The Summer Queen (134 page)

A sheet of metal larger than both their bodies slammed down
on the catwalk half a meter behind his foot, shearing away the alloy as if it
were cardboard; the metal platform under his body shrieked and bucked. More
falling metal roared past him, and on top of him Dawntreader screamed once, a
brief, raw paincry.

Reede swore, shaking his head as he pushed himself up at
last, trying to lever himself out from under the dead weight of Dawntreader’s
unresponsive body without dislodging either of them from the broken platform.
He heard shouting again, behind him; sure this time that the voices called his
name. He looked back across the sudden chasm, saw the line of armed men barely
visible beyond the still-intact hull of a cargo freighter, inching their way
out onto the ruined scaffolding, trying to reach a point where they could get a
clear shot.

Reede struggled to his knees, pulling at Dawntreader’s arm.
Blood matted Dawntreader’s hair, red on red. He couldn’t tell anything about
the wound or how bad it was. “Come on,” he shouted, barely aware that he was
shouting uselessly. “Come on, damn it, get up, get up—!”

Dawntreader’s body shifted, slid; he saw Dawntreader’s legs
go over the side of the catwalk, felt the other man’s body try to follow. He
caught the back of Dawntreader’s tunic with both hands, digging in his heels,
stopping their slide. But his own exhausted body refused to give him anything
more. He swore, watching the progress of his pursuers toward them.

Suddenly someone was behind him, beside him; he caught a
glimpse of midnight skin and hair. “Here, boss—”

“ Ananke—” he gasped, “get him!”

Ananke slid past, going out over the edge of the twisted walkway
as if it were flat on the ground, not a hundred meters in the air. Ananke clung
with an acrobat’s skill to the broken superstructure, levering Dawntreader’s
unresponding limbs back onto the grid as Reede hauled with all his remaining
strength. Something gave, and Dawntreader’s body slid forward suddenly. Reede
pulled him onto the catwalk with a final heave.

“Boss—!” Ananke shouted, pointing down. Reede followed his
pointing hand, seeing Dawntreader’s belt, the thing that had tangled in the
grid and trapped him until it had come apart. It hung from a claw of twisted
metal below the catwalk; the pouch dangling from it was the pouch in which
Dawntreader had carried the water of death.

Reede flung himself down with a curse, pushing precariously
over the edge, his hand flailing. But the pouch was impossibly beyond reach.
Ananke crouched beside him, steadying him, until he came up again, white-faced,
shaking his head.

Ananke looked down through the grid, and up at him. Suddenly
he disappeared over the edge, swinging out and down until only his feet showed.
Reede watched through the grid as he pulled himself underneath the platform. In
a moment he was back on top again, grinning, as if there were no gravity. He
held something in his hands, held it out ... the belt and pouch.

Reede pushed up onto his knees, staring in speechless gratitude.
He slung the belt around his neck as Ananke passed it to him, and moved to help
him lift Dawntreader’s body.

“We’ve got to hurry, boss—”

“Kullervo!”

Ananke straightened, looking back; screamed, falling, as the
blinding beam of an energy weapon licked him.

Reede grabbed him, pulled him close with furious
desperation. “Move!” he shouted, willing sense back into Ananke’s shock-glazed
eyes, willing Ananke’s brain to ignite with the urge for survival. “Run, crawl,
get to the LB, goddammit!” He pushed Ananke forward, propelling him as he
dragged Dawntreader’s body along behind.

They made it to the far end of the catwalk, sheltered by the
hulls of the big transports. He saw the LB lying like a toy in their shadow,
heard more explosions echo through the bay, and more screams.

Ariele was waiting, her voice lost in the cacophony, her
face frantic. She ran forward to help him get the two men to the ship and drag
them inside. Niburu was in the pilot’s seat, his face shining with an intensity
of relief that should have been laughable. “Go!” Reede shouted, dumping
Dawntreader into an acceleration couch, as Ariele pushed Ananke into a seat
behind him.

“Ananke, get up here!” Niburu called.

Reede fell into the copilot’s seat, as Ariele dropped into
the couch beside her father’s. “Ananke’s hit. He’s out of it.”

Niburu turned, looking over his shoulder. “How bad?”

“Don’t know.” Reede shook his head. “Won’t matter, if you
don’t get us the hell out of here. Go. Go!” Niburu took them up before he had
finished the words, the LB shooting down the length of the bay and out into the
open sky like a beam of light.

