Ferranti and Gordian left Anna and moved through into a smaller section of the shuttlecraft and from there into the airlock. Ferranti pressed the hatch closed while watching through the window at Anna, stood upon the other side. The pressure chamber activated, and the outer hatch opened. The two stepped onto a circular platform which took them down to the rocky ground. The red mists concealed the docking city, but his suit’s inbuilt scanner directed the path north. For several minutes they moved along the rock-strewn valley floor, the craft soon out of sight.
His breathing steady, Ferranti knew what he was looking for, though his attention remained at all times on Gordian. The pact they had made several days ago above the storms of Tempest-Beta was worth nothing now. Gordian had helped them return to Titan, but now they were here, allowing the Crilshan to accompany him was the final risk he would take.
Very soon there rose the enormous body of the first dome of Titan, arrayed in striking segments of columned might. A faint light shone from within. They moved forward cautiously.
‘How’s your arm?’ Gordian asked as he reached out to help Ferranti down a steep slope.
Ferranti did not take his hand, but drifted down and gestured ahead. ‘Just over there. The out station. I can access the docking city’s data log from there.’
‘What will you do if the cities are taken?’ the Crilshan said.
‘Leave. What will you do?’
‘Get down!’ In a long-winded movement, Gordian forced him behind a small mound.
‘What? What is it?’
‘Bodies. There.’
Ferranti peered over. He was right. Three figures wavered up and down nearby, blocking the way towards the out station. Their life-suits were black. ‘What do you think?’
Gordian pulled him further out of sight. ‘Crilshans.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’ve seen those suits a hundred times. It’s them. My people are here.’
‘We have to get back to the craft,’ Ferranti said.
‘If they’re here, then General Berenguer failed.’
‘Let’s move.’
‘If he failed, they’ll be everywhere.’
Ferranti stood, hunched over. ‘Come on.’
‘I’m sorry, Captain.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘No.’ Gordian stood to full height, towered over him. ‘I am sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For this.’
Gordian’s arm pulled back slowly. His fist came forward, made contact with his broken arm. Ferranti, unable to react quickly enough, gasped, swooned. He fell to his knees, then onto his back.
An hour had passed before Anna decided to move. She left Gílana asleep in the corner of the silent shuttlecraft and moved through the access tunnel, passing Kramer and Ketrass, still bound together. Over by the control panel she sat beside Callista, who opened her eyes and looked at her student.
‘Are you afraid, Anna?’
She looked away. ‘I’m . . . afraid for Gílana. I’m afraid for my uncle. I’m afraid for you.’
‘Fear is both a strength and a weakness. You fear our loss, but you would lose us anyway. Do not focus on your fear. Focus on what that fear tells you. Allow it to give you perspective.’
‘I faced my fear on Erebus, Callista. I overcame it. The dreams don’t haunt me anymore, but the memories of them do.’
‘You are not the same girl you were when you left Titan. You’ve changed, and I am proud of you. You made a personal realisation, Anna. That would be all well and good if this were all about you. But it’s not. And what comes next is much, much bigger.’
Anna sighed and went to speak when a deep, drawn-out thud! rang upon the outside of the shuttle. The two jumped to their feet. Gílana emerged from her corner in a panic.
‘What is—’
‘Quiet!’ Callista hissed.
Another thud!
‘Stay where you are, girls.’ The old woman moved across the craft and peered through the porthole into the airlock. At once she spun back and rushed into the cockpit, slamming the midpoint hatch shut behind her.
‘Callis—’
‘No, Anna. Come here!’
‘What is it?’
‘Crilshans.’
‘Out there?’
‘They’ll be in here in a matter of seconds!’
‘What do we do?’
‘Take off. Strap your sister in.’
Anna attempted to calm Gílana, settling her into the seat nearby as Callista activated various keys and fastenings, attempting to move the craft.
Another blow struck the craft somewhere to the rear, knocking everybody to one side. ‘They’re breaking in!’
‘The engine,’ Callista said, ‘the engine is damaged. They’ve damaged from outside. We can’t take off.’
