The Baba Yaga (34 page)
“W
HAT’S OUR STATUS
?” said Kinsella. “Larsen, what’s the state of the ship?”
“I believe the technical term is ‘fucked,’” said Larsen. “Mark, we’re not getting out of this.”
Kinsella nodded grimly, and began to turn the
White Horseman
around to fly over the settlement.
“What are you doing?” cried Larsen. “We could go up at any second—all those people below—”
“If we’re going,” said Kinsella, “we’re taking those bastards with us. They’re not going to do any more harm.”
He was a good enough pilot, just, to be good as his word. The
White Horseman
, now burning fiercely, passed over the settlement, and Kinsella pointed it towards his enemies. As the ship began its last descent, Kinsella reached for Larsen’s hand. “I’m sorry, Kay. Sorry for everything. Please, forgive me.”
She held his hand tight. “I forgive you,” she said. “I hope they make it. Delia—and the little girl.”
Kinsella smiled. Their little girl, he thought.
His
little girl.
And the
White Horseman
reached its destination.
F
AILT AND
M
ARIA
watched as the information streamed from Walker’s handheld and out, out, into the universe beyond. Onto multiple channels, to all the people named by Larsen and Walker—out went the evidence that proved that the Weird had never been on Braun’s World, and that the bombardment was mass murder.
“What happens now, Mama Maria?”
“I don’t know. But I think this means the end of life as they know it for the people of Stella Maris.”
And perhaps for the universe beyond
.
Failt sniffed. “No living in peace and harmony?”
“Who knows? Perhaps it will mean peace and harmony for more than us. Perhaps it’ll mean more war. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“G
O TO THEM
? Into the void?”
“Past the void,” said Heyes. “Beyond the void.”
“How do you know this, Heyes?”
Heyes smiled. “I saw what they had to show me, Walker. I’ve seen... creation.” Tears were running down her weathered cheeks. “God is good.”
From back along the passage, they heard weapons fire, and a high scream. “Feuerstein,” said Walker.
“It’s time to go, Delia. Time to take the plunge.”
“Into Hell?”
“God knows you deserve it.” Heyes lifted her hand and, in the air between them, made the sign of the cross. “There,” she said, “absolution.”
“I’m not a Catholic. And you’re not a priest. They booted you out, remember?”
“Well, you never know.” Heyes leaned forwards, and, cupping her hands around Walker’s face, leaned in to kiss her on the brow. “For the sake of the little one, I hope you both make it.”
Walker glanced back over her shoulder. Were those shadows on the wall beyond? “What about you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Come with me.”
“I don’t think they’ll take me.”
“They’ll kill you. The people coming. They’ll kill you.”
“Who knows,” said Heyes. “Maybe I’m smarter than I look.” Her eyes glazed for a brief moment. “They want you, Walker. Now or never.”
“But how will I talk to them? I’m not telepathic—”
“You’ll find a way.” Heyes pulled away and started to walk back towards the passage. “Go on! If you’re going! Goodbye! Godspeed! God is good!”
Walker turned and looked into the void.
Here I am
, she said.
I’m coming.
She pressed her hands around her stomach.
Here we go, little minnow. Here we go
.
And they fell.
Some weeks later
M
UCH HARM HAD
been done to the people of Stella Maris and their settlement, but the work of repair went on steadily. Maria was glad to help, grateful that these people had put aside their animosity towards her and had begun to accept her. She knew their welcome was for the sake of Jenny and Failt more than anything, but she hoped that in time, they could come to accept her too. She could not see herself leaving Stella Maris, not in a hurry. Perhaps she could learn to fly the
Baba Yaga
, but where would she go? If people were still coming after her, they would catch her eventually. And if she was to be left alone, there was nothing back for her in the Expansion. Not without Kit. Jenny was happy here, and there was Failt. For his sake alone, Maria would remain on Stella Maris. He had quickly settled in and he loved the place. He loved to live-in-peace-and-harmony. He had dreamed of it, and it had come true. And it was not that she could take him back with her to the Expansion. A human mother and a Vetch child would not be accepted there.
