Then Dimal turned. Her face was white and her jaw slumped.
‘What?’
‘There’s no accessible roof on this building,’ she said, pointing to the control panel, ‘and the platform’s still damaged from the attack.’
‘What?’
She closed her eyes. ‘Now we’re in trouble.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
ERNESTA MENDOZA SUFFERED every ounce of her general’s frustration. She doubted there was anything he could say which would persuade the Baren Igoth of Crilshar’s guilt. They were too fearful of what they would have to do were the Dark Race’s guilt proven. She surveyed the line of Alignment representatives upon the great screen.
Kind-Lady Musarat was more interested in her riches and high status than she was the wellbeing of the people of Samos. Lord Di-sak of Mar-Andra was a coward, a chauvinist xenophobe. She’d heard what he did to those who opposed him: pretty much the same as those who didn’t.
Von Viticus wasn’t much better. As delegate of the Von of Earth he was required to remain cordial at all times, not wishing to upset the existing state of affairs. Despite the fact that the Von had always been supportive of Titan and its aspirations, she doubted that was how Viticus really felt.
If there was one among them that showed a glint of humanity, it was the Imperial representative of Enustine—none other than the Emperor himself. He had simply watched, silent, until now. But as the mind-boggling concept of the old rumour of Erebus was brought up, Enusti Emperor Abacco finally spoke.
‘You speak of an infiltrator, General. A Titanese mole within Crilshar itself. But you do not know who it is, nor whether they can be trusted. This is what you are telling us?’
‘I know it sounds absurd—’
‘Oh, we passed absurd a long while back,’ Di-sak grunted. ‘Now you’re in the radius of a maniac.’
‘Belief or not,’ Abacco said, ‘show some respect, my lord.’
Di-sak grunted his response again.
‘Even if we were able to prove Crilshar’s guilt, what could we do to stop them?’ Abacco asked. ‘Their blockades are present in every System of man! The Enusti armies are strong and plenty, but even now we struggle to repel passing encounters with innumerable barrages. What would you consider the best course of action to take?’
Ruben took a deep breath. ‘At this moment I would settle for nothing less than a single strike on Crilshar itself.’
Mendoza felt herself filling with hope; maybe the General could actually do it. The several representatives before him, however, cried out in abhorrence. ‘Never!’ ‘Not in a million decades!’
‘Titan may no longer consider Bravoral a friend!’ cried Di-sak.
Kind-Lady Musarat did not answer, and her image disappeared from the viewing screen. Others followed suit. Few remained.
‘Lord Di-sak,’ Ruben said. ‘You have intelligence on the weapon Erebus, have you not?’
‘Not this idiocy again! Erebus is a story.’
‘Erebus exists!’ he cried. ‘Crilshar has found it, I assure you!’
Di-sak slammed his fist into his monitor, cracking the glass in fury. ‘It does not exist! And the very fact you believe it does proves just how far gone you are, General!’ His image vanished from the screen.
Ruben brought his hand to his mouth. Mendoza stepped down to his side. The Baren Igoth was falling apart. Without proper support, Crilshar would go on with Titan powerless to counter-assault. Silent moments passed.
‘There may have been hope,’ said Emperor Abacco, ‘were we having this meeting years ago. Back when the Alignment was strong, back when the Iástrons lived among us. Would that those days had stayed but a little longer. They were brighter times, but they have fallen. And so will these.’
Ruben sighed. ‘It doesn’t have to be that way.’
‘I’m afraid none of us have that choice,’ he replied. ‘My thoughts are with you.’ And he was gone.
Only one image remained before them. Only one would stand beside Titan. Von Viticus sighed deeply. ‘You are certain that Crilshar is responsible for the attack at Aurora, and has attained the Weapon Erebus?’ Viticus asked calmly.
‘Yes,’ Ruben said.
‘Then the Von and Earth will aid you, General. We are the oldest of allies and I for one would rather assist you and fail than not act and still come to nothing.’
Ruben nodded weakly. ‘Thank you.’
