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‘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.
6
STRINGS AND STINGS ATTACHED
After a forever of stumbling along blindly and being pushed, I’m stopped, turned and shoved backwards. Hinges squeal, metal clangs and bolts rasp home. Finally, the hood is pulled off. I squint around at a small rock-walled chamber. Table. Bench. Covered shit-pit in the corner. Closed metal door. Loads of guards.
‘Why the bag over my head? What’s going on?’
I’m wasting my breath. None of the guards will answer me; they just watch me out of their bored, tough-guy eyes like I’m some not-very-interesting bug. I give up asking, lie down on the bench and glower up at the rock ceiling, sick to my stomach.
Does this mean Colm is dead?
Time crawls by, slow and ugly. Wrath knows how long it is before the oil-starved hinges squeal again. The chamber door opens outwards and . . . Rona and Colm are shepherded inside.
Seeing me, Rona’s hand flies to her mouth.
I jump up from the bench. Rona dashes across the room, throws her arms round me and hugs me so tight I can hardly breathe.
‘Kyle! Oh, thanks be to goodness, we were so worried.’
I hug her back, while over her shoulder I gawp at Colm. He looks shaken, his face pulled tight. His left arm is in a sling.
‘You’re alive,’ I blurt out.
He grimaces. ‘Yeah. I think so.’
Rona lets go of me, dabs at her red-looking eyes and takes a quick healer look at me. ‘You’re not hurt, are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ I tell her. ‘I – uh – wasn’t there to get shot at.’
One of the guards who brought them in steps up, clears his throat and lays a gloved hand on her shoulder.
‘You’ve seen the boy needs no healing,’ he says. ‘Let’s go.’
I glare at him, but Rona shoots me a quick warning look. She reaches out and pulls Colm and me together. ‘Listen to me,’ she says, frowning, ‘you’re safe here at least. Do what they say and don’t make any trouble. They won’t let me stay with you, but I won’t be far away. Everything will be all right. Okay?’
We each get another quick hug before she’s taken away.
After the door slams shut behind her, the guards left inside shove us towards the bench along the wall. A minute ago I’d have shoved back to spite them. Now I can’t be bothered. I’m more interested in hearing what my wounded brother has to say.
‘What happened?’ I ask him. ‘A guy said three masked shooters burst into our tent and then opened up with blasters.’
Colm nurses his bandaged arm and nods.
‘I was half asleep. The tent flap lifts and some guys barge inside. Next thing I know they’re blasting the hell out of your bunk.’
I stare at him, appalled. ‘So what did you do?’
‘They shot up my bunk next.’ A painful smile tugs at my brother’s lips. ‘Only I’d got such a fright when the shooting started I’d already fallen off it. It was lights-out and dark inside. With all the blasting, maybe the shooters dazzled themselves. My pulse rifle was still up on my bunk, so I cleared off as fast as I could. They came after me, but by then our guys were shooting back.’
I can’t help glancing at his bandaged arm. Rona’s handiwork.
‘I got lucky,’ he says. ‘Four of our mates were killed in the crossfire, more injured. It was a slaughterhouse.’
‘Who did this?’ I splutter. ‘And why? I don’t understand.’
‘Me neither. But . . .’ He takes a deep breath, sighs it out. ‘My first thought was that Slayers had somehow tracked us down and sent in a suicide squad to take us out. For revenge, or to teach us a lesson, like even out here in the Deeps nobody’s safe. Only before I was taken away, I got a good look at the shooters. They were Gemini fighters. I’ve seen them around. And before you ask, it wasn’t Stauffer or any of his thug mates.’
Colm’s words stomp about in my head, but make no sense.
‘You’re saying our own guys tried to kill us?’
He nods. ‘And it was definitely us they were after. They came straight to our bunks. It was a hit. We were the target.’
‘Why?’ I say, dry-mouthed.
‘I don’t know. Lucky you weren’t in your bunk, huh?’
‘Too right.’ I shiver. And now I finally remember that I’ve got my own big news to share. I tell Colm about how I saw the windjammer land and the black-clad passenger it unloaded.
‘Ballard brought a Slayer here ?’ he says, rocking back and chewing his lip. ‘Guess the peace deal must be on then.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’
‘So when did the jammer land?’
I think back. ‘Not long before the shooting started.’
Colm nods and pulls what I call his serious-thinking face.
Which sets me thinking too. ‘Coincidence?’
‘Could be,’ he says, but really slow, like he doesn’t believe it.
I glance at our guards. They’re still all watching us, unblinking, unmoving, as if carved out of stone. I’d figured we’d been stuck in here for our protection. Now I’m starting to doubt. These guys are doing a great job of making me feel more like a prisoner.
‘Wonder how long they’ll keep us in here?’ I say to Colm.
He sits on the bench, swings his feet up and stretches out. ‘Who knows? We should get some rest.’
‘Hey, what about me?’
But my brother’s eyes are closed already, and he looks so destroyed I haven’t the heart to make him shift.
I settle for the dirt floor. It’s as uncomfortable as it looks.