Feuerstein’s long-house had given them a home, in memory of their house-sister. After the dust had settled, a party from the settlement had journeyed up to the portal to communicate with the Weird, and to find out what they could about what had happened to Walker and her party. Crossing the river, they had found Conway’s body, and then, at the entrance to the cave that housed the portal, had found Feuerstein. Heyes, too, lay in the passageway leading to the portal. Both women had been shot dead. Beyond Heyes they found the bodies of two crimopaths, but they could not determine who or what had killed them. Received wisdom back at the settlement was that the Weird had dealt with them. Maria had no idea if this was possible—or how—but at least they would not be haunting her dreams. The bodies of Conway and the crimopaths were buried, quickly, up in the mountains, but Feuerstein and Heyes had been carried back, and laid to rest in the little graveyard at the west end of the settlement. Using the databanks on the
Baba Yaga
, Maria had found some words to say over Heyes’ body.
All praise to you, Lord of all creation.
Praise to you, holy and living God.
We praise and bless you for your mercy,
we praise and bless you for your kindness.
You sanctify the homes of the living
and make holy the places of the dead.
You alone open the gates of righteousness
and lead us to the dwellings of the saints.
Almighty and ever-living God,
in you we place our trust and hope,
in you the dead whose bodies were temples of the Spirit
find everlasting peace.
As we take leave of our sister,
give our hearts peace in the firm hope
that one day Hecate will live
in the mansion you have prepared for her in Heaven.
But she did not know if the words were right, and she could not be consoled when the old woman’s body was lowered into the ground.
There was no sign of Walker’s body, and none of the people of Stella Maris had any idea what might have happened to her. She had disappeared, as if a hole in the ground had opened up and she had fallen into it. Maria found that she could not get Walker out of her mind. She kept expecting her to turn up, suddenly, out of the wilderness, calm and calculating and hard-eyed and with a baby tucked under her arm. She dreamed of her, often, like she dreamed of Kit, too, arriving out of nowhere. But neither of them came. Eventually the dreams left her. Maria supposed this meant she was healing.
There was much discussion about what these events might mean for the future of Stella Maris. The telepaths with the party had tried to communicate with the Weird, but it had been oddly silent. There was some fear that the Weird had gone, and that all the nourishment it supplied, that kept the water flowing and the foodstuffs growing, might suddenly disappear, but that had not happened. Spring bloomed rampantly in and around the settlement, and then became a glorious, bright summer. But there were other worries too: whether it had been wise to send out the messages that Maria had sent; whether anyone else might come from the Expansion as a result; and who—friends of Walker and Larsen, or friends of those who had sent the crimopaths. Whatever happened, there was a will to defend the portal come what may. The ruins of the
White Horseman
had been ransacked for material to assist in their defence, and the
Baba Yaga
too would play her part, if necessary.
But nobody came. The summer advanced, reached its full height, and then began to ripen into a rich and varied autumn. And then, one cool morning that carried with it the first suggestion of winter, they came: seven bright stars in the sky that quickly turned into ships, landing in the distance. Maria recognised ships from the Expansion.
But they were not the only people to come to the settlement that day. Someone was spotted walking along the road towards the gate. At the gate, she was stopped, her way barred. Maria, slipping through the crowd, came to the front and saw a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, bare-foot, wild-eyed, and strange. When she saw Maria, the girl lifted her hand, as if in greeting, and then she spoke, in a clear voice.
“My name is Cassandra,” she said. “My mother was called the Walker.”
G
RATEFUL THANKS TO
Eric Brown for inviting me to explore
Weird Space
, and for greeting every shift I made away from his original conception with enthusiasm and generosity.
Thank you also to my head of department at ARU, Farah Mendlesohn, for granting me teaching relief so that I had the time to complete the book. The coffee shops of Cambridge – particularly Hot Numbers, Espresso Library, and Afternoon Tease – provided the space in which I could work and enabled me to spend my advance in style.
My thanks and love, as ever, to Matthew, who gives me the support to enable me to be teacher, writer, and mother. And all of my love, of course, to beautiful Verity, who already likes rockets.
Una McCormack
Eric Brown began writing when he was fifteen, while living in Australia, and sold his first short story to
Interzone
in 1986. He has won the British Science Fiction Award twice for his short stories, has published over forty books, and his work has been translated into sixteen languages.
His latest books include the SF novels
The Serene Invasion
,
Satan’s Reach
, and the crime novel
Murder by the Book
. He writes a regular science fiction review column for the
Guardian
newspaper and lives near Dunbar, East Lothian.
His website can be found at
