28

 

Sonus had done most of his work before darkness fell. On the floor next to the spare parts container was his pack. Within it were a flashlight, a flask of water, the data-pad, and the weapon—including spare power cells and ammunition. During the past few days, he had taken every opportunity to practice reloading: if the first cell didn’t ignite, he would have to load another one instantly.

At the bottom of the pack was one other item. His mother had given him her copy of Our Maker’s Teachings on his eighteenth birthday. Though this was a family tradition, she had known by then her son would never believe as she did. Sonus rarely opened it, but the book was his most treasured possession—because it had been hers and because it was a gift from her.

Once out of his sleeping clothes, he put on as many layers as he could under his overalls. He knew from the manual he would be exposed to cold while flying at speed and his clothes would offer none of the insulation of the advanced Vitaari uniforms. Though he would be protected by the armored hull of the shell, the machines did not waste much power on making the pilot comfortable.

He had been through every procedure many times. In theory, he knew how to activate the shell, how to fly it, how to arm and use the weapons, and how to land.

In theory.

Sonus knew reality would be far more complicated and unpredictable, but he drew comfort from the fact he had made every preparation possible.

He made his bed, then picked up the pack and put on his gloves. He would need them to negotiate the walkway but would have to take them off later to operate both the weapon and the vehicle. He looked around at his home of so many years but did not indulge himself with regret. He had resolved to put all emotion aside from this point onward. Unless he needed it.

He reached into a pocket and took out his com-cell. The time was 05:20, about an hour and a half before dawn. He had estimated the Viceroy’s ship might arrive at Mine Five around 07:30.

As he walked quietly through the caverns, he told himself not to think that far ahead, nor about what he might eventually find at Mine Fourteen should he reach it. For now, all that mattered was getting inside the armory undetected.

By the time he neared the walkway, he had spied several pairs of eyes watching him from the darkness. Outside, the wind was light but the snow thick; heavy flakes had settled at the mouth of the entrance. Sonus thought this a good thing, for now at least: it would help him move unseen across the compound. But if it persisted, it might add to his difficulties later on.

Orani was on duty alone.

“Not again,” she said when she saw him. “You’re getting forgetful, Sonus.”

“It’s not that. A special job.”

“Ah.” She tapped the seat next to her. “The old boy was yawning so I sent him to bed.”

Sonus nodded.

“Sit me with a while,” said Orani.

“Sorry, I can’t.” He walked on but paused after a couple of steps. “Orani, I… I… would just like to say thank you. You have always been very kind to me.”

 

 

Several inches of snow lay on the ground. One side of the tower had turned white, including the windows close to the top. Two containers of ore were currently on the conveyor, rumbling slowly across the rear of the compound toward the warehouse. There would be at least one engineer on duty there. The powerful lights beside the mine illuminated the flurries falling across the face of the mountain. Two small figures—guards—could be seen just inside the entrance, looking out.

The closest building was the generator station, which was protected by a high wire fence. Keeping low and staying in the shadows, Sonus scuttled toward it. Hearing the low hum of machinery within and his boots cutting through the slush, he then skirted the rear of the station. Halting at the far corner, he removed the pack and squatted down.

He waited there for several minutes to see if the guard was patrolling, but the only movement came from the falling snow, which was already settling on his pack. He was about to move forward to locate the guard when the Vitaari appeared dead ahead, walking around the far corner of the armory, no more than forty feet away. Sonus retreated. All his clothing was dark, and he had painted anything with a metallic surface that could betray him. He kept his head down but watched the guard.

By the time the Vitaari reached the near corner, Sonus had to clench his fists to stop himself shivering. As the guard turned back toward the compound, Sonus was surprised to hear he was singing to himself.

Keep moving. Come around again.

Hoping he hadn’t missed his opportunity, Sonus removed his gloves and opened the pack.

 

 

Cerrin knew there would be no time later. She said the prayer of honor to her mother and father.

Yarni—who was lying beside her—shifted under the blankets. Cerrin could not believe the girl could sleep. She thought of the others: Sadi, Trantis and Erras, Kannalin and his cousin Jespa. All there in Block A, lying awake, waiting. She already felt exhausted but told herself her body had rested; she was ready.

The first step would be the tap on her foot; Kannalin telling her Sadi had given the signal. Then he, Cerrin, and Jespa would go outside to the tunnel entrance. While Jespa guarded it, Cerrin and Kannalin would take the ten makeshift spears they had made and return to the block. And then…

Cerrin didn’t even try to make any predictions. She shut her eyes and closed her mind to all distractions.

