A few small spies on the wing had been feeding Catriona occasional glimpses of the large craft’s progress. Then without warning they scattered in alarm and the next thing Cat knew, waves of distress were pulsing through the weave of being. It sharpened and took on overtones of fear and then pain. Then a few jerky images reached her, of flames ripping through dense forest, of figures ducking and running, and others pointing weapons skywards, firing chains of bright spikes.
The images chopped and shifted, a mosaic of chaos. Sheets of flame wrapped themselves around huge, ancient trees, licking and clawing higher, burning furiously despite the dampness. Then she saw a line of fiery explosions burst one after another through the forest, and realised that her worst fear had come to pass. Incendiaries, the very weapon that Catriona had dreaded from the very start.
And now the Brolturans reckon that they’ve got nothing to lose
, she thought.
Now they’re out for revenge and we’re in the way
.
Yet even if the Brolt vessel rained destruction on the fleeing fanatics, this was still only a tiny portion of the vastness of Segrana, its animal population, food plants, biomass and streams self-renewing over time … but against the waves of terrible news flooding through the weave of being, such comparisons seemed callous, however accurate.
Fleeting glimpses of conflagration continued to filter through. So, in tandem with Segrana’s far-flung influence, she caused high-level rain reservoirs to spill down into the smoke-hazed gloom. Specialised filter roots were used to pump water up from mid-branch troughs or across from unaffected areas. At the same time gangs of Uvovo scampered to and fro across the upper branch-ways, slogging through heat and ashen smoke as they bucket-chained water down onto the fires burning in the wake of the bombing. Several reports came through from a Listener crouched in a vudron dangerously close to the Spiral zealots’ southerly route – his scholars were spying on them as they followed a long U-shaped valley that curved westwards. Squads of Uvovo scouts were also out there, courting peril as they tried to stay on the trail of the offworlders, who, it now seemed, had some kind of proximity detector.
Then Catriona received unsettling information. The wide valley’s eastern wall comprised a line of cliffs, steep hills and ridges, all interwoven with dark, dense undergrowth, a formidable obstacle to anyone travelling on foot. Yet the zealots had turned east and were heading straight for them; on reaching that barrier they would surely be forced to turn back or continue southwards. Half an hour later came bad news – they had found a narrow, barely accessible pass between two rearing crags and were moving through it. At the other end of the pass a lush fruit vale led to the Gardentrees, five huge, specially cultivated vaskin trees. They were clustered around a scholar town called Seedspringlow; most of the youngest Uvovo children from the south-east towns and villages had been sent there soon after the Brolturans arrived on Nivyesta. Luckily Catriona had ordered them evacuated a few hours ago, dispatching them to a harvest town about a dozen miles north-east.
But then she started to get panicky messages from a Listener in Seedspringlow, which revealed that the children were still there. A group of elder scholars had decided to ignore the evac order and now the Spiral fanatics were drawing close to the Gardentrees. Meanwhile the Brolturan vessel had altered its course in the direction of Seedspringlow, still following its quarry.
The situation was desperate. The frantic evacuation of Seedspringlow was now under way but would not be completed before the zealots arrived. The town’s defenders were few in number and lightly armed, and although reinforcements were being rushed from north and south they would be too late.
Children
, she thought.
Hundreds of Uvovo younglings
…
this is my fault, I should have known, should have been ready
…
Going by past reports and observations, the Spiral zealots would slaughter all they met and after them would come the Brolturans, raining fire on the forest …
Segrana, help us!
Her desperate plea rang out across the weave of being and there was the sense of many others, Listeners and attuned scholars, feeling that cry.
Help them! You have power, Segrana, I have seen its immensity in the depths – will you not use it to help resist the attacks on your being and your people?
…
But there was no reply, nothing but a tense, withdrawn silence. Catriona despaired.
Segrana, if you will not use your powers, let me
…
‘She cannot … and you must not …’
Cat felt that presence, that wise and aged intellect, and found a wavering image emerging in what passed for her visual sense, a hooded figure, hazy, as if seen through fine rain. Still in the inky darkness of the vudron, she wondered if he was real or only in her mind.
