Excision Verdict, page 30
part #5 of ShadowTech Series
“A cousin. She’s trustworthy.”
Then, to Kalen, she said, “You have quite the family. And what are her instructions?”
“To get away from Leoniki, ensuring there are no tails.”
“And then?”
Kalen shrugged. “Planning’s not my strong point. Had my brother’s help with the transport. Hoped one of you two would have a destination in mind.”
Annys raised an eyebrow and looked at Ryann.
Ryann smiled, more at Kalen than at Annys. “I’m only an assistant,” she said. “Annys is the one with the contacts.”
“Although the trustworthiness of many must now be called into question. But I should speak to this cousin of yours, Kalen. Lead on.”
He nodded so deeply it was almost a bow, then set off. Annys followed, Ryann a step behind.
He didn’t respond, and Ryann wondered if she’d been too abrupt. She wondered if she should’ve waited a couple of breaths longer, to push her own feelings down.
They reached the end of the cargo hold, and Kalen led them through another door, into an office area. He paused.
“I should see her first,” he said, nodding towards the door in the far wall. Ryann assumed it led to the craft’s bridge.
“Have your little family reunion, then,” Annys said. “But don’t leave us waiting too long.”
“Of course.” Then he sussed, tight to Ryann.
He darted through the door, leaving Ryann alone with Annys. The woman stood by the desk, not even looking at the chairs. She stared at the sealed door.
Ryann thought of the others, back in the rec-room. How many people had she helped escape? Thirty? Forty? She pictured faces and names, but some of them faded, and she couldn’t recall if they’d still been in the base when Kaiahive attacked.
It seemed such a pitiful number. But they were good people. Sinon worked wonders with his tech. Taran’s skills kept the base running physically, enabling others to concentrate on their strengths. Iden’s analysis informed so many of Annys’ decisions. And Tryn…
Tryn had been strong. She’d made mistakes, but hadn’t they all? It wasn’t as if she was the first person the company had manipulated into doing their work, and she wouldn’t be the last.
At least she was free of them now. At least the company couldn’t come after Tryn any more.
But they’d hunt the rest of the Collective down. Wherever they went, the company would be watching.
So they needed somewhere to hide, at least while they figured out their next move. For that, they needed people they could trust.
But Annys had been right—the woman’s list of contacts was tainted. Even the most dedicated to the cause could be manipulated. The company’s reach was too insidious.
So they needed to play Kaiahive at their own game. They couldn’t rely on devotion and friendship for everything. They had to use other tactics.
Ryann moved a step closer to Annys. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Annys didn’t turn her head.
“You have associates in many places, don’t you?”
There was a pause. “Don’t you mean ‘friends’?”
“That would imply a…personal relationship. I was thinking more of those you know in a professional manner, outside the Collective. People you’ve helped over the years. People who you necessarily trust, but know how far to distrust. People who owe you a few favours.”
“You’re speaking in riddles, Miss Harris.”
“But you have contacts like that, don’t you? And most of them are in one particular place, aren’t they?”
Annys’ brow furrowed. “Stop with the games and tell me, you infuriating woman.”
Ryann took a breath. The answer—the one that came to her mind, at least—might not be ideal. It wasn’t somewhere she wanted to return to. The place held bad memories for her.
But it made sense.
“We should head to Athelios,” she said.
Annys’ shoulders rose and fell. Her brow uncreased, and when she turned to face Ryann she wore a thin smile.
“For all the torment you put me through, I don’t regret bringing you into the fold, my dear.”
It was the closest Annys would get to a compliment, and Ryann accepted it.
Deva
The boat weaved through the waves for half an hour. Deva didn’t speak—couldn’t speak. What the hell was Lise doing here? And who was that man who’d saved her and Wrench?
She looked around. Nobody in the boat’s hold looked up. Some talked quietly, heads close together. The woman with the wounded arm leaned into the man who’d bandaged her, and both had their eyes shut. Didn’t look peaceful, though, and she gripped his hand so tightly her fingers lost their colour.
Wrench leaned forward, head in his hands. Never had been good in boats, had he? Didn’t help that they bounced and rocked all over the place.
Which meant something—they weren’t out at sea. They were near the coast, where waves built and broke.
The boat stopped. Lise climbed down that ladder, mask still covering her nose and mouth. She bounded to the hatch and opened it, stood to one side.
The smell of salt wafted in, carrying the crashing of waves in the distance, the lapping of water close by. All Deva could see through the opening was a wall of metal. As she watched the metal moved, revealed a hole.
Another hatch, in a larger vessel?
People rose. Some darted forward, couldn’t wait to be free from the boat. Others took their time, either being cautious or nursing injuries.
Deva pulled Wrench up. There was a green tinge to his face, and he moaned. But she helped him to the hatch.
Lise watched. As Deva drew close the woman leaned in.
“By rights, I should hate you for what you did to me, Deva,” she said. “But in retrospect you saved my life. If I hadn’t had to run, I’m sure Chiron would’ve disposed of me.”