Ikala, god of battle. I face the hardest battle of my life. My enemies are strong, but my will is stronger. Harden my heart, strengthen my body, guide my hand. In return, I pledge myself to the warrior, the rage, the bloodlust, the conqueror.

Ikala, god of battle, see me, hear me, help me.

 

 

Sonus sat hunched over in the snow, freezing fingers clasping the weapon.

Head still bowed to obscure his face, he watched the guard walk toward him once more. The black silhouette seemed immense, as did the rifle hanging in front of his chest. He was wearing a hood, which would at least limit his hearing.

Sonus was confident he could get behind him. What he could not be confident of was the power cells. There was no chance he would have time for more than two shots. On his right hand, one finger was on the trigger. The other three were gripping a spare cell. He had practiced reloading so much that blisters had formed. He could do it without thinking or looking.

Bizarrely, the guard was still singing. He kicked up snow like a youngster as he turned the corner.

Sonus stood. He had to move quickly: though the Vitaari was walking slowly, his stride length would quickly take him toward the front of the armory—and the light. Sonus reminded himself not to let the barrel drop. Fingers tight on the weapon, he followed the guard. At a range of no more than six feet, he raised the barrel, aimed at the back of the head, and depressed the trigger.

Misfire. A noisy misfire. A low popping sound he hadn’t heard before. Sonus grabbed the bolt and drew it back.

As the guard turned, he flicked the power cell out and replaced it. He shoved the bolt back in and raised the barrel once more.

The Vitaari didn’t seem to understand he was in danger. He saw Sonus standing there, but all he did was speak in his own language.

The blast illuminated him. Shrapnel tore into his upper chest and face. One piece of metal blew a fist-sized hole in his jaw. The huge figure rocked back for a moment, then toppled into the snow. He hit with such force that his rifle flew into the side of the building, landing several feet away.

Sonus just stood there, paralyzed. The noise had probably been no worse than any of the detonations, but he felt sure someone would have heard.

Forcing his limbs to work, he ran past the guard to the front of the armory. He looked up at the tower and across the compound. There were no Vitaari visible. He made himself count to twenty to ensure no one was coming, then retraced his steps.

The guard had disappeared. At first Sonus thought he had simply lost his night vision, but there was no sign of him.

Gripped by panic, he backed against the wall. His foot caught something. As his eyes began to adjust to the dark once more, he realized it was the rifle. Why hadn’t the guard taken it?

Sonus exchanged his weapon for the Vitaari’s and was surprised how light it was. He had studied them over the years and knew they were activated by a square firing stud beneath a protective cover. He flipped the cover up and walked along the side of the armory. He also knew the rifles had a built-in flashlight. He activated it, then reduced the power to minimum. After several yards more, he realized he could see something upon the snow. Something very dark—black, in fact. Vitaari blood.

He found the guard face down, still crawling. His breath was coming in halting gasps. When Sonus stopped beside him, he began to moan. The guard rolled over, eyes glinting. He raised one of his arms, opened his palm, asking for mercy.

Sonus let the cover down over the firing stud, then held the weapon firmly in both hands. Without even thinking, Qari and Karas came to him when he needed them.

He drove the butt of the weapon down into the Vitaari’s face.

Bones cracked. The guard moaned, quieter this time.

Sonus hammered the weapon down again and again and again. At the fourth blow, blood splattered his hands. He fell to his knees and dropped the rifle. The guard was silent.

Trying not to look anywhere near his face, Sonus undid the top of his jacket and reached inside. Still warm, the Vitaari skin felt unnaturally smooth. Possessed by a desire to get away from the corpse, he nonetheless found the cord around the neck, followed it down to the triangular ID card, and pulled it free.

Once this was out, he also removed the com-cell from the Vitaari’s ear. The guards communicated with the tower fairly regularly. Even if he couldn’t convince them he was the sentry and there was nothing to concern them, he would know if they were coming.

Sonus was about to leave the body when he realized he needed something else. He shone the rifle’s flashlight on the guard’s fatigues. His name was Nullerik.

Taking the weapon with him, Sonus walked around the far corner of the armory. The next building along was the barracks. There was no noise coming from it, no other sign of activity. He glanced up at the mine. More fresh containers were on the conveyor, but the guards at the entrance had disappeared.

