The relationship between the two killers was a mystery as far as Sheila was concerned. The fact that Rayan was in prison for murder was stretching belief. Narad had almost certainly killed someone, probably a lot of people, to be put inside, but Rayan just did not look the type. Except sometimes. And there was the fact that all the other prisoners seemed to be afraid of her, an old woman who tried not to laugh too much because when she did it always ended in a coughing fit. And there was the name they called her in Drotic, the common dromelan language, which Sheila had eventually discovered meant ‘Rayan Who is Without Mercy.’ She was Rayan the Merciless to most of the inmates.
Somehow, these two respected each other. Enough that Narad took her scolding while bantering back. With the wound closed using some form of medical glue, he stretched his arm and said something which caused Rayan to bark out a laugh and slap his huge left shoulder.
‘You have Shil,’ Rayan said in Gadek Taved. ‘She is more woman than you can take. No need for more.’ Sheila’s cheeks went scarlet.
‘I take Shil often,’ Narad replied, leering at her.
‘Fa!’ Rayan replied, followed by a word which Sheila did not understand, but suspected it was impugning his manhood.
Narad roared with laughter and started nodding with a look on his face which could have been resignation. It was surreal! He seemed to be admitting she was too much for him, which had to be a huge joke, but he was also taking this from a woman he could have snapped in half with one hand!
‘Shil has been here ninety days,’ Rayan said, her face straightening a little.
Narad nodded, sobering suddenly. ‘Does not seem so long. But it is.’
The sudden shift in mood was not really what Sheila needed. ‘Lawyer here tomorrow. Perhaps news,’ she said.
That just led to an uncomfortable silence. No one really expected anything from Tobritic.
106.1205 Local.
Unshar Tobritic sat on the opposite side of a transparent plastic wall. It was not actually a security measure – the dromelans were acclimatised to low temperatures and the heat on Sheila’s side would have caused him problems. The prisoners were not allowed cold-weather clothing so she could not join him on his side without freezing to death. So there was a wall, and his voice coming over speakers.
‘StarCorps have not responded at this time. Apology, my requests for release have been denied.’
Sheila nodded. She had expected as much really, but there was always a little hope whenever she had to meet with the parasitic worm. ‘If I made released, what would I do?’
‘There is that.’ He was trying to make the best of it. He was, actually, a fairly nice man, or seemed to be. He did seem to be genuinely concerned for her. They both knew that unless StarCorps decided to do anything about her case other than ignore it, the prison, terrible as it seemed, was the best place for her on Dromeli.
‘T’ney D’nova,’ she said, broaching her other concern. ‘Find his place?’ Clumsy, but she hoped it got the point across.
‘Yes!’ Tobritic seemed rather pleased to have something positive to tell her. ‘D’nova, uh, confirmed criminal?’ Sheila nodded to indicate she thought she understood; T’ney had been convicted. ‘He is here. In the maximum-security wing. He escaped from the alien wing the last time he was here.’
‘Thank you for finding that.’
He smiled. ‘Your Gadek Taved is improved.’
She smiled back. She did not really want to point out that, stuck in Veldro thanks to his inability to get her out, she had little else to do but learn.
~~~
The alien wing was mixed gender – and by mixed they meant male, female, and other – and that included the showers. Sheila had been horrified at the prospect for about a week, and then the fact that she was actually showering in warm water had been her only concern since no one was going to cross Narad.
Almost no one. She felt a hand on her breast as she picked up her soap, and it was far too small to be one of Narad’s hands. It squeezed.
‘If Narad catch you doing that, you lose hand.’
‘Narad isn’t here.’ She thought she recognised the voice, and she might have identified it if he had got to say anything else. The next sound he made was a yelp, followed by a scream.
Sheila glanced around to see Rayan taking the showerhead beside hers. The old woman’s body was pretty good for someone her age. Not that Sheila was sure how old Rayan was, but there was not much sag or wrinkles there.
