The Crucible Page 22

  He lay in a patch of reeds, surrounded by sumptuous blooms—bells, trumpets, and lanterns of red, yellow, and gold. Off to his left whispered the susurrus of flowing water.

  “You are awake.”

  With an effort, Quinn propped himself up on his elbows. Sitting among the reeds in front of him was Zothan, cross-legged and with his single claw resting in his lap. His official robe was gone.

  “Have you recovered?” Zothan asked.

  Quinn ran his fingers through his tangled hair. His eyelids were lead shutters, and his chin stubble felt like sandpaper. “I-I’m fine. What happened?”

  “You collapsed.”

  Quinn had hoped for a more detailed diagnosis, but Zothan was an engineer, not a healer. Was the headpiece responsible, or was this merely the latest symptom of his worsening Shade affliction?

  “I do not like this place,” Zothan continued. “A profusion of living things locked in constant struggle. Each consumes the other. It is… chaotic. In the volothi, the desert, life is swift. Death is clean.”

  Quinn watched the butterfly land. “This is a cushatra, a traditional Kimn home. Are we back on Pann?”

  “No, Quinn. We are aboard the Shasallah, the surrendered Kimn vessel. These are Syn-moon’s quarters. She felt the environment here would assist your recovery.”

  An insect with four iridescent wings and a glowing tail floated past like a lighted taper. A long, multisegmented creature emerged from a bulbous pink flower and wound its way down the stem. A gentle breeze blew, presumably generated by the ship’s air-recycling system. Quinn’s heartbeat slowed.

  “Is this what Earth is like?” Zothan continued.

  “Uh, some parts are quite like this. Others are more like your world.”

  “And what of the place where your omesku resides?”

  “You mean Ireland? Ireland is… Ireland is very green and very wet, and you’d probably hate it.”

  Zothan bent his head one way then the other in a gesture Quinn could not fathom. “I understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “Why you would wish to leave us.”

  Quinn lowered his eyes. “It has nothing to do with the climate. I’m needed elsewhere—that’s all.”

  “You are needed here.”

  “You don’t need me. Your people are united now. You are more than capable of taking back your world without my help.”

  “You are Shade. You have the blackened epidermis, the accursed gifts. You are one of us.”

  And it’s killing me slowly. Quinn fought down bile rushing into his throat. “I will never be Nemazi. I’m not even sure I’m still human.”

  “If Quinn does not belong on Nemazi, and he does not belong in Ireland, where does he belong?”

  Quinn shook his head. “All I know is if Vil-gar dies, then his avatar will disappear, and the Damise will take over the Haven in short order. Then they’ll cross back into our universe with an invincible fleet, and we’ll be royally screwed. There’ll be no more Nemazi and no more Ireland to worry about.”

  Zothan’s stark features softened in the artificial light. “Will I see you again?”

  “Count on it,” Quinn said, squeezing more confidence into his voice than he felt. “Once Nemazi is free, you must hold it at all costs. It’ll be the bridgehead for us to take back the Consensus.”

  “How do you intend to do that?”

  Quinn grimaced, trying to ease a kink out of his back. “I have a plan of sorts. Right now, it has several fairly large holes. Plus, it’ll require the cooperation of someone who despises me. How many darts do we have left?

  “Three.”

  “That’s it? Are you certain?”

  “We would not have even those, had you not intervened,” Zothan said.

  Quinn let out a long sigh. “Well, they’ll have to do. Do you think your engineering division would be able to equip them with the AI-inspired stealth capability from the downed Shanata vessel?”

  “I am unsure. Founder Race technology is unfamiliar to us. The Osei possesses more advanced knowledge. If we could have her help, that would improve our chances of success.”

  “I’m sorry, but I need her skills if we’re to stand any chance of repairing Vil-gar’s avatron. This will be my last order. I want you to pull those darts off the front line and begin retrofitting them immediately.”

