Requiem (45 page)

'I know
enough.'

That told the
Warlord he knew nothing. 'NeoCorp are not investigating it
themselves?' he asked.

'They are...
but they're running around like a chicken with its head cut off at
the moment.'

The Warlord
glanced towards the exit. 'Do you know the co-ordinates of the
scout ship?'

'No. But
there's someone on Sceril who does. Goes by the name of
Gliphen.'

'Where can I
find Gliphen?'

Zackry smiled.
'Are you sure you want to find it?'

'If I didn't
then I wouldn't have asked.'

Zackry looked
as if he were holding back laughter. 'You'll find Gliphen in the
Sink-hole,' he said. He looked at one of the men sitting next to
him. 'Give this freak the co-ordinates.'

Zackry turned
back to the Warlord. 'You ever been to the Sink-hole?'

The Warlord
said nothing. In his optics, he could see that the co-ordinates to
the 'Sink-hole' on Sceril had been uploaded.

'Is this all
the information you possess?' he asked.

'They call it
that for a reason,' said Zackry. 'And Gliphen, the one you're
looking for, is the king and queen of the Sink-hole. But... you
really do have to see it to appreciate its beauty.'

'Is this all
the information you possess?' the Warlord repeated.

'The
information I want you to know at least.'

The Warlord
contemplated breaking Zackry's nose, then his arms, then his legs
and then every single one of his ribs. His neck he would leave
until after he'd cut out his tongue. The violence of the thought
felt comfortable. Much too comfortable.

'Did you hear
me?' said Zackry. 'Unless you want to fuck something, our business
here is done.'

The Warlord
grabbed the hand rail and looked down upon the dance floor. There
were several girls and boys dancing that night, upon platforms
barely risen from the floor. They danced like you would expect a
worm or a serpent to, slithering and swaying to the monotonous
beat. Some of them had studded collars around their necks attached
to chains which were, in turn, attached to large metal bolts next
to the raised platforms they danced upon. They were the ones who
had even less choice in what they were doing than the others, which
was nothing to begin with.

He moved to
leave. As he reached the staircase, Zackry turned in his seat and
spoke to him. The Warlord could barely hear his voice above the
music.

'Hey, bounty
hunter, if you do find her and decide you wanna have a little fun
with her make sure you record it. I'll give you a bonus.' He smiled
a plastic smile and watched the Warlord as he descended the
stairs.

The Warlord and
Daniels walked past one of the dancers. A young, white girl. Her
naked body was coated in sweat and lubricant. Semen had pooled
around her feet from the endless groups of men that had dumped load
upon load of shame and lust before her.

The Warlord's
eyes met hers. She could see straight through the mask. She smiled
a crooked smile. He turned from her and continued walking.

'How old is
she?' asked Daniels.

'It doesn't
matter,' said the Warlord.

They left
through the birth canal entrance.

The journey
back through the empty systems was slow and monotonous. A constant
watch was kept over the monitoring systems. A collective eye was
kept upon the receding expanse of space that had been undoubtedly
claimed by Icarus. It was a falling shadow through which that
unknown threat could launch itself whenever it saw fit. They had
limped through the Tryil Gate and were almost at Sceril. They were
still waiting for some kind of comfort to return but the sighting
of Icarus and the attack itself had left scars reaching to unknown
depths. But for Seline, there was another scar that needed tending
to.

She was seated
on the edge of her bed. Belameir was curled up in a ball on the bed
across from her. His face was pressed against the wall and he was
snoring into it. Seline's hands were shaking again. She wiped the
sweat onto the bed sheet and read the message displayed in her
optics for the third time.

Hello, dear.
Time is short. I've seen NeoCorp men in the cities. They know I'm
here. Only a matter of time before they find me. Need to tell you
not to worry. Don't do anything rash. DO NOT blame yourself.

'Too late.'

Stay with the
Yurrick. They will keep you safe. I just needed to say goodbye. So
here it is. Goodbye, Seline.

She knew what
Tialus would say.

