Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [70]
Labile Connit is outside, Godhead, his own moud informed him.
Tekton left his ‘cast node and opened the door. He stepped outside tentatively, the memory of the younger man’s assault still fresh.
Labile held out a small bead. ‘I have a location for you for the business we discussed. Here are the details. It is the only record of them. The hire cost of the premises will be waived by my. . . contacts.’
Tekton fitted the bead to his ear and listened to the content. When he was satisfied, he removed it.
Moud. Send a farcast to my holding facility to begin shipment of the alloy to a workshop on Rho Junction. And book my passage. I will meet both the master craftsman and the consignment there.
TRIN
Djeserit swam beside the flat-yacht as it sailed through the dawn to the closest island. Occasionally she flipped to the surface, sending small splashes of brown seawater onto the crowded deck where Trin sat. Mostly, though, she was just a shadow among others, moving beneath waves.
Trin gave up trying to track her and turned his attention to the two remaining yachts on the shoreline. What would Cass Mulravey do? Would she follow him, or would she risk going to the holiday palazzo?
His own feelings on the matter were torn. The woman was divisive and proud but without her group, his band of survivors numbered less than sixty—so many had been lost on the journey.
Too many.
As the last few refugees crammed on board the Mulravey yachts Trin’s own craft reached the breakers. Soon it would roll down onto the beach and they could seek out shade under the low scrub until nightfall.
‘She is a fool not to stay with you, Trinder.’ Jo Scali hunched next to him, his feet trailing into the water from the laden deck.
Trin waited a moment before he answered, watching the last yacht push off the beach. Its plax sails glided up the mast and rotated.
‘She is no fool,’ he said. Mulravey was following them.
Trin relaxed into a moment of satisfaction. Mulravey had been forced to follow his lead and that would add weight to his authority. Perhaps the two groups could yet assimilate—if the Saqr did not find them first.
‘Juno?’
The scout had given the rudder over to Joe’s cousin, Tivi Scali, and lay curled on a small patch of deck behind Trin. ‘Si, Principe,’ he said hoarsely.
‘Was the marina guarded?’
Genarro rolled his head from side to side. ‘Too busy around the palazzo to take much notice. No Saqr near the shore, only an ‘esque and a balol. I left some other boats adrift as though the nightwinds had loosened their moorings. Doubt they will even know they are gone.’
‘Your reasoning is good,’ said Trin. ‘What else did you notice?’
Genarro shifted position, wincing from the pain in his weary joints. ‘I didn’t go close, Principe—we did not want you to be waiting for us. But the hangar roof was open.’
‘That is not so unusual.’
‘Pardon, Principe. I am not being clear. The hangar was open to its limit as though they were expecting a large SGV.’
A Space-to-Ground-Vehicle? What could that mean? More Saqr? More ‘esques? Whichever the case, it was imperative that they moved south quickly.
Trin turned to the island ahead. Even in the last moments before dawn there was already a heat shimmer making it seem larger and shadier than it was – the black thorn bushes clumped together in the centre as though gathering strength from each other’s endurance.
To the south the islands were bigger and spaced further apart. Would the yachts withstand the stresses of more open water?
Djeserit was ahead of them, on her knees in the shallows, tossing small objects high onto the beach.
‘She’s got fish,’ shouted someone at the front of the yacht.
‘The ginko girl’s fishing for us,’ said another.
A small cheer went up but Trinder didn’t join in. They had called her a ginko and the sound of the word made him feel sick.
‘Principe?’ Joe Scali put an anxious hand on his shoulder.
He shrugged it off. ‘Collect the fish and gut them straight away. We will eat as we