  “It shall be done. Once I have disembarked, I will ask Conor, Vyasa, and the Osei to join you. Then the Shasallah will be free to leave orbit. Zothan stood in a single fluid movement. “Kah zokhi, kah shazaah.”

  Long after Zothan had left, Quinn continued to stare at the space he had occupied. Kah shazaah, my friend.

  ~

  Quinn stepped onto the Shasallah’s control section, and twin doors swished shut behind him. A large floating display showed the image of a planet.

  Quinn spotted Syn-moon heading towards him. “Pann, I presume.”

  Syn-moon turned and viewed the display. “Yes. It feels strange to be back.”

  Memories of his perilous descent through Pann’s levels, his discovering the ruins of the original Agantzane occupation, and the death of Conor’s second reanimate returned in a flood. “I know what you mean.”

  “We have detected only three AI-controlled ships. As this is a conquered system, the Damise–Agantzane alliance is maintaining no more than a token presence. They have not detected our approach.”

  That’s what I thought the last time. Quinn buried the thought.

  “I dispatched a number of camera drones to the surface,” Syn-Moon said.

  “Wasn’t that a little risky?”

  “I deemed the risk acceptable. I wanted to give you an idea of what we’ll be up against.”

  Quinn had learned, to his cost, that underestimating the Damise’s AI was foolish. It thought as a single mind. It was well able to adapt, plan, and outwit its adversaries.

  The image of the planet rippled and was replaced by a view of smashed buildings and fallen masonry. Great rips in the supporting platform exposed the darkness below.

  “This is… This was one of the Medyran sections,” Syn-moon said.

  Pann—a rising metropolis, each new civilisation built on top of the last. Cut off from the light, old civilisations would dwindle and die while new ones would flourish until they too were covered over by those who came after.

  The Medyr had challenged Agantzane dominance of the Consensus and been punished for their hubris.

  The view changed to another, more congested platform. Narrow lanes replaced the wide thoroughfares, and tall structures stood cheek by jowl, like passengers on a subway. He saw crumbled walls and collapsed roofs, but it was a far cry from the devastation he had just witnessed. The camera panned upwards, and he caught sight of a familiar set of spires.

  “The Cushatra,” he blurted out. “It’s the Kimn enclave.”

  “You remember,” Syn-moon said.

  “How could I forget? This is your home.”

  “No.” She stared at the display. “Pann was never truly our home. The Agantzane placed us here. We lost our real home many generations ago and became wanderers among the stars. Now we are wanderers once again.”

  “Your people escaped the Damise’s AI?”

  “We scattered when the Damise laid waste to the Medyran platforms from orbit. The Matriarchy felt it was our best chance for survival. But the AI is everywhere. One by one, our sister ships fell silent. Then, just as we were taking on provisions from a dark world near the Consensus’s rim, a trio of AI-controlled Yeshai raiders bracketed us. We had taken heavy damage when the attacking vessels suddenly turned on and destroyed each other. Your friend Vil-gar appeared and explained he had altered their firing programs. We owed him our lives. When he asked for our help in return, we could not refuse.”

  Quinn pressed his lips together. Vil-gar was a master manipulator. The Damise believed he was their ally. It was entirely possible that Vil-gar had alerted those AI ships to the Shasallah’s presence, manufac
turing a crisis he could then resolve so that the Kimn would be indebted to him. Of course, suspicion was not proof, and Quinn had no proof. Besides, Vil-gar’s survival was paramount, so mentioning the possibility of his deception in Syn-moon’s presence could only harm their cause.

  Down to business. “I think our best plan would be to get in, recover the avatron, and get out as quickly as possible.”

  “Agreed. Do you recall its location?”

  “In a sense.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “Well, the avatron is technically not in our universe. It’s within an artificial four-space bubble. I’m pretty sure I remember the street I emerged on when I exited the bubble, but the interface could be anywhere by now.”

  “Why would it move?” Syn-moon asked.

  Quinn shrugged. “If I was as paranoid about self-preservation as Vil-gar, I’d have moved it. In which case, we have absolutely no chance of finding it without—”

  A burst of white light appeared next to them. Quinn shielded his eyes, and when the light died, Vil-gar’s avatar stood beneath its dull silver orb.

