The Goddess-damned Sweepers were everywhere. The Baron came out of the lift with a shout, laying down a trail of flame that made most of the creatures skitter backwards, trying to get away from him. But some of the larger ones were bold. They dove past the gout of blue and gold fire spraying from the muzzle of his weapon and headed straight for me.
“Ware!” Baron Vik’tor bellowed. “I can’t keep all the fuckers off—don’t let them get you!”
I had my head lifted, trying to smell past the scorching odor of the flame to find little one. At last I caught her scent—sweet and lingering in the air like a fast-fading perfume. It led towards one of the tunnels, I thought, moving in that direction.
At that moment one of the biggest Sweepers scuttled towards me, its long, chitinous legs scrabbling on the floor and its lower jaw gaped open, showing glistening, needle-like fangs.
“Fucking watch out!” the Baron shouted. “Coming right at you!”
“I know,” I said coldly.
And though I had sworn to myself not to use my Mental Abilities again, once more I broke my own rules. I reached out with the invisible force that lived inside me and gripped the skittering creature, picturing an enormous hand enfolding the huge arachnid.
I lifted the Sweeper and crushed it, ignoring its piercing shrieks of pain. I tossed it aside with the power of my mind and then I did the same to the next bastard that came at me. And the next and the next…
Baron Vik’tor was staring at me, surprise written all over his face. He worked the flame gouter in his hands mechanically, keeping the Sweepers away, but he was looking at me, as though wondering what I might do next.
What I did was follow little one’s scent trail. It did lead near to the mouth of a tunnel, but not inside it. There was another scent there too—another human female, I could tell. The two of them had lingered for some time and the other female had run into the tunnel, but not little one. Where had she gone?
Suddenly, I felt her flame inside me flickering and I seemed to hear her soft voice whispering in my ear.
“…so cold here,” I thought I heard her say. “So sorry…Never should have tried…”
“Tried what? Little one, where are you?” I asked aloud, desperately. I felt almost insane with anxiety—I would gladly have rushed into a burning building to save her at that moment, if only I knew where she was!
Stop, I told myself. Think. Be logical.
Her voice had said she was cold and that she never should have tried something. But what?
I casually crushed three or four more Sweepers and leaned down to sniff the area where she had been. Turning, I followed my nose in the direction her trail led—to the front doors of the building.
Oh gods! My heart began to hammer even faster in my chest. Surely she wouldn’t have tried to go out in the killing cold and attempted to open my ship! I had told her that it would only respond to me. If she was out there, she wouldn’t make it inside—there was no way the ship—which was a semi-sentient being attuned only to my thought patterns—would open for her!
I headed for the double doors and heard the Baron shout from behind me,
“Don’t go out there! It’s not fucking safe! The cold—”
But I didn’t hear any more because I was into the antechamber between the first set of glass doors and the second and I could smell little one’s scent. She’d lingered here for a few moments, probably debating what to do.
And then she had made her choice.
Bursting out into the freezing air, I saw my ship across the road. Its entryway was open and the ramp had been extended.
I frowned—how was that possible? It shouldn’t have opened for anyone but me. Had it recognized little one somehow and opened to let her in? That would be most unusual—almost impossible.
Nevertheless, I was already running as fast as I could go. I crossed the street and was into the parking area in just a few strides. I could smell little one’s scent on the icy air and I knew she had gone this way too. She might already be inside but then, why hadn’t she shut the door? Why—?
Suddenly, as I approached the ship, I saw something lying in a heap at the foot of the ramp. No, not something—it was little one!
And she didn’t move, even when I called her name.