by T W Iain
Enya’s body tipped back, and Keelin fell with it, onto the desk.
Her talons sliced through warm, pulsating organs. Enya spasmed, arms and legs flailing. Keelin squeezed her fingers, felt something rupture. She twisted her wrist, clenched her fist tight, and yanked it from Enya’s body.
Keelin opened her fingers, the soft gore slapping onto the floor. Enya spasmed once more, twice, and then lay still.
Sweat coated Deva’s fingers as she turned the cog. Her forearm felt like it was on fire. But the opening was smaller now. A few more turns were all it would take.
The gunfire was loud as Siren, Soldier and Piran fired on the ghouls, but she pushed that from her mind, tried to ignore the warmth in the cabin.
“Keep going, Fairy!” Soldier yelled. Deva didn’t respond, but she gripped harder, turned the cog until her wrist ached.
The ghouls returned fire. Deva saw Piran dive for cover, saw his foot slip on the stream of blood that flowed from Eljin. Deva saw him turn to his friend.
Piran’s face was soaked. His forehead glistened, and there were two clean lines running down from the corners of his eyes. As he looked at Eljin, those eyes hardened.
He spun, before the ghouls had ceased this barrage. He yelled, loud enough that they must surely hear him, and he opened fire. He turned in a slow arc. Pellets struck metal, too fast for Deva to count the shots. He stepped forward, into the increasingly diminishing opening, screaming curses at the ghouls.
But the ghouls still fired. When they hit the Proteus, vibrations ran up Deva’s arm.
Soldier stood. “Bug, get down!” she yelled, and she grabbed him, pulling him back.
They both fell.
Siren took Piran’s place, taking shots. But she stood half-protected by the hatch door. Deva continued to turn the cog, and finally, with a creaking thud, the hatch sealed.
“You were supposed to leave a gap!” Siren yelled.
Deva ignored her. She swallowed, and looked into the cabin. Piran and Soldier had landed just behind her, close to where Eljin lay. Piran groaned and rolled over, one hand against his head.
But Soldier didn’t move.
It was obvious what had happened, even to Deva. There was no mistaking it.
One shot had removed half of Soldier’s face, and another shot had opened up her chest.
Her blood mingled with Eljin’s as gunfire rained down on the Proteus.
Ryann lunged as Murdoch’s hand grabbed the weapon, started to pull it from its holster.
She brought a knee forward. As she dropped, it slammed into his thigh. He groaned. His fingers dropped the weapon, and Ryann snatched it up.
She stood, pulling herself up with the desk, keeping the Preben aimed at him.
And she was calm. She took in deep, steady breaths. Her heart pounded, pumping blood into her muscles, keeping her stance steady. She connected the Preben to her lattice, locking the target, and rested her finger on the trigger.
Ryann took another deep breath, and became aware of the rest of the room.
There was blood on the floor. One NeoGen lay unmoving on the desk. The other stood, breathing heavily.
“Keelin, you okay?” She didn’t take her eyes from Murdoch as she spoke.
“Fine.” But there was pain in Keelin’s voice. “Enya won’t cause any more problems.”
Murdoch glanced at the dead NeoGen, then at the desk. His breathing was fast and shallow, and he stank. Ryann could smell him from two paces back. Sweat, but also fear, and failure.
He looked at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He winced as he shifted his position, raising himself so that he sat, his back against the wall. One hand held his broken ankle. He coughed.
And then he smiled. His chest shook, and a quiet sound breathed out from his bloody lips. It took Ryann a moment to realise he was laughing.
“You’ll never pull the trigger, Harris. You haven’t got it in you.”
With gritted teeth, she raised the Preben a fraction and gave the trigger a squeeze. The wall by Murdoch’s head exploded. He flinched as metal fragments shot into the room.
“You were saying?” she said, conscious of how much effort it took to keep her voice from shaking.
