The Destroyer of Worlds Page 16

  “Understood,” said Hanson. “Thanks – both of you. With any luck, I'll see you soon. Hanson out.”

  He turned to comms off, and with Viache's help, opened the doors. Together, they just about managed to lift Eulen's suit, and struggled with it into the concrete tunnel to the outside.

  There was a crash from above. A moment later, a shot from a laser cracked against the floor by the shaft, making a patch of concrete shatter. Charred black fragments pattered against Hanson's suit. Viache swore in Albascene.

  “Hurry!” Hanson told her. Together, they managed to shuffle along the tunnel until they reached a branch. One led to the outside, the other to the transit pod. They hefted Eulen down towards the pod.

  The faint hum of effector fields under strain came from the bottom of the lift shaft. One of the Albascene must have jumped.

  There was a pod waiting. With relief, Hanson and Viache carried Eulen aboard. At the little terminal, Hanson tapped a terminal, grabbing a destination at random.

  An Albascene came into view. Its laser aimed at him.

  The pod's door slammed shut, and a second later they were away.

  Chapter 43: Trapped

  Hanson took the pod a dozen miles down the canyon, then he and Viache got off and summoned another pod. They changed again after a slightly longer journey. Each time they had to lug Eulen's suit on and off the platform. Fortunately, no-one saw them – between Viache's prison garb and an unconscious Albascene, they wouldn't have stood a chance.

  On the way, Hanson checked in with Vyren. Everyone was ready on the Dauntless. Ivis had managed to get back to AC3 – no-one so far had noticed his absence. “One of the upsides of a place like this,” was his last message, recounted by Vyren. “The work you do doesn't actually matter, so they can't tell if you don't do it.”

  On the third leg of the journey, Eulen finally showed some signs of life. They'd set him upright. LEDs on his suit flickered briefly on and then off again. A few seconds later, the junctions between the suit segments murmured, and turned a fraction of a degree. A couple of the LEDs turned on and remained lit.

  Relieved, Hanson peered at the top segment. “Eulen?” he said.

  No response.

  Deciding to give it some time, he went back to the screen on the pod's wall and called up a route map. “I think our best bet,” he said, “is to overshoot by two stops – here. Then we can proceed by the back streets. It's only about six hundred metres to the Dauntless.”

  Viache was hanging from a handrail near the ceiling. Her posture was relaxed – she did it in the same way a human would slouch in a chair – but she kept a firm grip on her pistol. “Sure,” she said idly. “What about … ?” she gestured at Eulen with her tail.

  Eulen murmured something. Or tried to. The voice synthesiser made a quiet, distorted noise for a few seconds, then fell silent. His upper segment turned back and forth. Pale, cherry-red effector fields appeared near the base of his suit and quivered against the ground for a moment without moving anything. Another couple of LEDs came to life.

  “ … ancestral abyss … ” he said after a moment.

  “Eulen? Can you hear me?”

  “Hanson?”

  “Glad to see you're alright,” Hanson said. He patted Eulen's middle segment. “Can you move?”

  In response, Eulen's upper and middle segments turned slightly in opposite directions.

  Hanson stared at him for a moment. “Walk. Can you walk? Or hover, at least?”

  “I … don't know,” said Eulen. Effector fields appeared around his base again, flickered in and out of existence, then gradually became sharper and stronger. After a couple of seconds, Eulen lifted half an inch off the ground.

  Then he lurched to the side.

  Viache reached out from her vantage point and stopped him from falling over.

  “Just give me some time,” said Eulen. Then, after a second, “Thank you.”

  Over the next couple of minutes, Eulen's control over his effector fields grew strong and stronger.

  Hanson checked their location. They were nearly there. He readied his carbine, and gave Eulen another look. Hopefully the Albascene would be able to make it. Perhaps once they were away, they could part company, and Eulen could get back into the AC3 office without his absence being noticed.

  The pod came to a halt, and the doors slid open. The concrete corridor outside was empty and silent.

