Guardians of Paradise (Hidden Empire)

by Jaine Fenn

  So much for relying on intuition.

  Shortly after she set off again she heard someone else approaching, this time more cautiously. Again, she floated up, using the only place she had to hide. The Sidhe who came round the corner moved with purposeful sanity. She’d got hold of a gun from somewhere and looked as if she was advancing through the ship ready to take on whoever - whatever - she found. She was not being as careful as Nual, and had extended her senses. Nual hoped her own state of mental lock-down would stop her presence being registered.

  Apparently not. The Sidhe looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of a naked woman floating at ceiling height. She raised her gun—

  —and instinct took over. Nual looked her in the eyes, aiming to disable, deflect—

  —and ran straight into the Sidhe’s shields. She’d never tried these tricks on her own people, only on defenceless humans—

  Something thumped Nual’s arm, hard, slamming her up into the ceiling.

  —the contact faltered. Sensations of shock and pain clamoured for Nual’s attention and her vision swam. The Sidhe reasserted her will, pressing home her mental advantage.

  Nual’s attempt to fight back was hampered by physical distractions. She was losing this battle - how ironic, that they had finally found a way in. She retreated from the physical world, and for a time of indeterminate nothingness, they were locked in mental stalemate.

  She felt the other Sidhe’s barriers began to give and prepared to barge in, to enjoy the victory and take whatever she could - knowledge, energy - as her reward—

  —and spotted, only just in time, the wrongness lurking like pus below the surface of the other woman’s conscious mind, ready to draw her in. Nual withdrew, whipping her presence out and back into her own head.

  Almost no time had passed. She found herself floating diagonally half way between floor and ceiling, her implants in the process of lowering her gently down.

  The other Sidhe fell backwards and began to emit a high, inhuman shriek, beating at her temples with the flat of her hands.

  Fighting Nual had given the infection a chance to overcome the Sidhe’s defences. Thanks to her, it had claimed another victim, Nual thought with a shudder. She flew shakily past the screaming Sidhe to land a safe distance up the corridor, then permitted full physical sensation to return. She must have been shot with a stun weapon: her body was numb and heavy, and she couldn’t feel her right arm.

  Though she could stifle the shock and discomfort, she soon found that her malnourished, overstressed, and drugged leg muscles had become too uncoordinated to control her flight implants properly. Given the choice of bouncing off walls or staggering along the floor, she went for the latter option. She passed another couple of semiconscious Sidhe, and one, halfway out of a door, who was lying face-down in a pool of blood. She hurried past them all, careful to avoid any contact.

  When she reached the airlock, all was quiet.

  With her minimal knowledge of space-faring, Nual wasn’t sure whether or not there was a ship on the other side. The panel had lights on it, but some of them were red. She crept closer to the door: two red lights, one green. And there was a reader, like the ones on the cabin doors on the starliner, attuned to coms or touch. She waved a hand over the sensor, but nothing happened. After a moment’s hesitation, she pressed a finger to it. Still nothing.

  Well, they would hardly leave the escape route unlocked, would they? She had been foolish to think otherwise.

  One of the red lights blinked to green.

  In her befuddled state it hadn’t occurred to her that they would leave someone on board to keep watch.

  She embraced her body’s flight instinct, instantly dumping a spike of adrenalin into her system.

  Then she ran.

  ‘Everyone ignored you last time, right?’ Taro knew the answer, but nerves were making him burble. He knew he had to do this, and he’d been relieved when Jarek agreed, but that didn’t stop him being shit-scared. Jarek’s request that Taro shoot him if it looked like the Sidhe were going to capture them didn’t help. He wished Jarek hadn’t entirely countered the drugs he’d been using to contact Nual. He could use a dose of chill right now.

  ‘Like I said, most of the Sidhe on the mothership were already dead when I got there.’ Jarek was checking the readouts in his ship’s airlock. ‘The infected Sidhe we met was interested in Nual, but she didn’t even seem to notice me. That’s how I managed to tranq her. Or it. Or whatever.’

  Taro pointed to the weapon on Jarek’s hip. ‘That don’t look like a tranq gun.’

  ‘That’s because it’s a needle-pistol - considerably less of a problem than your own choice of weapon, Taro: a laser really isn’t an ideal gun to use on a spaceship. The last thing we want is a hull-breach. ’

  ‘I’ve dialled it all the way down and I won’t shoot any outside walls.’ Taro’d already worked out what’d happen if he did, but even if Jarek’d had a v-suit that fitted him, Taro’s gun wouldn’t work with gloves on. So Jarek had said he’d go unsuited too, which Taro appreciated.

  Jarek said, ‘Right. Environmentals are all green, so we’re good to go. Ready?’

  ‘Let’s do it.’

  Jarek pressed the pad. The airlock door opened.

