Guardians of Paradise (49 page)

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Authors: Jaine Fenn

BOOK: Guardians of Paradise
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She looked around the rec-room, like she expected the answer to be there, then said quietly, ‘Do you know why Jarek originally rescued me?’
 
Confused at the irrelevant question, Taro shook his head.
 
‘Because I called to him. Through shiftspace.’
 
‘Yeah, he said something about that. But don’t you go crazy in the shift?’
 
‘I did, yes. The initial contact I had with Jarek’s ship was only momentary, and it was . . . painful. Afterwards, when we were running away’ - she turned her head to look at the cylinder of the drive-column - ‘in the shift all I could sense was the insane mind in there, forcing the ship through the shift. I could not help but be drawn into unity. Because that’s how it works, for us . . .’ her voice trailed away.
 
‘Listen, if we’re about to go into the shift, why aren’t you preparing yourself? At least sort some drugs—’
 
‘I am.’
 
‘What?’
 
‘I am preparing myself. I am explaining to you what must be done. Because I will need your help, your strength.’
 
‘I don’t understand.’
 
‘Back then I was a child. I was uncertain and in pain. I did not have full control of my abilities. And I did not have you. With your help - if you will give it – I can influence what happens in shiftspace.’
 
‘That’s . . . heavy.’
 
‘But necessary. We must act now, before it’s too late. Will you help me?’
 
This was crazy: he wasn’t even sure what she was asking, let alone whether he’d be able to do it. But he trusted her. ‘What do I have to do?’
 
Before she could answer they heard Jarek’s voice from above them, swearing loudly.
 
‘Take my hands. Hurry.’
 
He did so. They felt small, warm, ordinary.
 
‘Close your eyes.’
 
‘Right.’
 

 

 

 
 
Nothing.
 
Like nothing at all, like nowhere, like losing all ties.
 
For a moment, freedom. A release of sensation, of self.
 
He feels her as part of him, knowing he is part of her. They retain enough separation to remember who is who, but there is nothing left of
where
and
what
and
why
. Weirdly glorious. Unity.
 
Then, purpose:
 
They must reach out together (
been here before
) to find a third mind.
 
They do, and as they connect he recalls in a rush what they’re doing, and is suddenly terrified. He tries to hold back. He can’t.
 
His consciousness is swamped.
 
Pain, the bEauTiful Pain. Bring thE beaUtifuL pain!
i aM the pAth, tHe onE Who knOwS, the One wHo suFfeRs, whO
muSt sUffer.
i aM—
 

 

 
 
The impulse comes from the part of them that is her, the part that retains control, sanity:

 
ThEre=
sCenT of brUisEd LoVe+scReaMing iN tHe bEtwEen+SoUnds of
tOo-briGhT LiGht+nEveRneSs oF loSs+FleSh ruBbeD rAw,
RubbEd Raw anD BleEdiNg uNtil tHere iS
NO FLeSH ...
 
 
 
The onslaught continues. It will overwhelm them. They’re not strong enough.
 
He feels the familiar sensation: her in him. She needs his strength. He gives it, without thought. She takes.
 
The madness is lessening. No, fading. Everything is fading. He has given everything. She is taking it, using it. All he is, and more. He is becoming nothing, lost for ever. This is as it should be, as it was fated to be. The just end—
 
He feels her break the connection.

He is jerked back from the edge. Awareness returns, and with it, the madness—
 
KeEp lOoking - keeP looKinG, hEre in The gApS tHe aNsweR liEs
CurlEd. ThePatternisWrongAnditMustBeMadeRight—
 
 
He tries to reassert himself, to rediscover what it is to be an individual who isn’t part of the crazy nothing - and who isn’t her, either. Not part of her, but
with
her. And not as slave, minion or worshipper. As partner. Lover.
 
He will give her his strength. But not himself. Not until she asks for it. When she does choose to do that he won’t hesitate, because such sacrifice is the ultimate expression of love.
 
That is the only truth left now, this one incomprehensible emotion.
 
All else is agony and horror and the crushing void.
 
 
There was something stuck to his cheek. Something rough and hard and—
 
The floor. He was lying on the floor.
 
Jarek moved his head. Yes, lying on the floor, face pressed into carpet. It didn’t smell too good down here, but he wasn’t sure he could do anything about that, not if it involved moving. He remembered going into the shift, recalled the familiar hind-brain wallop and that sense of physical disassociation. It’d been a bad transit, bad enough that at some point his mind had given up trying to deal with the unreality and shut down. It didn’t feel like he’d damaged anything when he passed out, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he sat up. Which he really needed to do some time soon.
 
He got his arms under him and levered himself upright. His head swam and he felt queasy. He was on the bridge, which was good. But—
Oh shit
, now he remembered! They’d gone into the shift too soon!
 
He crawled over to the main console and heaved himself onto his couch. His hands went through the actions required to get his ship working again and almost at once the alarms started. He was getting system errors from environmentals, coms and main engines. Environmentals could wait: basic life-support was working, though they’d be a bit chilly until he got the heating back on full, and trying to take a shower at the moment would be a really bad idea. Coms just needed a manual reset. The reactor was coming up without a hitch but the grav-drive had already tried a cold-start, which would’ve done the AG unit no good at all. The journey through shiftspace had stripped the ship of its original momentum, and they’d been spat out at the beacon with a safe speed and heading relative to local spacetime. The nav-shields were working so they weren’t about to get holed by passing space-debris, but until he got the engines back online they were effectively adrift.
 
