Under the Burning Clouds Read online

  What did that mean? How many thousands of people had Timmons taken?

  The shuttle juddered as its main engines fired, and she was pressed back into the seat. Lilith woke suddenly and cried out. Maliha held her close and reached out her hand to Izak, who clung to it.

  What if Timmons’ empire was exactly that? An empire?

  A metallic clang reverberated through the ship and the portholes went dark.

  They had arrived.

  vii

  Propriety suffered at the whim of nature. The vessel continued virtually weightless, since the rotation in the central hub of the station was not significant, but all the passengers were required to disembark.

  Handholds on the chairs and in the ceiling were designed to assist the process, but most people found it impossible to maintain themselves in even the semblance of an upright position. For the ladies this meant their skirts floated around in a most indecorous manner, revealing ankles, calves and, in some cases, even knees.

  There were many red faces, but this was one of the adventures of travel in the Void.

  Maliha noted that some dresses did not fly up; there had been reference to attachments that were the opposite of skirt-lifters, designed to keep skirts around the ankles at all times. Maliha thought that donning male attire or even opting for bloomers would have been more sensible.

  The white passengers assumed that she and the children would wait, since they lacked the authority accorded to those of paler colouring. This suited Maliha.

  As the last of the other passengers made their way out, she let Izak make his own way towards the door. She looked at Lilith’s glum face. “Sellie promised you the chance to fly, didn’t she?”

  Lilith took a moment to remember who Maliha was referring to, then nodded.

  Maliha smiled, took her by one hand and lifted her into the air. This had the advantage of pressing Maliha into the deck. She took a step forward and grabbed one of the handholds. She pulled herself forwards, dragging Lilith through the air like a balloon on a stick.

  Lilith squealed and then realised she wasn’t falling.

  Keeping a firm grip of her charge, Maliha made her way towards the exit. The steward smiled. “Take care, Miss Ganapathy, you don’t want to lose her.”

  Maliha frowned. That seemed a strange comment, but perhaps he had just meant it would be dangerous to have the child floating about in the open spaces of the station.

  They made their way out. They were not greeted by wide spaces filled with people flying hither and thither; instead it was a tight corridor with more rails and handholds and no obvious sense of which way was up. There was no carpeted floor, and electric lights were placed behind protective metal grids in no apparent pattern.

  At the far end stood a hatchway capable of sealing against the vacuum of the Void, but it stood open. They emerged into a larger room, still not a large space but a reception area. Signs indicated the way to different parts of the station. The bulk of the passengers were following a sign towards the outer rings.

  A large man stood holding onto a pole that ran between what might be assumed to be the floor and the ceiling—the signage provided some orientation of up and down. He held a neatly lettered sign: “Miss Ganapathy and party”.

  His suit was tight around his upper arms, thighs and chest, all of which appeared surprisingly wide. He did not strike her as someone of great intellect, while his distorted nose and one damaged ear suggested violence as his primary means of argument.

  She had not arranged to meet anyone, but she could not ignore him and he was looking directly at her with a smile that did not appear to extend any further than his lips—as if he had been told at some time what a smile looked like and that it had a disarming effect on others. Mounted on his damaged face it had quite the opposite effect. Lilith gripped Maliha’s wrist with both hands, while Izak put his arm about her waist.

  Their presence emphasised Maliha’s vulnerability. She knew why she had brought them, but it had always been a questionable choice.

  “I am Alice Ganapathy.”

  “I have to show you to your room and then Mr Scott will have you for dinner.”

  “I see,” said Maliha, translating his badly constructed sentence into something that meant the man had invited them to dinner. At least, that was what she hoped it meant. “And who is Mr Scott?”

  His face reflected the difficulty he was having with being questioned when he had expected blind obedience.

  “Never mind,” said Maliha. “You do what you’ve been told, Mr—?”

  “Brennan.”

  Maliha’s documents indicated that they were staying in Ring B. At least Brennan knew his way around, like a rat knows its sewer.

  They spent ten minutes moving lightly along more enclosed passages with no view of the outside, until they reached what looked like an elevator with a solid door instead of a concertina gate. The sign indicated it would take them to Ring B. They crowded inside. There was enough room for four adults, but Brennan took up enough space for two.

  As the pod moved—presumably out along one of the spokes—their weight increased and the floor really became a floor, which their feet pressed against. Maliha heaved a sigh of relief. The constant weightless condition was quite exhausting.

  “You got an hour,” said Brennan when they arrived at the room, having acquired keys at a concierge desk by the elevator.

  “That will be entirely satisfactory.”

  She unlocked the door and ushered the children inside. With another glance at Brennan, who had taken up station opposite and looked as if the end of the world would not shift him, she went in and locked the door behind her.

  The gravity effect produced by the rotation of the ring was similar to that of a normal Faraday device so, while it allowed one to behave relatively normally, it did not provide a tremendous pull. Lilith bounced from floor to ceiling and jumped on the bed. Maliha let her release her pent-up energy.