‘What about Ferranti?’
‘We have to go.’
‘Free me,’ Kramer snapped. ‘Free me!’
Thud!
‘Nooo!’ Callista cried. ‘The engine!’
The craft rumbled. A tear ripped through the grate beneath. Outside, ultimatter poured into the red mist beyond. A Crilshan tanker moving towards them disintegrated as it came into contact with the light. Bright, blinding blue light everywhere.
‘It’s eating through the craft,’ Callista said. ‘Come here, girls! Let me hold you!’
‘Wait,’ Anna said, and she crawled across the floor. She dragged her body across the cockpit’s dashboard and pulled up her sleeve, placed her hand upon the windowpane. The light outside dimmed. Her hand tingled.
‘It’s coming through!’
‘No!’ Anna said. She felt her arm shudder. The veined bracelet tightened. The ultimatter outside lost its colour. It grew fainter, curdling black like the hub of the Stellarstream. The light weakened and faded into the mist.
Another thud!
Anna turned and collapsed to her knees. ‘What do we do, Callista?’
‘They’re overwriting airlock security!’
‘How many?’
‘Untie me!’ Kramer shouted.
She moved towards him.
‘Anna!’ Callista cried. ‘Nine! There’s nine of them!’
‘Untie me!’
Anna reached for her coilbolt and pushed Gílana behind the pilot’s chair when a low growl like thunder echoed through the craft. The cockpit hatch swung open and tall, dark-suited figures stood over them. Kramer and Ketrass were silent. Gílana screamed and Anna and Callista stood frozen still.
From behind the figures a Titanese life-suit stepped into view.
‘Ferranti?’
‘Take them all,’ the figure said. It was Gordian’s voice.
‘Gordian? What have you done to Ferranti?’
‘You bastard,’ Callista said, hobbling forwards. One figure took hold of her. Crilshans untied Kramer and Ketrass and forced breathing masks over their heads.
‘Cover the old woman’s mouth,’ Gordian said. ‘Take her and those two with you. But not these two girls. Take them to central city. Tower sixty-three. Apartment five-hundred and eight.’
‘Understood, sir,’ the foremost said. ‘Why is this?’
‘You know who I am, gubar. Do it now.’
‘Yes, Gordian.’
Callista struggled as two suited Crilshans moved for Gílana. Anna stepped between them, but was pulled back. ‘No!’
The closest suit took out a pistol and rammed an extended needle point into Gílana’s arm. Anna reached out and grasped the suit, but another took hold of her. ‘No! Gílana!’ A third Crilshan lunged forward and jammed the needle into her neck.
THIRTEEN
ANNA OPENED HER eyes and stared at a white ceiling in a dark room. Everything spun. Her fingers and toes prickled painfully. Shadows swayed across the ceiling, echoing movement outside. She attempted to lift her arm but found herself unable to move. She blinked several times and looked around. But wait. Her head wouldn’t budge.
‘Help,’ she mouthed.
r /> No sound came out.
‘Please. Somebody.’
Nothing.
Where were the others? What had happened back at the craft? Gílana and the baby. No.
‘Is there anyone there?’ she said. A slight croaking sound came from her this time. When no sound came in reply she continued to lie there.
Eventually she was able to move, and it took no time to realise where she was. In her apartment. In her home. On her uncle’s bed. In minutes she was able to get up. It took a while to sit, and even longer to stand. And when she did, she gazed up through the skylight, her vision blurred. It was dark outside. Still night.
A buzzing like static sound filled her ears. What the hell had they injected her with?
As soon as she could walk, she left her uncle’s room and moved to her sister’s. It empty. She sighed with relief when she entered her own room to find her sister lay on the bed. She stumbled across and tried to wake her. Gílana was breathing, at least. The shot was still having an effect on her. But she was alive, and here.
The buzzing continued. She rubbed her ears and shook her head. She needed water.
Staggering back down the corridor, she stepped down into the open space of the apartment. Her heart beat furiously. Please don’t be anyone in here.