‘Pathmaster,’ she said. ‘We must …’
‘The powers and energies you glimpsed are very real,’ the ancient Uvovo said. ‘But their use demands a particular strength that neither you nor Segrana possesses.’
‘She mentioned something called the Many-Eyes.’
‘Yes, an old, old name for the part of her that she sacrificed during the War of the Long Night, a guiding warrior spirit that left her to dive into the underdomains and destroy the soulroots of the Dreamless.’
‘I need that power,’ Cat said. ‘I must have it, Pathmaster. People are gonna die, Uvovo children … please, I cannae have that on my conscience …’
‘The risks are terrible,’ the Pathmaster said. ‘You are unskilled. The consequences could be both subtle and horrible, and death is a likely outcome, although the fulsome memory of you would live on.’
‘Would it let me defend Segrana and the Uvovo?’
Images flared through her mind, the Spiral fanatics, caught in flickering webs of energy, their paralysed bodies slumping to the ground, then the Brolturan transport and a dozen other craft wrapped in the same energy, losing altitude as they glide out to ditch in the shallows of the southern sea.
‘Such is possible,’ said the Pathmaster.
She did not hesitate. ‘What must I do?’
‘Recall the moment when you stretched your awareness out to the peripheries of Segrana and felt the deepness of the powers opening beneath you. You must undertake that again but you must also direct your needs downward into that power, rather than outwards. Its terrifying magnitudes will be revealed and powers will try to channel themselves through you. Then you will discover if you can master them.’
Catriona found herself assailed by doubt and she almost changed her mind. Then thoughts of her friends and colleagues came to her and, over and over, Greg. And she wished … wished that she knew, just here at what might be the end, whether he felt anything for her …
Was there a hint of amusement in that cowled visage? Or was it compassion?
‘His feelings for you,’ said the Pathmaster, ‘are like a flower made from the sun.’
‘That’s …’ She felt overcome in the moment, by surprise and a bittersweet joy. ‘Thank you.’
‘Now, strengthen your inner resolve,’ said the Pathmaster. ‘The immensity of Segrana awaits, and you must reach out to encompass it all.’
She began.
The plan was simple and straightforward. Once docking protocols were complete, Theo would lead the escort guarding Captain Gideon out to the high-security buffer gate, present the access code docket and proceed on into Base Wolf and stage two of the rescue operation.
I love simple plans
, Theo thought as a chime sounded in the load-out chamber and they trooped through to the main airlock.
They can go wrong in so many entertaining ways
.
According to Gideon, Base Wolf was one of four Tygran advance bases maintained around the Aranja Tesh, and the one closest to their colony world. The greater part of it was tunnelled into a craggy, four-kilometre-wide asteroid, orbiting the outer reaches of an unremarkable star system just within the boundary of Sul, an impoverished client state of the Sendrukan Hegemony. The main dock lay inside the asteroid, an immense dark space fitfully illuminated by spotlights. The scoutship
Starfire
loomed over Theo and the others as they descended a long ramp, yet it was diminutive set against the long walkway and the split-level gantries with mooring and berths clearly designed for much larger vessels.
Some of the lighting was devoted to emphasising the dramatic lines of the architecture, immense columns that angled up into the gloom, the brassy roof that sloped down over the glass-sided buffer gate, and the huge emblematic monument that hung overhead. It depicted the upper torso of an armoured warrior leaning out, shield before him, spear held chest-high and jutting forward. On the shield was a snarling wolf.
Theo, Malachi and the other six Stormlions were in full combat armour and headgear. Inside his, Theo could feel sweat running down his scalp. The sound of his own breathing was oddly claustrophobic. His armour’s auxiliary arms were set to neutral, the smaller hands tucked into midriff pockets.
Gideon, on the other hand, was clad in a dun-coloured, nondescript onepiece, his hands bound, his neck hung with a muting loop. With his head bowed, he looked beaten.
Then suddenly they were standing before the buffer gate and its doors were opening to admit them. Through the transparent wall inside Theo saw three bare-headed men in partial body armour seated at holomonitors, not even acknowledging their presence. Base Wolf was garrisoned by the Shadow Watch commandery, whose captain was Nathaniel Horne. Earlier, Malachi had told Theo that Horne had a reputation for sadistic cruelty and had been known to torture his prisoners. He was also one of Marshal Becker’s closest allies.
