Guardians of Paradise (45 page)
Read Guardians of Paradise Online
Authors: Jaine Fenn
Lyrian swung again, grunting with effort, but the ceiling was relatively high, and the pipe heavy and short and she could only reach up as far as Nual’s hips now. As the pipe came round Nual whipped her legs up and curled into a tight ball. The blow didn’t connect, but Lyrian, unbalanced again, took a step forward and Nual uncoiled and swooped, her blades extended.
One blade caught Lyrian in the chest, entering just below the shoulder-bone. Nual felt the momentary resistance of flesh; there, then gone as she pierced Lyrian’s lung. She withdrew the blade when she felt the tip jar on a rib, and the blade snicked back into her forearm in a brief spray of red.
Lyrian dropped her pipe, gave a wet gurgle, and fell to the floor.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Beyond her cell, insanity had already taken hold. The first Sidhe Nual found, further along the corridor, was sitting against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest as she stared intently into space. Her chin was filmed by a thin sheen of blood-threaded drool and her lips were moving.
Though Nual had withdrawn her senses to avoid detection - or risk of infection - she could not help but pick up the woman’s sub-vocalised mumblings:
<. . . if the universe . . . if . . . if . . . if . . .we don’t have to see it that way! . . . layers, always layers . . . the map is not the territory . . . so vast, so vast and beautiful . . . so terrible . . . help me, I can’t hear you any more . . . too much, it’s too much! . . .>
<. . . if the universe . . . if . . . if . . . if . . .we don’t have to see it that way! . . . layers, always layers . . . the map is not the territory . . . so vast, so vast and beautiful . . . so terrible . . . help me, I can’t hear you any more . . . too much, it’s too much! . . .>
Nual locked down her mind more tightly and hurried past.
The infected Sidhe’s mutterings reminded her of snatches she’d picked up when her mind had accidentally touched the sentiences at the heart of transit-kernels, experiences she’d considered at length during her recent imprisonment. Most of the time the shift-minds were beyond words - they’d been mad for years, even centuries. Whatever this was, it had only just arrived, and even if Lyrian had killed the original carrier, the infection was on the loose now.
Perhaps in the very air
. . . no, that made no sense: she had suffered no ill effects on the mothership, where for several days she had breathed the same air as those who were infected. This contagion required contact.
Perhaps in the very air
. . . no, that made no sense: she had suffered no ill effects on the mothership, where for several days she had breathed the same air as those who were infected. This contagion required contact.
Nual realised that her heartbeat was skipping, her breathing a fast pant; she must not let herself give in to such illogical fears. She paused for a moment to override her body’s responses, going from the verge of panic to detached concern in a matter of seconds.
She considered what to do next.
The thing must have arrived in a shiftship. She had to find that ship, and use it to escape. In the meantime, she must avoid contact with those already infected. She obviously had some resistance to the contagion, but she wasn’t immune, or at least the avatar had not believed she was, given the effort it had expended to recruit her. Quite aside from the risk of becoming tainted, she was also in danger of physical attack: her memories of the flight from the mothership included glimpses of the aftermath of carnage.
The corridor ended in a junction. Unwilling to extend her more arcane senses, Nual peered round the corner. She could make out few details in the gloom; as far as she could see both directions were empty, and identical. She had no idea of the layout of this ship. Perhaps if she found someone who wasn’t infected, she could persuade her to guide her out . . . No, that wouldn’t work: she had no allies here.
As she turned left, someone screamed in the distance, a cry of pure animal anguish, suddenly cut off. She forced herself not to react, though the effort of overruling her instinctive terror was beginning to make her limbs quiver.
In some ways the layout and décor reminded her of the starliners in which she and Taro had travelled to Khathryn, and that gave her an idea. Before she could test her theory, she heard someone approaching; something about the movement sounded wrong, and the breathing was that of a woman engaged in a moderately athletic task. She flew up, pressing herself flat against the ceiling just in time to avoid a Sidhe who scuttled round the corner on all fours - no, not on all fours, on two arms and one leg. The other leg was obviously broken, with splinters of white bone sticking through blood-soaked cloth, and it swung from side to side as the Sidhe moved, a sickening
flop-and-wrench
,
flop-and-wrench
movement. The Sidhe did not appear to be in pain, just in a hurry. She did not look up, or give any sign of knowing Nual was there. When she’d gone, Nual shivered, then floated back down.
flop-and-wrench
,
flop-and-wrench
movement. The Sidhe did not appear to be in pain, just in a hurry. She did not look up, or give any sign of knowing Nual was there. When she’d gone, Nual shivered, then floated back down.
She found what she was looking for a couple of corridors further on: a console set into the wall, provided for guests who were not linked into the ship’s comnet. She waved a hand over the sensor. For a moment nothing happened and she began to wonder if this system was one of those that had gone down; then a menu appeared, overlaid with a flashing message: ‘Please return to your cabin and await instructions from your steward.’ Her suspicions were confirmed: it had been a starliner once; aside from the motherships, the Sidhe used human technology to travel the stars. Despite the warning message, the system was still functioning, so she called up a floor-plan: what had been the crew sections were marked as off-limits, with no details, but she could see enough to work out that had she turned the other way when she first came out of her cell she would have found herself only two corridors away from the smaller airlock at the front. However, she had already gone far enough through the ship to now be closer to the main lock at the back.
So much for relying on intuition.
Shortly after she set off again she heard someone else approaching, this time more cautiously. Again, she floated up, using the only place she had to hide. The Sidhe who came round the corner moved with purposeful sanity. She’d got hold of a gun from somewhere and looked as if she was advancing through the ship ready to take on whoever -
what
ever - she found. She was not being as careful as Nual, and had extended her senses. Nual hoped her own state of mental lock-down would stop her presence being registered.
what
ever - she found. She was not being as careful as Nual, and had extended her senses. Nual hoped her own state of mental lock-down would stop her presence being registered.
