Seeker (47 page)

“I will not kill her, Master,” she told him quietly.

She had moved close to him, while the other two were some distance away.

“I do not think you will kill her,” he agreed.

“It would be unjust,” she whispered.

“As you say.”

“Will we truly give the athame to Briac Kincaid?”

He did not answer immediately, his eyes on the ship in the distance.
Traveler
was closer, gliding toward them between tall buildings.

“Our promise is to set things to rights,” he told her, after some time had passed. “If that means putting the athame into the proper hand, should we not do that?”

“Who chooses the proper hand?” she asked quietly.

He did not answer her directly, but after a pause he said, “We three Dreads were not meant to be awake all at once. To decide what is just, one at a time should be sufficient—when all have been trained. An athame is a small thing. To give it to someone requires only one hand. Whose hand would that be?”

As
Traveler
moved closer, the Young waited silently for the Old to answer his own question. Instead he said, “Now is the time. Are you prepared?”

“I am.”

With that, he called Briac and the Middle Dread closer, made a final adjustment to the dials, and struck the athame against its slender lightning rod. As the vibration engulfed them, the Young Dread’s eyes caught movement far above, near a building so high that it was difficult to see the peak from where she stood. Throwing her sight, she focused on two shapes hurtling through the sky toward the floating ship. These shapes were people, a tangle of weapons and limbs.

Then explosions of color filled the night air, pulling her eyes away from the falling figures. Pink bloomed around
Traveler
’s nose, followed a moment later by blue, then green. Deep, rumbling booms rolled over them. Quin, it seemed, was arriving on the ship with tremendous fanfare.

The Old Dread carved a portal. The Young turned her eyes from the flashes filling the sky and stepped through the humming doorway after him. The Middle came next and then Briac, who pulled his bad leg behind him as he crossed the surging threshold between here and
There
.

Before the doorway had closed, her master’s fingers flew over the dials of his athame. Then he struck the lightning rod again. With the first anomaly still hovering behind them, he carved a new doorway, which opened onto a hallway and a cross section of flooring. They
were looking at the interior of
Traveler
through a hole that had been cut between floors, without enough room for them to safely enter.

Without hesitation, the Old Dread’s fingers flew over the dials again, making a subtle adjustment. He struck athame and rod together a third time, turned slightly, and carved another portal. This one opened up into the same hallway, which was now directly in front of them. The Young experienced a moment of dizziness as she stared though both anomalies, each showing a slightly different angle of the same space.

Within both was chaos. The interior lights of
Traveler
were flashing, men were shouting, and bursts of colored light were coming in from overhead.

Drawing their weapons, the three Dreads and Briac Kincaid stepped through the doorway and onto the ship.

Shinobu pulled the rip cord, and the parachute yanked itself out of its casing, unfurled above them, and jerked them upward, abruptly slowing their fall. As soon as the chute was open, a gust of wind blew them higher and yanked them violently to the side.

They were going to die. Quin was fairly certain they were going to die. All around them, fireworks were exploding, sending burning embers everywhere. Her trousers were on fire. She tried to hit her legs together to crush out the flames, but a smolder of green firework fuel was eating through the fabric.

Traveler
was just below them. Though it had seemed silent from far away, the enormous suspension engines made a thundering roar up close. Shinobu was cursing and yanking on their parachute’s control lines, but the wind was still gusting, so it was almost impossible to steer.

Another firework went off, sending blinding golden squiggles across the known universe. The noise was deafening. Shinobu began cursing more loudly. Quin craned her neck back and saw that a burning
stream of golden ash had set fire to the lace braids of his samurai armor. It was also eating a hole through their parachute. They’d been blown far behind
Traveler
now, and Shinobu was obviously losing control.

“Hold on!” he yelled. “Turn away!”

Quin’s ears filled with the sound of igniting rocket fuel as they were sent into an accelerating spin. He had set off the thruster strapped to his left hip, and it was propelling them crazily toward the floating ship.

She was wrenched almost upside down, and then Shinobu had the thruster in his gloved hand, and he was aiming it behind them. They righted themselves, and suddenly they were above
Traveler
once more, its huge bulk hovering just below them.

“Hold on!” he yelled again as another firework went off.

Quin saw him throw the thruster away. Then he ripped their parachute loose, and they were both free-falling, no backup chute, no hope of recovering if they missed.

For two terrifying seconds, her insides turned to jelly. Then she and Shinobu hit the ship hard and began to roll. What had looked almost flat from above turned out to be a sloping surface. Quin’s hands and feet scrambled for purchase, and the canisters attached to her harness bounced around her body like small anvils. She and Shinobu slid for yards, Quin thinking at any moment they would be at the edge, then falling over. Instead they came to a stop against the fins of the rear suspension engines.

Shinobu was on his knees immediately, pulling Quin up beside him and unhooking the carabiners that connected them.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, looking shell-shocked. It was still windy, and he was almost yelling.