The armory’s main door was at the front, a wide entrance for the combat shells. The secondary door was on the right side, halfway along. A powerful lamp was situated above it. Sonus had already decided that taking it out was more likely to draw attention; he would just to have to hope none of the Vitaari looked at that precise location at that precise moment.

Please work. Please work.

He walked straight up to the door and held the ID against the sensor panel. A light turned from red to yellow, and the door slid open. He threw himself inside and slammed a hand into the controls. As it shut, the armory’s interior lights came on.

 

 

The purple-tinged rays of the Wild Sun speared the cargo bay of the Tarikan. The five combat shells were hanging from the storage rack upon which they had been transported. The rack was attached to rails that ran the length and breadth of the bay. Cables had been strung from the walls to secure the shells during the trip down.

The worst of the turbulence now past, Vellerik was relieved all the precautions had worked: the shells had moved around a bit but had not sustained any damage. He glanced down at the outline of the central ramp. He and the other three men would exit the ship via this door as they approached Mine Five.

He’d been unable to read anything from Talazeer or Mennander, who had given the soldiers only a cursory greeting on their way to the passenger lounge behind the shuttle’s cockpit. He had, however, received a message from Danysaan. Not daring to use the ship’s coms system, the Administrator had slipped a note under his door during the night. He explained the Count and the Viceroy had discussed Vellerik for some time at the dinner after his departure. Talazeer contended that Vellerik’s mood had been affected recently by this mysterious affliction. Mennander seemed to accept this and was only interested in assurances that Vellerik would perform professionally for the remainder of the visit.

Vellerik was determined to do precisely that. He had briefed the men twice and had run through the itinerary several times in his head. The shells had been checked three times before departure, and there were no outstanding issues. The spare fuel pods had been loaded aboard and were secured in a reinforced container situated in the corner of the bay.

To his right, the three members of his team—Perttiel, Zarrinda, and Saarden sat in silence. Vellerik harbored concerns only about young Zarrinda: he didn’t have as much time in the shells as the others and was occasionally given to panic. But Vellerik knew he would follow orders to the letter and far preferred him to some of the overly aggressive troopers, such as Dekkiran.

To his left, Triantaa was fiddling with the field-scanner on his lap. The unit had a large screen and would enable him to monitor the ship, the shells, and the surrounding area. He’d already confirmed the scanner had successfully linked with the Tarikan’s powerful sensor array.

“How are you feeling?” Vellerik had to speak loudly above the shuttle’s engines.

“Fine, thank you, sir,” said Triantaa. “I meant to ask earlier—tonight will be your last on the Galtaryax. Will you eat dinner with myself and the rest of the troop?”

Vellerik felt the unfamiliar sensation of a smile forming on his face. “Of course.”

 

 

Though Sonus knew all he could know about the combat shells, he had only ever glimpsed the armory’s interior once before. At first, he simply stood there, waiting for an alarm or the sound of approaching guards. Only when he was satisfied he had not been discovered did he look around.

The rear of the building was taken up by racks of weapons, helmets, and armor. Most of the rest of the space was occupied up by a high, semi-circular structure he knew to be something called the support station. All six white combat shells stood dormant in front of the station, three on either side, facing the main door. Between them was a broad central panel that contained all the various pods and modules that could be attached to the shells. On the floor below it was the legend “FUEL”: the station was connected via an underground pipe to the main tank beneath the landing strip.

Sonus hurried over to one of the shells beside the central panel. He put the rifle and the pack on the floor and the com-cell on top of the rifle. He then took the ID card and approached the shell. The cockpit door was up, revealing the inside of the machine. Every space not occupied by the soft sections that molded themselves to the pilot was packed with cables, boxes, screens, and numerous other components Sonus couldn’t identify. His stomach turned over as he thought of locking himself into the thing.

The shell’s bulbous arms hung down straight, hands resting on the floor. Sonus knelt down beside the left hand and spied the rectangular sensor inside the palm. He held the ID card against it. Two seconds later, the shell began to hum. As the main cockpit screen activated, he turned to the central panel.

There, another screen was now active. Sonus knew he could use this to control the shell remotely. He walked over to the display and checked the status of the craft. It presently had no pods or modules attached. The tanks were empty, but fueling time was listed as only a minute and a half so he made the command. Something clicked at the back of the shell, and he heard liquid on the move.