She'll deny
it. She'll call me naïve. She'll tell me to shut up and fuck
off.

There was a
definite EP address that she could trace on Abigail's message. She
could locate it to the nearest town at least. Seline stood up. She
opened the locker at the foot of her bed and took out a pair of
pants and slipped them on. She took a clean shirt as well and put
it on. Even in the darkness she could see the blackbox sitting
beneath her bed but she had no reason to take it. She'd already
copied the memory encrypted files onto her optics anyway. She
looked at Belameir again. She thought about waking him and asking
him to come with her but knew that she shouldn't. Whatever the
chances of this going wrong might be, she didn't want to get him
hurt. Anyway... she'd be back. She'd find Abigail then she'd be
back.

She put her
boots on and was out of her quarters and in the lift.

If I tell
Tialus, she'll just call me an idiot... and she's probably
right.

Her hand was
hovering over the elevator keypad, fighting both an urge to press
the button and another urge to step back and go to bed. Something
was screaming inside her head that she was making a terrible
mistake but it was muffled, it was buried somewhere beneath six
feet of guilt.

The longer you
wait, the harder it gets. Do it now or don't do it at all.

'Don't do it,'
she told herself.

She stepped out
of the lift and walked into the observation room and took her usual
seat on the floor in the middle of the room. She stood up again and
began to pace, trying to dissipate the sense of urgency but only
making it worse. She took slow, deep breaths but her pulse
continued to drum away beneath her skin. Sceril was just outside
the window. Abigail, waiting alone, hiding from the jackals that
Seline had invited into her house. She walked from the observation
room towards the lift. She stopped at the threshold. She was
rolling dice in her head, trying to predict the outcome.

There was one
voice inside her head, talking louder than all the others and it
told her exactly what to do. 'Never mind the probabilities,' the
voice told her, 'small chance or not, this is the only opportunity
you're likely to get.' She entered the lift and hit 'hangar' on the
keypad.

The elevator
door opened into the hangar. She stepped out cautiously and eyed
the two ships docked in the hangar. The larger air to surface ship
and the much smaller shuttle made for only two to three passengers.
She looked back at the empty lift. Her legs were telling her to
walk back, to go back to the observation room and stare out the
window, to accept that she was wrong, to live with the choice she
made. She turned her back to the lift.

Just nerves.
Surely. She walked towards the small shuttle. Each step echoing
around her. They were saying something but she didn't know what.
She walked up the loading ramp which led directly into the cockpit.
She sat in the pilot's chair and looked over the controls. She
looked behind her, as if she expected someone to be standing there,
ready to stop her. She waited but no one appeared.

She flicked the
large, green starter switch. The switch board lit up and a large
holographic display appeared. She pulled the safety harness over
her chest and around her waist and prepped for departure, the same
way Athene had showed her in the training drills.

With almost
every passing movement she was looking over her shoulder until the
time came to close the loading ramp. She waited. She wanted to
leave but she wanted someone to stop her. She waited a bit longer
before finally hitting the switch to close the ramp.

The hangar
depressurised and the panel of flooring the ship was anchored to
retracted from the inside of the ship. Each heartbeat was like a
fist slamming against her ribcage but she knew what she needed to
do. She programmed in the translated co-ordinates from the EP
address she'd extracted from Abigail's message. The shuttle's feet
detached and the thrusters pushed it clear from the cruiser. The
autopilot took control and set off in the direction of Sceril.

A setting sun
lay shadows across the steppes beneath the shallow, rolling hills.
The autopilot led her past the caverns where they had first
stopped. The same caverns Gliphen ostensibly lorded over. Low lying
hills were scorched bare, black and void of expression. One of the
small displays indicated how far to go. In a few minutes her
instincts would be vindicated and her guilt would begin to drown in
relief. She wondered if anyone had noticed that she was gone. If
they had then it would already be too late. One way or another, the
messages would be verified.