  “My help,” Vil-gar finished.

  Quinn kept his features neutral. “You were listening all the time, weren’t you?”

  The little creature elevated its proboscis and sniffed. “Only because I was fascinated by your deductive reasoning. Impressive. Very impressive. For a human. My influence is obviously rubbing off.”

  Quinn stared at him a moment longer before turning to Syn-moon. “I’m going to need a few of your people—a couple from engineering to help with detaching and moving the avatron, a couple more from medical to assist in maintaining Vil-gar’s life signs, and a small detachment of defenders in case we run into any trouble.”

  “You are going to attempt to bring his life-support device on board?” Syn-moon asked.

  “The unit is failing. You have a lot more sophisticated equipment here than anything we can carry with us. I think it’s Vil-gar’s best chance of survival.”

  Syn-moon gave a slight bow. “I will select them personally.”

  The little creature bobbed his head up and down like an excited child. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

  “Not yet,” Quinn said. “There are a couple of people I need to talk to first.”

  ~

  Quinn entered the plain white cubicle assigned as quarters to him and Conor. Conor was lying in one of two wall alcoves that served as sleeping chambers, fidgeting as the underlying surface adjusted to the shape of his back.

  Quinn smiled and adopted a breezy tone. “How’s it going?”

  The boy stared straight ahead. “It’s boring here, Dad. There’s nothing to do.”

  Quinn nodded. “Look, I have to leave. It’s only for a short while.”

  Conor sat straight up. “Great! Where are we going?”

  “Sorry, I can’t take you with me. It’s too dangerous.”

  Conor slumped back into the alcove and averted his eyes.

  “Pann was attacked by AI ships,” Quinn continued. “Most of it is in ruins. There could be all kinds of hazards down there, so I’m taking as few as possible. We’re going to go in, grab Vil-gar’s avatron, and get out. That’s it.”

  “Okay, Dad. I understand.”

  From Conor’s expression and tone of voice, he obviously didn’t understand at all. Just as Quinn opened his mouth to respond, the door chimed.

  Quinn thumped the wall panel, and the door slid open, revealing Vyasa’s slim figure.

  “I hear you are heading down to the surface,” she said.

  Word travels quickly on a small ship. Quinn glanced over his shoulder. Conor was staring off into space.

  “Back in a minute.”

  Quinn stepped out into the ship’s corridor and angled his head. Then he and Vyasa strolled off down the passageway. When Quinn decided they were out of Conor’s earshot, he called a halt.

  “So when do we leave?” Vyasa asked.

  “We don’t. You’re staying here.”

  Pain and disappointment flitted across her features. Quinn moved on with his hastily prepared speech. “Ever since we left Zothan and the dolin behind on Nemazi, Conor has been unsettled. It’s too dangerous to take him with me. I need the Osei’s engineering skills, and Syn-moon is occupied running the ship. That leaves you. I’m sorry to have to burden you with this, but it won’t be for long. We’ll be back before you know it.”

  Vyasa stared at him with eyes as blue as the sky and as wide as the ocean. “I don’t believe you.”

  Quinn scrambled in vain for a response.

  “It’s because I tried to destroy that Borozite interface you were using on Nemazi, isn’t it?” she went on. “You think because I’m a Damise reanimate, I’m doing their bidding.”

  “If I didn’t trust you, do you think I’d be asking you to look after my son?”

  “You’ve kept me at arm’s length ever since I reappeared on the Damise vessel. You made it clear you don’t want me around.”

  An image of Sarah, his late wife, flashed into Quinn’s mind. “That has nothing to do with this.”

  “Doesn’t it? You’re reckless, Quinn. You never give a thought for your own safety. Look at you! Your face disfigured by the Shades. That interface device could have killed you or worse. Someone has to protect you from yourself.”

  “I seem to recall you were willing to risk mental contact with the Damise when the stakes were high enough.”