One of the gate sentries looked up.
‘Good day, brothers. Let’s have the prospectus.’
Theo had been coached for this and stepped forward.
‘I am Field Lieutenant Brandt, Scoutship
Starfire
commanding, holding the prisoner Franklyn Gideon for conveyance to Alecto. Main drive malfunction has necessitated our stopover for repairs; also, the prisoner complains of chest pains but the shipboard automed has an intermittent fault, leading to a request for examination in your sickbay.’
The man behind the glass gave Gideon a despising look, then went back to Theo. ‘Your access code docket, Lieutenant.’
Theo produced the oval laminate prepared and given to him by Gideon, and dropped it into a slot on the counter top. The Shadow Watch sentry retrieved it and swiped it over a metal pad. Meanwhile, Theo moved over to a dark, reflective panel by the inner door, unsealed his right glove, took it off and pressed his palm against cold smoothness.
Would it work or would alarms start screaming? His palm had been imprinted with a pattern virus, using a skin dye almost invisible to the eye but highly visible to the data processors running the system.
The seconds were never-ending. Theo’s mouth was dry and his heart was thumping. He looked around to see the sentry frowning at his holodisplay, then shake his head and throw up his hands.
‘This thing is cranked,’ he said to one of his companions. ‘We might have to respin the boards … wait, it’s coming through. Okay, Lieutenant, now your retina.’
Hands trembling, Theo fingered a collar stud and his visor parted. He bent to let the panel scan his eye and when that too was verified the door opened and he walked through. One by one Malachi and the others submitted to the scan, each of them possessing an invisible tag in that same skin dye on their palms, allowing the now hijacked system to ID them as Grey Sentinels. Except for Gideon who had to be correctly identified.
Minutes later everyone was through to a seating area. Like the rest, Theo’s visor was still open, exposing his face: he hoped that the improvised makeup was enough to get past any further encounters.
‘Sickbay is up the corridor and to your right across the hall,’ said the guard.
‘Thanks, I know the way,’ said Theo.
‘Uh, Lieutenant, don’t forget this.’
From behind an open counter, the sentry tossed the access docket through the air. Theo barely had time to react before it struck his armoured midriff and fell clattering on the floor. The Shadow Watch sentry’s eyes hardened and his two companions looked up, as if aware of the sudden tension.
‘Is there a problem with your aug-arms, Lieutenant?’ he said.
‘Only with your discourtesy.’ Theo bent to pick up the docket then went over to the counter. ‘Is it Shadow Watch custom to greet the brothers of other commanderies this way?’
‘No, but I …’
‘Ah, so this obnoxious, insulting behaviour was produced on your own initiative! I must relate this to Captain Horne, that a soldier of the Shadow Watch would so casually bring his commandery into disrepute …’
He was interrupted by a regular beeping and red and amber glows pulsing in one of the holodisplays. The aggravated guard swung away and angrily demanded to know what was happening.
‘Subsystem error, Sergeant,’ said one of the others. ‘The cognitives are running a virus hunt.’
‘Right,’ said the sergeant, his hand straying to the weapon at his waist.
There was a chorus of faint clicks and red target spots appeared on the necks and faces of all three Shadow Watch guards.
‘Don’t,’ said Theo. ‘All of you, hands on heads and turn away – do it!’
As soon as they did, Theo and the other Stormlions fired trank rounds into the backs of their necks. They dropped without a sound.
‘Well done, Theo,’ said Gideon, snapping his tie restraints and moving to strip the tallest sentry of his body armour. ‘That steel in your voice certainly had the tenor of experience.’
‘Had to reprimand cadets more times than I care to remember,’ Theo said. ‘Most of the time a little carpeting is all it needs, but sometimes you have to wave the big stick.’
Gideon chuckled as he worked at one of the holodisplays. A moment later the beep alarm ceased and the red and amber alerts vanished. ‘Okay, the virus is still in place and the comm network is down but only for five minutes, imitating a system respin. So Theo and Malachi, take Klein and Jones and get to Security – the rest of us will head for the garrison quarters and lock it down. And remember – today, nobody dies.’