Dark Tempest (32 page)

Jed turned her back on Wolff again.

“Then you will not listen?” Wolff breathed heavily in the claustrophobic gloom of the little room. “You will trust Viprion’s word over mine?”

“It is the logical choice.”

“How can it possibly be logical? You know me. You do not know him!”

“I am of Steel and Flame. I know you and I have known you to lie. I have not known him to lie.”

“That is ridiculous!”

A noise from without the cell put an end to their discourse. Taggart had returned, with Winters and another pair of men. Viprion followed them behind.

“It would appear that none of you are carrying the device. It must then assumed be, that it is on your ship. The alternative, that you have destroyed it, will result in a lingering death. Where is it?”

“I know of what you speak,” said Wolff. He looked Jed in the eyes, then Viprion. “It is in my toolbelt.”

Taggart became irate. “Where is your
fucking
toolbelt, Wolff?”

“My fucking toolbelt,” said Wolff, “is on the fucking bridge of the fucking
Shamrock
, in your fucking cargo hold.”

Winters unlocked the cage door. “Leave him in the cell,” said Taggart. He turned to the other pair of men. “You, torture him, find out what else he knows. Then kill him. Winters, bring the Archer and the girl.”

Chapter 16

Herald of Darkness Rising

When the fire falls from burning,

The stars exhaust their lifespan long,

Ascend to the darkness rising,

Now heed the Herald’s song

Jed walked with Samphrey beside her, a pair of the twin men ahead of her. Behind her followed Viprion then another pair—Winters she thought they were called—then Taggart.

As the procession came to a junction of the corridor, Jed sensed the
Shamrock’s
signal on the very limits of her awareness. A charge of adrenaline surged up in her chest, and she glanced back at Viprion.

“Keep walking!” one of Winters ordered. “Look ahead!” added the other.

They reached the end of the corridor and it opened into a wide cargo bay. There it was, the
Shamrock
, over by the far wall, resting on its ventral blades, its long tail stretching toward the airlock. Behind it and a little to one side stood the
myth
ship, and the magnetic winch that tethered it to the
Shamrock
was still in place, a curl of the thick hypertensile cable still visible on the floor. The sight of the ships and the
Shamrock’s
signals were some relief. Without it Jed was crippled, but now she could reach it, it gave her strength to withstand the confusing and painful signals the
Bellwether’s
computer was giving off. They were outnumbered here and in enemy territory, but now they at least stood a chance. Their captors might be armed, but they were not of the Blood, and Jed and Viprion were both of the Blood. Supposedly the Pagan Atheist had many times overcome enemies that were far better armed through presence of mind and careful planning.

“You!” Taggart ordered her. “Open the door to your ship!”

The only weapon Jed could use was the
Shamrock’s
synchrotron blaster, and the position it was in meant it was pointed at the wall. Burning a hole in the
Bellwether
wouldn’t solve anything. She would have to go along with what they wanted and see what opportunities presented themselves. Certainly if the men went aboard the
Shamrock
, she could use various onboard systems to her advantage, but then, she remembered with a creeping sensation of doubt, the last time Taggart had gone aboard the
Shamrock
, she had been the one overpowered.

Surreptitiously, she shifted her stance and turned her head so she could see him. He was afraid, she could see it in him. His face strained into lines, his mouth twisted, and he stood with his hand on his neutron pistol. He was afraid, because in another life, he had died on this ship, and that was all he knew. He was as afraid as Jed had been when she first discovered that Wolff and Taggart had come aboard her ship, perhaps more so. She must use this.

“You,” Taggart ordered the pair of men who had walked before Jed. “Enter the ship and search the cargo hold.”

The men drew their guns in opposite hands. They walked cautiously to the airlock, climbed up, and disappeared behind the ship’s wall. Jed felt them make their way down the corridor and enter the cargo hold. They moved carefully around then one of them bent to pick something up from behind a crate of canisters. They were coming back out now. The two of them stood side-by-side in the airlock. One of them held up a long object—a belt by the buckle—strung with pouches and tools. Perhaps all Taggart wanted was that device that Wolff had said was in it. Perhaps he would let them go if he had it. Jed didn’t entertain this thought for long. Taggart had brought the device onto her ship for some purpose, and once he had it back he would return to whatever it was.

“Give it!” Taggart barked.

The men jumped down from the airlock and brought the belt to him. He snatched it and began fumbling at it, trying to open it. “You do it, Winters!” he cursed, throwing it at the other men.

The three of them rummaged through the belt for several moments. “It’s not in here, Taggart,” Winters said in a rather nervous voice.

Taggart let out a loud expletive, and turned around and hurled the belt at the
Shamrock
. Jed flinched as it went through the airlock and hit the back wall of the corridor, scattering tools and small objects as it hit the ground. “Then where the hell is it?” Taggart roared. He pulled the device he used to communicate with the ship’s crew out, opened it, and jabbed at its buttons with his fingers.

“Is Gerald Wolff dead yet?” he spoke into it. He held it to his ear and the reply was indistinct. Taggart’s face tensed. “I see. Then stop killing him and further instruction await.”

As he closed the device, it shrilled out a beep, and he opened it again. A voice squawked from it. “Taggart, the problem’s solved. One of the ground crews brought the weapon in. They said it was on Gerald Wolff’s person when they captured him.”

Taggart snapped shut his communication device and turned to Winters. “Did yous know of this?”

Winters shook his heads. “No.”

The device beeped again. “Now what is it?” Taggart answered.

“We’re having problems with the ship. It’s broadcasting some sort of radio signal and we don’t know why, and I need to tell you there is something very large headed straight for us. It’s subluminal, but at its current speed, it’s about five minutes away.”

Taggart beckoned to the other pair of men. “Yous, come with me. Winters, guard these prisoners.” He opened his communicator once more as he headed off to the bridge. “Carry on,” he said.