‘Be aware that to invade such a strong and well-defended world we must have more support than we do now,’ said the Von. ‘Yux Dishan is merciless; his sister Avaj eloquent and powerful; and they have Wivartha Dishan, one of the greatest tacticians to emerge in our time. The three will no doubt have anticipated battle. And Titan, Rotavar, and Earth combined cannot break through the many levels of Crilshar.’
The General nodded again. ‘I will do all that I can to rally more assistance. We deploy in twenty-four hours.’
‘Then our hope goes with you.’ The Von removed his glasses and bowed. ‘Hope will ever remain so long as there stands one good man among the dark. Ruben Berenguer, you are that man.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
COMPLETE AND UTTER horror flashed across Noah’s face as he glared at Dimal. Spasms prickled the length of his arm, its feeling returning—the only positive in their current circumstance. But that was about it.
‘What do we do?’ he said.
Dimal gazed back, unable to gather a sentence. ‘I . . . uh.’
‘What? What do we do?’
‘We . . .’
‘I wish Justus was here. He’d have us out!’
The elevator shot towards the non-existent infirmary roof. Noah bit his fingernails and watched Dimal, who suddenly noticed Callista Berenguer clawing weakly at his lab coat.
‘She’s awake!’ Dimal cried.
‘You think?’
‘Well, why didn’t you say?’
‘Oh,’ he said, frantically, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve got a few things to think about right now!’
Dimal ignored him and stooped down; she put her hand on their abductee’s arm and the woman gazed at her, half conscious. They stared for some moments, intensely searching. Then Dimal leaned forward and whispered carefully into her ear, before standing back up, still holding her hand and her gaze.
‘Head . . . to . . . platform . . . anyway.’
‘Huh?’ They both looked to the dark-skinned woman in shock. ‘What?’ Noah said. ‘Did she just—’
‘Yes I did, you fool!’ said the old woman. ‘Do as . . . I say and head for the . . . platform.’
Though hesitant, Dimal did as she was told and pushed the button, sending them back down to the fifty-ninth floor. Noah gulped. Did the old woman realise she had just given them instructions which, if all went to plan, would result in her abduction? Or was it a trap, luring them into the open and out onto a platform that no longer existed?
He edged beside his captain. ‘Is she really a Iástron?’
‘That’s what the old man on Mars said.’
Noah gulped again.
‘They’re . . . heading up to . . . the platform too,’ the old woman said, groggy but resilient.
Dimal rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘What do we do when we get there?’
She took Dimal’s hand and used her strength to help lift herself from the chair. ‘Just . . . wait. I’ve . . . seen it.’
Noah squirmed. ‘Seen it? Seen what?’
The elevator door opened. The three poured out and rushed along the corridor. At the end of immaculate, shrubbery-laden arches lay the rubble of the open terrace. The attack on Titan had taken out buildings and landmarks, as well as the extended platform of the central infirmary. It was a dead end. The Crimson Flux hadn’t a chance in hell of landing.
Just in time, from below their ship rose; the only way out. Raj waved from the cockpit and cried through the comm:
—I can’t land! Shree, go for the winch!
The rear port of the ship opened slowly and Jayash
ri Timbur looked down at them from its opening. But the dreadful roar tearing through the air sent Noah sick to his stomach. In the distance he could make out several hovercraft thundering towards them. The Titanese Guard were coming, and something told Noah Nuveen they would receive no clemency.
‘This is impossible!’ he yelled above the roar and the storm of the engine. ‘We don’t have time! There’s room for two on that hoist. One of us will have to stay behind!’
‘You two go!’ Dimal said. ‘It’s okay.’
‘Oh, do be quiet you fools!’ Callista shrieked. ‘Do as I say and wait! Stop whimpering, Noah. And take out your blaster, Adra.’
The Flux hovered close, its rear port facing the building head on with nothing less than a fatal plunge dividing. The craft rose steadily higher, passing above them. A cable and harness dropped down. But not close enough. Noah leaned out, Titan’s streets visible far below. But he could not grasp the cable.
‘It’s no use!’