  There was a window on one side from which Maliha could see the unfinished Ring A and the stars in the Void. As they rotated, the three warships came into view, as well as many other large vessels—cargo ships for the most part—poised around the station, with smaller ships moving back and forth between them. She had not realised it was so busy.

  Their luggage was in the room. Maliha fetched a change of clothes for them all. There was no bath but a small sealable compartment that fired water under pressure. Water was a scarce commodity here as it needed to be brought in, but travellers must be able to wash. It was a compromise.

  Maliha cleaned herself and towelled herself dry. She dressed in the bathroom. Izak might still be young, but she was not about to show off her body to him. The thought gave her pause, considering all the things she had done, but no, everything she had done had been for good reason and with other adults. She was not being hypocritical.

  She checked her watch. By the time she had finished tidying her hair as best she could, the hour was almost up.

  “You two need to stay here,” she said. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  “What if you don’t come back?” said Izak. Maliha wondered how many people had left him and never come back.

  “I’ll come back,” she said with complete certainty, though he seemed unconvinced. “If I don’t come back you find a crusher and tell them what happened.”

  “Don’t trust crushers.”

  “You have to here,” she said.

  She kissed him on the cheek and hugged Lilith.

  “I won’t be long.”

  viii

  Brennan was still outside when she emerged. She locked the door behind her and he set off without a word. They reached a crossing point with a tube that linked the rings. There was an airtight hatch at each end. No matter how luxurious they made the station, there was never any doubt that death lurked just beyond the hull.

  They passed from Ring B to C and then directly across to D. While the passages could not be described as being thronged with people,
there was seldom a moment when they were alone, for which Maliha was grateful.

  They travelled around Ring D, passing through the residential section then a retail area, which gave onto a row of restaurants. Most duplicated the names of famous hotels, such as the Astoria, Hilton and Claridge’s. They entered a small, sombre-looking establishment.

  There was a list of expected guests on a lectern at the entrance, next to the maître d’. She glanced at it as she passed. The handwriting was perfectly clear. The man glanced at Brennan and then at her but did not stop them. She read the list from memory and saw Scott’s name.

  She brushed past Brennan and strode through the carefully arranged tables towards the only man seated on his own. There were other diners; the quality of their clothes indicated their available income, while the way they wore them indicated their breeding. The ones who were most relaxed were in plentiful possession of both.

  Scott, however, had neither. While his clothing was of the very best quality, he looked uncomfortable, and she knew him for precisely what he was: a hired hand, just as much as Brennan. His only qualification was the cunning in his eyes.

  He did not rise when Maliha approached. She sat without being asked.

  The rectangular table was next to the wall and had been set for him alone, implying she would not be staying long. She placed herself diagonally opposite.

  “Miss Anderson.” His voice was higher pitched than she expected, and held a slight whine that she was sure would become irritating within a very short space of time. The fact he knew exactly who she was did not surprise her. If they had been awaiting her arrival, they would know.

  He looked expectantly at her, as if he thought she would ask him what he wanted or perhaps protest that they had the wrong person, or some such. She saw no reason to make it easy for him. He might have the upper hand, but the more she kept silent the more he would talk.

  She simply looked at him, studying his face. He had a scar on his forehead. Not a large one; most people would not even notice. She guessed his age to be about forty-five. His right hand was on the table and his left in his lap.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  She paused in her appraisal of him and looked up into his eyes. They were brown. He had dark marks below his eyes, as if he had not been sleeping well.

  “I’m sorry? Doing? In what respect?”

  “You’re looking at me.”

  “Not precisely, sir,” she said. “I am studying you.”

  “Well, stop it.”

  His left hand came up defensively and his fingers intertwined. His eyes flicked towards Brennan and back to her. Her demure clothing reduced any womanliness she possessed to gentle curves with no flesh to examine. He still looked at her breasts—it was something she noticed was common to all men. She had concluded it meant little and was most likely a redundant evolutionary habit.

  She did not give him the chance to take the initiative. She sat up straighter in her chair and leaned forward, a move that made him withdraw his hands and look over at Brennan again. It seemed he was unsure of her. “I don’t have all night, Scott. What is it that Mr Timmons wants to say to me?”

  He opened his mouth to answer and hesitated. With a visible effort he changed his response. “Think you’re clever, do you?”

  “Yes, Scott, I do. Considerably more so than you.” She allowed biting sarcasm to infect her words. “You are merely an errand boy, lacking the manners even Brennan here could manage. You thought you would intimidate me, but it takes a great deal more than someone like you to do that.

  “Now, if you would be so good as to pass on the message, I will be on my way.”

  She did not raise her voice, but she could see that it had worked by the way he pushed back into the chair as if trying to escape her.

  “You don’t seem to understand what you’re dealing with, Miss Anderson,” he hissed. “I could have Brennan snuff out your life with his hands around your pretty little neck.”