Winters stood with his backs together, hands on his guns. Viprion looked quickly at Jed, his face expressionless. He had something in his hand. A round, smooth surface showed between his fingers, and from the tension obvious in his knuckles, she could see it was heavy.

If she could create some sort of diversion and get both of Winters’s heads facing the same way, that would be enough. It didn’t have to be a genuine danger to them, she speculated. These were not men of the Blood. They did not understand the caste system. They had stolen the
Bellwether
and presumably had never been aboard a ship that was operating normally.

Jed sent a signal to the
Shamrock
and felt it respond. For a moment, nothing happened, then a disc shape, a little over a foot in diameter, appeared in the airlock. It stretched a hinged mechanical limb over the lip and clawed at the empty air a few times. Then it tipped over and fell upside-down, its metal shell making a noise on the floor of the cargo hold. One of Winters turned to stare at it, his other member glancing at it before turning back toward the three of them.

The robot’s legs moved for a moment before it levered itself over. Another robot fell down beside it, then another. They began to advance toward Winters, walking like three-legged crabs. The first reached his leg and stretched up, clawing at his ankle. He let out a yell and stepped back, and his other half spun around and shot one of the robots, blowing the lid of the base compartment off it and leaving it spinning on its back, legs twitching spasmodically. At once Samphrey got to her hands and knees behind Winters’s right half and grabbed his other component’s left ankle. Viprion slammed the hard object in his hand in the back of the left’s head, and Jed reached over Samphrey and seized the right by the neck, pulling him back so he tripped over the girl on the floor.

Winters’s right dropped his gun on hitting the floor, and Samphrey caught it. His other one had fallen on his face but maintained his grip on the weapon, and now he was getting to his feet unsteadily, pain and disorientation apparent on his face. Jed stepped over the one on the floor and kicked his hand. The gun spun along the floor toward the
Shamrock
. “Quickly!” Jed grabbed it and beckoned to Samphrey to board the ship.

Viprion ran behind her. “What are you waiting for?”

Jed looked back to the corridor through which they’d entered the cargo bay.

“The halfBlood? He’s not worth the risk of going back in there. That ship of yours is among the fastest built, if we escape now they can’t follow us. Let’s get out of here while we still can.”

“But he would be worth the risk, if he was of the Blood?” Jed asked

“He’s not anyway so it’s immaterial. Let’s leave.”

Jed covered the remaining distance to her ship’s airlock in three strides and put her foot up onto the lip. To be away from this place and to be safe in her ship, that was all she wanted now.

* * * *

After Taggart had taken the other prisoners away, one of the men had hit Wolff in the chest. Wolff had fallen back to mitigate the blow and landed on the floor, where someone’s boot struck him in the backside. He crawled under the bench and the man tried to kick him again, but smashed his shin against the edge of the seat and screamed, grabbing his leg and falling back against his twin, who acted as though he was in as much pain.

The other pair of men pushed past the injured ones and knelt down. One of them grabbed Wolff’s tunic. “Out!” he said, punching Wolff in the shoulder with his free arm, but in the confined space his fist had no force behind it.

At a beeping sound, he released Wolff and stood. “Rogers,” he said, opening a device and holding it to his ear.

The man closed his transmitter. “He says now.” His twin added. “Kill the Insular.”

The other men twitched and looked at each other. “I don’t want to. What if he changes his mind again, and he’s already dead? You saw what he had done to Collins.”

The transmitter beeped, and the man held it up to his ear. “Yes?” He looked at his twin, and then at the other pair of twins. “There’s some sort of problem on the bridge. We’re needed up there.”

The other pair was opening the door now. They went through and held it behind them for the first pair.

Wolff ran at the one closest to the door and hit him in the back. They both fell through the door and into the far wall, and Wolff kicked the door to the cell, slamming it shut and trapping one man inside. Wolff rolled over twice and landed on hands and toes, springing to his feet. He ran three strides before the other pair got hold of them—the other man had stayed at the door outside the cell, apparently unable to leave his twin, and he was shouting at the other two to come back with the keys.

Wolff used the momentum of the first one to swing him around on his arm and into the other, and the two of them met headfirst with an unpleasant noise and staggered off. The noise of the
Bellwether’s
engines was clearly audible, and the walls and floor swayed with inertial forces. Were these Geminals idiots? They were accelerating their ship at a rate beyond its capacity. Wolff ran on into the corridor. “Jed!” he called. He sensed the
Shamrock’s
signal, and turned toward it. He broke out into a cargo bay. A pair of men lay on the floor, and he vaulted over them in haste. There were the ships, and there stood Jed with one foot in the airlock, Viprion behind her with an expression of unwelcome surprise.

“Wolff!”

He ran to her. “What’s happening? Is it chimaera?”

Jed shook her head. “It won’t be chimaera, it’s something they’ve not seen before. I won’t know for sure unless we can get the ship out.”

“Jed, wait.” Wolff put his hand on her elbow as she took hold of the rail. “What is it?”

“There’s only one thing it can be.” Over her shoulder, she met his eyes. “It’s a Herald.”

“Herald?”

“Did you ever hear of the Horsehead Nebula?” Jed was up through the airlock and Wolff followed her toward the
Shamrock’s
bridge.

“Named for a beast supposed to be native to the Solar system?”

“So it was likened to. As it was unfortunately discovered, it’s not a natural dust mass shaped that way by coincidence, but an artificial construction. An effigy.”

The airlock door hissed shut behind Wolff. “Men made an effigy to this animal?”

“Not men, some other civilisation, assumed to be extinct now, and obviously it was an effigy of a herald and not this horse-creature, but those who saw the nebula did so before anyone saw the thing it was intended to represent, because they never leave the galactic core.”