The static noise continued, and she realised where it was coming from. It grew louder, painfully so. Her head felt heavy, her mouth dry. It was coming from the old bookshelf. Anna reached the bottom of the steps and moved across. She lifted a book from the middle ledge, raising it to her ear. She repeated it over and over. Nothing. She emptied a whole shelf and removed the ledge itself before she discovered the switch hidden beneath the bottom layer of heavy tomes.
The bookshelf opened silently like an automatic hatch. Behind it lay a corridor.
‘What?’
Anna checked behind, then moved inside.
‘Hello? Uncle Ruben?’
Please be inside. Please be inside.
Around a corner another hatch blocked her way. A panel and speaker was built into the wall. She studied it carefully. It wanted a name.
‘Ruben Berenguer Azar de la Peña,’ she said.
Nothing.
‘Lucasta Callista Berenguer?’
Nothing.
‘Anna Berenguer Odéto?’
The hatch clicked and swung open. Inside it was like a bank vault, filled with electronic equipment, weapons, and battle gear. She could fight a war with this stuff. A line of shining metal coilbolts lay on a metre-long shelf to one side. She resisted touching anything, though her hand hovered over the myriad items. A large table stood in the centre. She moved over. The sound was piercing now. It was coming from here.
A light was flashing green on the table’s horizontal display. She pressed it. The sound stopped, replaced with a bright, three-dimensional sphere. Anna stepped back, almost blinded. The projected sphere rotated above the central chamber, almost touching the ceiling. It was a world, blue and green: planet Earth.
Anna gasped when a voice rang from the speakers, filling the room.
‘It was decided, Anna Berenguer, long ago, that the word “fate” no longer held any importance. That “destiny” was a mere construct of the human mind. A vain attempt to determine sense and worth – any meaning at all – in a galaxy so vast and powerful that it would appear there was none.’
She held her breath, unable to identify the voice.
‘What I have discovered is the true meaning of destiny: something which CANNOT be understood, for it is a concept so delicate and grand that even those with the most powerful minds are unable to fathom the grand scale of destiny.
‘But YOU, Anna Berenguer, may have a chance to uncover the secret, for your connection with the Gilaxiad and its secrets not even I can comprehend to the fullest.’
The voice stopped. It was a recorded message, most of which had pre-programmed responses.
Anna replayed the voice in her head. He said Gilaxiad. He said Gilaxiad!
‘What is Gilaxiad?’ she said.
No reply. The blue-green sphere continued to float in the middle of the room.
‘Who are you?’
Silence, then:
‘I am the Accentaurian. And I am waiting for you.’
‘Waiting where?’
‘On the blue and green world.’
‘Earth? How do I get there?’
‘You will come . . . soon. Share this message with no one. Absolutely no one. Only you can do this. The messengers will find you. But first – and I am so very sorry to say – you must lose. You must lose everything.’
‘L . . . Lose everything? How?’
‘The darkness. The silence. But after night comes the dawn. Change comes eventually. I promise you that.’
‘What darkness? What silence?’
‘A great silence is coming . . . and an eternal darkness. It won’t be long now. No amount of training will help you fight what has found you. But there is a way. Four ways, in fact. And it is you who must find them.’
Footsteps in the room above her.
‘Stop recording,’ Anna said. Somebody was moving about upstairs. ‘Gílana?’
She crept back along the corridor, closing the bookshelf behind her. She turned to see her sister, stood at the top of the steps, shivering and pale.
‘Gílana . . . are you all right?’
She nodded. ‘Come . . . Come up here.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Just come.’
Anna joined her sister upstairs in her own bedroom. Except for the bed, it was bare.
‘It’s so dark out there,’ Gílana whimpered.
‘No. No, it’s only night.’
‘No, Anna. There’s a faint light. Look where it’s coming from. It’s the middle of the day.’ She pointed out to the inner arcs of the domes.