The would-be rapist was lying in a twisted heap on the floor behind them. Sheila was still not sure who he was because his face was turned away and covered by a mess of black hair. He had dark-blue, mottled skin and his back was probably not supposed to bend like that.
‘Thank you,’ Sheila said, turning back to her washing.
‘My duty,’ Rayan replied.
~~~
‘You said it was your duty?’ Sheila asked as they lay in the near dark after lights out. ‘What did you mean?’
The old woman sighed, and then there was silence and Sheila thought she might have touched a nerve. When Rayan spoke, however, her voice sounded sad, or maybe resigned. ‘Long ago I was given a gift. A gift and a burden. Have you knowledge of the veda?’
‘Uh… They make Gadek Taved. They had… lot of space.’ Sheila had no idea how to say ‘empire,’ but that sounded like it would work.
‘They did. They owned much of the galaxy for many years, and then they were gone. They are… How can I say this? They are people from old stories?’
‘I understand. We would say “legendary.”’
‘Legendary…’ Rayan repeated the word as though tasting the sound of it and storing it away for reference. ‘It is “parina” in Gadek Taved. They worked miracles. They knew things of great power. They knew everything. But they are gone now. No one takes their place. No one knows what they knew.’
‘Okay, but they did not give gift to you.’
‘One story of the veda speaks of the Veda Dorihin. Seven of them. No one knows what they were, but they were the… best things of the veda. When the veda had the galaxy, the Dorihin found knowledge and did the will of the veda. When the veda were gone, some of the Dorihin lived. They still found knowledge. They still did the will of the veda. One was Anoa. Anoa was my gift. To help people who suffer. To find those who do wrong.’ There was a long sigh. ‘I tired of my duty. The fire must pass on. Sleep now, Shil. Tomorrow will be long.’
Sheila frowned, but she turned over and tried to sleep. Aside from daily exercise, and the exercise she got with Narad, there was little to tire her and she had not been sleeping well. She would have blamed her situation, but she was actually finding the prison strangely relaxing. She was using her mind in ways she had not had to bother with for years, and Rayan and Narad kept her safe. With all the exercise she was getting, she had never been fitter. On a very weird level, she had a better relationship with Narad than she had had with Brian! What did that say about her marriage?
But the story Rayan had told was keeping her from sleeping. ‘The fire must pass on?’ What did that mean? What was the burden she had grown tired of? Helping those who suffered? Well, there had to be a lot of suffering people about, so it would be tiring and quite a burden. Was that why she was locked up? Had she sought out those who did wrong and killed them? It made more sense than the idea that Rayan was a cold-blooded killer, but then being in a place like Veldro would have to be torture.
Turning over again, Sheila stared into the red-lit room for a few seconds and then jammed her eyes closed, willing herself to sleep.
108.1205 Local.
Rayan was looking pale and there was something wrong with her eyes. She had groaned when she had got out of bed and looked weak when she had stood up; Sheila had offered to bring her her breakfast but she had refused.
Breakfast was the same every day: a bowl of nutritious slop. Occasionally there would be a fight over dinner when something particularly pleasant was on the menu. That was somethin
g of a subjective term and Sheila had never quite worked out why some people wanted more of any of it. Fights never broke out over breakfast. The milky goo would fill your stomach and keep you going all day, but no one found it appetising. Today Rayan seemed to be forcing it down more than usual, and Sheila was not the only one to notice.
‘Is she well?’ Narad asked quietly when it was mid-morning and Rayan had left to go to the toilet. Sheila had noticed him hovering, and that he had waited for her to be alone before asking.
‘Not sure.’
The big man’s brow creased. ‘You look after her today. All day.’
Normally she would have spent an hour or two with him in the afternoon. She looked at him and saw the worry on his face. ‘I will.’
~~~
There were two things which worried Sheila as she watched Rayan. The first was physical: Rayan’s eyes were normally green, but today they were darker, almost brown, with flecks of bright yellow, even gold, in them. That did not seem natural and she had suggested as subtly as she could that the old woman ask to see a doctor.
