A bulkhead pulled open. Four huge Haxigoji dragged a bound human into the chamber—
No!
—and Roger was on his feet because the darkness was swirling around the man, in fact a Pilot. But it was the darkness itself that Roger had reacted to.
The Pilot hung, semi-conscious, from the grip of massive double-thumbed hands.
‘This,’ announced Nectarblossom via her torc, ‘is Pilot Holland.’
So they had not prevented him leaving his ship: they had caught him in the corridor. Which meant his ship must be waiting nearby in congruent mu-space, waiting for the chance to free Holland without risking his life.
Kill him . . .
Roger’s tu-ring was blazing with scarlet fire, though he could not remember arming it.
Control.
He looked into Nectarblossom’s amber, horizontally slitted eyes.
‘The darkness,’ he said. ‘It’s strong. This man is fully corrupted.’
‘Yes.’
Acid Tang said: ‘So there are humans who are not blind. This is powerful news.’
‘An heroic day.’ Nectarblossom rose to her feet, taller than any human, her presence magnificent. ‘We will share the message.’
The implications and the mutual recognition rebounded in Roger’s mind, distracting him and the Haxigoji alike, but he was supposed to be a professional and you had to remain alert when—
Yellow fire exploded.
Amid deadly danger, an element of slapstick intruded: Jed leapt at Holland – like Roger, he was unaffected by the blaze of energy – but his electromag bracelets and anklets snapped together, immobilising him and dropping him in Roger’s path, which gave Holland the second he needed.
The Haxigoji guards had staggered back, blinded, as Holland took the opportunity to stumble back through the hatch he had entered by, and cause it to slam shut.
From the floor, Jed said: ‘They’ll be OK. The bastard’s weak.’ But his voice was slurred, and blood was pouring from his forehead. ‘Go get him.’
‘Wait.’ Roger went to Vilok Khan, who appeared to be panicking the least, and used a gentle thumb to draw up an eyelid. ‘Jed’s right,’ he told everyone. ‘The flash wasn’t full strength. You’ll recover.’
Nectarblossom appeared to have closed her eyes in time, because she looked at Roger now, and said: ‘You do not need to stay and bear witness. We will spread the word.’
So she understood: their new mutual understanding was the most important outcome.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes. Good luck, Pilot.’
Jed was out of it, and Draper was Shipless, but Ibrahim al-Khalid was a Pilot too. Roger turned to him, expecting an offer of help, but saw only an expression of devastated emptiness, tears running down al-Khalid’s face.
Find out later.
It was time to give chase.
No place in Vachss Station was far from an outer hull, and emergency evacuation points abounded. By the time Roger obliterated the hatch that Holland had escaped through, turning it into powder, an exterior-view holo was showing a teardrop shape, originating here, in the act of making rendezvous with a dark-green and purple ship that had, just seconds ago, blazed into realspace.
Well, good.
A strong enemy meant a decent challenge, and while Holland might still be weak, his ship was anything but. Quickglass was already spreading across Roger’s skin as he commanded an exit to become permeable; then he took a moment to judge the trajectory – there, a spar was rotating past, and he would have to be careful to miss it – before launching himself through the liquefied wall and popping out into vacuum.
Come to me.
His own beauty, black and powerful, webbed with scarlet and gold, crashed into realspace existence, so very close to Vachss Station. Proximity alarms would be sounding aboard the orbital, but there was no risk because she was a genius, taking him into her control cabin—
We hunt?
Oh, yes, my love.
Good.
—and diving sideways, away from everything, getting a clear angle on Holland’s ship except it was too late because white light accompanied a skilful transition into mu-space—
On home ground, then.
Exactly.
—which would not be enough to save them because Roger-and-ship were equally adept, probably more, and within a subjective second, golden splendour was shining all around them.
Mu-space, and a quarry to kill.
Call it their life purpose.
It was a long and tricky chase, following the faintest of spoors through mu-space void, close to black fractal stars and through the heart of a scale-free fern-like nebula; but just as ship-and-Roger were about to open fire, Holland-and-ship shone white and disappeared, transiting back to realspace.
Ambush?
Conscious that the insertion point was far from the galactic core and therefore the renegade base, they took the risk and followed, bursting through into realspace at maximum speed – planet! – and tumbling into orbit of a greenish, cloudy world – I see it – but the dark-green and purple ship was already a tiny dot diving deep into atmosphere.
Where are we?
Must be Siganth.
It was not a human world. Various indigenous species, if that was the correct term for classifying entities that seemed scarcely organic, were both sentient and vicious, metallic and ferocious. Neither Pilots nor the human xeno-contact teams they brought here had achieved much by way of communication.
And we follow?
Yes.
There was no way to tell whether they were under observation as they descended through a sequence of cloud layers and came out over a sharpedged mountain range, following the fugitive’s trace.
There.
It led into a vast cavernous opening. Ship-and-Roger descended to the ground outside the entrance, every weapon filled with energy, standing waves building up in resonance cavities, aching to be cut loose. After a few seconds, great bronze-and-black metallic forms clanked their way out into the open: native Siganthians, whose carapaces concealed intricate body-mechanisms, cables and pumps for sinews and muscles, some with heavy metal wings, looking incapable of flight, launching themselves nevertheless into the air.
Sparks of sapphire light shone among their multitudinous eye-sockets – Anomaly! – and ship and Roger let loose a single burst of weapons fire – we need to bug out – then ploughed all energy into thrusting flight, hauling upwards at maximum acceleration – we won’t make orbit – ignoring the heat – I know – before embracing the moment of risk.
Transit now.
They burst through.
Yes.
Golden void, scarlet nebulae in the distance, and the knowledge that they had achieved transition under the most dangerous of circumstances. They scanned for renegades, but the region was clear, and Holland was no doubt among his own kind on the realspace planet, among the inhumans.
So Siganth is a hellworld.
And collaborating with renegades, although Holland must be desperate to take the chance.
Looks that way.
This was news that had to reach the Admiralty.
So much for his planned journey of victory, flying home from Vachss Station with Jed’s ship alongside, taking their time. When Roger reached Labyrinth, he left his beloved ship in one of the clandestine docking hangars – having entered un-observed as always – and requested immediate debriefing. One of the two officers who responded was a familiar face: Havelock, who had interviewed him on his first day in Tangle-knot. The other Pilot was also someone he recognised, though it had taken a few seconds to work out, and the conclusion was a shock.