble of light deep within its tomb. It took Spacebread’s mind away, if only for an instant, from her course.
That instant was nearly fatal. A wide beam belted the ship from behind. A stabilization line snapped and they tumbled end over end, the blue star flashing in the front port every second like a lighthouse. Spacebread was flung through the cabin and, with cat’s luck landed boots first on the rear wall. She clutched a pipe and hung on for dear life. Niral clung to an overhead beam with all his hands, still chanting.
“Reroute stabilization through forward weapons circuits!” she howled to the computer.
“But milady, we will then have no firepower forward …”
“Do it!”
Votal did, and the spinning rapidly stopped. Spacebread’s feet lashed out, hurling her into the control pod where she quickly buckled in and activated the rear sighting panels. Quan’s ship raced right behind them, Dundee’s plasma beams annoying it from still farther back. An energy blast flashed from the Margh ship. Votal evaded it. Sighting carefully to allow for their motion, Spacebread released the last of an old batch of homing mines from the ship’s rear, then boosted Votal’s speed to its fullest. Quan kept close nonetheless, the mines swept aside by a grabber net. Only one reached the hull, and it failed to properly explode.
“I don’t know if the stabilization reroute will hold for long, milady.”
“Make it! And give me emergency boosters.”
Still the Margh ship kept up, even though their speed rattled every joint in Spacebread’s ship. She cursed the new Class 4, and her heart sank for a moment. Suddenly she felt as much a relic as her ship, past her prime, overwhelmed by newness.
Another energy wave wobbled past them, but was deflected successfully by the armor
plates. Spacebread rallied her spirits with a bracing of will and fired. Her piercer beam met one of Dundee’s plasma bolts in the same spot on Quan’s hull. The enemy ship bounced and veered, falling behind. Spacebread cheered.
“The Margh ship is hit, milady,” Votal said, slight traces of emotion in his tone. “Not fatal but its steering seems hurt.”
“Go, Dundee!” Spacebread laughed through her teeth, then scanned the navigational panels. “Niral! Where are we going? I read ten planets circling this sun. Which is Osghan?”
Niral’s chanting was becoming calmer for some reason. He climbed down a beam and lashed himself into a nest. “Legend has it that Osghan is the fifth planet, with three small moons.”
Spacebread amplified signals, still keeping an eye on Quan’s ship. “There it is. The moons have gone too close to the planet and broken up. It has a ring now. Votal, get the long monitors on that world, read for signs of life.”
“Aye-aye.”
Quan’s ship appeared to have recovered. It was growing larger in her scope. She hissed angrily and, unbuckling, fought her way through the floating debris to a rear storage hold. It took a moment for the object she dialed for to be delivered to the hatch, and while she waited she glanced at Niral. He was not trembling or huddled as she had expected. Klimmit’s coffer must have come loose in the fight, for he held it reverently and protectively to his chest.
The hold hatch revolved, a huge mechanism rolled into view, delivered by pincers. She hurriedly unbolted it and kicked farther to the rear of the ship with it. When the final bulkhead stopped her course, she set to work resetting dials on the bulky machine’s side.
“I locate no likely ports on the planet, milady. There are indications that several rough plains of ash were once cities. All is dead. Even the Planetary Power is gone. However, there is a weak beacon on nightside, and the remains of a massive pylon.”
Born of Flame Page 11
