The Summer Queen (52 page)

The shockwave of the explosion hit them, the hovercraft shuddered
and bucked, dumping Ananke on his butt. Kedalion used voice and hands to
reintegrate their stabilizers and speed with desperate efficiency. He looked up
and out again—saw one of their pursuers glide forward into visual range, pacing
them easily as he pushed the hovercraft’s speed to its limit, racing fate
toward a destination that had suddenly ceased to have any meaning. He looked
down at the specs reading out now on the screen in front of him. Each of the
pursuit craft around them was a flying armory.

“Reede Kullervo!” The voice burst out of the comm, through
the linkage of Kedalion’s headset, making him wince.

Reede jerked as if he had been shocked. Kedalion saw expression
come back into his face. “I’m here,” Reede said, his voice toneless with barely
controlled rage. “Who did this, you shit-eating cowards?”

“We are talcing control of your craft’s operating systems,”
the voice said, as if it hadn’t heard him. “Tell your pilot to activate
override sequence.”

Kedalion glanced at Reede. Reede said nothing.

“We are armed. Activate override or we will shoot you down.”

“Copy. Activating override sequence,” Kedalion said, when
Reede still did not answer. Maybe Reede figured this was as good a day to die
as any ... he ususally did. But Kedalion Niburu at least wanted to know who
wanted him dead before he took a direct hit.

Reede’s expression was like the edge of a blade; but he made
no move to stop anything as Kedalion let their escort take over the ship’s
controls. Kedalion lifted his hands from the board in a shrug of resignation,
watching data shift as they changed direction and speed. Ananke was on his feet
again, peering over Kedalion’s shoulder in stricken silence as they flew on
over the thorn forests, the blasted citadel and the raging wildfire falling
away behind them like the past.

There was no more radio contact from their escort; they flew
on in helpless silence. Ananke didn’t ask again what had happened. Kedalion
decided that either he’d figured it out for himself, or he didn’t want to know.
He sat down again in the back, stroking the quoll, staring out at the rearward
view until there was nothing left to see.

Kedalion tried a few queries of the boards, the databanks.
Nothing at all had been left under his control. He couldn’t even change the
time on the clock. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the panel; shoved his
hand into his pocket. His fingers closed over the huskball. He pulled it out,
rolling it from hand to hand, comforted by the motion and its shabby
familiarity.

“Can you get a fix on where we’re going?” Reede asked.

Kedalion looked up, and shook his head. “Can’t get a damn
thing out of the banks. And it doesn’t look like we’re flying a straight
course. Reede—”

“Shut up,” Reede said. “Shut up, Niburu.”

Kedalion shut up.

After about two hour’s flight time he began to see the spine
of another tower gleaming like a needle in the late morning sun. He wanted to
ask whose citadel it was, but he didn’t. If Reede knew, he didn’t bother to
share the information. A port blossomed in the fortress wall as they approached.
Kedalion felt the invisible hand of a docking beam close over their craft,
sucking them unerringly, inescapably into its waiting mouth.

Guards were waiting too, as they settled into a dock with a
stomach-dropping lurch. Kedalion saw them peering in warily through the dome.
The doors popped without his asking: an invitation.

“Let’s not keep them waiting ...” Reede said. His voice was
full of broken glass. He got to his feet, flexing his fingers like a man with a
cramp; Kedalion was relieved to see that he made no move toward any of the
weapons he carried.

“What about—?” Kedalion jerked his head at the rear of the
craft, where the container of stardrive plasma lay concealed under the seats.

Reede shook his head, with a leave it gesture. He stepped outside.

Kedalion followed, reluctantly, glancing back at Ananke.
Ananke was looking at the quoll, looking around, as if he was trying to decide
whether his pet would be safer with him, or without him. “Bring it,” Kedalion
said softly. “The gods only know if we’ll ever even see this again—” He
gestured at the hovercraft.

Ananke nodded, tight-lipped, and went ahead of him out the
door.

