He just had to hope the damned thing didn’t look his way.
He staggered on through the wreckage of the camp. The smell of burnt bodies seeped its way down the back of his throat. They lay bundled up among the tatters of the tents, curled in on themselves or clawing grotesquely at the sky. There must have been a lot of Sammies here when it got hit.
The carnage didn’t much bother him. He’d seen enough bodies in his time as a medic. After a while they became like dead trees or blasted vehicles: just another part of the battlefield scenery.
He was most of the way across the plaza when he saw something he recognised. Something that shouldn’t have been there. He came to an unsteady halt.
It was the shape of it that caught his eye. A cluster of straight lines and regular circles amid a landscape of bent and broken things. A bright emblem of gold, glinting in the light of a nearby fire. It was set into a small metal box lying amid a scattering of curled papers that skidded and rolled in the updrafts from the baked surface of the plaza. He glanced up at the Juggernaut, which had turned away from him.
‘Sorry, mate,’ he said to the man on his back. ‘Gonna have to put you down a minute.’
He let Grudge slide off his back and laid him on the ground as gently as he could. After a quick moment to examine his patient, who still showed no signs of waking, he walked painfully over to the box. He winced as he bent down to pick it up.
It was still hot to the touch, and the gold of the emblem had melted slightly. It was a document case, often used to protect and secure precious letters and files in transit. He tried to open it, but it was locked. He turned it around, looking for clues, but there was nothing to be seen but the emblem. Six circles, joined by interlocking lines. It was something every Vard grew up seeing in the towns and cities of their homeland, and tattooed on the foreheads of the faithful.
The Cipher. The symbol of the Awakeners.
But what’s it doing here?
He stared at the emblem, and felt a cold certainty that the answer to that question would open doors he might never be able to shut. But before he could consider it further, he heard the sharp crack of a rifle, and a bullet splintered a nearby tent pole.
He looked up and saw two soldiers on the far side of the plaza. One of them was just raising his rifle; the other was aiming again.
He swore under his breath and ran back to Grudge – though it was more of an agonised jog – taking the document case with him. He hauled Grudge across his back in a fireman’s carry, gritted his teeth and tried to stand.
The strain was incredible. Picking him up a second time was twice as hard as the first. His muscles were already fatigued, his back ached, and he’d be damned lucky if he got out of this without a slipped disc and a double hernia. But still he lifted, driven by a strength he didn’t know he possessed, and somehow he found his feet.
‘You,’ he puffed, ‘are one dead weight son of a bitch.’
He set off as fast as his legs could carry them, the document case clutched in one hand. The Sammies were shouting behind him and more bullets whined through the air, but they’d have to be better shots than that to hit him at such a distance.
Of course, they wouldn’t need to be such good shots once they caught him up.
He couldn’t let himself worry about it. Couldn’t even look behind with Grudge draped across his shoulders like a fallen bear. All he could do was stumble towards the edge of the plaza.
It didn’t even occur to him to leave Grudge behind.
Beyond, the streets resumed, winding ways bordered by white ceramic dwellings that flowed into each other like blown glass. He blinked sweat from his eyes. He felt like he was at the limit of his strength. He’d felt like that for a while now. Yet somehow momentum carried him on, even though his legs trembled and his neck hurt and his spine felt like it was being crushed. Any minute now, he’d be shot, but there was no help for that. All he could do was prolong the moment as much as he could.
Ahead, the rattle of a machine gun. A building fell in an avalanche of rubble nearby. The Juggernaut was close. He caught sight of it through a gap in the buildings. The curved alley he’d chosen was taking him right towards it.
No help for that, either.
At the end of the alley he halted. A wide boulevard lay in front of him like a still river in the yellow glow of the electric lights. On the far side, more alleys.
It sounded like he was almost on top of the machine gun, so he peered out. To the left, in the middle of the boulevard, a dozen Sammies had set up behind a barricade of fallen debris. To the right was the Juggernaut, turning into the street, dragging a slithering slope of rubble with it. The machine gun kept up a hail of bullets, shredding the air along the boulevard, as the creature swung its head towards them.
