Angel Stations (30 page)

He released his grip and Ursu ran, fleeing the village of tents. He kept on running until sheer fatigue forced him to slow his pace. He could still hear voices floating across the half-frozen grass, sounding nearer than they really were. Not so far away, their outlines clear against the night sky, trees extended across the hilltops.

Then sounded the familiar slap-slap-slap of an ice-beast’s progress, its padded feet stamping heavily across the rough soil somewhere to his right. He ducked to the left, heading towards the trees at a slant that would take him longer to reach them, but further away from the voices.

Then came the sound of clawed feet drumming on the earth and splashing through pools of icy water. Terror drove him on faster, faster towards the tree-line. At first, he couldn’t be sure they were riding for him, but now he was certain. The shelter of the trees was only seconds away now. He heard further shouting, soldiers calling to each other. He cursed himself for still wearing the distinctive robes of a priest. He would have to find other, less conspicuous garments whenever he next found the chance.

The god was so heavy that his arms were aching. Again there was the sound of that strange thunder, and something heavy splashed somewhere far off to his right. Ursu whined in terror, but he was almost there.

The din of the riders pursuing him sounded closer now, but the trees now loomed on the slope directly ahead. They grew in a tangled mass, their roots snaking over low ridges towards the pools of brackish water which lay below. Again, something zinged past his head, splashing ahead of him into waterlogged earth.

What had Yé said, that he hoped the Shai caught him? Those Pale Ghosts who forever wandered the ice in search of the unlucky and the lost. But surely that was just a legend, a story . . .

Finally reaching the trees, Ursu was nearly at the end of his endurance. He did not dare look back to see how close his pursuers were. He could only hope the terrain ahead was too dense and impenetrable to be navigated by mounted soldiers. There was just a chance he could still get away. His head thudded as if a hammer beat within it, and the arms that gripped the god were numb.

He pulled himself up between a tangle of ancient gnarled roots, barely able to hold onto the god with just one hand. Some kind of missile splintered the wood next to his hand. Ursu yelled with fear, hauling himself up onto higher ground. The ceaseless thunder followed him, under still clear skies.

There were ruins up here, great piles of stone that had collapsed long ago, gaping holes amid the walls which still stood, but Ursu didn’t have the time to stop and look. The whole desolation was overgrown, and infested with plants and trees so thickly entangled Ursu had trouble picking his way through them. Not much further, he thought, and then he could rest, just for a little bit. It was dark and dense up here, but the shouting and braying sounded more distant now. Perhaps they had turned away.

He collapsed against the side of a great tree, fungi sprouting from its half-rotten trunk, and waited, listening intently, as the sun slowly rose above the horizon.

After he had rested for a while, he moved on.

Elias

The Station corridors were in pandemonium. Elias steered a difficult course through them, thinking this must be what it was like on a sinking ship. He had a name, and a door number – but where was it?

He pushed down a narrow passage leading off one of the Hub’s main thoroughfares. He’d already witnessed a couple of fistfights during the several hours since he’d dealt with Eduardez. People were panicking, and the silver bugs were everywhere. They infested the Station on both the outside and the inside. He’d accidentally kicked one when it suddenly scurried out in front of him, but it had merely picked itself up and continued on its way. Some kind of machine, he realized, like the things he’d observed on his escape from the
Jager
.

He had to get back out there, rescue Trencher, whatever the hell they were intending to do with him. Elias was worried they were going to send Trencher back through the singularity. Why they’d brought him here in the first place was a mystery but, now that the shit was really starting to hit the fan, the only logical course of action for the Primalists was either to send him back to Earth or to move him further along the cosmic daisy-chain of Angel Stations. And if they did that, Elias knew the chances of him ever finding Trencher again measured roughly slim to zero.

He couldn’t allow that to happen.

His skin itched constantly, the sensation occasionally blossoming into something more akin to a dull pain. His left hand had developed a minor twitch, and he knew it was all brought on by the Slow Blight.

He found the right door number and pressed a pad in the centre of it. A small dull light illuminated next to the door, and Elias was aware he was being studied from within. ‘Miss Amoto?’ He waited another moment. ‘I need to hire your Goblin, Miss Amoto.’