The reply she had got was part of the second thing which worried Sheila. Rayan was accepting help more than usual. The suggestion had been rebuffed, but not with the kind of snide comment it would normally have elicited. No, Rayan knew there was something wrong with her and was doing her best to hide it, but she was too weak to cast Sheila’s assistance aside.
When her dinner was picked over and then put aside, a look of sick distaste on her lined face and more yellow flecks showing in her eyes, Sheila was having no more of it.
‘You are sick, Rayan. See the doctor.’
Rayan gave her a smile. ‘I am dying, Shil. There is nothing the doctor can do.’
Sheila looked at her and swallowed. ‘Dying?’
‘Yes, but do not worry. Help me through today. Things will be better tomorrow.’
Some sort of chronic condition then. Maybe cancer of some sort. Surely they had ways of curing cancers here? The cut in Narad’s shoulder was almost healed thanks to the sealant Rayan had used on him. Well, if she would be better in the morning…
‘When you need help, ever, you ask, yes?’
‘Deal made.’
Sheila nodded. ‘Deal made.’ She just hoped Rayan’s pride was not going to get in the way of her asking.
~~~
‘Shil?’ Rayan’s voice came from the bunk below and Sheila opened her eyes. ‘Are you awake?’
‘Yes.’ Sheila hoped her voice was not betraying the worry she was feeling: her friend sounded so weak.
‘Come down, please.’
Slipping off the bunk and dropping as lightly as she could to the floor, Sheila crouched beside Rayan’s bed. Rayan’s eyes were closed and she lay there looking even paler than before. She was going to be better by morning? Maybe it was worse this time than previous attacks. Maybe she really needed a doctor…
‘It took too long to find you,’ Rayan said. ‘I grew tired and wanted an end, but the fire must pass on and it took too long to find the right person.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘You will. You will understand everything.’ Rayan moved, faster than a sick, old woman had a right to. Her hands gripped Sheila’s shoulders and Sheila tried to back away involuntarily, but the old woman’s grip was firm. Using that grip for leverage, she pulled herself upright and opened her eyes. Sheila gasped: Rayan’s eyes were a fiery orange-gold colour. ‘The fire… The fire must pass on.’
And then Rayan’s lips were on Sheila’s. Sheila had never kissed another woman in her life, and this was not exactly a kiss, but Rayan pulled her closer and deepened the contact, her tongue sliding between Sheila’s lips. The response was almost involuntary, but as the shock faded there was no embarrassment to replace it. Rayan had become a friend almost as much as Lindsey had been back on Earth, and somehow kissing her seemed almost natural even under the weird circumstances.
Rayan slipped back onto the bed, releasing Sheila’s shoulders. Her eyes were green again. ‘Done,’ Rayan whispered. ‘Finally. Go to Radahara, Shil. You will find answers there. Thank you.’
Sheila blinked. ‘For what?’ she asked, but she knew she would not get an answer. The light had gone out of Rayan’s eyes; her chest was not moving.
Tears welled in Sheila’s eyes and she brushed them angrily away. The first thing Rayan had taught her, after teaching her enough language to do so, was that tears were for places where you could afford to show weakness, and Veldro was not that kind of place. There was a button beside the door which could be used to call a guard in an emergency. If you used it and there was not an emergency, as far as the guard viewed it, they got as annoyed as a robot could get, but she figured this would count.
She stabbed at the button, then figured that getting dressed for their arrival might be wise. So she picked up her shorts and began to pull them on, and a stab of pain shot through her right temple. Wincing at the sudden pain, she waited for it to subside and then finished pulling on her shorts. She reached for her inner top, and that was when someone rammed a red-hot poker through her forehead and began twisting it. Screaming, she fell to the floor, writhing in agony as fire seemed to fill her head.
~~~
She dreamed of running through a burning building. Her screams went unanswered as she called out for anyone to save her.
She ran, and found a door, but when she went through it, she found herself in a landscape of flowing lava and burning trees. She kept running, always running. The heat was incredible and she thought she heard voices, worried voices, talking about temperature and pain.