  The other ship’s airlock was empty and they walked in. Despite himself Taro jumped when the door closed behind them. Jarek checked the panel beside the far door. When he was satisfied, he opened the door.

  The corridor beyond was lit by red light, but empty of threats.

  ‘Smells a bit odd,’ said Taro, more for something to say than because he thought there was a problem Jarek’d missed.

  ‘Other people’s ships usually do.’

  ‘I guess so. So, where do we start?’

  ‘Well, we’re at the front of the ship, so we work our way back. Carefully.’

  They found their first Sidhe in the next corridor.

  She was sitting on the floor, legs bent to one side like she’d fallen. Though she was facing their way she wasn’t looking at them. She was leaning forward on her hands, head down, face hidden behind a curtain of hair.

  Taro and Jarek still stopped dead. She didn’t move. They started to back off. She continued to ignore them. Taro glanced at Jarek; in the red light Jarek’s face looked like a grim mask.

  Back round the corner, Taro whispered, ‘So, do we find another way, then?’

  Jarek nodded, then as Taro turned, put an arm out. ‘No, wait, the chances are we’ll just meet another one round the next corner. Last time . . . Last time the only live Sidhe I saw on the mothership were pretty distracted.’ Taro got the impression he was getting up his nerve. ‘I’m going to investigate. I’ll need you to watch my back.’

  ‘All right.’ Taro wasn’t entirely sure how; the knowledge that had come with his Angel mods didn’t cover team tactics.

  Jarek made his way down the passage, back against the wall, needle-pistol in hand. The Sidhe didn’t move.

  Halfway along he stopped, then in one quick movement held out the gun and fired.

  From where Taro was standing he didn’t hear the gun go off, but he saw the Sidhe collapse, her head jerking backwards in a shower of dark drops as she fell.

  ‘Shit!’

  Jarek looked over his shoulder at Taro’s oath. His face was blank.

  ‘What the fuck d’you do that for?’ called Taro.

  ‘Had to get in range.’ Jarek’s voice showed no emotion. ‘We can carry on now.’

  Taro joined him and they made their way past the body. Taro managed not to look too closely at the dead Sidhe. In this light the stain spreading out from under her looked more black than red.

  Around the next corner, Jarek relaxed slightly and turned to Taro. ‘I know that shocked you, but you’ve never met them, never fought them. I have. I know what they’re like.’

  ‘Yeah, but she . . . I don’t think she’d’ve attacked us. She looked pretty fucked-up.’

  ‘Yes, and from what I saw on the mot
hership, I was probably doing her a favour.’

  Taro had nothing to say to that.

  The next one they saw, not long afterwards, was standing against a wall, staring vacantly into space. She was hugging herself and swaying slowly from side to side, dragging her head along the wall, sobbing and muttering. Taro let Jarek go past and deal with her. This time he kept quiet as they passed the body.

  In the next corridor they found their first corpse - not a Sidhe, but a man in a short grey tunic. His head was caved in on one side. ‘Is that a mute?’ whispered Taro as they edged past.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jarek shortly.

  ‘I thought this thing only attacked Sidhe.’

  ‘Mutes are Sidhe. Besides, we don’t know what happened here.’

  Taro tried not to think about Jarek’s comment about Sidhe and humans being almost the same. It wasn’t like they were going to turn back now.

  Jarek’s com had a download of the basic layout - apparently the ship was a standard starliner design - so they shouldn’t get lost. Finding Nual was another matter. Though they were back in range of Kama Nui’s comnet here, there wasn’t much likelihood that she still had her com, and a pretty high chance that someone bad did. Taro wondered if there was some way he could tune into Nual’s mind, but he had no idea how to go about it. They’d just have to keep their eyes and ears open, and hope luck was with them.

  The next Sidhe they found was lying across the corridor, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. She looked dead, but Jarek shot her anyway.

  As they picked their way round the body Taro heard a swoosh and looked round in panic. They’d triggered a door sensor. Beyond the door was someone’s sleeping room. One Sidhe lay on the floor in front of the bed. Another straddled her chest. The upright one had empty, bloody sockets where her eyes should’ve been; she was banging the head of the other one against the floor, a wet rhythmic thudding that sent up little sprays of dark liquid from a pool of nasty wetness.

  As Taro stared in horror, the upright Sidhe began to turn her eyeless gaze on him. Jarek stepped past him and shot her - it. The thing’s face transformed into a mosaic of bloodied meat and it toppled over.

  Jarek reloaded, then they carried on without a word or a backwards glance, though Jarek wore an expression of self-disgust and Taro kept having to swallow against the urge to puke. He’d just about got control of himself when Jarek stopped again. Taro halted too, though he couldn’t hear or see anything odd.

  ‘What is it?’ he whispered.