  Viache dropped from her vantage point with a smooth, silent motion.

  “How are you feeling?” Hanson asked Eulen.

  “I can … move,” he murmured. He still seemed dazed. Hanson decided he couldn't leave Eulen in this state. He put a hand on Eulen's suit. “This way,” he said.

  Eulen floated on his effector fields, but let Hanson guide him.

  “Better than having to carry it, at least” muttered Viache.

  They advanced forward into the corridor and out into the open air without anyone seeing them. A narrow alley opened up to the left. Hanson guided Eulen towards it silently, and Viache followed.

  Blank metal and concrete walls rose up on both sides, sometimes coated in flaking paint, sometimes with dilapidated signs hanging from them. Pale blue light from the false sky above shone down weakly. There was still no sign they were being followed.

  Hanson proceeded quickly. On the way, he checked in with Vyren to update him on their location. At the end of that alley, there was a broad walkway that led to the central canal. He checked to see if anyone was about, and finding the coast clear, crossed it and went into the next alley. Eulen occasionally whispered questions like, “Where are we going?” But he seemed to be improving quickly.

  Halfway there, they found there was no further route through the back streets. They'd have to go to the walkways by the canal-side. Hanson scouted ahead first, advancing up to the canal. There were a few people about, of all species, moving back and forth, talking, cutting deals.

  There was no way to avoid being seen. But Kalbraica being what it was, he knew most of the people he saw would have no interest in reporting him to AC3.

  He summoned Viache forward, and she guided Eulen out onto the main avenue.

  “Keep it nice and slow. Confident. Normal,” said Hanson.

  A small group of Glaber and Albascene watched them as they passed, but they seemed to have more interest in not being overheard than reporting anything suspicious. Hanson passed them by.

  Up ahead, he recognised the small bar by the canal-side. They were nearly there.

  Something caught his eye. A number of Albascene were floating together down the walkway, upper segments continually turning as though they were looking out for something. He recognised the suit design: They were security, from AC3.

  “This way,” he hissed, moving Eulen towards the back streets again. This alley twisted back and forth, before turning a sharp corner. Here, there was nothing but a locked door, a tip filled with rubbish, and a small computer terminal. A narrow pathway led back out the way they'd came – it wasn't a dead end, but it was closed loop. Just as bad.

  Hanson swore softly. At least here they'd be out of sight. He could just wait, and …

  He activated his comms to call the Dauntless. The response was so distorted he couldn't tell who was speaking: “Sir?” Before he got any further, it dissolved into static, then the channel cut off entirely.

  Viache's tale flicked back and forth. “I assume that's a bad sign?” she said.

  “Yes. They're jamming my signal,” said Hanson. He looked around the alley, thinking. “There's still a chance we could fight our way out of this, but I'd rather not until we have another way.”

  “They'll be watching the dock,” said Eulen. “But they won't risk getting into a firefight with your crew. Their concern is profitability, so they'll only be looking to round up the Petaurs.” It was the first coherent thing he'd said since he'd been shot. At least he was back to normal.

  “Well,” said Hanson. “That's good to know. But we're still stuck
here We might just have to wait it out … ” His gaze came to rest on the computer terminal. Still watching it, his hand went to his tablet. Giving it an extend gesture, he stepped over to the terminal.

  “If we're stuck here, I may as well put the time to good use,” he said.

  Before connecting the two, he pulled up the raw code from Yilva's program. What was the variable she mentioned?

  Antichain. That was the one. He changed its value, saved, then connected his tablet to the terminal.

  The terminal chewed over the data the tablet had sent it – then relented. He was in.

  Hanson pulled up all the information he could think of that might point to Arka: logs from SuperDocks, footage from nearby CCTV feeds, messages send in and out of the docks. As he did so, all those co-incidences came flooding into the front of his mind. Varanids with convenient co-ordinates stashed in their armour, Arka hiding in a place where Kuta had contacts …

  He tracked Arka's movements.