‘Take my hand,’ the old woman told him, and she clutched Noah’s arm in a talon-like grip. And then, before he knew it, she had pushed him over the edge. The shock of it almost killed him there and then, but in the sudden grip of fear he stretched out both arms and found the cable. The stunned limb lost its grip, but the other found the harness and by god it was not about to let go.
Shree hauled him up as quickly as she could, and once inside Noah grasped her as tight as he could, having never been so happy to be on board the Flux. She grinned and picked him up. Massaging his hip and the wound in his shoulder, he stood and gasped as a missile penetrated the rear port.
Wait, no. Not a missile.
Noah and Shree watched as Dimal and Callista, now airborne, soared through the dark space of night and landed on top of them in a groaning heap. At once Dimal was on her feet and, raising her blaster, retracted the cord back inside it.
‘Forget Justus,’ he said. ‘You’re brilliant!’
Shree slammed the ramp closed and they all ran through the interior of the craft and into the cockpit, where Raj twisted and turned the Flux’s controls to avoid the Titanese hovercraft, now right behind. A salvo of bullets or shrapnel or whatever they used to bring down their enemies brushed past the craft and Noah, Shree, and Callista took refuge in the corner.
‘Move over!’ Dimal shouted to Raj and she forced him from the pilot’s seat. She pushed them into a vertical drop, driving the Flux down past the infirmary and through the narrow city streets. The Guard followed hesitantly, careful not to affect more damage to their home than had already been caused. They left the streets, still ensnared in the central city like a great eagle in an aviary.
‘How do we get out?’ Noah said, clutching the wall and wishing somebody would for once tell him the whole plan.
‘We can’t go back the way we came,’ Dimal said, avoiding a vicious assault and yelping as she chipped the top off another tall structure. ‘We’ll never get back to the dock!’
‘I have an idea,’ Raj said.
‘Well I suppose that’s reason to be hopeful!’ Noah snivelled.
‘Quiet, slug!’ Letting go of the secondary controls Raj turned to the screen beside him.
‘What’re those?’ Dimal asked.
‘Central city plans.’ He looked to Dimal. ‘Head up.’
She obeyed. They fled higher and higher. Noah swallowed painfully, his sinuses straining with three deep pops. ‘This is reckless—absurd!’
But Dimal kept her cool, having left the enemy craft in her wake. ‘Darling,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘where am I heading?’
‘Wait for it,’ Raj said. ‘Waaait for it.’
‘Oh, come on!’
‘There!’ he said, pointing to the uppermost bend in the dome. ‘An auxiliary tunnel. Head for it!’
The Flux shot upward, gaining speed, and as they reached the auxiliary escape tunnel Raj accessed the gate through the Flux’s CPU and the tunnel opened. Dimal forced the ship through. Another tunnel lay beyond, and eventually the last thing preventing their freedom.
‘This’ll be reinforced,’ Raj said.
‘Get firing then!’
The craft shook and vaulted through the breach. Noah collapsed to the ground as they pummelled through, unscathed, disappearing into the thick, red haze of Titan’s atmosphere. Shree lifted him up and held him tight as Dimal laughed and Raj hooted at their impossible getaway. Noah found himself so relieved he actually joined in, jumped up and down, wolf-whistling and cheering. It was only when he looked down and Raj pointed to his crotch in a tactless fit of laughter he realised that, in all the excitement, he had in fact wet himself.
‘Perfect.’
Once he had dried himself off and changed into a tight old pair of Justus’ pants, he sauntered up to the cockpit, passing the Iástron, Raj, and Shree as they sat apart, silent, and approached Dimal, who navigated them through the complexities of the Saturnian System. The asteroid belt reached out beneath them: shards and chunks of ice and rock numbering billions.
‘We’ll be ready to make the leap shortly,’ she told him as he approached.
‘Wonderful,’ he replied. ‘Now tell me something. We did as the old man told us. Now what?’
Dimal flicked a number of switches and leaned back. ‘Now we save Justus.’
‘And just how do we do that?’ he said, almost at breaking point. ‘I know, I know. We follow the old man’s coordinates across the Systems in this piece of junk, avoiding Crilshan armadas and the innumerable amount of other vessels no doubt after us now, with the giant and brains and an old crackpot who just threw me from that tower’s fifty-ninth floor, all in the hope that we can trust some stranger only you have ever seen, who won’t even tell us who he is?!’