He snorted, coughed again. “Anyone can shoot a wall. But a person?” He shook his head. “I know you, Harris. This goes against your morals. You can’t kill someone in cold blood, not when they’re already injured.”
Ryann thought of Daman standing by the hatch into Jettison, and how much she’d wanted him dead. “Try telling that to your old friend,” she said. “Don’t see Daman round here, do you?”
“We analysed the data from the craft, Harris,” he said, his voice slowly gaining strength. “The hatch opened, you pushed him in. But you didn’t kill him. The infected in Jettison did that.” He shrugged. “If you had it in you, you would have shot him back in Haven. And you wouldn’t have let me live either. But you’re not a killer. You couldn’t do it then, and you can’t now. Your hand is already shaking.”
And it was. Not enough for him to notice, surely, but enough that Ryann felt the tremor, and the tightness in her wrist.
Because he was right. She couldn’t kill him. Maybe in a fight, if it was kill or be killed, she could protect herself with a fatal blow. But he was incapacitated. She had his weapon. He’d never run with that injury.
His NeoGen was gone, too. He was alone, and she had him captured. She should—she should take him to the authorities, make sure he paid. He didn’t deserve a quick way out, not for what he’d done. He deserved to suffer.
<Do it, Ryann,> Keelin said, her voice soothing. <For what he made me do to Cathal. For what he’s done to so many. You need to stop him. You let him live, and there will be others. You know it. You know what you need to do.>
And every word of that was the truth.
The Preben shook visibly this time. And when Ryann looked at her hands, they were covered in a sheen of sweat, grimy and discoloured.
She wanted him dead. She wanted to see the life disappear from his eyes. But she couldn’t squeeze the trigger.
Murdoch trembled, his laugh wracking his body. And he could endure the pain that was clear in his grimace, because he had won.
<Squeeze the trigger, Ryann,> Keelin said. <Lock your lattice in. You don’t even have to aim. Close your eyes and finish that monster. For me.>
Ryann trembled. Her trace fluctuated wildly, angry and fearful. Her lips twitched, and her shoulders shuddered.
Keelin looked down at Murdoch. Even in pain, he was confident. Beneath the grimace of pain he still wore that smug smile.
He still had control, just like he had from the start. He’d forced her to kill Cathal. He’d told Enya to kill Ryann.
But Keelin had interrupted that. He wasn’t in total control.
Murdoch shifted his position, wincing in pain, both hands now around his ankle. He kept his eyes fixed on Ryann, though.
<He’s right.> Ryann’s voice was weak, tearful even. <I can’t do it. I can’t squeeze the trigger.>
<He deserves to die. For everything he’s done, and everything he wants to do. You’ll be saving so many, Ryann.>
Ryann’s head shook as a single tear rolled down her cheek. And Murdoch grinned.
He pulled his leg closer, then let one hand rise to his head, mopping his brow.
Keelin thought the move too calculated. And she watched as his hand stretched up to rest on the desk.
He made no attempt to pull himself upright. Instead he laughed. “So predictable, Harris. And ultimately, so pathetic.”
Keelin watched his fingers reach under the desk. She took half a step to the left, further from the man—not ideal, but it gave her a better view. And she saw the shape.
<He’s got a weapon under the desk,> Keelin sussed to Ryann. <Kill him now!>
The Preben in Ryann’s hand shook, and her finger twitched. Her arms glistened with sweat, and her top clung to her skin.
But there was no pain now, at least not in her head. There hadn’t been since she’d beaten Enya. Her arm still stung, but that was different.
Keelin took a breath, and forced her fists to unclench. She felt her muscles and tendons respond to her instructions.
She stared at Murdoch, and imagined what it would feel like to rip out his insides. She pictured how she could snap his neck. Then she took a step closer.
His lip quivered—only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
She’d broken whatever Murdoch had implanted.
“You don’t control me,” she said, quietly and calmly.
His eyes flashed with fear, and he shot his hand under the desk.
