He stripped, took a shower. It felt good to be clean, even if the water was only lukewarm, and the solutions smelt old, with particles that rubbed against his skin, took ages to wash off.

  It felt good to put on fresh clothes, too. Well, under-clothes. He had a few spares in his pack, and he’d found no clothes when he checked the boat.

  He considered going naked for a while. Who’d see him out here? And that was when he realised he couldn’t hear the voices anymore.

  Waves swirled around him. Air brushed against him. But there was no noise‌—‌no mindless internal thoughts, no petty arguments.

  He breathed, long and deep. He savoured the freedom, the sensation of having his mind back, of the lack of pressure in his head. He no longer had to share his mind with others.

  Brice was alone. At last.

  And, as he struggled to get the boat’s engine going, that was a problem.

  There were traces on the boat, but they were old, and Brice reckoned the vessel hadn’t been used for months, possibly longer. The traces he felt had no‌…‌no origin, either. He couldn’t figure out details of the people, couldn’t know who they were.

  Which meant he couldn’t get any kind of connection with them. Which, in consequence, meant he couldn’t gain access to the boat’s system.

  “Always some bloody problem,” he muttered, and turned to look at the water.

  It was everywhere. No land in sight. To the south‌—‌he reckoned it was the south, judging by the position of the sun‌—‌the horizon was a sharp line, dark blue below and light above. But in other directions clouds hung heavy, and the sea and sky merged into grey, one becoming the other.

  Alone. Abandoned. Nobody to help him. Nobody to watch him die of starvation, nobody to notice when the boat went down.

  Nobody to care.

  Brice’s legs trembled. He grabbed the sides of the boat‌—‌gunwales? Some stupid name like that, as if whales could use weapons‌—‌and his vision blurred.

  He lowered himself to the floor‌—‌no, deck. Called a deck on a boat, wasn’t it? Same as the big area they launched craft from. And that would be nice, right now‌—‌something to take him away. An Ion would just about fit, if the pilot brought it down right. Or they could fit it with floats, have it land on the water. Send it out to find him, bring him in.

  Brice laughed at the thought, and shook his head. But that brought on a wave of nausea, and he swallowed, groaned.

  Forced himself to think.

  There had been four islands, five if the little one counted too, the one that Ryann said joined its neighbour with a causeway a metre underwater. They were tight together, something about a ring of volcanoes. He’d read the files on a terminal, the ones Piran had pulled for him and Deva.

  A ring of islands. That was important.

  Brice thought back, to when he’d found the boat, when he’d set it free. He’d been to the west of the island. The others were to the east.

  He’d drifted out to sea. Not up or down, not around the island, but away from it.

  Away from the others.

  Further into the ocean.

  A large wave hit the boat, and it threw Brice about. His head lolled forward, and it slammed into that whale-gun thing.

  His stomach churned. He couldn’t stop the sickness this time.

  Managed to turn his head as the warmth erupted from his mouth, bitter and stinking. But the boat still rocked, and the vomit crawled back to him, ran between his fingers, soaked into his trousers. Made him gag again, but all he brought up were a few slimy tendrils of drool that hung from his lips.

  He wiped them away. His stomach churned again, but there was nothing more to come up.

  It was all over him. He hadn’t noticed it on his chin, down his front. The stink rose, warm and fetid.

  He needed another shower.

  The boat rocked again, and this time spray fell from above.

  Not enough to wash him, though.

  Maybe the next wave, Brice thought. He tilted his head back, felt more spray on his face. Again, not enough. The boat rocked, back and forth, side to side.

  Clouds swirled in the blue, and the sun sent light dancing in his eyes. Brice shut them. Another wave, and more spray. Not enough to clean him, but enough to remind him that he was alive. And alone.

  And he could do nothing about the situation.

  Ryann

  “You don’t look pleased to see me,” Annys Reid said as she eased back on the sofa, glass in one hand. She wore a trouser suit that wouldn’t look out of place in the city itself, with sandals on her feet. She’d had her hair cut since Ryann had seen her last, and the style drew attention to her eyes.

  They were harsher than Ryann recalled.

  “It’s not something I expected. Not after the way we parted company.”

  “You mean when you left me and my assistant to face an army of Kaiahive’s trained killers on that museum roof?”

  “If there had been another way to solve our problem…”

  “Oh, think nothing of it. Your impressive friend forced your hand. My assistant will bring her along later. I wished to discuss matters with you first.”

  “You can start by explaining how you found us, and what you’re doing working with The Bear.”

  Annys raised her eyebrows. “So confrontational! It doesn’t suit you, my dear. For your information, I’m not working with that man. He has nothing to offer me. And as for finding you‌—‌we’ve been monitoring you since you arrived in Enapoli.”

  Ryann bit down her irritation. “We?”

  “The Collective, under my direction. Now, are you ready to discuss matters in a civilised manner?”

  “How did you escape?”

  Annys sighed. “Clearly not. I take it you refer to the museum, yes? There was nothing to escape from. Those fine agents from the company found an esteemed Preceptor and her assistant on the roof of the museum, their abductors having fled. There were even some favourable writings from local journalists, I believe, and my employees have decided to view the whole incident as‌…‌the lesser of possible evils.