  ‘Not sure. I thought there was someone behind us.’

  Taro looked back. The corridor was empty. ‘Can’t see anyone.’

  Jarek shrugged. ‘Probably just this place getting to me.’

  ‘No shit,’ muttered Taro.

  ‘Attention all passengers.’

  Taro jumped as the calm, sexless voice filled the corridor. ‘We are experiencing some technical difficulties—’

  The voice sounded a lot like the com on the starliner from Vellern.

  ‘All passengers are advised to report to their steward. If he or she cannot be found please follow the indicators to your nearest assembly point and await further instructions. Kindly do not stop to collect personal belongings. Thank you.’

  Pale green arrows sprang to life on the walls, pointing back the way they’d come.

  ‘What the fuck’s going on?’ asked Taro.

  ‘That was an automated ship-wide warning message,’ said Jarek. ‘As for what triggered it . . . if I had to guess, I’d say someone’s screwing with the ship’s systems, and they’ve just managed to break something important.’

  ‘How worried should we be?’

  ‘Not sure. But it certainly isn’t good news.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  If the abomination found her now, she was lost. Nual had squeezed just about everything she could from her body, but after days with virtually no food or water, and with her system messed up by the shot from the stunner, she was going to have to stop soon. She wasn’t sure if whoever - whatever - had opened the airlock had come after her, but by the time her flight had been reduced to a loping stagger, she decided to assume it hadn’t. When she passed an open door to what must have once been a passenger lounge, she decided to risk going in. She would be trapped if she was being followed, but if so then at least she would meet her end somewhere comfortable. She collapsed onto a lounger, listening for sounds of pursuit over the rasp of her breaths.

  When she neither heard nor saw any immediate threat, and had got her body back under control, she looked around.

  The room boasted some of the amenities she’d used on her previous starliner trips, including a small bar area. She could see there was no stock behind the bar, but it might have water; worth a look. When she found a working spigot, she almost cried in relief. She cupped her hand under the flow and lapped up the water, stopping only when her stomach began to complain. She had just stood up again when a calm toneless voice filled the room:

  ‘Attention all passengers . . .’

  As she listened to the less-than-reassuring announcement she looked for its source, and spotted the clear hood of a com-booth on the far wall. It looked like a proper com, not just an internal data-console like the one she had used earlier, which meant it might allow communication off the ship. When the voice fell silent she lurched over to the booth.

  Inside, it came to life, and she selected touch control. With trembling fingers, she tried to call the Judas Kiss. The call went out, and she held her breath. The response came back a few seconds later: No such vessel in system. It looked like Taro had done the sensible thing and fled. At least he would be safe. For her, though, the last hope was gone. She sagged against the hood. Even if there had been someone else to call, she didn’t remember any numbers; why would she? She always called com-to-com, and hers had been taken when she was captured.

  Except . . . she did know one number. She remembered the number of the com she’d bought for Taro back in Stonetown, because it was a cheap model, and she’d had to programme the number manually into her own com. Not that there was much point calling a short-range com when he probably wasn’t even in the system any more . . . but she decided to try anyway, for the unashamedly sentimental reason that if he still had his com registered with a local messaging service, then she might at least hear his voice one last time.

  The call was picked up at once. ‘Hello?’

  It was him! ‘I—Taro, is that really you?’

  ‘Yes! Shit and blood, Nual, where are you?’

  ‘On the Sidhe ship—’

  ‘So’re we. We’ve come to rescue you!’

  Nual felt the crushing exhaustion and fear lift for a moment. ‘That’s crazy—That’s wonderful.’

  ‘Yes, yes it is. Wait . . . Jarek asks, what colour are the corridor decals there?’

  ‘What? Oh, I see. Blue, but I’m not in a corridor, I’m in a lounge.’

  She heard Taro talking to Jarek, then he said, ‘Is there a location ID anywhere on the booth you’re calling from?’

  ‘Ah - yes, on the screen.’ Nual read it off.

  ‘Jarek reckons he can find you! Stay where you are.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Nual? Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I—’ She kept blinking, but the tears still came. ‘I will be. Keep talking to me.’

  ‘’Course I will. Just try and stop me.’ He sounded like he was simultaneously laughing and crying. ‘What happened? I mean, you said, in the dream, about one of the Court coming for you. But this is something else, ain’t it?’

  ‘I think – I think the message to the Court must have been intercepted. ’

  ‘By this . . . thing? What is it?’ Taro sounded worried, as well he might.

  For a moment Nual wanted to admit her part in bringing the entity into being. But now was not the time. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I think it might be some sort of hive mind. It wants to absorb Sidhe consciousnesses, but most of th
em aren’t strong enough to handle it and they end up going mad, destroying themselves.’

  ‘No shit. This place is gonna give me nightmares for weeks.’