Iástron

by James C. Dunn

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ANNA STEPPED OUT of the shadows on the far side of the street. Jon Del’oueste stood waiting. They met at the Surrogate Sunset, which cast a tender orange and ruby-red glow throughout the domes, eight-hundred years to the night since their home became a free world.

  Only, it was not as free as everyone supposed. Passage from the solitary moon was reserved for the senior council members, the super rich, and the Titanese Guard. Since she would never be any of those Anna had little to stay for. If she remained on Titan her uncle would never let her join the Guard; she would be sentenced to a life confined within the domes, unable to leave or fulfil her greatest wishes: to see space; to travel amongst the stars and glimpse upon other planets, moons, and civilizations. And if leaving meant she could hold onto Jon then leaving is what she would do.

  She had written a letter for her uncle and sister, but had torn it into many pieces. The goodbye she had written and torn up several times was not the one Anna wanted to say. Unsure of what parting message she wished to express, she had ultimately decided not to leave a letter behind. She was running away, and wasn’t proud of it. What would a letter mean anyway, when the message was clear? Titan was no longer her home.

  The two ran together for several minutes through the darkening central streets before Jon took them down a quiet alley. The sound of festivities filled the surrounding area.

  ‘What took you so long?’ Jon asked as he lifted a large sheet of canvas to reveal an electric-powered motor-scrambler, with space enough for two.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. Upon leaving she had bumped into Anthea Godíno, who, though kind-hearted, was impossible to silence when she began to talk.

  ‘We’d better be quick,’ he said. ‘Who knows who or what we’ll have to dodge on the way to the dock.’

  ‘I thought you had all this planned out,’ she said. He smiled and signalled for her to clamber on. She mounted the scrambler, wrapped her arms around him, and took a deep breath.

  The two took off down the lively streets. Anna held onto Jon tight. Even surrounded by uncertainty she felt safe with him; he would always protect her. The thrills and the intense beating of her heart, coupled with the cool air blowing through her dark tresses, held the excitement she felt within. It was a breathtaking exhilaration. They were going to do it. They were going to make a new life and do all the things they wanted to do.

  Unfortunately, they had only reached the connecting city when a piercing siren sounded behind. At once she considered the worst: that their leaving had been discovered and her uncle’s men in pursuit. Jon took them on a series of detours as the sirens became louder, lights flashing up into the inside of the dome, and they managed to pass from the central city through another, and finally toward their destination. Her old life echoed behind and the sirens gained upon them, louder and closer.

  The rolling sound of thunder then crashed through the Twelve Cities. Eruptions of light far above. A trail of blazing fire carried through the domes, the flames climbing higher than even the tallest buildings could reach. Jon stopped the scrambler. They looked to each other. Both wondered the same thing. Could it be possible? Was Titan under attack once more?

  A military convoy reeled nearby and the light from the searching vehicles startled them into rushing off. An enormous, towering building succumbed to the fires and flames and explosions within, and collapsed close by, the black smoke pursuing them as they tore past. The dock was in sight.

  ‘We’re nearly there!’ Jon cried over the furore.

  But Anna was already questioning their choice to leave. Titan was under attack. She wanted to go back, to Gílana and her uncle and, strangely enough, Callista.

  ‘Maybe we shouldn’t go!’ she shouted.

  ‘You’re joking!’ Jon said. ‘This is the reason we’re leaving. I’m going to protect you now! There’s no turning back!’

  And he was right. The scrambler pulled away from a hovercraft passing overhead, and they burned down another alley. Anna couldn’t find the breath to reply and fought to hold on tight as Jon pulled a dangerous manoeuvre to avoid yet another party of Titanese Guard on the next street. Several vehicles pulled up ahead. Jon swerved, sending the scrambler and its two passengers flying through the air. Dancing lights flickered and a burst of lightning shot towards them.

  * * *

  The assassin Gordian’s words raced through Ruben’s mind as he stood gazing out of Maxim Pinzón’s office, pillars of smoke filling the sphere before him as the stench of burning turned his stomach:

  ‘If you don’t, my device will ensure you all die tonight . . .’

  What device? Could he have meant Erebus?