Malvery turned about, swinging Grudge’s weight with him. He could hear the soldiers coming up behind him. He swung back and stared across the width of the boulevard. The space between was busy with invisible agents of death. From the Juggernaut, he heard the now familiar squeal of gathering power.
No help for it, he thought, and he wondered how a man who was once so in control of his own life had become a man accustomed to having no choice.
Then he ran out onto the boulevard.
He looked neither left nor right. His brow furrowed, he stared only at his destination, as if by force of will and concentration he could deny the bullets that whined past them. He ignored the surprised shouts of the soldiers behind the barricade; he closed his ears to the rising sound of the Juggernaut’s cannon. He forged doggedly onward, fast as he was able, and that was all.
Seconds passed. Impossible seconds, as he hurried across the boulevard. Then the Juggernaut’s squeal fell silent, and there was only the clatter of the machine gun.
He surged forward, forcing one last effort from his legs. His balance failed him and he tripped, but Grudge’s weight on his back bore him onward, and he stumbled into the shelter of an alley. He twisted as he fell, and the Century Knight came off his shoulders. They fell in a heap with Malvery on his side. He looked back in time to see his pursuers rushing headlong out of the alley he’d come from. Then the Juggernaut unleashed its beam down the length of the boulevard, and all was screaming whiteness.
Malvery threw his hands over his head as the boulevard detonated. Flame boiled up in the mouth of the alley. A wall of baking air blasted both him and Grudge, sending them sliding away. Chunks of ceramic rained down, falling to the ground around them with solid, bone-breaking thumps.
Then, quiet.
Malvery raised his head. His glasses fell off his nose and cracked on the ground. His skin burned, his lungs and throat felt scorched, and he was weak with shock and fatigue.
‘Damn,’ he croaked in amazement.
Slowly, painfully, he climbed to his feet. He shuffled over to Grudge. The Century Knight was still unconscious, but otherwise unhurt.
Malvery would have dearly liked to lie down and sleep right there. Instead, he hauled Grudge into a sitting position, put him over his shoulders, and stood up.
The landing pad was close now. It didn’t feel like he could possibly make it. But he was going to try anyway.
There was no help for it.
‘There she is!’ said Crake, pointing up into the starry sky.
And there she was, coming in over their heads: the Ketty Jay, slipping through the moonlight towards the landing pad.
Frey hefted his pack and allowed himself a private smile. She was coming in with no lights and her thrusters on minimum. Jez might have been out of it ever since Gagriisk but she still understood the need for stealth without having to be told. He could kiss that woman sometimes, assuming she wouldn’t mutate into some bowel-loosening horror and tear out his kidneys.
The Juggernaut hadn’t seen her. It was marauding away in a different direction with the landing pad to its rear. There had been a minute or two when it had come uncomfortably close, and Frey had half-expected it to destroy the treelike struct
ure out of spite. But it seemed more interested in attacking people than indiscriminate destruction, and the landing-pad had been deserted then.
He wondered if it would take more of an interest if it saw an aircraft there, and hoped he wouldn’t have to find out.
Ugrik was jogging along beside them, his pack troubling him not one bit. Crake was unencumbered. They’d been forced to leave some of his equipment behind for the sake of speed, since they didn’t have time to pack it up. Crake had protested furiously until Frey promised to replace whatever was lost. Between that and a new Firecrow, it would wipe out all the gains he’d made from betting on Harkins in Crickslint’s race, but Frey would have promised him anything to get him moving.
They made good speed and were panting by the time they reached the base of the landing pad. There had been a certain amount of backtracking to negotiate the demolished streets, but Frey counted them fortunate to have made it the whole way without coming across a live Sammie. Still, he reckoned with all the bad luck that had come his way lately, he was owed a bit of the other kind.
‘How do we get up there?’ asked Crake, who was annoyingly spry. Ugrik had barely broken a sweat, either. It was only Frey who seemed to be suffering, which was frankly a bit unfair.
He looked up the shaft of the structure to where it split out in white branches to support the flat top. ‘Isn’t there an elevator?’ he asked plaintively.
