Читать книгу Into the No-Zone - Eugene Lambert - Страница 13

I love my new-found brother. I do. We share everything: we like the same stuff, make the same jokes and laugh at them. Sometimes I wonder how I ever got along without Colm.

Now though, I need a break from him slagging off Sky.

Not that he’s all wrong, but I’m not in the mood to hear it. I slip away, leaving him chuntering away to himself on his bunk. Soon as I’m outside the tent I stand up straight and suck fresh evening air deep into my lungs. It calms me down. There’s still hope, I tell myself. Maybe this peace deal is for real. And I like Colm’s suggestion about trading prisoners. Getting Tarn back like that would beat sneaking off with Sky and defying Ballard.

A gust slaps the tent’s canvas and blows my hair into my eyes. If it stays like this, Sky will be flying tomorrow. No, she won’t. I remember our windjammers are grounded.

I hesitate, then go looking for her.

Two women she shares her tent with are outside it, smoking. They tell me Sky’s not there. I glance doubtfully at the tent flap. The older one blows smoke in my face and smiles.

‘She ain’t. Honest. Take a look inside if you like.’

‘Any idea where she is?’

They swap looks and shrugs.

‘You guys had another bust-up?’ the younger one asks.

‘Something like that,’ I mutter. And clear off, my face all hot.

I consider tracking Ness down to see if Sky’s stropped off to have a nag at him, then get a better idea. I make my way back out through the gathering darkness to the canyon where the captured Slayer windjammer was hidden away. My hunch pays off. The rear loading ramp is down. A flicker of light shows. I peek inside. The light is from a shiner hung up on the bars of the cage. Sky is sitting inside, her back against the hull where Tarn scratched her tag. Her head is down, her arms wrapped round her knees.

She’s so still. Is she asleep?

I do a cough to let her know I’m here. Good job too. Her head snaps up and a blaster appears in her hand.

‘It’s only me,’ I tell her.

‘Oh joy,’ she mutters. But at least she puts the gun away.

I step inside. ‘What are you doing?’

She glares at me. ‘Thinking. Being with my sister.’

‘Want me to go away?’

She hesitates. ‘How’d you know I’d be here?’

‘I didn’t, not for sure. I just –’

The wail of the landing siren cuts me off, followed by some distant shouting and the chuff and clank of steam tractors.

‘Sounds like we’ve got incoming,’ Sky says.

‘Bit late and dark, isn’t it?’ I say.

I hustle back to the ramp and stick my head out. The landing area is all lit up now by lines of brightly flaring oil-burners.

She limps over to join me on the ramp.

‘They’re back then,’ she says.

I spot the small windjammer on final approach. Sky knows her jammers way better than I do, but even in the dark I can tell which one this is – the fast transport that flew Ballard and the other rebel leaders out of here a week ago. Air brakes already out, its lifters howl as they’re throttled up to landing power. It dives towards the ground, flares late and touches down. The howl dies away. I hear the rumble of wheels pounding the hard-packed dirt.

‘Nice landing,’ I say.

Sky grunts. ‘You reckon?’

The burners are doused, plunging the Deeps back into a smothering darkness. Sky shifts beside me.

‘So what do you want?’ she says.

I throw my hands up. ‘I don’t want anything.’

‘Yeah, you do, Kyle. That’s why you’re here. You want me to let you off the hook for helping me find Tarn. Don’t you?’

‘No. You’re wrong,’ I lie, squirming.

‘Am I?’ She tilts her head to one side. ‘So when Ness finally comes up with the goods you will help me?’

‘What if we mess up the ceasefire, like Colm said?’

Sky shows me her teeth in a sneer. ‘Oh, quit with the Colm says this, Colm says that crap, will you? That’s all I boggin’ get from you these days. Think for yourself.’

‘I do think for myself. It’s just . . . he talks a lot of sense.’

‘Run back to him then. You’ve got your brother; you don’t need me any more. I’ll only get you killed, for nothing.’

‘Oh, come on, Sky! It’s not like that.’

‘So what’s it like? Tell me.’

I take a deep breath, then let it out. ‘Maybe our cause should come before what we want. Like the people here who have children, but still choose to risk their lives fighting for Gemini. They’re fighting for everybody’s ident children, not just theirs.’

‘Colm preach that at you, did he?’

‘Just because you don’t like him doesn’t make him wrong.’

Sky folds her arms, looks away and says nothing.

‘You were all for the cause yourself once, when you thought Tarn was dead. We need to build a world where purebloods and nubloods live together in peace, that’s what you said.’

‘What if I did?’ she says over her shoulder.

‘So what’s changed?’ I say. ‘Look, can’t we just talk about this instead of always arguing? Rona says the other missing nublood kids could be in the same place Tarn is. You should tell Ballard what you’ve found out. Maybe he’ll authorise another raid to rescue them. That’s got to stand a better chance than just us two.’

‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ she says, all sneery.

I grit my teeth. ‘Why not?’

She looks back, her face one big scowl. ‘Because we’re clinging on as it is. And now this fraggin’ peace deal.’ She coughs and turns away again. ‘No way will he go for a raid.’

‘You don’t know that,’ I say.

‘I do,’ she says, coughs and looks away again.

Meanwhile, out on the landing field the landed windjammer drops its ramp. A dozen or so passengers exit down it, led by Ballard, his silver hair unmistakable even at this distance. Armoured steam tractors roll forward to meet them with loads of fighters running ahead. These fan out to form a defensive cordon around the newcomers and escort them to their rides.

Weird. Why would our leaders need guarding out here?