  Minutes had passed since the Crilshans had fled. Many of the Titanese Guard had been killed in the encounter, and now he stood alone. His men had begun the hunt. The masked intruders would not get far.

  ‘Yes,’ he said into his comm. ‘We’re still go. The Stellarstream must leave.’ Other members of the Command had attempted to stop Captain Ferranti’s vessel from leaving. But they did not know the significance of this launch. ‘The Stellarstream has my clearance to depart.’

  —As you wish, replied Captain Mendoza. Can I suggest one thing, Ruben?

  ‘Go ahead.’

  —Activate the Surrogate Sun. Daylight will help us flush these vermin out.

  And there it hit him. That was Gordian’s design.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  —Are you sure? We—

  ‘No,’ he repeated.

  The Surrogate Sun. Was it possible?

  —Ruben?

  The last Titan-Crilshan war, a war in which his father fought, had been waged with such ferocity, such deception, such trickery. The old tactics of terror used by the enemy were so devastating that the free worlds had almost fallen to the Dishan. If Ruben knew anything of Crilshar, and he certainly did, then he knew that the House of Dishan were great admirers of the old ways of war. And one plan in particular stood out.

  ‘Ernesta!’ Ruben cried.

  —Yes, sir?

  ‘I want an immediate lockdown of all twelve cities! Have your teams search and evacuate key areas in the interior of the domes, starting with Central Tower.’

  —At once, General, she replied. What, may I ask, are we looking for?

  Years of training allowed him to contain his panic. ‘Explosives, Captain. Enough to wipe out the entire Twelve Cities. Or more specifically . . . the Surrogate Sun.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  DAZED AND ACHING, Anna realised quickly that she was moving along the ground, her legs behind her, as cloaked shadows pulled her through, each with a tight grip on her arms. Down an empty back-street, they dragged her out of sight of the search lights and military convoys.

  ‘Jon,’ she said, ‘are you all right?’

  ‘I’m here,’ he grumbled. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Quiet!’ spat one of the men as they dragged her into the back entrance of a small building adjoining the alley. They threw her to the ground in the dark; the thud of Jon’s body landed beside. Around them a gruff, raspy voice spoke a language she recognised. It was a dark accent. It was . . . Crilshan.

  ‘Armata ibanakra,’ he said. ‘Manaw ikri!’

  A dim light appeared in the corner and Anna could make out three or four figures, all wearing strange masks. ‘Who are—’

  ‘Quiet, girl!’ one said. Then he shouted, ‘Ichita Gordian! Ichita Gordian!’

  Replies from the adjoining room.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Jon whispered.

  The Crilshans closest to them looked to each other, and one pulled out a blade.

  ‘Don’t hurt us!’ Jon said.

  ‘Why? Who are you?’ The raspy voice echoed around the room.

  ‘I am Jon Del’oueste. And this is the niece of none other than General Berenguer!’

  ‘Jon, no!’ Anna cried. Big mistake.

  The Crilshan approached her, clutch
ed her face firmly. He stunk of sweat and dirt. ‘Excellent!’ he cried, backing away and clapping his gloved hands together. ‘We have them both!’

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘Both?’

  ‘Anna!’ rolled a cry amid a tumult of stifled tears as Gílana Berenguer was lugged from the adjoining room and thrown to the ground, where she crawled into her big sister’s arms.

  ‘Gílana! How did they get you?’

  ‘They were waiting . . . at home . . . they killed the guard, and . . .’

  ‘Quiet!’ the Crilshan snarled.

  The room went silent. The sound of cries and screams, which had died away once they had been thrown inside, was suddenly so much louder. And closer. Anna’s heart pounded. The violent snap and boom of the electric weapons of the Guard filled the alleyway outside.

  ‘We’re here!’ Gílana cried. ‘Help—’

  The nearby sentry drove his blade into the ground beside them. ‘Gordian!’

  An unmasked Crilshan entered the badly-lit room. He looked down at the three captives, stroking a disfigured face and cautiously listening to the commotion outside.

  ‘Heed the warning,’ Gordian said, not in Crilshan, but the Common Tongue. ‘Prepare to leave. We’re going. Iturat!’