Deva stared, unable to speak.
“Lost for words, dear? That’s a refreshing change. We’ll talk on the Proteus. It’ll be a tight squeeze, so why don’t you and Wrench join us up front?” Lise placed a hand behind Deva. “Come on. It won’t be long before the company find this place.”
Deva’s legs took her out of the boat, onto a small floating platform. To one side lay the open sea, the water merging with the grey sky in the distance. To the other rose dark, rugged cliffs. And on the other side of the platform sat the Proteus.
It was like any other Proteus, only the cabin was crammed with seats, giving little leg-room. People contorted their arms into harnesses. Cool air drifted down from ceiling vents, but still the atmosphere was heavy, full of pain and fear.
“Better than a boat,” Wrench muttered. His face was still pale, but he stood upright now. “Come on.”
She followed him into the bridge as Lise sealed the hatch.
And Deva froze as soon as she stepped inside.
“You!”
She glared at the man who sat in the tech’s chair, across from the pilot.
He was tall. He wore the dark clothing of a company agent—not quite a suit, but nothing as demeaning as a uniform. His hair was short and his beard trimmed.
She tried to turn, but Lise was at her back, pushing her forward and sealing the door.
Wrench stood frozen beside her. He pointed at the man, mouth open and eyes wide.
The man? Call him what he was—the company agent. The one who’d been with Creepy on that train, when they’d tried to kill her.
“Sit,” Lise said, throwing herself into the seat at the rear of the bridge—the commander’s chair. “We’re about to head off.”
The boosters throbbed. The pilot—female, short, head facing forwards and hands resting on her chair’s arm-rests—turned to the company agent. He nodded.
As the Proteus rose Deva clutched the nearest chair. Wrench did the same. He almost fell but managed to throw himself into the seat between the agent and Lise. Instinctively he grabbed the harness and fastened himself in.
“It’s good to see you alive, Deva,” the agent said. “But I’d prefer it if you sat. For your own comfort.”
“Stefon!” She hissed his name, then spun to face Lise. “He’s a bloody company agent! And you’re working with him!”
“He’s many things,” Lise said. “And, in case it’s slipped your mind, he pulled you and Wrench out of that chaos.”
The craft lurched, and Deva grabbed the rear of the remaining chair.
The pilot turned her head. “Got incoming. Won’t be a problem shaking them, but I don’t want untethered cargo flying around my bridge”
Her tone was softer than the words, and that seemed to free up Deva’s legs. She slid into the seat, pulled the harness around her.
And she glared at Stefon, who still had his head turned, still watched her.
“You tried to kill me,” Deva said.
He shook his head.
“You did! On the train. You and Creepy. You tried to kill both of us!”
“Creepy?” He smiled. “You mean Landon. Yes, the man’s a creep. And I can’t pretend it was easy, keeping up a professional facade when I was around him.”
Wrench frowned. “You didn’t like him?”
“The man was a sociopath. Hated everyone but himself. And, yes, he wanted Deva dead. Almost succeeded, too. I still find it hard to believe you survived that fall with Zale. Landon’s plan was that he’d kill you then toss you through the broken barrier.”
Deva’s arms tightened as her fists balled. “And you knew?”
Stefon sighed. “Tried suggesting alternatives, ones you were more likely to survive. I argued that getting you off the train would be sufficient. But Landon was in charge, and I couldn’t blow my cover.” He raised a hand. “I don’t mean to sound callous. Believe me, I struggled to stop smiling when I heard you’d been found alive.”
“No thanks to you!”
He tilted his head. “You sure about that?”
Deva frowned. Images surfaced, and once more she was in the snow, everything a blur of white, the cold eating into her mind. Then the blinding light from the Proteus overhead.
And she understood.
“That rescue bird came in too fast,” she said.
“Contingency plan. I have contacts. Mind you, you’re tough. Wouldn’t have put it past you to survive on your own. Although there’s a strong possibility that, without returning to the train, you wouldn’t have figured out the company were waiting for the vessel Chiron had hired.”
Thoughts barrelled through Deva’s mind. She rubbed her head, trying to ward off the approaching headache. “But…but Chiron was working with them.”
“Something that became very clear after those events,” Lise said.
She’d removed her mask, and her face was harder than Deva remembered it, with deeper lines. She wondered what the woman had endured after Deva had…had made her mistake.
“Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I…I shouldn’t have told Chiron until I knew more…”
Lise shook her head and smiled. “I don’t hold you responsible. Chiron played you, Deva. He played all of us. I must admit, I had my suspicions for a while. I tried to act like nothing was wrong, but it’s clear he saw through that—at least, enough to act. He used my meetings with Stefon to his own advantage. And used you too, I’m sorry to say.”
Wrench leaned around the side of his seat. “But she saw through him eventually. Right, Deva? Figured out he was screwing us in Haven’s Deep. If it hadn’t been for Deva, we’d all be…be dead by now.”