Dimal nodded without turning. ‘Yes.’
He breathed in deep. ‘Okay then.’
‘You done?’
‘Pretty much. I do have one more issue.’
‘What?’
‘We just abducted that old woman.’
‘Yeah . . . and?’
‘Well don’t you think it strange she just agreed to come along, and even helped us kidnap her?’
She turned and looked straight at him. ‘The old man on Mars told me to tell Callista something. He told me she’d help no matter what I asked.’
‘The old man told you to tell her what?’
Dimal leaned closer. ‘I’m not sure what it means, but whatever it is, it worked.’
‘What did you whisper to her in the elevator, Adra?’
The weary woman’s eyes met with Noah’s. ‘I told her that her master sends his call.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
SPRINGING AWAKE, ANNA felt a hand touch hers. It was cold. A mask or heavy helmet was lifted from her face, forcing her eyelids to fasten shut as they collided with the light. Slowly opening them again she looked into the intense, piteous eyes of the man from her nightmares. He looked back at her and removed the ear-caps.
‘Here,’ he said, removing the wrap from over her mouth and holding out a small cup of water. ‘You must be thirsty.’
He was right. She was so thirsty she could hardly open her mouth, but she refused the water and whimpered, ‘Who . . . Who are you? Where are we?’
He did not answer. ‘Drink,’ he told her.
She refused again, too weak to move her head as she leaned back, just enough to discern her whereabouts: a long room, some sort of cargo bay or holding cell. The distorted walls were lined with people just like her, sitting in rows, bound and masked in heavy metal. None were moving or even making a sound; blind, deaf, and mute.
‘Drink,’ he said a third time, and again Anna refused. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Anna.’
‘Beautiful name, Anna,’ he said with a slight, gentle smile, very different from the angry, violent man she had seen upon Aurora. ‘I’m Antal.’
‘My . . . My sister,’ she said. ‘Where is she? Is . . . Is she all right?’
‘The young girl? Blo
nde?’
Anna nodded.
‘Over there. She’s okay.’
And he put down the cup, raised the mask, and placed it back over Anna’s sweating face. A nauseating reek filled her lungs and at once her head spun; she swooned and fell back into a forced sleep. Back in her nightmare, she was surrounded by darkness, the black, overwhelming orb, and the same man. GILAXIAD! she heard, deep and booming. GILAXIAD! GILAXIAD!
And before she knew it, she was awake once more. All was dark. A constant drone on all sides only encouraged the feeling of both hunger and nausea. How long she had been out was impossible to tell; she knew only that she was being taken somewhere. Could it be the Dishan? Was she on her way to Crilshar that very moment?
Searching her mind she attempted to recall past events. Her brain felt like a brittle, dry sponge, memories seeping through, but she could remember the long journey from Titan, the chaos on Rotavar, the loss of Jon. How could she have forgotten him? She recalled the voyage onboard the Stellarstream, her guilt for allowing Gílana to join her, and the desperate longing to see uncle Ruben once more. Then it all returned: the destruction on the old outpost; the fire and the death and the man from her nightmares.
The pale man.
GILAXIAD! GILAXIAD! GILAXIAD!
For the second time Anna felt the cold touch of skin on her bound hands, and again her mask was removed.
‘Hello, Anna.’
Anna did not reply. She did, however, accept the drink of water from Antal that time. Looking down at her arm it appeared she was being fed something through a tube. But she still felt weak, and did not speak to Antal Justus; and for the second time he left her, placing the mask back on.
* * *
Antal Justus crept into the eerily quiet cockpit of the Fated Chaos, the lighting low as two pilots basked in the pensive silence. The steady hum of the ship’s ultimatt engine soothed him. This is where he was meant to be: onboard a ship. His ship. How he missed the Flux, his crew, the danger; but most of all that sense of freedom he found whenever he lifted his beauty up and into the endless starry skies.
He’d not stopped thinking of Anna since they’d set off. There was something about her, something he couldn’t place a finger on.