  Another gestured to Anna, Jon, and Gílana. ‘Artak fiyl ayana!’

  ‘Yes.’ Gordian nodded. ‘Bring them too.’ He motioned to some others, who, until now, had remained concealed in the dark. He led them to the back door where they pulled out firearms and moved to join the battle outside.

  The door slammed shut behind them, followed by an ear-splitting burst of air from the alley. A rumbling shook the room, and hot metal, stone, and dust fell through the roof. Something collided with Anna. She pulled her sister close, shielding her with her body. The ceiling collapsed inward, crushing the cloaked man before them.

  As Gílana held onto her tighter than ever, Jon leaned over to Anna, panting. ‘This is what’s coming to Titan,’ he said. ‘You have to realise, leaving is our only chance. We have to get out. Now.’

  Anna shook her head. ‘I can’t take Gílana out there.’

  ‘You can’t leave her here! Titan is no longer safe.’ He clutched her hand, she took hold of Gílana, and the three scrambled from the room and into the next. From there a crumbling stairway led them out and they charged across the rubble.

  The military hovercraft she had witnessed from her terrace now circled above, darting and avoiding return strikes from the dark, cloaked men. Overmatched, they nevertheless continued to fight back against the Titanese Guard that had discovered them. The three stopped at the edge of the roof and looked out. The dock was straight ahead. They could make it if they ran.

  Jon took hold of Anna and looked into her eyes. ‘We have to go,’ he begged. ‘We’ll save your sister too.’

  ‘Jon, I—’

  ‘Think!’ he said. ‘What would your uncle want? I know he’d want you both safe! Well that’s what I’m going to do! COME ON!’

  And they took off for the dock, hoping that the shuttlecraft would still take off in the crisis surrounding them. Anna dragged her terrified sister behind as three masked Crilshans took chase. She prayed she was making the right decision.

  * * *

  ‘Callista!’ Ruben Berenguer tore through the dusty hallway leading to the Iástron’s home. ‘Callista, are you there?’

  No reply.

  Confident the Guard would take care of his nieces, his thoughts had turned to Callista. If he was right and the assassins were attacking the Surrogate Sun, there was nothing more he could do. Had Gordian been telling the truth, had he injected her with the same poison as Lady Pinzón, then he had to find her. He had to make sure she was all right. The old Iástron had nobody else.

  ‘Callista? Lucasta?!’

  He heaved his way through her door, and let out a cry of anguish. Lay sprawled across the floor on her front, Callista wasn’t moving. He charged forward, raised her frail body, and turned to leave. But he stopped suddenly and fell to his knees. A small metal device, planted on the table before him, counted down, reaching its end. And with it their end:

  5 . . .

  ‘Callista!’ he sobbed. ‘Wake up, I need you!’

  4 . . .

  This was it.

  3 . . .

  ‘No.’

  2 . . .

  Suddenly and miraculously, as though in her deathlike state she could still hear the cries of her little Ruben, Callista bolted from his arms and stretched out both of hers at the device.

  1 . . .

  His ears split inside with the drumming carrying through his head. A loud and painful pop and suddenly he could hear nothing. Callista held out both hands and they shook wildly. He could tell she was in agony. But she held on.

  A blue and violet light erupted from the device, and a great heat, but it stopped before it reached them. Contained in a colossal sphere which filled the room, Callista held the explosion at bay. Her expression exposed the piercing torment within as the light reached its climax and then folded inward. She collapsed at his side and the room plunged into darkness.

  * * *

  Anna raced across the metal platform leading up to the docked shuttlecraft, Gílana’s hand held tightly in hers. Jon followed close behind. The cloaked men had taken chase and were right on their tail.

  ‘Faster!’ she heard Jon call.

  ‘We are!’

  ‘I MEAN IT!’

  The shuttlecraft would be leaving at any moment, but they could still make it. There was time!

  They reached a huge metal blast door, but there was no way they could get through. ‘Follow me!’ Jon shouted as he caught up. He stepped off the platform and onto a small ledge, less than a foot wide, attached to the side of the craft. He picked up a hidden tool bag from a secure gap he had left it, strapped it around his middle, and reached out to pull them across.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Gílana screamed.