‘Power’s out,’ said Ugrik. ‘Bet there are stairs, though.’
There were. By the time they reached the top, Frey was starting to wonder if it would have been preferable to have died at the hands of the Iron Jackal.
They emerged on to the landing pad to find the Ketty Jay idling there with her cargo ramp open. The sweet, wonderful Ketty Jay. And the rest of the crew were already here! He saw Bess disappearing inside, and Silo was ushering Pinn and Ashua after her. Between them they carried Samandra Bree, who was hopping on one foot.
Silo spotted him and hurried across. Frey was doubled over, sweaty and parched.
‘You ought to wear your damn earcuff every so often, Cap’n,’ Silo snapped. ‘Had no idea where you got to.’
‘Yeah. Uh . . . sorry,’ said Frey, who was a bit surprised to be spoken to that way. Then Silo hugged him, and Frey hugged him back.
Crake’s gaze had drifted to the Ketty Jay. ‘I might just go and . . . Er . . .’ he said, walking off.
Frey stopped him. He shucked off his pack and shoved it into Crake’s arms. ‘Here. You can carry it the rest of the way,’ he said. ‘Now go see your bloody sweetheart.’
Ugrik cackled and followed Crake into the Ketty Jay, having a conversation with himself as he went.
Frey rolled his neck and massaged his aching shoulders. ‘Everyone alright?’ he asked.
Silo’s eyes flickered downward for an instant. ‘Not everyone. Grudge went missin’. The doc went off after him.’
Frey stared at him. And you let him?
‘Only so much you can do when a man’s determined, Cap’n,’ Silo said.
He suppressed the urge to anger. Silo was right; there were plenty of times when he’d failed to stop his crew doing something daft. This wasn’t the military. And if he chewed out Silo, he’d be undermining the authority he’d given him as first mate.
‘Alright, well, it’s done,’ he said neutrally. He looked out from the edge of the landing pad. From up here the bowl of the oasis sloped away from them, and he could see the whole of the city. Most of it was in darkness and concealed by the trees, but there were still electric lights in the excavation zone, showing up swathes of ruination left by the Juggernaut. The night was lit up by a fresh string of explosions as the creature unleashed its beam again.
Silo touched his ear as if listening. ‘Yeah, he here, Jez. Still not wearing his earcuff, though.’
Frey took the hint and dug it from his pocket. ‘I’m here, Jez. What’s up?’
‘What’s up?’ she cried. ‘Have you seen that thing? Can we get out of here yet?’
Frey’s face became hard. It could only be a matter of time before the Juggernaut spotted them. And if it chose to fire that terrible beam their way, they’d never have time to take off before the landing pad collapsed.
Silo had the same thought. ‘What you wanna do, Cap’n?’
What did he want to do? The brief hours of freedom he’d felt in the desert were long gone now. The burden of captaincy was on him again. The doc could well be dead. Waiting for him might easily doom them all. But abandoning Malvery? Could he really do that, even for the sake of the others?
No. If there was one thing this whole sorry mess had taught him, it was that they were meant to stick together. His crew had followed him here, even after he tried to leave them behind. He couldn’t repay that loyalty by betraying the doc.
‘We wait,’ he said. ‘And hope to damnation that thing doesn’t spot us.’
As if it had heard him, the Juggernaut turned its face towards them.
‘Cap’n?’ said Silo. ‘Think it just did.’
Frey felt a pit open in the bottom of his stomach as he felt its blank, dreadful regard. There was the eye that he’d seen buried beneath the foliage when he’d first arrived with Ugrik. He’d thought it was a statue then; but it was something much, much worse.
‘Hate to say this,’ said Jez, ‘but we really gotta go.’
‘Not yet,’ said Frey. ‘Fill the aerium tanks so she’s right on the edge of floating. Keep the thrusters hot and—’
‘I’m doing that already!’ she interrupted. ‘It’s coming this way!’
There was no mistaking its interest now. It was moving closer with slow, deliberate strides.
‘Anyone notice how long it takes between cannon blasts?’ Frey asked.