Then I see why . . . and it sucks all the spit out of my mouth. Those guards aren’t for Ballard, Mendela and the rest – they’re for the tall figure in a matt-black cloak walking with them.

A Slayer. Here. In the Deeps.

‘What the hell?’ Sky says.

Spit leaks back into my mouth as I slowly get over the shock of it. And now, in spite of everything, I start to laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ she demands.

‘Never thought I’d be glad to see a Slayer,’ I say, grinning. ‘But I am now. If Ballard’s brought one here, that has to mean the peace deal is no rumour. Fleur got it right. The war’s over, Sky!’

Sky glares at me as if I’m mad.

‘Yeah?’ she says. ‘And fourhorns can fly.’

‘Oh, come on. What else can it mean? Let’s go and find out what’s going on. Maybe they’ll make an announcement.’

But Sky shakes her head again and frowns, looking more through me than at me. ‘You go. I’ll see you later.’

‘You don’t want to know what’s up?’

‘It’s not that, I – look, I’ll be along in a while. Okay?’

‘Sure.’ I hesitate, then figure I can’t be forever biting my tongue with her. ‘You never know, Sky, maybe Colm’s right too and we’ll end up swapping prisoners. Anything’s possible. If this is a peace deal, it’ll be our best chance of finding Tarn.’

‘Our best chance?’ Sky says, staring.

I shrug. ‘Like you said, we bumped stumps on it.’

She smiles. A bit sad and pained-looking, but it’s something.

I’m halfway back to the main base, striding out, hope buzzing away inside me as I wonder if Wrath is finally about to cut me my first-ever break. That’s when I hear the blaster fire.

My heart sinks. I reckon some drooler has seen the Slayer, lost it and started shooting. Ahead of me the tractors judder to a halt. The escorting fighters crouch and level their pulse rifles.

More crackles of blaster fire. I see the flashes. And realise I’m wrong.

It’s from way beyond the tractors – where all our tents are. Where I left Colm muttering into his bunk.

Now I hear the tump-tump of pulse rifles. Returning fire?

Peace deals and Slayers forgotten, I take off towards the flashes. The only weapon I’ve got is my hunting knife. No match for blasters, but it’ll have to do. Luckily, by the time I’ve pounded my way there the firefight seems to be over. People are milling around, mostly half dressed like they’ve just rolled out of their bunks, pushing and shoving and craning to get a look at what’s happened. Smoke curls up into the night, spark-filled, stinking. A few heavily armed fighters are shoving everybody back.

‘Who was shooting?’ I say, elbowing my way forward.

Nobody here seems to know, so I work my way through the crowd until I hear some guy mouthing off about what he saw.

‘All three of ’em was wearing masks,’ he’s saying. ‘Piled into that tent over there and started blasting. I was having a smoke when I seen ’em go in.’ He shakes his head. ‘Crazy, it was.’

‘Where are the shooters now?’ somebody calls out.

‘All dead,’ the man says. ‘We got ’em. Not me, I didn’t have no gun. One of the guys in the tent zapped two. The last one tried to do a runner. A buddy of mine took him out.’

More voices call out questions.

‘Who were the shooters? How many of our guys were killed?’

But I’m past listening. Behind the line of fighters holding us back, I catch a glimpse of a tent in flames.

The tent that Colm and me bunk down in.

Panicking now, I shove my way to the front of the crowd.

‘Let me through! My brother’s in there!’ I yell.

This cuts no ice with the hard-faced fighters keeping us all back.

‘Take it easy, fella,’ one growls.

‘I need to see if my brother’s okay,’ I say through my teeth.

‘What you need is to stay back,’ he says.

‘Okay, okay,’ I say, do a big old sigh, and turn away for just long enough to make them think I’m heading away.

Turn, drop my shoulder and hurl myself through them.

Two go down. One staggers, shoots a hand out and grabs me. An elbow in the face sorts her. A second later I’m at the blazing tent. That’s as far as I get though. The flames are too fierce and stop me in my tracks. If anybody’s inside they’re cooked.

‘Colm!’ I reel backwards.

Into hands that drag me away. My feet are kicked from under me and I’m pushed down, flat on my face. I struggle, despairing and mad as hell, but just get to eat more dirt.

I quit fighting and lie still. Wondering. Fearing.

Finally, after what feels like forever, I’m hauled back to my feet. I lash out, more to share my pain than trying to break free.

‘Quit that!’ Somebody slams a hard punch into my kidneys.

That kills. I hunch over.

‘The brother?’ a deep voice says behind me.

‘Says he is.’ They turn me around.

There – frowning at me – is the great man himself. Ballard.

Truth be told, I’m shocked. The same craggy face and close-cropped silver hair. The simple grey cloak of the Gemini Council worn over his combat fatigues. Only this Ballard is way more bent than I remember, impossibly older since I last saw him.

He signals to the men holding me. ‘Go easy.’

I’m held less tightly now, do my best to straighten up.

‘Kyle?’ Ballard says, his face mournful. ‘You’re not hurt?’

‘I’m all right,’ I mumble, glancing around at what’s left of the still-burning tent. ‘Colm was in that tent there. Is he –?’

Can’t ask it, in case I get the answer I dread.

I don’t get a second chance. A quick whispered order from Ballard to his fighter escort and now I’m being hustled away.

‘Wait, wait!’ I call out. ‘What about my brother?’

But Ballard’s not listening. Flanked by his wary bodyguards he follows along slowly, his head down, as if deep in thought.

‘Kyle!’ Sky shouts. ‘What’s going on?’

I look over my shoulder and see her trying to push past the cordon to reach me, only to be shoved roughly back.

Her raging face is the last thing I see.

The guards put a bag over my head. Everything goes black.