Dominion (40 page)

Cannon fire raged around them. The
Revenge
was hit again, but Steven did not waver from his course. He didn't think of Rizzo, or the
Marauder
, or the
Iria
. He had no mother, no brother. He no longer even had a name. There was just the great destroyer before him, and the feel of the controls in his hands. He broke his spell of concentration only once, when the stars finally disappeared and only the
Satia
remained, and that was to say: “All weapons to me.”

Biela disengaged. The cannon ceased pounding.

“Torpedo ready,” confirmed Alis.

And Steven fired.

The
Satia
was struck amidships, its shielding no match for the Cayth missile. Whether this torpedo was somehow different from the rest, or the
Satia
's armor caused it to react unusually, Steven did not know, but a ring of bright light surrounded the heart of the destroyer before expanding laterally, slowly immersing the ship in its glow until the totality of the
Satia
was luminescing. And as the light moved, Steven thought that he could almost see the interior of the ship and the lives of its crew being annihilated one by one, as though the torpedo had doused it in X-rays. The
Satia
's engines died, but the temporary energy field created by the torpedo prevented it from drifting. A small Brigade force was ready to enter the ship and claim it on command, but while Steven wanted the
Satia
, first there was the
Iria
to be dealt with.

Steven turned away from the stricken destroyer and prepared to join the
Marauder
in the battle.

•  •  •

Cooper was a good pilot, but whoever was in charge of the
Iria
was better. The
Marauder
had found itself engaged in a lethal dogfight with the technologically inferior vessel, each craft taking small hits but neither being able to deliver a knockout blow, the skill of the
Iria
's pilot negating the superiority of the
Marauder
.

Rizzo knew her mission: if possible, Steven only wanted the
Iria
disabled, and its crew forced to surrender. She had hoped to be able to oblige, but now she would be happy just to get the
Iria
under her guns for long enough to tear it apart and leave its debris floating in space. The
Iria
was currently behind them, and Cooper was doing his best to shake it off and then maneuver into a position that would give Rizzo a clear shot, but the damage sustained by the
Marauder
had slowed it down, and it was not responding as well as before.

“Dammit, Cooper!” shouted Rizzo in frustration, not for the first time.

“I'm trying.”

“Try harder.”

She gave the
Iria
a blast from the rear cannon, but it tricked to port and the shots went wide.

“Oh, come on!”

And then a series of blasts rocked the
Iria
as the
Revenge
arrived to help, giving Cooper the chance to pull above it and deliver Rizzo her firing opportunity. With both the
Revenge
and the
Marauder
bearing down on it, the
Iria
was lost. It tried to keep them at bay, but the
Revenge
's hits had knocked out its rear cannon and damaged its starboard engine, causing it to list. Steven left it to Rizzo to deliver the killer shot, but as she did so, briefly turning the
Iria
into a fireball, a single round object shot from the disintegrating ship.

“It's a communications drone,” said Rizzo. “I've got it.”

After all this, the last thing they needed was for a drone to alert the Illyri to what had happened to its ships above the earth, but a stray piece of hull from the
Iria
floated by Rizzo's sights at the crucial moment, and the drone was obscured.

“Go, Cooper!” cried Rizzo. “Stay with it.”

Cooper reacted, shadowing the drone, but as he turned so too did it, coming back toward them instead of continuing on a trajectory out of the solar system.

“That's weird,” said Rizzo, and suddenly her earpiece barked into life, and she heard Steven shouting.

“Back down, Rizzo, back down! That's not a drone, it's a—”

The mine exploded, and from it emerged a cloud of smaller magnetic minelets. Rizzo heard them strike the hull of the
Marauder
, like hail landing on a tin roof.

“Sorry, Steven,” she said.

And then the
Marauder
was gone.

S
teven watched the
Marauder
disappear. One moment it was there, the minelets like small thorns embedded in the skin of the ship, and the next it had disintegrated. The mine had been designed to take out a destroyer or a carrier, which was why the
Iria
's commander had not used it until the
Iria
itself was doomed, for otherwise there was a grave risk of causing the destruction of two ships. The smaller
Marauder
had simply disintegrated under the force of the connected blasts. There were no bodies, no debris. It was as though it had never existed.

Not a word was spoken on the
Revenge
. Steven and Alis had lost Rizzo, but the Brigade troops all had friends, cousins, and even a brother on the
Marauder
. Now they were no more. The total, horrified quiet that filled the cabin was louder than any words.

It was left to Alis to break the silence.

“Steven,” she said.

He couldn't look at her. He remained staring blurry-eyed at the empty space once occupied by the
Marauder
, as though willing it back into existence to prove his vision wrong.

“Steven,” Alis repeated, more urgently now.

“What?” he snapped.

He was surprised to be able to speak even that one small word without hearing his voice break under the strain.

“There is another ship.”

He had forgotten the transporter. Now, on the screen, he saw it lurch into life. It was trying to escape the carnage, like some big awkward animal fleeing the hunters' guns once the rest of its herd had been destroyed.

“Take us to it,” he ordered.

The transporter was only lightly armed. It sent a few desultory shots the
Revenge
's way, but Biela carefully targeted the weapons, and they ceased firing. The unknown vessel was huge: by comparison, the
Revenge
was like a fly approaching an elephant. This was what had brought the Others to Earth. This was what had reduced his home to a breeding ground for those abominations.

This ship.

Had the
Revenge
possessed another Cayth torpedo, Steven might have chosen to cleanse the transporter. After all, he could have found some use for it. But without the torpedo, it was just a polluted ark. He wondered how many spores remained on it. The fact that it had not left Earth's orbit indicated that it might still be in use.

