The Ascendant Stars - Michael Cobley [205]
Talavera smiled down at her with unconcealed malice, then moved away to sit at the console directly across from Julia’s couch. She fingered some touch controls and a holopanel appeared. She gave Julia a brief glance, then studied the holo-image for a moment then tapped another board symbol.
‘Oh, dearest Julia, you really have been a monumental pain in my arse, you know that?’ She spread her vermax-wound arms, as if theatrically gesturing to the entire Great Hub station. ‘Yet here we are, at the focus of it all. I’ve foiled your sad little ploys at practically every turn, and now the countdown to the autolaunch is ticking and clicking the seconds away … ’
Julia was half-listening while the greater part of her attention was fixed on the only option left. Access to all of Talavera’s systems was blocked but the implant’s links to her brain’s neural pathways were still fully open. The implant was capable of mapping and transloading her fractalised sentience back into her organic brain, but there was neural damage somewhere among those pathways and she had no way of knowing how it would affect her.
Actual damage to the brain’s structure could affect my mind, she thought. Or lead to death. But if I do nothing, I’m dead at Talavera’s hands anyway …
The attempt had to be made. She configured the implant for enhanced transloading and let it run.
Was the light being poured into her, or was she that was the light being poured into emptiness? All the sense-impressions of Talavera’s smoke-veiled HQ faded away, as if she was falling or flowing from one place to another … then they all surged back, the textures, the pressure of the restraints, the smoke-laden air rasping in her throat, tingling in her nose, the grittiness in her eyes, the hollow hunger in her gut, the sheer synergistic impact of reality rushing back in, along with Talavera’s voice going over her triumphs, her brilliant tactics, and the glories yet to come.
Julia worked a hand free, keeping her eyes on Talavera as she loosened straps across her upper chest and waist … and froze as the woman stood up, still mouthing her egoistic waffle, and started in Julia’s direction. She had barely taken two steps when a cluster of bright barbs cut through the air before her. She whirled and ducked into the gap between a couple of consoles, then held out her arms. The black vermax sinuously spiralled off them and flew along the corridor. A cry of pain came from the other end and Talavera rose from her refuge, smiling.
Julia, though, had unfastened the remaining straps and was shakily, quietly climbing out of the couch. Which was when she saw poor Arkady’s body, lying on the floor where someone had discarded it. The sight of it hit her like a body blow, and other memories broke loose, Harry, Irenya, Thorold, the hellish spectacle of the Brolturan battleship’s destruction … a terrible rage detonated in her chest and turned into a wordless howl as she lunged at Talavera from behind. She grabbed her by the hair, swung her head round and slammed it against an upright equipment rack.
With blood spurting from her nose, Talavera barely stumbled, lashing out at Julia’s midriff with her foot. Something in Julia saw it coming and she grabbed onto the foot and ankle, twisting it even as the blow knocked her backwards. The Chaurixa terrorist spun as she fell, jackknifing her extended leg, wrenching it free of Julia’s grasp. Then she laughed, got up into a crouch, grabbed a long-handled assembly tool and lurched forward.
A pulse-beam round caught her in the shoulder. She half-spun, fell to one knee and looked back along the passageway. A second round struck her in the head and threw her onto her back amid a wide splatter of blood and gore.
Gasping for breath and with a disturbing tremble in her left hand, Julia forced herself up onto her feet. At the other end of the passageway stood Harry-Thorold, face bloody, leaning on an energy rifle, chest heaving.
‘Good shot,’ she said, limping over to the live console.
‘I was aiming for her head,’ said Harry, ‘the first time. The second time