Beams of light slashed the air all around them, licking the
crippled citadel from every direction including the top of the sky; taking it
down millimeter by millimeter. The LB shuddered as raw energy glanced off its
shields; Niburu swore. “Gods, shit, I can’t handle this alone. We’ll never make
it through this crossfire—”

He broke off, as the view ahead of them suddenly cleared of
lightning; the images on the LB’s screens showed them a column of inviolate
air, their trajectory rising out of the atmosphere, toward the Prajna’s orbit.
Their way lay open, and as they arced toward the sky, behind them the citadel’s
shattered spire immolated like a star gone nova.

They flew on in utter silence, as if even a spoken word
might break the spell and destroy them; their arc steepened, acceleration
pressed Reede into his seat with a heavy hand. There was no pursuit, and no
more random energy pulses struck their shields. Reede watched the sky, me only
thing he could do; watched its serene blue slowly deepening toward black,
watched the sun rise, a vast scintillating jewel, radiant against the starry
night as they left Ondinee’s atmosphere behind. Reede wiped blood out of his
eye again, and sighed.

“Clear.” Niburu cut their acceleration. The LB’s momentum
ceased, and Reede felt himself begin to drift up from his seat, weightless,
beyond the reach even of the planet’s gravity. He caught the seat’s restraining
straps, laughing out loud as he pulled himself down again, and locked himself
into place.

“Copy. Free and clear,” a voice said, suddenly and unexpectedly
from the comm speaker on the panel. “Congratulations, survivors. Good luck.”
And then silence.

“That was Sandhi!” Niburu looked at him, stupefied. “What
just happened?” he said.

Reede felt a weary smile pull up the corners of his mouth. “I
think we met some strangers far from home.”

Niburu shook his head, looking out at the empty sky, at the
curve of Ondinee’s surface far below, its atmosphere limned by sunlight. He
murmured commands to the LB’s computer as his hands touched the instruments
almost absently. Reede felt himself settle back into his seat, regaining
substantiality as the LB’s drive kicked in again. “We’ll intersect the Prajna’s
orbit in about six hours,” Niburu said. “The medical supplies are down there.”
He pointed.

Reede nodded, already rising from his seat, moving cautiously
as he got a feel for what kind of gravity they were functioning in now. He
pulled the supply box from its stash.

Ariele was on her feet beside Dawntreader, mopping blood
from his ashen face with the sleeve of her robe. “Da ...” she murmured. “Da—?”

Reede edged her aside, gently, as Niburu pushed past them to
see to Ananke. “Let me look.” He used his own shirtsleeve to wipe away more
blood, seeing the deep gash in the side of Dawntreader’s head. Scalp wounds
bled like hell, his own blood was still getting in his eyes. The blood didn’t
mean anything; he only had to get it stopped. But a blow that hard probably
meant a fractured skull, could mean something worse; he had no way of telling.
He pushed back Dawntreader’s eyelids; one pupil was wide open, the other
narrowed reflexively as the light hit it. “Shit ...”he breathed.

Ariele passed him coagulant and a compression bandage from
the medical supplies as he asked for them; he got the bleeding stopped and the
wound bandaged. Dawntreader did not stir or make a sound all the while; his
breathing was shallow and not quite regular. But as Reede finished working on
him, he moaned, and his eyes opened, staring glassily. He mumbled something;
Reede couldn’t make out the slurring words.

“What—?” Reede leaned closer as Dawntreader repeated them,
with painful effort, reaching up to catch the front of Reede’s shirt in a
spasmodic grip.

“... Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise it.”

“Yeah. All right,” Reede said softly. “I will. I promise it.”

Dawntreader released him; his hand fell away, lay motionless
across his chest. His eyes closed.

“Is he going to be all right?” Ariele asked anxiously, as
Reede straightened away from Dawntreader’s limp body.

“Can’t tell,” he muttered, blocking her view. He touched the
activator on the arm of Dawntreader’s seat, and the translucent gray shield
suspended above it began to lower. “This will suspend his body functions until
we can reach Tiamat, and get real medical treatment,” he said quickly, seeing
her face begin to fall apart. “His condition won’t change. It’s the best we can
do.” He took hold of her arms, drawing her away as they watched the stasis unit
seal. He checked the readouts. “Okay,” he said softly. “That’s as safe as
anyone gets.” He turned, looking into her eyes. “You’re next. And then me. We’ll
all sleep, suspended, until Niburu gets us to Tiamat.”