A few seconds later, the door clicked open. Behind it was visible a narrow cot, a tiny chair and a desk, and beyond them a paper screen that probably hid the toilet or maybe a kitchen. Most of the available space was buried under luggage cases and scattered belongings. Kim Amoto – assuming he had come to the right place – stared back at him. Tall and gangly, in that weird way people who had been born in low-g environments tended to be. Though far from unattractive for all that. She wore soft loose trousers and a utilitarian-looking shirt that, nonetheless, seemed to show off her figure quite well. He could see a man, maybe in his early thirties, balanced precariously on a low stool in one corner.

He risked a sideways glance at the man, whose gaze, Elias had noticed, tended to wander to Kim when he thought she wasn’t looking. More than just friends, thought Elias. No, used to be. They weren’t that close now, perhaps.

Kim studied him carefully. ‘The Goblin’s not for hire, I’m afraid. In case you hadn’t noticed, everyone’s getting themselves off the Station.’ There was a sarcastic edge to her voice that almost made Elias smile.

‘I’m aware of that, but I’m in a hurry too. I’m prepared to pay well for it.’ Elias pulled out a credit chip and held it up so she could see. He then tapped a little blue square in one corner of the card, and made sure she could see the numbers scrolling across it. ‘That’s how much I’m prepared to pay into your account, Miss Amoto.’

Her eyes got bigger, but she stayed cool. ‘This job, how long is it going to take? And is it legal?’

‘It won’t be long, no more than a few hours. And I don’t really know if it’s legal or not. I suspect it depends on where you’re coming from.’

She looked at him sharply. The man – a studious-looking type – was watching their conversation with interest. ‘Who sent you?’ she asked, after a pause.

‘Bill did.’ And that had cost Elias too. After this, he wasn’t going to have much money left. ‘I think you know him.’

She breathed sharply. ‘Yes, I do. All right, then.’ She stuck her head out into the corridor and assessed the people hurrying past. She looked back at Elias. ‘Vincent comes with us,’ she nodded at the man behind her, ‘or the deal’s off.’

Elias examined him for a moment. He seemed harmless enough. ‘Whatever.’

‘Okay, here’s the deal. I want a drink in the Hub first. We can all talk there. Then you can tell us what you want to pay us for.’

Elias glanced down the long corridor, towards the Hub. ‘Those little silver things are everywhere now. I heard some people saying the Station might not survive more than another couple of days.’

‘Before it loses its integrity and starts venting atmosphere? Yes, I know. But I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Elias Murray.’

‘Okay then, Mr Murray, I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I get a decent drink again, so I want one last one in case there’s no more Hub by next week, all right?’

Elias shrugged. It made no difference to him.

Most of the drinking establishments along the main stretch of the Hub had already closed down, and it was clear that those proprietors left were grabbing what little business they could before they themselves abandoned ship. The three of them pushed off along the corridor without saying anything. The panicking expressions around them, the sudden disruption of so many people’s lives, said more than words might ever say. Elias felt some of that same fear clutch at him. The walls surrounding him could no longer be trusted to protect him, or anyone else, from the cold, vicious vacuum that lay beyond them. Maybe they only had minutes left, and he’d die without ever finding Trencher again. Maybe . . .

No, every smartsheet on board the Station seemed to be broadcasting emergency relays containing information about the ‘infection’, how the insects didn’t seem to be aggressive towards people: but the safety of the Station had been compromised, and people were being advised to find a way to get off or else subject themselves to a rigorous evacuation procedure designed to make sure this infection didn’t reach any ships still uncontaminated by it.

Elias had no intention of being taken anywhere on a military transport, unarmed and unprotected, if he could possibly avoid it. That meant spending money on hiring his own ship – and finding Trencher, whatever it took.

Elias felt ill at ease sitting there in an almost empty bar, watching the Station residents who had become refugees overnight hurrying past, sorting out the final details of their lives on board. Elias wondered if they’d ever have a Station to come back to.