  “I have a great deal of influence, Ryann. I believe I told you that, and demonstrated the fact. But I did call in a few favours. Not least because the situation has changed.”

  “Which situation’s that?”

  “The situation. Kaiahive, the Heralds, and the Ancients. Animosity is growing. The public stories of unrest only scratch the surface. The company is coming down hard on those they refer to as religious terrorists, and the Heralds fan the bitterness by stepping up their attacks on company facilities. Some are calling it an all-out war, and I can’t say I blame them for using such strong language.”

  “And what about these supposed Ancients?”

  “Supposed? After all you’ve seen?”

  “I’ve seen evidence of an older race, possibly human, with advanced tech. That’s all.”

  “What if I were to tell you that a signal has been intercepted?”

  Annys left that dangling, but Ryann refused to take the bait. She sat back and waited. After a pause, Annys sighed. But she continued.

  “The origin of the signal can’t be confirmed, but its destination appears to be this planet. The company’s analysis shows similarities with the tech recovered from Ancient dig-sites. The general consensus is that this is a precursor to the Ancients’ return.”

  Still Ryann refused to be drawn in. “It’s a possibility, I suppose. But it doesn’t concern me. I’m simply looking for a way to get my crew off this rock.”

  “Your crew? And where is your crew, Miss Harris?”

  “I’m sure you know just as much as I do.”

  “Oh, far more. I know that young Deva Verga is with the Heralds, and the boy Piran is on Metis.” Annys grinned. “So you’ve succeeded in getting one crew-member off-planet, I suppose. Well done.”

  “But he’s a prisoner.” It was the only possibility Ryann could imagine.

  “Most likely. Our sources indicate that he’s working for the company, but whether that’s of his own free will or through coercion we can’t ascertain. He’s alive, though.”

  Annys smiled, as if to give Ryann comfort. But there was one name she hadn’t yet mentioned.

  “Do you have any information on Brice?”

  Annys shook her head. “We don’t have confirmation of his demise, which could be a positive sign. But, you see, you have no crew, do you? There’s only you and your NeoGen friend.”

  “We can move faster if there are only two of us.”

  “But not fast enough. Face it, my dear‌—‌you’re involved in this. The company still want you. They want to remove you as an inconvenience. They want to remove your friend because she’s the result of a failed experiment. And they want what you’ve stolen from them.”

  Ryann frowned. Annys rolled her eyes.

  “My dear, you grow less perceptive by the minute. The Cyastone! You still have it, yes?”

  Ryann concentrated to keep her face from betraying her. “It’s secure,” she said.

  “You’re a terrible liar. Our intelligence suggests that the company is yet to uncover it, so they still want answers from you. They might not want you dead yet, but they’re still coming for you.”

  “We can stay ahead of them.”

  “Can you? We’ve been monitoring you for a while, and I only decided to bring you in when it became clear that Kaiahive was about to do the same.”

  “That’s very generous of you.” Ryann struggled to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  “Oh, so bitter! You’re safe here. You’ll have noticed that we’re many levels underground. There are Eyes and other security features in abundance. I offer security, for both you and your friend.”

  This woman wasn’t altruistic. She played games. “And what do you get in exchange?” Ryann asked.

  “Your help.”

  “Our help?”

  “I have need of fine minds. I also need expert pilots.”

  “So you promise to keep us safe if we do what you want? That sounds like we’re prisoners.”

  “You take everything so poorly, my dear. You’re free to go at any time‌—‌back to your life on the run, with the company breathing down your necks. Yes, I’d like you to work with me, and in return I offer security. The choice is yours.”

  She sat back, smiling, and Ryann couldn’t trust her one bit.

  She focused as the scent of a trace rose behind her. She turned as the door opened.

  Keelin stepped into the room. She wore her robe, but with the hood pulled back. There was blood on her face, and her trace was strong with spent violence. Ryann was struck by the size of her friend, how she had to duck to get through the door, and how she dwarfed Tallia.

  The dark-skinned woman strode around the room to take her position behind Annys. Her face was a mask. Annys’ expression was smug.

  Ryann looked back at Keelin. Her eyes were sad.

  “They destroyed our place,” she said. “We don’t have a choice.”

  Keelin

  “Ah, Keelin,” Annys said. “Please, take a seat with your friend.”

  “Prefer to stand.” Keelin watched the woman, didn’t detect any friendship in her face.

  Ryann sussed. The lines that radiated from her eyes dug deep into her face.

 

  And then she’d let Tallia lead her through the streets‌—‌once she had her robe on, hood up. They’d had one skirmish, with another four Kaiahive agents, before heading along alleys and through an unmarked, unremarkable door.

  Keelin had remained alert. As they hurried through dimly-lit passages and down flights of stone steps, she spotted sensors. As they passed through more doors she noted terminals, registered more security.

  It reminded her of Kaiahive’s bases. The weight of the rock and mud overhead pressed down like an invisible vice.