Without windows in here it’s only a guess, but based on how stiff I feel after hours of squirming around on hard-packed dirt, I reckon it’s early morning when they come for us.
We each get a beaker of water and a biscuit to munch as we’re marched along one rock-hewn corridor after another, minded by a dozen or so heavily armed guards. Finally, we’re shoved into a room where Ballard is waiting, sitting behind a massive round table. His wire-framed glasses reflect the glowtubes so I can’t see his eyes, but his lined face is one big frown. I’d hoped Rona would be there too. She isn’t. The only friendly face belongs to Scallon, the senior healer woman who pulled that bolt out of me back in Bastion. She gets up, greets us and shows us to a couple of spare seats.
‘Why are we here?’ I whisper.
And wish I hadn’t as her face falls.
‘You’ll see,’ she says, and returns to her seat.
I glance around the room. Apart from Scallon and Ballard and some watchful guards, there are two other people here, both seated at the table. Like Ballard, they wear the long grey cloaks of Gemini Council members. The tall black woman is Mendela, Defence Commander of this Deeps outpost. The irritable-looking plump man with the savagely pockmarked face I‘ve never seen before.
‘So there they are,’ fat guy says.
He inspects Colm and me, a look on his face like we’re pieces of fruit to choose between and both of us seem rotten.
‘Hard to believe,’ Mendela says, ‘it all hangs on these two boys.’
I swap glances with Colm. He looks worried too.
Ballard stands up, waving away a guard who leaps forward to try and help him. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. He looks tired, like he didn’t get much sleep last night either.
‘Kyle, Colm,’ he says, blinking at us. ‘You must be wondering –’
Fat guy slams his hand on the table and interrupts angrily, chins wobbling. ‘For Wrath’s sake, Ballard, you’re wasting time we haven’t got. We have important things to discuss.’
Ballard stiffens. ‘We do, Councillor Schroeder. But first I think we owe these boys an explanation.’
Schroeder glares at us and snorts, sending spit flying.
Well, I can do angry too. I jump up. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
I expect to be shouted at, but Commander Mendela smiles. Not Ballard though. He looks like he’s in pain.
‘Sit down, son,’ Mendela says. ‘We like defiant, but we’ve got something to tell you and you would do well to listen.’
I swallow and sit down again, feeling more than a bit stupid.
Ballard clears his throat. ‘As Councillor Schroeder says, the Council has much to discuss, so I’ll be brief.’ He puts his glasses back on and his gaze settles on me. My head pounds and blood hisses in my ears like static. ‘You boys will, I’m sure, have heard the rumours of a peace treaty between us and the Slayers.’
I nod, not trusting my voice. So does Colm.
‘Well, the rumours are true,’ Ballard continues. ‘If Gemini ceases fighting and we withdraw our forces to the Barrenlands, in return the Saviour will grant us a sanctuary out there.’
‘So tempting.’ Mendela’s voice is thick with sarcasm.
Ballard sighs. ‘As you might expect, the peace offer comes with many strings attached. Ident children must still be handed over and held in camps. Instead of Peace Fairs, as soon as nubloods are identified they will be returned to us in our Barrenlands paradise.’ He sighs deeply. ‘However, the strongest of them will first be required to do two years’ service down darkblende mines. After completing this, they too will be returned.’
‘If they survive the two years,’ Scallon says.
‘Be quiet!’ Schroeder snaps.
I shake my head, dazed, struggling to take this in. Two years down a darkblende mine is crap, but sanctuary sounds good.
‘There is one other condition,’ Ballard says.
Mendela pulls a grim face, as if she’s chewing a mouthful of something sour. As for Scallon, she won’t look me in the eye.
Colm and I say it as one. ‘What other condition?’
Ballard winces, his watery eyes like grey pools in cracked rock. ‘The final condition is that we hand you both over.’ He pauses, maybe to let this sink in. ‘Unless we agree to all these conditions before the next doom moon, the peace offer will be withdrawn. The Saviour will order the mobilisation of a conscript army to fight alongside his Slayers. He says they won’t rest until every nublood on Wrath is hunted down. Extermination, pure and simple.’
‘The sting in the tail,’ Mendela says, and sighs.
My head pounds like someone’s taken a club to it. So this is how it all ends, I think dismally. I should have fraggin’ known.
‘And you’d do that? You’d hand us over?’ I croak.
Ballard just looks at me, stony-faced.
‘So that’s why those fighters tried to kill us,’ Colm says.
‘Huh?’ I glance at him. He’s staring at Ballard.
Ballard nods. ‘Details of the peace offer must somehow have reached here before we did. The Saviour wants you alive. The attempt on your lives was an act of sabotage by Gemini hardliners who wish to fight on regardless. With you dead, the peace deal is dead too. They will have known that my first act upon my return would be to place you in protective custody.’
I’m not sure I get all this, not fully, but one thing I do get: Colm and me, we’re screwed. I lick my lips. ‘What happens now?’