  “That was to save us all as well as the entire Elinare race. You risked your life and your sanity over a couple of lousy darts!”

  Quinn kept his voice steady. “We need those darts to—”

  Vyasa unfurled her wings and turned away. “Go! Go get yourself killed for all I care!”

  She ran off down the passage, almost knocking a passing Kimn into the wall.

  Quinn stared after her in bewilderment.

  ~

  The evening sun cast a long shadow. Quinn sat with his back to a crumbling wall and contemplated the most perplexing problem in the universe. Women.

  Of course, no women existed within forty light-years or so. Females, then. Was there some kind of genetic law dictating that females of every species made no sense whatsoever? Sarah hadn’t been that way. “An eminently sensible girl with a good head on her shoulders… and a damn fine cook, to boot!” That was how her mother, a first-generation settler from County Limerick, had described her. Born in the void between the stars on the journey to Eire Colony, Sarah had captured his heart with her rolled-up sleeves and twinkle-eyed sense of humour. How I miss her…

  “Quinn, are you listening?” A nimble female with a pointed snout and features covered with cropped black hair leaned towards him. Her name was Par-shan, and she was engineer and de facto leader of the Kimn contingent.

  Quinn roused himself. “Sorry, what was it?”

  “Your friend, Vil-gar. When’s he supposed to get here?”

  Everyone referred to the wisecracking little troll as his friend.

  Quinn sighed. “I’m not sure. He comes and goes as he wishes. He’s not very—”

  A burst of light heralded the appearance of Vil-gar’s projection.

  “Reliable,” Quinn finished.

  Vil-gar scanned the assemblage of eight Kimn—four male defenders and four female technicians—one human, and one Osei. “Good, good, you’re all here. Now, follow me.” The silver sphere moved off, and his projection trailed after it in a parody of walking, though his feet never quite touched the platform’s surface. After a moment, he turned. “Hurry. There’s no time to waste!”

  Grimacing, Quinn pushed to his feet and joined Grey and the technicians. Flanked by large-horned defenders carrying bulbous weapons that looked like silver blunderbusses, they moved along a street filled with windblown trash. Vil-gar’s projection led the way like a bobbing lantern.

  When they had travelled no more than a hundred metres, Par-shan halted and raised a gloved hand in front of Quinn’s face.
>
  He pulled up and tried not to sound irritated. “What’s the matter?”

  “Don’t you hear it?”

  He decided Kimn hearing must be keener than human. “No, sorry.”

  She gazed into the distance, nostrils twitching. “We are not alone.”

  ~

  Par-shan grunted a command, and the defender escort fanned out.

  Quinn had lived in the Kimn community—Syn-moon had even adopted him into her family—yet aspects of Kimn life remained a mystery. He had never heard one of their males speak, for example. Males had a smaller cranial development than females, so they might not possess the power of speech, although they were clearly able to interpret and respond to instructions. Of course, the same might be said of a dog.

  The street was steeped in silence and bathed in the orange half light of evening.

  Quinn lowered his voice. “I still don’t hear anything.”

  “Apartment dwelling to your left,” Par-shan said. “Top floor, far right.”

  Quinn glanced at the spot, where the right half of a circular opening was cast in shadow. “One of your people, perhaps?”

  “All were accounted for, as were the other races that had chosen to live among us. None were left behind.”

  “How about gormgast?”

  She shook her head. “The sound of their biomechanical servos is unmistakable. Besides, gormgast do not lurk in dark corners. We would be fighting off a full-on assault by now.”

  That left only one possibility: the lower races. During Quinn’s last visit, remnants of species built over by succeeding generations had banded together, risen up, and invaded the Enclave. Quinn brokered a deal that would have secured a place for them in the sunlight, only to see the entire arrangement come crashing down. First, the Medyr had attacked in force, then the Damise’s AI ships levelled the Medyran platforms from orbit.

  “I am concerned at the direction Vil-gar is taking us,” Par-shan said.

  “How do you mean?” Quinn said.