Iron bars were fixed to the exterior of the window. Anna pushed and pulled on the lever, attempting to open the windowpane. None of them needed to speak. They were locked in. Outside, the warm light of the surrogate sun had warped to fading silver. They were trapped, alone.
Anna rushed back downstairs to the front door, went to pull on the handle. Only, there was no handle.
‘No, no, no!’
The door was new, locked from the outside.
The two sisters walked back over to the floor-to-ceiling window. Eternal night wrapped the city in shadow. Its significance was unclear, but to Anna the message was obvious. The enemy is here. There is no escape. And something is coming.
FOURTEEN
ADRA DIMAL LEANED back, her legs wrapped tightly round Antal Justus’ naked body. Sat in his pilot’s chair, he leaned in and kissed her neck. She moaned with eyes closed. Justus ran his lips along her bare shoulders, watching the blinding sun linger on the horizon through the forward pane. Twenty-thousand feet below stretched an ocean of white mountain peaks.
‘Beautiful,’ he said.
‘I’m not,’ she replied.
‘No, the Earth. I forgot how beautiful it is here.’
‘Oh . . . right.’ She turned and stared out. ‘I think it’s romantic.’
Justus gazed into her eyes and kissed her. She felt so good. His eyes flickered between the view outside and . . .
‘Hang on.’ He sat upright, Dimal still on his lap.
‘What?’
‘I’m sure I saw something on the dash.’
‘What?’
‘Not sure.’ They both stood up over the main console. He took a quick look at her, stood there in all her splendour.
‘Eyes up here, please.’
‘Gotcha’.’ He played around with the flight tracker. ‘Can you see anything?’
‘Nope. Nothing.’ She widened the scanned area before turning back to Justus and shrugging her shoulders. ‘It’s nothing. I’m sure.’
Justus nodded. He thought he’d seen something on the scanner, something following. It could have been a craft or drone, or a really big bird. He shook his head and sa
id, ‘No. No, Adra. Something definitely came up. Way too close out here and following the same trajectory.’
‘Come on, Cap’n.’
‘I mean it.’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Maybe there was something. But that don’t mean it was following us.’
Justus couldn’t reply. He gazed out in silence at the darkening view as the magnificent yellow orb waned into devastating red. It seemed less than coincidence, but for the last week, wherever he went or whatever he did, everything seemed to remind him of Erebus. The wound in his arm twitched.
He scratched the now bandage-less arm and focused. They had opted to stay under the radar after the run in on Luna, and were travelling at a deliberately measured speed so as to avoid detection from satellites above. If things went well and their luck held out, they would go unnoticed.
The two dressed. Justus sat in his seat and Dimal curled up into hers. She nodded off quickly. Half an hour passed silently but for Dimal’s momentary seconds of sleep-talking, and each second brought Justus closer to the place he’d been running from for eight years. He was determined to go through with it. The one thing he feared was the reaction he would undoubtedly get from the others once they found out just why he’d run away.
‘Not long left,’ he said, kicking the chair beside him. ‘Nearly there.’
Dimal yawned loudly and muttered, ‘I had the strangest dream.’
‘Oh, yeah? You and me in the asteroid booth again?’
‘Down, boy. No, it was nothing like that. It was Noah.’ Justus sighed. ‘He was holding a gun to my head. I couldn’t move. And he wouldn’t stop laughing.’
‘Noah? Laughing? I don’t think he knows how.’
‘I’m serious, Antal. I’m freaked. What we found out about him back on Luna—’
‘Whoa, wait,’ he said. ‘I know where this is going. Noah’s been with us, what, a year? I trust him, even if he is a pompous, winy child.’
‘He’s a murderer!’
‘I’m a murderer! Hell knows you’ve killed your fair share.’
She shook her head. ‘We killed because we’re wrongly wanted. I killed because there was no other choice.’
‘Look, Adra, we’ve got enough to worry about without inventing reasons not to trust each other. Noah could have had any number of reasons to kill those people—’
‘His family.’
‘Wow, is that what it said?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well . . . that’s if he even did it. And I for one think he deserves the benefit of the doubt. Don’t you?’