Guards moved in on them, searching them by hand and with
detectors, with rough efficiency. They had already relieved Reede of an assortment
of weapons Kedalion noticed that Reede’s solii pendant—the one he always wore,
the one Kedalion had seen once on half a dozen ill-met strangers in a bizarre
back-alley meeting—was dangling free. The solii’s shimmering, hypnotic light
looked strikingly out of place against Reede’s nondescript gray coveralls. For
once he made no effort to conceal it, wearing it with an almost defiant
insouciance. The guards watched him the way they would watch a wild beast, as
if his reputation had preceded him Kedalion felt surprise, and then a wary
relief, as he realized they were making no move to put binders on anyone.

Someone entered the docking bay, coming toward them, moving
with a ruthless confidence that said he carried some power. The guards looked
up at him, and moved out of his path. They were the usual mix of on—and
offworlders, wearing the same pragmatic assortment of clothing that Kedalion
saw all the time in the streets of Humbaba’s headquarters. The man coming
toward them now was no more formally dressed. There was no way to guess who any
of them worked for, nothing but the new arrival’s manner told Kedalion that he
was in charge. He was close to two meters tall, and heavily muscled. Dark curly
hair, dark upslanting eyes ... Kedalion figured he was Newhavenese.

He stopped in front of them, looking Reede over while a
smile pulled up the bum-scarred corner of his mouth. “Well, Reede Kullervo.
Glad you made it.” He held out a hand.

Reede wiped his own hands on his pantslegs in response, his
eyes glittering “You’re not the Man,” he said. “And you’re not glad to see me.”
Kedalion couldn’t tell whether Reede actually knew the Newhavener or not.

“I heard you were smart,” the big man said, with the same
sour smile. He Id his hand drop. “Fucking brilliant, in fact. I guess that’s
why the Man wants to see you about a job.”

Reede gave a bark of sardonic laughter. “He wants to work
for me?”

Head shake. “He heard you lost your patron. Dangerous, being
who you are, and without a patron.”

“He maybe have something to do with that?” Reede said.

“Yeah. Maybe.” The Newhavener’s grin widened maliciously. “You’ve
been offworld a long time, Kullervo. That’s dangerous too. Things change.”

Kedalion sensed more than saw Reede’s breathing become quick
and shallow. “Whose cartel is this? Where am I?” he asked, and Kedalion knew it
had cost him to ask that.

The big man’s expression got uglier. “You’ll see,” he said. “You’re
gonna love it here, Kullervo.”

“Okay,” Reede murmured, his voice rasping. “The Man wants to
see me, where is he—?”

“Follow me.” The Newhavener turned and started back the way
he had come, his boot heels ringing on the catwalk. They followed him, six
guards moving with them like their own shadow. Kedalion resisted the urge to
look back, at the hovercraft, at the priceless cargo still hidden beneath the
back seat, lying in a bucket like yesterday’s lunch; at his last glimpse of the
open air, and freedom, maybe forever.

The Newhavener took them for the three-credit tour, transporting
them deep into the citadel’s city-size entrails by ways and means that were
guaranteed to ensure they’d never find their way back out again alone. They
stepped out of a final dizzying lift ride, into an airy, open space that made
Kedalion blink with surprise. One wall let in actual daylight ... or maybe it
was a holo, he couldn’t be sure. If it was genuine, they were high up in the
air, though he’d been sure they were working their way downward.

“The Man—” their guide said, gesturing across the wide expanse
of shining floor toward a sealed door. A small garden spilled out into the open
space beneath the windows; he heard the sound of dripping water. Surrounding it
was what looked like the waiting room of some successful merchant co-op, filled
with incongruously normal seats and tables. “After you, Kullervo.”

Reede took a deep breath, and started across the room toward
the featureless door. Kedalion followed, with Ananke close on his heels. Midway
across the room the Newhavener cut effortlessly between Reede and his men,
forcing Kedalion to stop. “Have a seat—” he suggested, looking down at
Kedalion.

Kedalion stood where he was and looked toward Reede. Reede
turned back, and Kedalion was glad that what showed in Reede’s eyes was not
directed at him.

Reede looked up at the Newhavener, down at Kedalion and
Ananke. “Wait here,” he said, his voice coolly arrogant, as if the other man
had not even spoken. “This shouldn’t take long.”