  ‘It’s either this or them!’ he said, pointing to three wraiths now running down the platform towards them, blades in hand. Gordian was coming. A torrent of bullets flew at the three, and the sisters dropped to the ground, sparks raining all around them.

  ‘Okay fine, I’m coming!’ Gílana jumped up and bounded across. Anna helped her onto the ledge, following closely herself. They shifted along precariously until they reached another platform, slightly higher.

  She turned. Already the masked Crilshans were on the ledge in pursuit.

  Jon clambered up and the girls followed. He put down the large backpack and removed a sizeable drill, quickly and precisely detaching the corners of a tapered grate. Finishing, he pushed the drill over the ledge; it fell far and, to their delight, took one of their attackers with it.

  ‘In!’ he said, pulling out a torch, and again they followed him into a narrow tunnel, crawling on their hands and knees as fast as they could.

  ‘How do you know where we’re going?’ Anna said.

  ‘I told you,’ he replied, ‘I’ve planned this all out.’

  Before Anna could reply a deafening sound filled their ears and the tunnel surrounding them trembled. ‘Oh, no,’ she whimpered. Her stomach lurched and she pulled herself along faster.

  ‘Okay, don’t worry! Don’t panic!’ shouted Jon over the roar that seemed to be growing in intensity. ‘Just keep moving!’ They came eventually to the end of the tunnel. Jon stopped. ‘No.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Anna asked.

  ‘No!’ Jon screamed. ‘NO, NO, NO!’

  ‘What’s wrong? What is it?’

  ‘The vent,’ he said. ‘It’s locked on this end too!’

  Anna gasped in horror. ‘We’re trapped?’

  ‘It’s not meant to be! I checked the plans!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘It shouldn’t—it can’t be!’

  ‘Please, no!’ Gílana shrieked. ‘This is all your fault. Look what you’ve done!’

  ‘Move back!’ he barked as the tunnel around them sh
ook so hard they quickly began to fall back down the passage. Anna held onto her sister and the passage walls, but as she did she lost her grip and Gílana slammed into the interior wall of the passageway. She smashed her head and at once went limp.

  Anna pulled her away from Jon and he took a deep breath, examining the vent lock. He then switched positions and faced Anna. As their eyes met, terrified, he said, ‘I’m so sorry,’ and he began kicking the vent now behind him.

  Anna didn’t know what to do. She clung to Gílana as they were thrown around the tunnel. It was so dark, so awful. It would be the last thing she would see before she died.

  ‘Come on! Come on!’ he screamed as he kicked, harder and harder.

  Then the deafening noise ended; the shaking ceased and the light went out. Pulled by some invisible energy Anna was forced forward, and as she felt a sharp pain tear through her forehead, the cold hand of death stroked by, and she fell from consciousness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  PALE BLUE LIGHT guided Antal Justus down the claustrophobic hallway of Erebus Station. So as not to pass by his destination without realising, he dimmed his eyes and slowly examined each metal door on the corridor; he didn’t much fancy having to backtrack again and recruit a passer-by to guide him. It didn’t look good and he felt rather foolish doing so. Eventually he found what he wanted, and read out loud the writing on the door before him.

  ‘Section Three. Dorm Seventeen.’

  Inside was the man he’d been sent to see: First Project Officer Araman Alwar.

  Justus had been part of the Erebus Project for almost two weeks and was still becoming accustomed to the cold and quiet atmosphere which followed him as dauntingly as the thunderstorm he’d left behind in the desert of Rotavar. His nightmares had finally ceased; he hadn’t suffered a single one since his approach to the station. It did not, however, stop him mulling over in his mind the girl he’d seen or the strange sensation he felt in his stomach whenever he thought of her.

  He was beginning to like his life on Erebus. Though he wasn’t getting paid he was nonetheless a well-respected captain of seventy loyal soldiers; he no longer had to worry about where his next meal was coming from; and he was definitely enjoying sharing his bed with one of the most beautiful women he’d laid eyes upon. He didn’t even have to worry about what was happening on the station in terms of research or funding; his job was security and even that had become merely routine. He could definitely get used to it.