Keelin surged. Nothing prevented her talons stabbing into his shoulder as her other hand reached round his neck. She lifted him up, his sour breath warm against her face as she leaned in close. She squeezed, felt his windpipe under her fingers, saw his eyes bulge. His arm moved, and she pulled her own arm down, her talons slicing through his flesh. He screamed, and there was a clatter as something fell to the floor.
She thought of all this man—this monster—had done, of the people he had manipulated, of the lives he had ruined. She thought of those in Haven, and those in the proving ground. She thought of her sisters.
She tightened her fingers round his windpipe, and let her talons extend. Blood ran down her hand.
“And you’ll never control anyone else,” she said.
She took one last look at the naked terror in his eyes, and then Keelin pulled her arm back as hard as she could.
His throat erupted, cutting off his final tortured scream, and she dropped his dead body to the ground.
It fell in a heap next to the Preben he’d never had an opportunity to fire.
Everything stopped.
One minute, the Proteus above him rung with the impact of gunfire, and screams and shouts from inside. The next, the shooting ceased.
Somewhere, a bird called out. The grass in front of Brice’s face bent in the breeze.
Then he heard muffled voices, as if they were behind a closed door. He assumed they were from the Proteus, as the ghouls would surely be sussing.
He peered round the ramp, and the metal barrier was unmoving. One slit was open, a lone weapon poking through. A cloud drifted across the sun, and the metal grew dull and lifeless.
A soft grinding sound forced Brice to turn his head—slowly, so that his vision didn’t swim—and he saw the Hermes. The hatch opened, and the ramp extended to the ground. The space behind was dark, but two figures emerged. One was tall, muscular, and grey, with hands coated in red. The other was shorter, dressed in simple leggings and a sleeveless top.
It wasn’t what he’d expect to see Ryann wearing, and his first thought was that she was a captive of the ghoul. But they walked side by side. There was nothing binding Ryann’s wrists or ankles, and the ghoul didn’t hold her in any way. Ryann strode down the ramp, strong and free.
Brice raised himself onto his elbows and crawled from beneath the Proteus’ ramp. It took effort, and he couldn’t hold in the groan. Maybe Ryann heard that, because when he pushed himself up so that he sat, resting awkwardly against the ramp itself, she was looking at him. Her brow furrowed, and her voice reached into his head.
<Brice? Is that you?>
If he had the strength, he would have shouted back. Instead, he raised a hand. And even that hurt.
Ryann raised hers. Then she turned to the ghoul and said something, leaning in close. Like the beast was a friend.
That worried Brice, until he remembered Ronat.
The ghoul spun its head, beady black eyes staring at Brice. Then the creature raised a hand, just as Ryann had.
<Keelin sends her regards,> Ryann sussed. <She’d talk to you directly, but she’s busy at the moment.>
Keelin!
Brice’s chest heaved, somewhere between a cough and a gasp. He peered into the open hatch, expecting to see the pilot appear. But then he realised—he was already looking at her.
He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. The thing that stood there was a monstrous grey beast, one of the killing machines that he’d seen slaughter so many. But she stood with Ryann, and she was making no aggressive moves. If anything, she looked contemplative. She looked…as if she was communicating with someone.
The ramp against his back vibrated, and Brice turned to see the Proteus’ hatch open—he only now realised it was closed. It pulled back at a snail’s pace, far enough to allow the barrel of a weapon to poke through. It was almost close enough for Brice to reach up and grab.
<Keelin’s talking to the other NeoGens. Things are precarious, but I think we’re going to be okay.>
Ryann smiled again. Brice gave a thumb’s up, even though he wasn’t totally sure what was happening. He assumed these NeoGens were the ghouls, but how did Ryann know about them? And how had Keelin become one?
Her name rolled round his mind, and he saw her, as she had most often appeared to him—the back of her head as she sat in her pilot’s seat, the hair falling forward. But when she turned, she’d brush the hair away, and he’d see her eyes, and the thin smile she always wore when flying.
Keelin.
He didn’t understand how, but he knew she’d saved them all.