  “He's gone,” he told his companions.

  “Who?” asked Viache. She came up beside him.

  “Arka.”

  “Again, I say: Who?”

  “The Varanid we were tracking. Might hold the secret to saving the galaxy. You know, the usual.”

  “Oh …”

  Arka was gone, yes. But he'd been receiving messages from some channel. Hanson pulled up the channel's signature. An off-planet bulkwave signal. This was from whoever was pulling the strings here. Probably Pierce.

  “It's a trap …” Hanson said. “I'm sure of it.”

  In which case, Pierce had been in contact with two other groups since Hanson arrived.

  First was a gang of Varanids from Sweetblade. Check.

  Second was AC3. The office of …

  Eulen.

  As he saw the name, Hanson heard a thunderous crack. A flash from behind threw his shadow into relief against the wall. Beside him, Viache went rigid for a second then collapsed.

  Hanson began to turn, his hands going to his carbine.

  There was the faint mechanical sound of an Albascene segment rotating. Then another crack.

  Hanson heard his armour alarms going off before he felt the pain. A laser at close range – enough to burn right through his armour. Then it hit – like his back was in flames. He found time seeming to slow. As his legs collapsed under him, he caught sight of Viache's body.

  Then he lost consciousness.

  Chapter 44: Discovery

  Finally.

  Eulen watched Hanson's hands fall from his carbine and relaxed. The human fell to the floor.

  He powered up his laser for a final blow, a headshot, just to make sure, then heard thunderous footsteps behind him.

  A Varanid?

  “Hanson!” a voice called.

  Then he recalled: There was a Varanid on Hanson's crew.

  Without waiting, Eulen glided forward, down the narrow alley ahead. A second later he was out on the walkway, just another Albascene, indistinguishable from the rest.

  *

  Agatha rounded the corner at a sprint, pistol held high. She'd heard the laser fire, and was ready to kill whatever she found.

  But it was just Hanson and a Petaur in a white smock, lying crumpled in front of a computer terminal.

  Part of her wanted to rush forward, ignoring everything else. But she held back, and took a second to looked around for any balconies, hidey-holes, or anywhere else a potential attacker might be hiding. There was a narrow alley up ahead, a closed door, but that was all. Behind her, Srak, Moore and Vyren came up the alley.

  When she was satisfied, she sprinted across to Hanson and the Petaur.

  Hanson was alive. Barely. She could see the tiny, shallow motion of his breathing and feel his pulse. A two-inch-wide hole in his back went straight through his armour. The burnt metal made it clear this was a laser wound. Blood still flowed freely from it.

  The Petaur was dead. No pulse. The laser had gone right through her and cooked the terminal in front of her.

  Immediately Agatha was at work, removing the damaged plate of armour and taking out a smart plaster. She had it over the wound in seconds, where it adhered to the skin and began a diagnosis. It wouldn't stop internal bleeding, of course, but it might buy them a few minutes.

  Moore was on the scene moments after. “I need a medical team now!” she shouted through her comms. “We have minutes. Maybe less. Hanson's down. We've got a dead Petaur too.” She launched into giving details about the injury.

  Agatha sat back. Blood was smeared over her hands. She stared at Hanson for a moment, before leaping up. She ran down the narrow alley ahead until she came to the main open space of the canyon, and scanned the walkways and shops and canal. Nothing – no hint of Hanson's attacker. The security Albascene had long since moved away.

  She slumped against a wall, trying to ignore a rising lump in her throat, then turned and trudged back down the alley.

  *

  They got Hanson back to the Dauntless without incident, but Lanik insisted they leave the docks immediately, before the Albascene tried to hold the ship down. As soon as everyone was inside, they undocked and headed for orbit. Agatha followed the medical team to sickbay. Inside, she felt like a spring wound up to breaking point, full of tension and ready to unleash a hail of gunfire on whoever had caused this. But she had nowhere to aim. She could only follow them about, feeling useless.