  The man was so lacking in skills he spoke in clichés. The dress she wore had a high collar—he had no idea whether her neck was pretty or not.

  “Of course you can’t, because then Mr Timmons would have Brennan here end yours with equal finality. You cannot touch me, Scott.” She took a breath and sat back. “Now if you can stop playing childish games, you can give me the message from Timmons.”

  She watched Scott fighting with his natural inclination to put women in their place. “Mr Timmons says that if you turn around and get back on the shuttle to Earth he will leave you and yours alone.”

  “How generous of him.”

  Scott leaned forward. “It’s very generous, and if you’re as clever as you think you are you’ll take his offer.”

  “I take it Mr Timmons has never, to your knowledge, made this sort of offer before.”

  He sat back with a grin and crossed his arms. “Never.”

  “He deals with his enemies by having them killed.”

  “Always.”

  “And what are your orders if I don’t agree?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Maliha stood up. “Thank you for this little chat, Mr Scott. It really has been very enlightening.”

  Brennan moved out from the shadows and loomed over her. “It’s all right, Mr Brennan, I can find my own way back. I won’t be needing an escort.”

  “What’s your answer?” said Scott.

  “I will give Mr Timmons’ offer serious consideration,” she said. “But if you have nothing further to say I will be going.”

  Scott stood up. He barely even reached her height and he was bow-legged, probably the result of polio.

  “Mr Timmons said you might try to be clever,” said Scott, “so there was one other thing: your accomplice on the other ship, the one that tried to help you: he was executed.”

  Cold ran through her body. She opened her mouth to speak but found she had nothing to say.

  Scott grinned lopsidedly. “Yeah, dead as a doornail. They threw him out the ship, just like you, only they were halfway into the Void at the time.”

  Maliha found she was breathing heavily. She controlled herself and felt suddenly very aware of Valentine’s ring on her finger. The cold of fear was replaced by cold a thousand times cooler, a rage that burned through her veins like ice. She turned her eyes to Scott and he stepped back.

  “Do you know what the Durga Maa is?” she said in a low hiss.

  He was back to wringing his hands. He simply shook his head.

  “The Durga Maa is the Goddess of Vengeance,” she said.

  She moved forward and placed her hands on the table. Brennan moved in. She snapped her head in his direction and he stopped. She returned her attention to the ferret Scott.

  “You’re not looking well, Mr Scott,” she said. “You have a touch of jaundice, have you noticed?”

  He shook his head.

  “Your skin is a little yellow, and the whites of your eyes.”

  His hands rose to his face, he touched his cheeks and rubbed his eyes.

  “You’ll notice the itching next,” she said. “First just a little, but it grows and you mustn’t scratch it. If you scratch it, it just gets worse.”

  Without even realising, he rubbed his forearm.

  “And then the pains start until finally you die in agony.”

  She stood up and stepped back. “I won’t say au revoir, Mr Scott, because we won’t meet again this side of the pearly gates.”

  She turned on her heel and stalked from the restaurant. Some of the diners watched her go. She took no notice.

  Chapter 4

  i

  Two days later they took up their berth on the Atacama Sea, bound for Williams Port in orbit around Venus, from which they would descend to the city of Regina.

  She had done with crying for Valentine. She could not change anything; she must learn to live with it. If anything it gave her even more purpose, though she now wished she had not taken such careful precautions against pregnan
cy.

  But that would not have helped.

  They were in second class again, using the false name even if it was redundant. The cabin was a reasonable size and all three could sleep in it without difficulty. Once more she and Lilith took to the bed, while Izak had a sofa that transformed into a bed for the night.

  In order to provide some semblance of gravity, the vessel was designed around the ether propeller. This was located at the base of the ship, and the decks were constructed upwards along its axis. So, where a Sky-Liner is built in a similar fashion to sea-going ships, a passenger Voidship is more like a building.

  The constant push from the propeller provided light gravity, which at least meant there was a genuine sense of up and down, even if movement was more like a ballet. During the period of adaptation she had to be sympathetic to both children, when they misjudged the required effort for any movement and crashed into a wall or ceiling.

  She had told them Valentine had been killed, but death was such a commonplace to them it seemed as if they barely cared. Though, of course, they had hardly known him.

  The vessel was underway and the bell had been rung for the evening meal. The children had terrible table manners, unsurprisingly, and she thought she might as well educate them even if they drew looks from other passengers.

  Their cabin was located on Deck 10, which was two levels above the engineering decks. The refectory and various lounges were on Deck 5, while Deck 4 had more lounges, the library and some courts for sports. Above those were administrative cabins, crew quarters and the bridge.

  Movement between the levels involved using one of two shafts located opposite one another. One was for ascending, the other for descending. The shafts allowed passengers to fly between the levels. Straps, handholds and poles were provided to allow one to pull oneself along. Maliha suspected there were other shafts for crew use only.