<It’s over.>
That was the first thing Keelin told her sisters, before the hatch had even opened.
Almost as soon as Murdoch’s corpse fell to the floor, she felt their uncertainty. But there was none in her own mind. <Murdoch is no more. His instructions are null and void.>
<Who are you to make such a pronouncement?> Dia sounded angry. <And what does Enya have to say on this?>
<Enya’s dead too.> No need to hide this. If they searched, they would know the truth anyway. Her trace was already cold. <She attacked me. I had to defend myself.> Keelin sensed their anger. <It was not something I wanted to do.>
<He ordered it?>
<He ordered her attack, but not my defence. That was self-preservation.>
<You’re a traitor, NuGamma Eski. When we have completed this mission, we will deal with you.>
<On whose orders?> She let that sink in, then added, <And my name is not NuGamma Eski>
<Kesia, then.>
<Nor that. I’m Keelin.>
<What?> Dia’s voice was sharp.
<Murdoch labelled me Kesia, but before the company changed me I was Keelin. And that is who I choose to be now.>
<No. You are NuGamma Eski, code NG6, familiar Kesia. And that is all. There was no before!>
<Yes there was. I was—am—Keelin. A pilot. I worked in Haven. I have a past, just like you—all of you. And you each have a real name too.>
<False! I am NuGanna Dyo. I am Dia. I am a perfect being. My job is to serve my master.>
<Your master is no more. You’re free, Dia. Or whoever you truly are.>
<Traitor! Sisters, we complete the mission.>
<Maybe we should think about this.> That was Ennis, her voice quiet but strong.
<You would turn traitor too?>
<Our sister’s words make much sense, and deserve contemplation. And…and I will admit that I have been troubled by dreams. If our sister’s words are to be believed, maybe there is more to those dreams.>
<I’m uncertain too,> sussed Pen, and Keelin couldn’t help but wonder if she had experienced ‘dreams�
� too. <Without Murdoch, we need to decide on our next step.>
<We complete the mission!>
<But that was Murdoch’s mission!> Pen sussed sharply. <Not ours. Without a leader, we need to reassess. We need to…discuss the situation.>
<We are.> Dia’s anger was strong, her trace a vivid red—and that made Keelin wary.
<No,> Pen answered, calmly. <Not just us. We need to talk with them.>
<The NeoGens want a meeting, Brice.> There was some surprise in Ryann’s voice. <They’ve voted four-two in favour. Are you able to pass on messages to those in the Proteus?>
He wasn’t sure if he could even talk, but he gave Ryann another thumb’s up. He didn’t want to risk another bout of nausea if he nodded.
<Okay. They want to meet on open ground. They’ll drop the barrier and their weapons if you open the hatch and drop yours. Then you walk out, and they meet you. They won’t attack. They only want to talk. Can you pass that on?>
He gave Ryann a thumbs-up again, the reached up and tapped against the hull of the Proteus. It should have been a bang, but he couldn’t bring his hand down hard enough.
“What’s that?” Another barrel appeared, twisting left and right.
Brice recognised the voice. He coughed, and rasped. “Siren? It’s Brice.”
“Brice?” That was a different voice—Deva. “The ghoul…you’re alive?”
“Yeah. Still got your screwdriver. Thanks.” His throat was dry, and he coughed. “Piran and Eljin there?”
There was a pause, and then Piran said, “Here.” Brice waited for a sarcastic comment or joke, but none came.
“Keelin and Ryann. They’re here too. In the Hermes.” Brice had so much he wanted to say, but only sentence fragments came out. They’d have to do for now. “The ghouls—they want to meet.”
He passed on Ryann’s message, in broken words. Siren cursed as he talked, throwing insults at the ghouls.
“We can’t trust them!” she spat when he’d finished.
“Do we have a choice?” said Deva. “We’re almost out of ammo.” Her voice grew stronger as she spoke. “It’s not like we’ve got anything to lose.”