She moved her limbs experimentally, noticing that her landing
slide had conveniently put out the fire on her clothing, though much of her trousers had been burned away, revealing the shiny armor beneath. It had kept her skin from being scorched.

“Nothing’s broken,” she said, amazed that she still possessed the power of speech. “You?”

“I might have wet myself. Not sure.”

They both laughed for a moment at the fact that they were alive and intact. Then Shinobu got to work. He located a burrowing piton in one of his pockets and slammed it into the hull. Its sharp metal point pierced
Traveler
’s skin, then automatically twisted deeper, giving them a solid handhold. They anchored themselves to this with the rappelling ropes and carabiners, as Shinobu had instructed when they were packing their gear back in Hong Kong.

Quin noticed his samurai armor was still smoldering, the embers flaring in the wind. As he adjusted the ropes, she pounded the armor with her fist until the fire died out.

“Thanks,” he said.

From this position, they looked out across most of
Traveler
’s sloping roof toward the bow. Behind them were the four rear engines, and beyond the engines, the upper hull fell away steeply, then ended altogether.

Another firework burst near the ship’s nose. They ducked, covering their heads with their arms as large clumps of blue sparks fell down around them like hail. Quin was momentarily blinded, and hoped the flash was blinding to
Traveler
’s security cameras as well.

“Get the torch!” Shinobu yelled against the wind, beating the burning sparks off them.

She unclipped the bulky plasma torch apparatus from his lower back, then handed it to him. Shinobu crawled forward, dragging it behind him.

When he’d gone ten yards, he called to her, “I found a hatch!”

Quin crawled toward him as he sparked the torch’s blue flame to life, leaned over the hull, and began to cut.

Large raindrops were now splattering onto the ship, pelting her face and sizzling into steam as they came in contact with the flame. When she reached Shinobu, he was halfway done cutting a thick channel around the hatch.

He’d placed another piton, and still on her knees, Quin grabbed hold of it to steady herself, unbuckled her harness, and dropped it to the hull. She fastened her whipsword properly at her side, then located the knives she’d hidden around her body.

She unfurled Shinobu’s cloak, which had been rolled and tucked at her back, pulled it about herself, and checked its pockets. After drawing the athame and lightning rod out, she fixed them on her waistband, then made sure her other items were securely hidden inside the cloak. The athame could not get her to a moving target such as this ship, but it would work perfectly well to get them off it—if only she could keep it in her possession.

She took one long strap off the harness, looped it around her shoulder, made it tight, and then clipped several metal canisters to it.

“Done!” Shinobu announced.

He had torched a path all the way around the hatch. It was raining harder now, which meant that the fireworks—while still blinding—were having a more difficult time lighting the two of them on fire. The rain was also quickly cooling the glowing cut made by the torch. In a few moments the metal had gotten cold enough for them to stick their gloved fingers down into the groove. The door was heavy and did not give easily, but with many curses from Shinobu and a great deal of effort from both of them, they managed to pry it upward and push it aside.

Beneath was a ladder down into the ship. Emergency lights were flashing, and Quin could hear panicked voices within.

Her heart began to race anew, with a mixture of fear and excitement.
I can do this. I can do this
. She fit her gas mask over her face.

“I’m ready!” she said.

Shinobu took hold of her shoulders, made her look at him. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes!” Adrenaline was coursing into her bloodstream.

Shinobu nodded, and Quin lay down along the hull, pulling herself toward the opening. Shinobu grabbed hold of the strap around her torso and lowered her, headfirst, through the ragged hole.

She found herself looking down a wide corridor. There were men at the far end, running back and forth between two control rooms as the fireworks continued to go off around the ship.

Still hanging upside down, she unclipped one of the canisters from the strap around her shoulder. After twisting its release handle, she tossed it down the hallway toward the control room. The canister spun through the air, then bounced along the floor toward the bow of the ship, clouds of gas spiraling out of it as it went.

The corridors were filling with gas—thick, smoky curls of it drifting through the air. Holding his breath, John left the clean, sealed atmosphere of the upper control room and moved quickly down a gas-filled hallway, pushing his way past several men who were coughing and falling to their knees. He couldn’t stop to help them now, or he too would be overcome.

He was trying to stay calm, keep his heart rate down, so he could make it to the end of the long upper corridor without taking a breath. He had to run the last twenty yards, his chest burning, but he reached his apartment, pushed inside, and quickly shut the door behind him.

Breathing deeply of the fresher air within, he began opening cupboards until he located the apartment’s emergency kit. He emptied it onto the floor, dug through the supplies, and pulled on his gas mask. Then he retrieved the disruptor from his safe and secured its straps around his body.

As he headed back toward the door, he passed a mirror and he paused. His reflection was frightening—the mask blurred his features,
and the disruptor looked like a medieval torture device strapped across his chest.

It should be frightening. Its purpose is to instill fear
, he reminded himself.
I have her mother. I have the disruptor. No matter what she’s planning, I can scare her into listening, convince her. She won’t be hurt
.