Kedalion nodded, trying to match the confidence of Reede’s
manner as he moved toward the seats, knowing he was not succeeding. He knew
Reede was nervous, even afraid, but Reede was burning now with the murderous intensity
that made anyone with a shred of sanity get out of his way. Reede Kullervo
might be a madman, but for once Kedalion was glad to be working for him. Maybe
they’d even Set out of this alive. He almost felt sorry for whoever was waiting
beyond that door, planning to make Reede an offer he couldn’t refuse. He
managed to pull himself onto the couch with something like dignity, managed an
encouraging smile to answer the unspoken question in Ananke’s glance. Ananke
looked away again, through the ring of guards toward Reede. They watched the
door go transparent, watched Reede disappear through it. And then they waited.

Reede stepped through the doorway into a featureless box.
The security door rematerialized behind him, sealing him in before he had time
to realize that there were no other exits. He spun around, getting a mild shock
through his hands as they hit the screen, making it spark. Inside of a
heartbeat it was as solid and featureless as the other three walls, the
ceiling, the floor.

A trap. Reede turned back, searching the room with his eyes.
A perfect, featureless cube. He clenched his teeth over the sudden urge to cry
out, to throw himself against the walls like a panic-stricken animal. But the
part of his brain that always seemed to be under someone else’s control held
him motionless, pointing out to him that there was light here, which meant that
there was probably full life support and fresh air; there had been a way in,
which meant that there was a way out. It could even be some kind of lift,
although he couldn’t detect any motion. They didn’t want him dead, at least not
yet, and probably not at all. They just wanted him softened up a little.

He leaned against the wall, fingering the jangling piece of
jewelry hanging from his ear, and forced himself to relax, in case he was being
monitored, which he probably was. He should be grateful: They were giving him
time to think. He still had no idea who held him. All they’d said to him was,
You’ve lost your patron, and that meant Humbaba. They’d talked like he was
going to be working here, a simple survivor-claiming, a change of employers,
but not careers. They hadn’t even asked him about the stardrive. Maybe they didn’t
know ....

Except whoever it was claimed that they’d dropped the lightning
on Humbaba’s tower, right in front of his eyes, perfectly timed to his arrival.
That meant they had somehow been able to shut down all its support systems
first, leaving it without even communications, and utterly defenseless against
the attack. And they had known exactly when he was arriving, how, from what direction.
All of that screamed power, more power than any single cartel involved in a
takeover struggle with Humbaba should have access to. It was only the existence
of that higher power that let the cartels coexist here as successfully as they
did. There were skirmishes, hijackings, ambushes. But when an entire citadel
went out, it was something bigger .... It meant somebody had tried to cross the
Brotherhood.

But he was the Brotherhood—He touched the solii pendant that
Mundilfoere had given him. He knew its significance, knew why she had told him
to wear it always. Mundilfoere ... Not letting himself think about what he
would do if she had been in the fortress when it went up, caught inside that
blinding ball of light, incinerated ... Gods, a man could go crazy trying to
figure it out! Go crazy ‘“ here ... He wasn’t going to work for whoever was
doing this to him ... he was going to kill the son of a bitch, with his bare
hands. He was sweating; was it realK warmer in here, was the air really getting
thicker, heavier, harder to breathe, l&e being underwater—“Come on,
motherfucker—” he muttered, beginning to twitch He forced himself to stop it,
to curb the insane energy singing inside him. Save “ Save it, damn you ....

The lights went out. No—! He almost screamed it, but the
still-sane fragment of his mind that had kept him calm until now closed its
hand around his throat, forced him to stand perfectly still in the middle of
the utter blackness, his head up, his hands motionless at his sides. Wait. Wait
.... He became aware of his own breathing, the way his heart was pounding, the
blood rushing inside his ears. All his senses began to run wild, overreacting
to the absence of stimuli. Did he really hear the sound of two people
breathing? Gods, what was that smell in the air—not stateness, not his own
sweat, it smelled like something rotting .... He was beginning to see things, to
believe that he actually saw a glow like almost-dead embers on the wall ahead
of him. He reached out, stretching his hand toward it—lurched forward as he
discovered that the wall was no longer there.

Groping around him, he realized that there were no walls at
all anymore; that the room he had been trapped in had disappeared. He was
suddenly lost in a much larger room, a formless blackness like the space
between the stars. But the glow he had seen was real. It had become barely
bright enough to let him believe in it, even though it was too dim to give him
any real information.