Lise nodded, turned to Deva. “We owe you a great deal. From what I understand, Chiron set things up so that you’d be out of the way because he always knew there was a chance you’d see through things. But he underestimated you.”
And that should’ve made Deva feel good. But as she thought of those people crammed into the Proteus’ cabin, images rose of the chaos at the docks, then of Driskell lying on the walkway, emptying his guns into the smoke as company goons ended his life.
“Still lost too many,” she said.
Lise nodded sadly.
“But what about the other boats?” Deva asked Stefon. “There was smoke out to sea, and flames. What happened to the flotilla?”
He winced. He pulled a terminal from a pocket, swiped, then handed it to Deva.
“You’re strong enough to see,” he said.
She took the terminal. Wrench leaned across, and Deva angled it so that he could see the glass.
The image came from a single sensor feed. Deva guessed it was from a drone, zoomed in to the point that details blurred. But it was enough to follow events.
The flotilla, that collection of over twenty large vessels and many smaller ones, was centre-image. Something blurred from the bottom of the image, rising. One of the vessels erupted into flame and a black cloud burst into the sky.
The smoke obscured the other boats, but that didn’t prevent Deva and Wrench watching more missiles strike them. Then fast boats skipped in from the sides, and craft—they looked like Ions—dropped down from above.
It was a massacre. Deva couldn’t tear her eyes from the terminal. There was a chrono in the corner, and she was conscious of how much—no, how little—time elapsed. It didn’t take long before every Herald vessel was blazing, before half of them started to sink.
“It was a massacre,” she whispered.
“It was,” Stefon said. His voice was cold—not because he didn’t care, she realised, but because there was no humane response to such an attack. He dealt with the cold truth.
Which meant she had to too. As Wrench stared open-mouthed at the terminal, Deva frowned.
“When did they attack?” she asked.
Stefon shot Lise a look. “Smart question. As far as we can tell, the attack started as soon as the worm began to breach their security.”
Wrench sniffed. “So it was my fault?”
Lise reached a hand forward, placed it on Wrench’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault you followed instructions. The only ones at fault here are the ones who orchestrated this.”
“And they’d have had contingencies in place, right?” Deva said. “I mean, that worm opened the doors on its own. So even if we’d never got to that room, they’d have attacked. Right?”
Wrench nodded, with another sniff.
“Even if we’d figured out their plan,” Stefon said, “trying to pull your people off would’ve simply advanced the company’s time-line. And then, anyone attempting the rescue would be dead too.”
Deva’s heart sank. It all made horrible sense. And it showed, once again, what monsters the company were.
And Chiron. Because he was with them, wasn’t he? He brought all the Heralds together simply so that Macklyn could slaughter them.
All the Heralds…
She narrowed her eyes at Stefon. “Who are you with?” she asked.
“Who am I with?”
Deva nodded. “Are you a Herald?”
He shook his head. “You could call me a sympathiser, I suppose.”
And Deva was convinced he wasn’t Kaiahive. He’d been a source, or a mole, or a spy. But if he wasn’t a Herald, what was he?
Questions fought with possibilities. Deva opened her mouth, let the questions out. “So you have a different network? One that can help us?”
Lise, hand still on Wrench’s shoulder, turned to Deva. “Us?” she said.
“Yeah. Us.” She looked, from Lise to Stefon to Wrench. They all watched her. Only the pilot faced front, and that was good, because she focused on the craft.
Deva realised she’d hardly noticed the way the harness held her, the way the pilot twisted them around. She’d been vaguely aware of the different sounds from the boosters, only now realised that they indicated evasive action.
But now, they flew level. Whatever danger had threatened the Proteus, the pilot had shaken it off.
And the cabin was full of people. A handful, compared to all those who had been slaughtered, either on the boats or at Haven’s Deep.
“Not the Heralds any more, are we?” Deva said. “Guess I never was anyway, and nor was Lanky—sorry, Stefon. But we’re still together. And…and we can still fight, right?”
“Fight?” Stefon asked with a tilt of his head.
Deva nodded. “The company killed a lot of good people today. And there’s this whole Ancient thing to consider. Don’t reckon they’ll turn out to be our saviours—sorry, Wrench. But they haven’t destroyed us yet, so…so there’s hope, right? Only, not if Kaiahive bugger things up.”
She coughed. Nobody interrupted her.
“Thing is, they’re wrong. The company, I mean. They always use force. Like with our ships—come in hard and strong, destroy everything. Same with anyone who disagrees with them. Only time they get pally is when they’re using people, then get rid of them when they’ve served their purpose.”
She laughed. “Not a great way to make friends, right? Might make some people toe the line through fear, but makes them mad at the same time. And…and there’s more of us than them, right? I mean, yeah, they’ve got all their equipment and tech and weapons, and they’ve got their sensors and drones everywhere. But…but that’s all machines.”