Apparently not. The Sidhe looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of a naked woman floating at ceiling height. She raised her gun—
—and instinct took over. Nual looked her in the eyes, aiming to disable, deflect—
—and ran straight into the Sidhe’s shields. She’d never tried these tricks on her own people, only on defenceless humans—
Something thumped Nual’s arm, hard, slamming her up into the ceiling.
—the contact faltered. Sensations of shock and pain clamoured for Nual’s attention and her vision swam. The Sidhe reasserted her will, pressing home her mental advantage.
Nual’s attempt to fight back was hampered by physical distractions. She was losing this battle - how ironic, that they had finally found a way in. She retreated from the physical world, and for a time of indeterminate nothingness, they were locked in mental stalemate.
She felt the other Sidhe’s barriers began to give and prepared to barge in, to enjoy the victory and take whatever she could - knowledge, energy - as her reward—
—and spotted, only just in time, the wrongness lurking like pus below the surface of the other woman’s conscious mind, ready to draw her in. Nual withdrew, whipping her presence out and back into her own head.
Almost no time had passed. She found herself floating diagonally half way between floor and ceiling, her implants in the process of lowering her gently down.
The other Sidhe fell backwards and began to emit a high, inhuman shriek, beating at her temples with the flat of her hands.
Fighting Nual had given the infection a chance to overcome the Sidhe’s defences. Thanks to her, it had claimed another victim, Nual thought with a shudder. She flew shakily past the screaming Sidhe to land a safe distance up the corridor, then permitted full physical sensation to return. She must have been shot with a stun weapon: her body was numb and heavy, and she couldn’t feel her right arm.
Though she could stifle the shock and discomfort, she soon found that her malnourished, overstressed, and drugged leg muscles had become too uncoordinated to control her flight implants properly. Given the choice of bouncing off walls or staggering along the floor, she went for the latter option. She passed another couple of semiconscious Sidhe, and one, halfway out of a door, who was lying face-down in a pool of blood. She hurried past them all, careful to avoid any contact.
When she reached the airlock, all was quiet.
With her minimal knowledge of space-faring, Nual wasn’t sure whether or not there was a ship on the other side. The panel had lights on it, but some of them were red. She crept closer to the door: two red lights, one green. And there was a reader, like the ones on the cabin doors on the starliner, attuned to coms or touch. She waved a hand over the sensor, but nothing happened. After a moment’s hesitation, she pressed a finger to it. Still nothing.
Well, they would hardly leave the escape route unlocked, would they? She had been foolish to think otherwise.
One of the red lights blinked to green.
In her befuddled state it hadn’t occurred to her that they would leave someone on board to keep watch.
She embraced her body’s flight instinct, instantly dumping a spike of adrenalin into her system.
Then she ran.
‘Everyone ignored you last time, right?’ Taro knew the answer, but nerves were making him burble. He knew he had to do this, and he’d been relieved when Jarek agreed, but that didn’t stop him being shit-scared. Jarek’s request that Taro shoot him if it looked like the Sidhe were going to capture them didn’t help. He wished Jarek hadn’t entirely countered the drugs he’d been using to contact Nual. He could use a dose of chill right now.
‘Like I said, most of the Sidhe on the mothership were already dead when I got there.’ Jarek was checking the readouts in his ship’s airlock. ‘The infected Sidhe we met was interested in Nual, but she didn’t even seem to notice me. That’s how I managed to tranq her. Or it. Or whatever.’
Taro pointed to the weapon on Jarek’s hip. ‘That don’t look like a tranq gun.’
‘That’s because it’s a needle-pistol - considerably less of a problem than your own choice of weapon, Taro: a laser really isn’t an ideal gun to use on a spaceship. The last thing we want is a hull-breach. ’
‘I’ve dialled it all the way down and I won’t shoot any outside walls.’ Taro’d already worked out what’d happen if he did, but even if Jarek’d had a v-suit that fitted him, Taro’s gun wouldn’t work with gloves on. So Jarek had said he’d go unsuited too, which Taro appreciated.
Jarek said, ‘Right. Environmentals are all green, so we’re good to go. Ready?’
‘Let’s do it.’
Jarek pressed the pad. The airlock door opened.
The other ship’s airlock was empty and they walked in. Despite himself Taro jumped when the door closed behind them. Jarek checked the panel beside the far door. When he was satisfied, he opened the door.
The corridor beyond was lit by red light, but empty of threats.
‘Smells a bit odd,’ said Taro, more for something to say than because he thought there was a problem Jarek’d missed.
‘Other people’s ships usually do.’
‘I guess so. So, where do we start?’
‘Well, we’re at the front of the ship, so we work our way back. Carefully.’
They found their first Sidhe in the next corridor.
She was sitting on the floor, legs bent to one side like she’d fallen. Though she was facing their way she wasn’t looking at them. She was leaning forward on her hands, head down, face hidden behind a curtain of hair.
Taro and Jarek still stopped dead. She didn’t move. They started to back off. She continued to ignore them. Taro glanced at Jarek; in the red light Jarek’s face looked like a grim mask.
Back round the corner, Taro whispered, ‘So, do we find another way, then?’
Jarek nodded, then as Taro turned, put an arm out. ‘No, wait, the chances are we’ll just meet another one round the next corner. Last time . . . Last time the only live Sidhe I saw on the mothership were pretty distracted.’ Taro got the impression he was getting up his nerve. ‘I’m going to investigate. I’ll need you to watch my back.’
‘All right.’ Taro wasn’t entirely sure how; the knowledge that had come with his Angel mods didn’t cover team tactics.
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