He looked down at his hands, and saw they were both shaking. As he willed them to stop, the tremors eased just a little. Not much time left, he thought, but if he could do one thing right, just one thing, he would find Trencher.

He thought again of that face he had glimpsed through thick, shielded plastic, and he shivered.

As he glanced at Vincent, he realized the man had been staring at him the whole time. Not in a challenging way, but in a . . . in a way that suggested he knew more than he had been letting on. Maybe he was her business partner?

‘This is a strange situation.’ Vincent continued looking at Elias.

Elias nodded, not sure how to reply.

‘This job,’ Kim said. ‘Tell me about it.’

‘Okay, I need to retrieve a friend of mine from one of the ships out there near the Station. He’s on board a cargo carrier, or he was the last time I saw him. I need you to take me out there so I can fetch him back.’

‘Hold it.’ She put up one hand. ‘Perhaps you aren’t aware of the quarantine rules they’ve imposed since this emergency started.’ Elias looked over her shoulder to see a tiny silver head squeeze itself out of an air duct. It dropped to the floor, and scurried away. Another followed it, and then another. Elias unclenched his jaw muscles and tried to force himself to relax. ‘No ships are allowed anywhere near any vessel that hasn’t already been hit by the infection. They’d shoot us out of the skies if we approached.’

‘The
Jager
?’ he said by way of explanation. ‘I believe it was infected fairly early on. I saw the bugs swarming across it myself.’

‘Okay.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Okay, if it’s already infected, we might not have so much of a problem. Next question, why doesn’t your friend just get on board one of the regular shuttles and come over here himself?’

‘He’s being held there against his will,’ said Elias. ‘He’s been kept on ice for a number of years, and though he’s unconscious, he’s still a prisoner.’ He saw the disbelief on her face, and held up his hands. ‘It’s a long story – and I mean a
really
long story.’

‘It’s not the veracity of your story I’m concerned with,’ she said. ‘It’s whether the people who are holding your . . . friend against his will are prepared to let you just take him away. I’m not very keen on finding myself in the middle of a shooting match.’

‘You won’t, I promise. Look, all I really need is transport – transport there, then back again.’

‘Like catching a taxi ride?’ she said.

‘Exactly.’ He nodded.

‘Except a taxi ride where some types we’d rather not meet might just start shooting at us because they don’t want your friend up there to take a taxi ride with you.’

He shrugged. ‘That pretty much sums it up.’

She sighed. ‘Give me a minute.’ She got up, tapping Vincent on the arm, and they walked together across the Hub’s main corridor, to where the bar area resumed on the other side. Most of the tables on that side were empty too. Elias watched and waited.

‘I’m not sure. Is this the kind of thing you get up to these days?’ Vincent asked her, a quizzical look on his face. She was starting to remember how difficult it was to tell when he was being serious or not.

‘No, it’s not, but . . .’ She sighed. ‘I can’t even get to my Goblin right now. I have to pay a fine first, Vincent. Don’t ask me what I did. I just screwed up, all right?’

‘Surely the bureaucrats aren’t going to prevent you from regaining your ship during an emergency like this?’

‘Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ she said bitterly, feeling her cheeks burn with anger. ‘I had gone to see Central Command with just that in mind.’

‘And?’ Vincent realized that must have been the point at which he’d spotted her in the crowd.

‘If they’d only let me have it, I probably wouldn’t still be on the Station right now. You know what they said? They said I’d have to wait until after this emergency before I could get it back. So I said, how the hell am I going to get off the Station, then?’ She raised her hands in frustration, then dropped them to her sides.
God bless Bill
, she thought, knowing he must have been thinking of her when he sent this man Murray to contact her. He’d known just how badly she needed the money – and he was right.

‘They told you to get in line with all the other refugees on board the military ships?’

She nodded. ‘And leave my ship behind? Not if I can avoid it, Vincent.’ She looked back at where Elias was still sitting. ‘Not at all.’

‘Okay,’ said Vincent. ‘One other thing, though. He mentioned the
Jager
, and we both know something happened to it a couple of days ago. Some kind of accident was reported.’