The ship slowed
and descend towards the small docking pad that stood away from the
village. The landing feet pressed into the sheets of sand covering
the docking pad. Seline checked over the controls and carefully
flicked off the switches. The vibration from the engines slacked
off and dissipated. She unfastened herself and took one of the
pistols from the armoury chest. She put the pistol into the holster
on the inside of the right leg. She covered it with the cloth,
hanging loosely around her waist. She checked the gun again and
exited the ship. Standing in the windswept dust she looked up at
the metallic sky. She looked at the jagged horizon, their violent
peaks daring the clouds to approach so they could tear open their
bellies and bathe in the mess.

She had arrived
at a small village. It comprised no more than a dozen buildings, or
what looked like buildings. She vaguely recognised the architecture
from her previous visit. It was an old Sceril settlement. By the
looks of it no one had taken up residence. A light wind swirled
around her and carried off shoals of dust towards the empty
village. She thought it looked like a good place for a wanted
terrorist to hide. If Abigail were anywhere then she must be here.
She closed the loading ramp and walked along the remnants of the
path that led directly towards it.

She touched the
pistol on the inside of her leg to check it was still there. She
felt a sudden surge of confidence and began to walk with more
purpose. She approached the first building. The corroded metal
frame was coated with lichen. She rubbed her hand over it. It
crumbled beneath her hand as a coarse, greenish powder. She wiped
her hand clean on her pants before continuing around the wall,
carefully checking each step. The wind was cold on her face and
hands. She was sure it was that same wind and coldness that was
making her regret coming to that place and not some other reason.
She swallowed hard, rubbed the itching dust from her face and began
moving again.

She moved
systematically through the abandoned village. Examining one of the
dwellings, she noticed a shadow move from behind a crack in the
wall. She froze, unsure if she'd seen anything at all. All she
could hear was the wind, scratching the dust around her feet. She
waited for the shadow to move again but it didn't. She spoke into
the small crack.

'Abigail?' she
whispered.

She heard a
shuffling noise and lifted her head up to look around. There was a
gentle prick in her lower back. She ran her hand over her back and
pulled something out. A small dart.

'Abigail?' she
said again. 'Abigail?'

She heard the
sound of her own voice. Like a wounded kitten, quietly mewing for
its mother. She placed her arm on the building and slumped to the
ground. She wasn't surprised. Not like she expected to be. A flood
of random, unchecked thoughts passed through her mind while the
anaesthetic worked its way through her system. She was sure that
death would've felt somewhat similar. She sunk down and down and
down, so far into the dirt that she could feel the warmth of the
planet's molten heart upon hers.

She broke
through the seal of the tide, gasping for air, choking on water,
blood, and saliva. Her body ached. Her joints were rusted in place.
Her eyelids unhinged themselves and opened against a blinding white
light. The first thing she saw were her legs and the splatters of
watered down blood against the shredded fibres of her pants.

The sound of
footsteps followed by a heavy metal door slamming shut behind her.
She looked up, her vision fuzzy and blurred. She saw her reflection
in a giant mirror completely covering the wall in front of her. The
rest of the small room was reflected back at her. She was alone. A
door was directly behind her. It was a solid metal slab framed with
large round bolts and a small, deep-set window at its top. The rest
of the room was dressed in white ceramic tiles. She could barely
open her eyes against the bleaching light of the room. Her heart
was thumping against aching ribs. She let out a sputtering cough
before the pain forced her to stop.

Braces were
binding her wrists together behind her back and her legs to the
metallic frame of the chair. She opened her eyes again, squinting.
A sharp crackling noise echoed throughout the room. Her breath
caught in her throat. A heavily distorted voice spoke down to
her.

'Simply give us
the information and you will be free to go, Seline.'

She ignored the
voice and focused on her reflection in the giant mirror. Her hair
was tangled and dread-locked. Blood was trickling down her face,
chest and legs, collecting on the tiles beneath her feet. She
noticed several small, red pricks on her biceps. They had been
injecting her with something. One of the panels on her right
shoulder had been removed. Cylinders were severed, circuits were
broken. She couldn't feel her fingers.