 

 

By the time Cerrin and Kannalin returned to Block A, there was already too much noise.

She found Sadi, Yarni, Trantis, and Erras gathered by the door. Sadi had one of the lamps in her hand and a few other workers had lit what lights they had, mostly candles and lanterns. The buzz of confusion and fear was growing ever louder.

“Now?” asked Sadi.

“It’s time,” replied Cerrin. “You others watch the door.” Leaving her share of the spears with the men, she gave Yarni a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and then followed Sadi into the middle of the block. As the men and women moved aside, Cerrin tried not catch anyone’s eye.

When they stopped, Sadi spoke as loudly as she dared. “Let’s have quiet, please. Can everyone come down here—we need to talk to you all. As quickly as possible.”

Cerrin was surprised how cooperative they were. Several more people came down ladders, and in moments they were surrounded by dazed, wide-eyed faces. Questions were already being asked. As they waited for the last of the workers to arrive, Esteann pushed her way to the front.

“What is this, Cerrin? You told me there was nothing going on.”

“You’ll hear along with everyone else.”

“I knew it,” said the Echobe woman, eyes narrow. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

Cerrin spied the spherical face of Dukas, watching her over the shoulder of another man. Sadi was waving everyone forward so they could address the group as one. Even those not involved in the plot were reminding their compatriots to be quiet; they knew they would all suffer if the Vitaari found them assembled like this.

Cerrin and Sadi had agreed to both speak. Though Sadi was new, she shared Palanian heritage with a good portion of the laborers. Cerrin would do her best to convince the Echobe, though she knew most probably still disliked her. She had no idea how the people would respond. The press of the crowd and those expectant faces already made her want to turn and run.

“Speak up, then,” said someone.

Sadi continued. “Whatever happens, let’s keep the noise down.” She took a breath. “Now, we’ll keep this simple because there’s no time. Ever since each of you was brought here, you have not had a choice. Now you do. For the past few weeks, we have been working on a tunnel.”

Cerrin heard sharp intakes of breath and curses.

To her credit, Sadi pressed on with great composure. “It is now complete. The entrance is hidden amongst the containers beyond Block B. It runs down into the mine, then back up under the wall and comes out just above the river. We can get through in under ten minutes. If we stay together and work together, we can get everyone out before dawn.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Then came the questions.

“What do we do then?”

“How did you do it?”

“Won’t the sensors pick us up?”

“Surely the Vitaari must know?”

Sadi held up her hand, but the noise didn’t stop. “Listen, we can all go; we’ll take you in small groups. You can be free.”

The questions continued. Some of the laborers even turned away.

“You had no right. No right.” Dukas hadn’t spoken loudly, but the others quieted. He came forward and stood beside Esteann. “What you have done will bring great suffering to all. You have betrayed us.”

“By giving you a way out?” asked Sadi.

“All you have given us is a death sentence. They’ll catch us—either here or outside. And then?”

“Tearing,” said another man. “They’ll tear us for this.”

“Shut your mouth,” snapped Cerrin. She couldn’t believe the spineless Dukas and his ally would use fear to control the others.

Sadi held her by the arm.

Kannalin came forward on her other side. She took the spear he offered but held it low.

As the noise grew again, help came from an unlikely quarter.

“Just listen!” said Esteann, holding up both hands. “Where exactly does this tunnel come out?”

“To the south,” replied Sadi. “There are trees for cover. Cross the river and we’re safe.”

“And there are still some lilies,” said the Echobe woman. “Those who can’t swim can use them.”

“You really think we’ll get that far?” countered Dukas. He nodded at Cerrin. “She’s tried four times already.”

“They can’t get to us once we’re in the forest.” Esteann pointed at Cerrin. “Me and her and others of us here stayed free out there for years.”

Torrin—the Echobe woman who had refused to work with the Palanians—also weighed in. “If we keep moving, we can get away. We can do it.”

“We can,” said Cerrin. “But we have to go now. There’s not long until first light.”

“Why now?” asked someone from the back. “Why not in the middle of the night—so we had longer?”

They had discussed this: they would not reveal what was happening at Mine Five.

“We have our reasons,” said Sadi. “You just have to trust us. We can get every one of you out of here.”

“Even if you don’t, I’d rather die trying.”

Though she couldn’t see her, Cerrin knew Serras’s voice.

“And shame on any who wouldn’t.”