  Fifteen minutes previously, everything had seemed fine. There was a bit of peril, yes. But there was always a bit of peril. To Agatha, it was like the background smell of recycled air. Besides, it was nothing Hanson couldn't handle. Except now he was lying on death's door, being rushed to sickbay.

  Dr. Sorrel swore and muttered and went to action straight away. Agatha, unused to this level of medical facility, again found she could only stand by, until the doctor shooed her and Srak out.

  In the corridor, they ran into Lanik. He was calm and businesslike. That was his natural reaction to a crisis: Drop the worry and sentiment and get stuff done. She could appreciate that. “There you are,” he said curtly. “Captain's ready-room, now. We need to figure out what's happened, and what our next move should be.”

  Agatha nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

  Then went together, Lanik walking at a brisk enough pace that Agatha had to break into a jog to follow him.

  The rest of the team were already there: Moore, Yilva, Vyren. As soon as he entered the room, Lanik said, “Vyren. The people the captain was travelling with?”

  “Viache, a Petaur from the facility. Eulen, an ally from AC3.”

  “I presume it's Viache we have in the morgue?” said Lanik.

  “Yes.”

  “And Eulen wasn't on the scene?”

  “Nowhere to be found,” muttered Agatha.

  “He's our prime suspect, then?”

  Vyren paused. A ripple ran across the surface of his bubble. “Possibly,” he said. “The weapon was a standard Albascene security laser. It could have come from him, or from any of the dozens of security-suited Albascene nearby. The possibility is remote, but Hanson had a detached version of such a laser that could have been fired by someone of any species. Eulen, meanwhile, was a great help to Hanson and me.”

  “No,” said Yilva. “Security wouldn't just shoot him and leave. They wouldn't kill Viache if they could help it … It was him, I'm sure.”

  “Eulen is from AC3. We have a contact there in Ivis. I could ask him,” began Vyren.

  “Do it,” said Lanik. “Now, if he's available.”

  Vyren was silent for a moment, then came up with an open comm channel for the entire room:

  “What is it?” said Ivis.

  “Has Eulen returned to the building recently?”

  “No … I don't know where he is. What happened?”

  “Hanson and Viache have been shot. We think Eulen may be responsible,” said Lanik.

  “Oh,” said Ivis. He added a moment later, “I am sorry. I … I will tell you if I
see him.”

  “Thank you,” said Lanik. When the channel was gone, he turned to Vyren. “When we're done here, get in touch with the Tethyans. I was to find out what happened here – what Eulen was doing, and why they decided to try and take Yilva. Bring as much pressure as you can to bear on the Albascene, even if it means tearing AC3 apart.” All of this was delivered with deadly calm.

  “Of course,” Vyren said softly.

  This wasn't good enough for Agatha. She stepped forward. “It's Eulen, then. We find him and kill him.”

  Lanik held her gaze for a few moments. “This isn't the time for revenge.”

  “The hell it isn't!”

  “Our only point of contact for Eulen is AC3. If he's not checking in there, we have no chance of finding him. Over the past half hour, eighteen ships have left Kalbraica's surface, so he could even be offworld by now.”

  Agatha was about to say something, but she held back. She and Srak wouldn't have survived as long as they had if they didn't know how to get their priorities straight.

  Turning to the rest of the meeting, Lanik said, “Our next point is the Petaurs. The Dauntless is now well beyond carrying capacity. We're straining the life support systems. We've got them spilling out into the corridors. Just on that basis, we'll lose efficiency if we have to go into combat – I don't want the crew dodging Petaurs if they have to go to battle stations. On the other hand, if we put them down on Kalbraica, they'll be quickly picked up again and punished for trying to escape.”

  Lanik looked at Yilva. A slight frown creased his brow. “Was it really necessary to free them all?”

  Yilva's tail went tense and she stared back. She spoke in quiet, measured English, but with a growl underlying every word. “Yes, it was.”