  Keelin sussed.

  Ryann nodded. And it didn’t escape Keelin’s attention that Annys noticed it, the corners of her mouth turning up.

  Sussing was supposed to be private. Ryann knew that. She didn’t normally make mistakes like this.

  Keelin corrected herself‌—‌Ryann never used to make mistakes like this.

  “So let’s hear it,” Keelin said. “You want us to do jobs for you. Give us the details.”

  Annys turned to her assistant. “You were listening in?”

  “Only to the last few minutes. I thought knowing that her friend was okay would calm the freak down.”

  Keelin breathed deep and forced her fists to unclench.

  “No need to be like that, my dear.” Annys turned back to Keelin and Ryann. “Yes, I want something from you. But first, a bit of background. We have sources, as do the company and the Heralds. Many of these sources are content to remain within the enemy camp, as it were. But some of our information comes from those who have recently left their jobs, with up-to-date information on delicate projects.”

  Ryann frowned, like the words made no sense.

  “Company employees,” Keelin said. “But nobody just walks away from the company. So you help them escape. They swap one master for another.”

  Annys turned to Tallia again. “She’s not only muscle, is she?”

  Tallia shrugged. “Didn’t take a genius to figure out what you meant.”

  Annys turned back. “In broad terms, you’re correct. We offer assistance, but at a price. Just as we do with you.”

  “Reckon you already know everything we know.”

  “Oh, I don’t wish to buy information from you. Our Miss Harris has a fine mind‌—‌when she decides to use it‌—‌and you have‌…‌other skills, let us say. But let me return to our particular problem. A cohort of company employees are due to be reassigned‌—‌and, yes, that could well be a euphemism in many cases‌—‌and we’re working with them to ensure their extrication from Kaiahive is to their advantage. It won’t be easy, though, which is why we need the best.” Annys pulled one of those fake smiles again. “Tell me, Keelin, how well can you pilot beyond atmosphere?”

  “Done a few Hermes runs, Haven to Metis, round trip. Sim training. Reckon I’m capable.”

  “Only capable?”

  Keelin hesitated. She was good, but she’d specialised in atmosphere flying, focusing on the Proteus. She had experience elsewhere, but nothing major.

  But she was a NeoGen. Even in a Proteus, she flew like she never had before. Get her in a Hermes, she reckoned she’d outfly most pilots now. And even more unfamiliar craft wouldn’t pose a problem.

  She’d got herself and Ryann out of the volcano in that Ion, hadn’t she? Old thing needed major work, and she’d still avoided detection, brought them down safe. Hadn’t felt like a struggle, either.

  Ryann sussed.

 

 

 

 

  But she wasn’t. Ryann did her best, but the company still found them. And Annys, with all her shadowy connections, with this Collective bunch, had pulled them out just in time.

  Sure, Keelin could’ve seen off the attack, could’ve got Ryann out of there. But the company would still be after them. At least down here, there was another layer of security.

  Ryann said.

  Of course they shouldn’t. Annys played games. But she offered security. And she offered Keelin a chance to fly. It had been too long since she’d bonded with a decent craft, and even longer since she’d pushed beyond the atmosphere. It would be good to stretch herself again.

  “Put me in a bird, and I’ll show you what I can do,” she said.

  Deva

  Deva had questions.

  How come there weren’t more old people around, when there were definitely a significant number of people without a lattice? Why had nobody else noticed how people with lattices died younger? And how could Chiron be sure it was all related to the lattice anyway?

  “All good questions,” he’d said, when they were back at the base. “As to how I know this‌—‌you’ll have to trust me on that. The rest all goes back to the company, and the lattice. It’s expected that everyone has one, right? Those who don’t, through choice or because they’re not compatible, are pushed to the edges of society, where living’s tougher. Someone without a lattice is statistically more likely to die younger through‌…‌let’s call it ‘misadventure’, shall we? The old-timers in our base are some of the fortunate ones.”

  “Even though the company will attack your bases if they find them.”

  “We can offer more protection than they’d get on the streets. We’ve got evacuation plans in place.” He waved a hand. “But as to why nobody else has figured this out‌…‌well, did you? Of course not. You accepted the society you were born into. You accepted what you were told‌—‌that the lattice helps the body, that things have never been so good. That the lattice actually extends life.”

  Deva frowned. “But if the lattice has only been around for a few hundred years, what about old records? Surely they show people living longer.”

  “Ah. Old records. Logical, but think about it for a moment. Most people‌—‌the vast majority‌—‌access records through their lattices. Kaiahive controls the tech, so they control the data. And they have such a firm grasp on our lives that they can manipulate opinion, turning those old records into myths and rumours, stories that must surely be fabrications.”

  “But they’ve got these digs. Or is that all a scam?”

  “Wouldn’t put it past them, but I doubt it. The stuff the Ancients left behind predates our records. Predates us settling here, if the data’s to be trusted. The things they’re digging up come from thousands of years ago. Who’s to say what the planet was like back then? And the data uncovered is open to interpretation.”

 

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