“They're hailing us,” said Alis.

“Open a channel,” Steven replied.

He was surprised to see the image of Pemaynell appear again. He would have expected her to be on the
Iria
, and therefore now dead. Instead here she was, alive and well on the transporter, or as well as someone could look who had just witnessed the destruction of a destroyer and a cruiser, leaving her defenseless.

“Who are you?” asked Pemaynell.

Steven let her see him. Pemaynell's face creased in shock.

“A . . .
human
?”

“My name is Steven Kerr. I'm a Brigade pilot, and also leader of this particular unit of the Resistance.”

He turned to Alis.

“Stand up, please,” he said.

Alis did so.

“This is my second in command. Her name is Alis. She's a Mech.”

Somehow Pemaynell managed to look even more shocked.

“What have you got in your head, Security Officer Pemaynell?” asked Steven.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Is it related to those spores you're carrying on that transporter?” asked Steven. “I figure that's why you moved to that big ship once we appeared, so that the thing in your skull could be near its own kind. Did it tell you to try to make a run for it? What's it telling you now, Pemaynell? Is it going to blow your head apart? I've seen it happen. It looks painful.”

Pemaynell gave up any effort at deception.

“It doesn't wish to destroy me,” she said. “It wishes to destroy you.”

“Do you think that it might be willing to negotiate?” asked Steven. From the corner of his eye, he could see Alis react with surprise.

The expression on Pemaynell's face changed. She didn't speak for a good ten seconds, and Steven wondered if she was in silent congress with the Other in her head. How badly did Pemaynell want to live? How badly did the Other want to survive?

And it wasn't just about the organism in Pemaynell's head, but about all of the potential Others contained in the holds of that transporter, each capable of infecting a human host and creating many more of its kind.

“Her name was Michaela Rizzo,” said Steven, seemingly out of the blue.

“What?” said Pemaynell.

“The soldier in command of that ship your mine destroyed. Her name was Rizzo. She was my friend.”

“It is war.”

“I didn't start it. None of us did. Just you and your kind, and those things in your heads.”

“This will not help the negotiation,” said Pemaynell. “What are you offering?”

“Nothing,” Steven replied. “I just wanted to see if you were stupid enough to think I'd cut a deal with a murderous scumbag like you. Biela, destroy that transporter.”

“With pleasure,” said Biela.

“You're too late!” cried Pemaynell. “Your world is gone.”

“And shut that bitch up,” Steven added.

The connection died. Seconds later, so did everything and everyone on board the transporter.

•  •  •

Alis watched Steven from a distance as he wept quietly for Rizzo, and the men and boys lost on the
Marauder
. She felt for him, but did not want to approach. He had destroyed the crippled transporter in an act of revenge, lashing out in pain at the loss of his comrade. Again, it was the reaction of a child. Only days earlier, he had been tormenting himself for failing to protect the Securitats on Krasis. Now he was guilty of a similar crime.

Would the Illyri on board the transporter have surrendered? And what of the spores that it contained, the seeds of the Others? Perhaps, in the end, they would have been forced to kill the crew anyway, and destroy the ship in order to dispose of the spores, but now they would never know for sure.

What kind of boy would Steven have been if the Illyri had never come to Earth? Would he have been cruel? Again, Alis did not know, but she thought not. War and killing had changed him, altering his path, forcing him to draw on aspects of his nature that would have been better left buried.

And none of this would have mattered if a part of her had not once loved him, and was still filled with affection for him.

A
team, led by Hague, was assigned to explore the
Satia
and establish whether it might be possible to operate it with a skeleton crew. Despite all of Steven's assurances, the Brigade troops insisted on going in fully armed, adrenalized to the gills for a possible firefight with survivors. It was sound discipline and standard procedure, but Steven had no illusions about the capabilities of the Cayth weapon: the
Satia
had been sterilized of all life.

The
Revenge
remained docked with the destroyer until Hague gave the all clear, and confirmed that there were two shuttles in the bay. That was good. It meant that they could move troops and supplies between the two ships without forcing the
Revenge
to dock every time.

Steven left Hague and his men to get to grips with the
Satia
, while he and Alis took the remainder of their group down to Earth on board the
Revenge
. He felt no guilt about making straight for Edinburgh. He had fought his way from Derith, and taken Krasis, all with one aim in mind: to discover the fate of his mother.

Now the
Revenge
passed over the streets and parks of his childhood, all empty. Human remains, almost entirely skeletal, lay scattered on pavements and outside buildings. The only signs of life came from birds, and the insects that spattered on the glass of the cockpit as the
Revenge
flew in low over Edinburgh Castle. Some of its buildings had been burned and partially destroyed. Steven spotted the wreckage of an Illyri skimmer half buried in the remains of the Governor's House—probably shot down during the final exodus of the Illyri.

“What is that?” asked Alis.

Steven looked to where she was pointing, and saw something big and gray moving across one of the courtyards, a bone in its mouth. Was it a dog, or a cat?

“My God, it's a rat!” said Muren.

He was right. The rodent was huge, probably as long as Steven's right arm. As the
Revenge
hovered, it paused and raised itself on its hind legs, showing no fear of the ship. It was joined by more of the horrors, pouring out from sewers and under piles of stones. One smaller animal tried to yank the bone from the first rat's mouth, and received a warning swipe of a paw for its troubles. When it persisted, the first rat simply dropped the bone and went for its throat, killing it within seconds. It then proceeded to feast on its kill, preferring fresh meat to old marrow, while another rat vanished with its original prize. Tentatively, more rats joined in the meal, until the dead animal was lost beneath a roiling pack.