Her mouth trembled; she pressed it together. “A magic nap,”
she whispered. “Da used to say, when I was little, ‘It’s such a long way, Ari ...
why don’t you take a magic nap? When you wake up, you’ll be home ....’” Her
voice disappeared.

“Yeah,” he murmured, holding her, “we’ll be home.” He kissed
her hair, looked up again as Niburu came forward to get something from the
medical kit.

“How is he?” Reede jerked his head toward the seat where
Ananke lay, half-hidden from his view.

“He’s—” Niburu broke off, with a strange expression on his
face. “He’ll be all right. A bad burn, but it’s superficial. I can treat it
with what’s here.”

Reede nodded, relieved, wiping the blood from his own face
with a leftover strip of bandage. He tied the bandage around his head and stuck
on a painkiller patch, feeling his wounds as he finally had time to think about
them. Dawntreader’s belt and pouch were still slung around his neck. He pulled
them down, opened the pouch and looked at the vial of the water of death. He
sealed it shut again, and fastened the belt around his waist. He glanced at
Ananke, able to see nothing but his face, eyes shut, mouth slack, and part of
his shoulder.

Reede turned back, drawing Ariele toward her seat again. He
kissed her as she settled in; she put her arms around his neck, keeping his
mouth on hers a last long, sweet moment before she let him go. He reached down
to activate the controls.

“Is it like suffocation?” she whispered. “Is it like
freezing—?”

“No,” he said, and smiled. “It’s like peace.” He watched the
dome come down; she held his hand until the last moment. He let her go, the
unit sealed. He could still see her face through the translucent shield; knew
that she could see his. He saw the apprehension in her eyes, watched it fade.
She smiled. Her eyes closed, and she slept.

He checked the readouts, and then made his way silently to
the final seat, which lay waiting for him. He settled into it. He felt no
painful pressure anywhere along his battered body; it was as if he were lying
down on clouds. He looked over as Niburu approached him, face to face with his
pilot for once.

“I can handle it from here, boss,” Niburu said, answering
his unspoken question. “The hard part’s done.”

Reede grimaced. “Don’t say that. Gods, don’t ever say that!”
But he smiled again, faintly; touched Niburu’s arm. “What the hell would I do
without you, Niburu?”

Niburu grinned. “Stay in one place for a while, maybe.”

Reede laughed. “They can put that on my grave ....” He
reached down, triggering the shield that hung above his head. It began to
descend. “Wake me up as soon as we reach Tiamat. I need to talk to Gundhalinu.”

Niburu nodded, as the shield’s smoky gray came down like fog
between them. Reede felt a moment’s panic, the same panic he had seen in Ariele’s
eyes, as the shield sealed in place. His eyes clung to the dim image of Niburu’s
face as he struggled to keep his body under control. But a cool, tingling vapor
was already filling the air, and as he breathed it in his apprehension faded,
along with his vision. He smelled fresh wind and sunlight and exotic spices,
pleasure and release ... silence ... peace ....

Kedalion watched Reede’s eyes close, saw his blood-streaked
face become young again as his consciousness slipped away.

Kedalion checked the readouts, satisfying himself that the
unit was functioning properly. He turned away in the sudden, clicking silence,
back to where Ananke lay passed out in the other seat. He pushed aside the
charred cloth of Ananke’s coveralls, that he had cut open for better access to
the livid burn that ran from shoulder to hip down his side. He saw the stretch
of blistered flesh again, and grimaced. And then he pushed the ruined cloth
farther aside on Ananke’s chest, slowly, almost reluctantly, needing to confirm
to himself that he had not imagined what he had glimpsed in one harried,
distracted moment in the middle of chaos.

He pushed the cloth aside. He stared, for a long moment, at
what lay revealed beneath it: the smooth, gentle curve of a young woman’s
breast.

Carefully he drew the cloth down over Ananke’s breast again,
hiding her secret, covering her painful vulnerability. And then, as calmly as
he could, he treated her burns, sealed them with a protective film of
bandageskin, and applied a line of anesthetic patches up the length of her
spine, to deaden the pain when she woke again.