“They’ll assume we were part of it,” said the man who had agreed with Dukas. He was Echobe, but Cerrin had never spoken to him; she knew only that he had been at Thirteen as long as anyone. “The only way is to tell them—at least then only you fools will suffer.”

Kannalin touched Cerrin lightly. She nodded. The big man sprang past her and grabbed his fellow Echobe. As they grappled, the man cried out. Cerrin kicked him hard in the knee, felling him in an instant. As he landed, she knocked others aside and placed the point of the spear against his cheek. Lights fell on his terrified face.

“I didn’t want it like this,” she said. “We’re all going. And we’re going now.” She looked up. “I have to tell you all—for once in his life, Dukas is right. They’ll take out the entire shift for this. So you stay, you’ll die. Painfully.”

Though some of the children and women were crying, Cerrin kept going.

“You can each take one small bag, nothing else. We will go one row at a time. So quietly collect your stuff and start lining up. You don’t have to worry about the Vitaari; they’ll have plenty to keep them busy.”

She moved the spear away from the man’s face. “I’d rather use this on them. You with us?”

He nodded. Cerrin and Kannalin helped him to his feet.

People were already hurrying back to their compartments. Cerrin noticed Dukas had not moved. Spear still in her hand, she walked up to him.

“You too.”

The Palanian spoke quietly. “These people will die. And their blood will be on your hands.”

Cerrin moved toward him so their faces were close. “You do anything to stop us, and the only blood on my hands will be yours.”

 

 

Vellerik was first out of the Tarikan. Once clear of the hull, he jumped off the ramp and held the shell in a hover. He turned himself around, then descended, looking up as the others came down the ramp. He checked the scanners were clear, then backed off another ten meters and ordered them to follow.

As the men complied, Triantaa spoke over the open channel.

“Captain, tactical info link established.”

Below the cockpit window was the main display. Vellerik had the image set to terrain and now saw his position, that of the other shells, the Tarikan, and Mine Five—all indicated by green dots, lines, and arrows.

Once the others were out, he ordered Zarrinda and Saarden to the left while he and Perttiel moved to the right. As he cleared the wing, he adjusted the window’s visibility settings once more. The shuttle’s passenger lounge was situated at the base of the fin, just behind the cockpit. Among the faces watching the escort, he could make out Talazeer and Viceroy Mennander.

Another reading showed distance to the Tarikan’s hull. He and Perttiel eased outward until they reached the agreed one hundred fifty meters.

“Rightward shells in position.”

Saarden was in charge of the other pair. “Leftward shells in position.”

The pilot answered, “Proceeding on a bearing of 080, height two hundred meters, speed one fifty.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Departing in three, two…”

Triantaa had already fed the itinerary into the shell’s system. “Select waypoint one.”

“…one.”

The Tarikan leapt away. Vellerik and Perttiel stayed together and caught up in their own time. Vellerik kept track of the other two and saw they had maintained positioned well.

He leaned forward and looked down at the ground. Through the darkness, he could just make out the curves of the sand dunes far below.

 

 

Sonus was relieved to find his weight calculations were correct. He had finished entering the module selection into the station and now double-checked them before initiating the loading process. The weight limit was two hundred kilos. The twin assault cannons and one thousand rounds took up ninety of that. The extra fuel tank weighed fifty kilos, the deflector field pod just twenty, leaving him with enough capacity for five of the seeker missiles.

He had no idea of the size or strength of the Viceroy’s ship; he just hoped he had enough firepower to bring it down. His finger was over the EXECUTE command when a voice came through the com-cell.

“Compound patrol, status check.”

Sonus ran over to it and picked it up. He knew enough Vitaari words to respond but not what a sentry would typically say.

“Compound patrol, status check.”

Sonus found he suddenly couldn’t form the right sentence.

“Nullerik—all well?”

Sonus had only ever spoken Vitaar with Kadessis. With no clue of how the guard might sound, he decided to imitate the administrator. He moved the com-cell away from his mouth.

“All well. Repeat, all well.”

No reply. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?      

The guard’s default position was standing in front of the armory. If the man on duty in the tower walked to the window and looked down, he would see he wasn’t there. If he didn’t see him once, that might not cause alarm: he could be patrolling. But twice? Or if he realized he hadn’t reappeared?

Still no reply.

Sonus didn’t have time to stand there and think about it. He hurried back to the station and pressed EXECUTE. Two cables attached to the rear of the shell retracted. The arms rose up, and the combat shell stepped forward.