He pulls at his beard. ‘That, Kyle, is for the Council to decide.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Schroeder wobbles to his feet. ‘Let’s get this farce over with. Bring in the damn Slayer.’ He clicks his fingers at the guards by another door at the far side of the chamber.
They scramble to unbolt it and swing it open.
In walks a woman dressed head to foot in Slayer matt-black.
I gasp. Beside me, Colm lets out a strangled-sounding moan. Because it’s not every day you see a ghost. The last time I saw this woman was during the Facility raid, when Murdo Dern emptied his pulse rifle into her at point-blank range, almost cutting her in half. Yet here the High Slayer stands in her fancy black-leather uniform trimmed with fur, with her raven-dark hair and the cruel lines in her face no amount of powder can hide. A smile twists her full lips, and I see her obvious delight at our shock and confusion. Morana, High Slayer of the Barrenlands.
‘No fraggin’ way!’ I howl, gulping air, sending my chair flying as I lurch to my feet again. ‘You’re dead. I saw you killed!’
‘Only, as you see, I’m very much alive,’ she says, sneering.
Ballard grits his teeth. ‘You’re here for a reason, Slayer, so get on with it. Take your look. Tell us if you’re satisfied.’
She darts him a mocking glance. ‘Who are you again?’
‘You’ve one minute, and no longer.’
They swap glares, until she shrugs and turns from him to Colm and me. She steps around the table, coming closer.
‘Don’t be shy,’ she says. ‘Show me your handsome faces.’
I back up, but hit rock wall.
She glances at my brother and spots his heavily bandaged arm.
‘This merchandise has been damaged.’
‘A scratch,’ Schroeder says quickly. ‘Nothing more.’
Morana nods and her gaze slides across to me. ‘So alike, yet I have the feeling you’re the twist, Kyle. Am I right?’
I give myself a bit of a shake, conscious Ballard’s watching me.
‘I’m nublood,’ I tell her. ‘We call ourselves nublood.’
She shows me a mouthful of too-perfect teeth and laughs. ‘Oh, do you now? How dull. I think “twist” has far more of a ring to it. Now come closer, Kyle, and let me see you.’
‘Drop dead.’ I stay where I am.
Mistake. She looks at Schroeder. He curses and signals. Two guards grab me and shove me forward. I struggle. Nothing doing. They’re both nubloods and loads bigger than me.
‘That’s better.’ Morana peels off a glove. Her body armour creaks as she reaches out and turns my face this way and that, studying me closely. Then she strokes my cheek, her fingers cold and lingering, exactly as she did that day back in the Barrenlands when she’d captured Sky and me.
‘So tell me, Kyle, how does it feel to play such an important role in the future of your pitiful species?’
Her breath warms my face. I gauge the distance to her head to see if it’s worth trying for a headbutt. But she’s too far away and the guys holding on to me are too strong.
‘That’s enough,’ Ballard calls out. ‘Leave the boy alone.’
Morana gives me one last icy glare, then lets go. Pulling her glove back on, she turns and stalks back towards the open doorway and the waiting Gemini guards.
‘Very well,’ she announces, as cool as you like. ‘I will report back to the Saviour that you do indeed have his beloved sons.’
Ballard says nothing, just looks grim as hell.
Schroeder’s a different story – I reckon the man seems pleased.
Mendela hauls herself to her feet. ‘Is she done here?’
‘She is,’ Ballard says. ‘Take her away.’
‘I’ll see to it personally that our guest,’ Mendela wrinkles her nose at Morana, ‘is returned to the rendezvous point, with all the necessary safeguards so she can’t find her way back uninvited.’
Ballard nods, and Morana is escorted away.
There’s a long, ugly silence.
And I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding.
Our guards bring two new benches, one for Colm, another to replace the one I took out my rage and despair on.
‘Smash these,’ a guard warns, ‘and you don’t get more. Okay?’
I mutter at her that I won’t.
‘This is bullshit,’ I say to Colm. ‘Can you believe it?’
My brother’s not said a word since we were dragged back here to our cell, just stared into space and shaken his head a lot. So I’m glad when he finally looks at me.
‘It’s a trap,’ he says. ‘A clever one too.’
But I’ve also done some thinking since I quit smashing stuff.
‘I don’t see it. The Slayers must be dreaming if they think we’ll chuck our guns away and shuffle off to hold hands out in the Barrenlands. Once we’re there, they’d have us trapped. No way will the Council go for it. They’d have to be crazy.’
Colm takes a deep breath and hisses it out.
‘What?’ I say, irritated.
He clutches at his hurt arm and winces. ‘Kyle, this isn’t about peace or sanctuary in the Barrenlands. It’s about divide and conquer, setting brother against brother.’
I grind my teeth. ‘Just for once, can you speak plainly?’
‘Okay, okay. Look, I grew up a Slayer, so I know how they think. This peace offer’s fake, I’m sure of it. The Saviour has no intention of letting Gemini have a sanctuary in the Barrenlands or anywhere else. He just dangles the thought. It’s bait on a hook.’