She dreamed of a desert, stumbling barefoot over burning sand under a glaring sun. Her throat was dry, but there was no water and no end to the blasted landscape and the heat…
Until there was and she dreamed that she was lost, wandering through huge halls filled with books she could not read. It seemed as though understanding the books could free her, but they were all written in a script she did not know…
Until she did, but the words made no sense even when she could read them. But now she had hope and Rayan’s voice in her head. Rayan was dead. Was she dead too?
‘It was this way for me too, Shil,’ Rayan’s voice said. ‘You will understand. You will understand everything, just as I did, and those before me.’
And then she did.
122.1205 Local.
There was a gentle ticking sound from her right. Opening her eyes, Shil saw the biological monitoring system she had been hooked up to. The ticking was the beat of her heart. It sounded strong and all the readouts suggested she was healthy. But the machine would be a problem.
Rolling onto her side, she reached out and tapped over controls on the multifunction display. The ticking fell silent but no alarms sounded, and she began removing the sensor pads from her skin. She was not entirely sure how she knew how to operate the machine, but she did and right now she was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Another bit of surprising knowledge she had gained was that the hospital wing was about the most insecure part of the prison. She needed to move quickly. They checked on her frequently and she needed to be gone and well on her way before that happened.
Her prison uniform was on a chair in the room. She ignored the yellow top: it was not going to make much difference outside and it was bright – she needed dark. The biomonitor said it was close to midnight and that she had been unconscious for fourteen days. It would be dark and cold outside, but she knew she could survive the cold now. How she knew was a mystery, but she knew.
There was an air vent in her room which was keeping the space heated. The native staff wore cooling suits when they had to work in there. She knew that too. She also knew that the vent would be a tight fit, but she could squeeze through because she had always been pretty flexible, and the duct beyond was wider. It would be hot in there, but she would be able to operate and the tightly fitted clothing would be an advantage. That was something the prison authoritie
s had not considered.
She knew the route she had to take. She had seen plans of the prison and knew every inch of it. And that was crazy because she had never seen plans of the prison… But she had and they led her to a heavy ventilation duct in the north wall. From there she needed to cross to the perimeter fence and that would be the most difficult part because she did not know the timing of the lights. She did know that they used searchlights at night rather than multispectral sensors and that was because someone had decided to cut costs on the exterior security.
A few minutes of observation through the wire duct cover and she knew what she had to do. Slipping out, she waited for a light to pass and then ran, angling right and then dropping flat between the fence and a rock which did not hide her, but did break up her outline. The light returned, passing over her quickly, and then she was up and scaling the chain-link fence, and over and across the road where there was a ditch she could drop into.
She paused, planning. The lights of the city were a mile away, but she would skirt it. She needed to get to the spaceport where the Cantarvey would be sitting in impound locks. Circumventing those would not be trivial, and she would need fuel. Those were problems which could wait, however. One challenge at a time.
Staying low, the woman who now thought of herself as Shil began running toward the lights.
The Cantarvey, Dromdaria Spaceport, 123.1205.
‘It is a pleasure to see you again, Sheila,’ Cantarvey said from the flight deck speakers as Shil concentrated on one of the auxiliary control displays normally hidden away behind a panel on one wall. ‘Might I ask what you are doing?’
‘I’m reprogramming your primary command code to respond to me as your owner.’ They were speaking English, which almost seemed odd; Shil could not remember the last time she had spoken an entire sentence in English.
‘That would require administrative access. I would also be required to take steps to stop you.’
‘Uh-huh. That’s why I shut down your in-ship interfaces and the communications system before I started.’
‘Oh. I was unaware that you had the ability to circumvent my security systems in the manner you appear to be doing.’ The ship’s voice was calm and polite, because there was no real emotion behind it. Cantarvey was not really pleased to see her because she was never really pleased or displeased about anything. More or less.
The Eyes of the Huntress (Shil the Huntress Book 1) Page 4