‘Huh?’ said Jez.
‘Well, it could level this place with that beam, but I haven’t seen it fire twice in a row without a pause, and the beam never lasts. I think it needs time to charge.’
‘I haven’t been here long,’ said Jez. ‘A few minutes, maybe. But it’s fired twice in that time.’
Frey chewed his lip. Damn it. Damn it.
‘We can move off and circle,’ Jez suggested. ‘We could come back.’
Frey’s gaze went to the power station. The hourglasses to either side were heavily cracked now. Lightning flickered over the whole building, and it was surrounded by a cloud of pallid gas that glowed with bruised colours.
If they took off, they wouldn’t be coming back. He knew that, even if Jez didn’t. He had as much responsibility for everyone else on board as he did for Malvery, and he had to get them safe.
Frey was a man accustomed to riding his luck. But this time, the stakes were so, so high.
‘Cap’n, we got to go,’ said Silo, his voice low and hard.
‘Not yet!’ he replied stubbornly.
‘He ain’t comin’.’
Frey bit back a retort. Whatever he said would sound childish. He knew the doc wasn’t coming. He just wanted to believe that he would.
The Juggernaut stamped onward, crushing the rubble of the shattered city beneath its feet. Its blank face was a mask of dispassionate brutality. How could Frey stand up to that?
They had to go. Waiting longer would be suicide. Frey opened his mouth to say it, but other words appeared in their place.
‘Will someone bloody help me?’
If Frey had believed in any kind of god, he’d have fallen to his knees and thanked them then. But damned if that wasn’t Malvery’s tortured bellowing.
The doctor appeared at the top of the stairs, rising step by clumping step, with Colden Grudge slung across his back. His face and pate were bright red, giving him the appearance of a tomato with a moustache. He took one last step, tipped the Century Knight off his back and collapsed.
Frey and Silo ran to them. Malvery was wheezing so hard that Frey seriously thought he was having an attack of something. ‘Stairs . . .’ he whispered, with a noise like a deflating tyre.
Th
ere was no time for sympathy. Silo picked up Grudge and Frey dragged Malvery to his feet. ‘The box . . .’ Malvery gasped, pointing down at a small metal box the size of a book that he’d dropped when he fell. Frey picked it up without really looking at it, and then they carried their casualties as fast as they could towards the cargo hold.
A shrill sound drifted through the night. An ascending squeal. In the distance, the Juggernaut was powering up.
They were met at the cargo ramp by Ashua, who had left Samandra with Pinn, and by Crake, who had evidently thought better of facing her right now. ‘Move it, Jez!’ Frey yelled as soon as his feet touched the ramp. ‘Move it now!’
The Ketty Jay lurched forward, screeching on its skids. The thrusters kicked in before the aerium lift could get it off the ground. Frey shoved Malvery into the waiting arms of Ashua and Crake; the three of them staggered into the hold and fell flat. Silo, unbalanced by the sudden movement of the aircraft, dumped Grudge to the ground and then fell over as well. Frey tottered and clutched one of the ramp’s hydraulic struts to stabilise himself.
The floor tipped as the Ketty Jay rose, pushed forward and banked all at the same time. The inert bulk of Colden Grudge slid up against one wall and stayed there. Silo got his arm through one of the restraining straps they’d used for the Rattletraps. Ashua and Crake were pulling the gasping doctor to safety as best they could.
Beyond the ramp, the world tilted and swayed. The landing pad disappeared behind them, swinging out of view. Suddenly Frey was standing on the edge of a dizzying drop.
He couldn’t reach the lever to close the ramp. Jez could have closed it from the cockpit, but he didn’t want to distract her. And besides, despite the danger, he didn’t want it closed. There was something unbearable about the thought of shutting himself in and waiting in the gloom to be destroyed. If they were going to die, he’d rather see it coming, and end it with his eyes open.
The Juggernaut slid into view, behind and beneath them. Frey couldn’t hear it over the roar of the thrusters, but he could see the sparkling aura around its tube of a mouth as it sucked in that deadly energy.