As his fingers moved over the controls he realised that there was one alarm he wasn’t hearing: the proximity warning. As soon as he had the immediate crises under control he fired up the sensors, to find there was nothing within several light-seconds. Thank fuck for that: the Court ship hadn’t managed to follow them. He hoped Nual and Taro had got themselves buckled down before the transit—
 
Coms came back up with an
urgent incoming
message. He hit receive and got an annoyed male voice.
 
‘Unknown vessel, unknown vessel, this Xantier TC. Kindly respond at once with your ID and intentions. Do you require assistance? Please acknowledge.’
 
The message repeated and he was about to compose a reply when he registered what he’d just heard.
 
This is Xantier TC . . .
 
Xantier?
What the fuck?!
 
Given what a screwed-up transit that’d been he could almost believe they’d ended up in a system other than Oril, but it still had to be a system on a direct transit-path from Kama Nui. Xantier was four transits away. Coming out there simply wasn’t possible.
 
He opened the shutters and was relieved to find space looking the same as it always did: remote, beautiful and too big to comprehend. Nav systems were still offline, so he couldn’t get a star-fix. He sent a text-only reply to traffic control, stating that they’d had a bad transit but were in no immediate danger. He said he’d be in touch again once he’d checked his ship over.
 
The remaining systems were coming back up by themselves, so he went to find Nual and Taro. He left the bridge, clinging shakily to the ladder as he descended.
 
He didn’t spot them at first. Then he heard a small sound from behind him, and turned round. They were sitting, or rather huddled, against the drive-column, arms wrapped around each other. They were both conscious but dazed. Their faces were grey-white, save for a thin trickle of red under Nual’s nose. They didn’t notice him until he spoke.
 
‘Are you two all right?’ he asked. He was already recovering from the worst ravages of the transit and his body was demanding caf. It looked like they’d had a far worse time of it.
 
‘We . . . will be,’ said Nual in a small, drained voice.
 
Jarek ducked under the ladder and helped them stand. They were trembling, the kind of constant unconscious shuddering that comes after great exertion. ‘I think we should get you both to the med-bay. Nual, you’ve got blood on your face.’
 
She raised a hand to wipe her lip, then looked at the red smear with a mixture of confusion and irritation. ‘I’m fine,’ she murmured. ‘Just need a drink. Please.’
 
‘I could certainly use one myself,’ Jarek agreed.
 
The three of them staggered over to the table and Jarek started making a pot of caf while the other two collapsed onto seats. He nodded to indicate the drive-column. ‘How come you ended up sitting down there?’
 
He saw the look that passed between them - no doubt more than a look - then Nual said, ‘Needed . . . to get close.’
 
‘I don’t understand.’
 
Her eyes were still unfocused and despite her claim that she wasn’t hurt, he wondered if she’d injured herself. Perhaps she’d fallen when the ship was in the shift, maybe banged her head. ‘Close to the . . . shift-mind,’ she said.
 
Jarek put the pot down and turned to face her. ‘I’d have thought that was the last thing you’d want to do.’
 
Nual started to shake her head, then winced, ‘Not like that . . . any more.’
 
For the first time, Taro spoke; though he looked even more exhausted than Nual, his voice was stronger than hers. ‘Where are we?’
 
‘Interesting question. Apparently we’re at Xantier.’ Jarek let his continuing disbelief colour his voice.
 
‘That’s . . . where Bez, the hacker, is. Where you wanted to go, yes?’ Taro glanced between Jarek and Nual as he spoke.
 
‘Yes,’ said Jarek, ‘but that’s not how transits work. You have to follow the paths—’
 
‘I don’t,’ whispered Nual.
 
‘What?’ The question came out more harshly than he intended, but it had been a hell of a day and he’d just about reached the end of his endurance.
 
Nual’s voice was stronger now. ‘Xantier. That’s where you wanted to go. So that’s where I took us.’
 
‘Holy fucking Christos!’ Jarek’s cry echoed through the ship.
 
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
 
Jarek would never get used to hollow-earth worlds. It came of being a planet-dweller for his first two decades; he’d managed to adjust to ships and stations where the horizon was cut off, but having the horizon wrapped around your head was just plain wrong. The residential and commercial areas of Xantier’s ‘ground’ were edged by parkland, a green strip running around the wall at the level where the choice of views - up across the crop fields and into the ‘sky’ of blue-painted rock, or down onto civilisation - made for interesting conversation but uncomfortable living-space.
 
Most of the benches faced the habbed area, overlooking the pattern of apartments, manufactories and offices sweeping up the curve of the world below. Jarek found a seat that faced sideways, looking along a strip of green that receded into the mist obscuring the distant end-wall of the great cylindrical habitat. It wasn’t a view he particularly relished, but he didn’t want to appear to be paying too much attention to his immediate surroundings. He didn’t want, for instance, to look like he was waiting for someone. As far as anyone watching was concerned - assuming anyone was, and he hoped they weren’t - he’d just wandered out to the park for a bit of breathing space. Which was almost true: Nual and Taro were happily amusing themselves in their room, but he was glad to escape the less-than-luxurious hotel where they were staying while the repairs on the
Heart of Glass
were completed.

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