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Authors: Sarah A. Hoyt
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understand why those who tangled with me usually got scared. Looking down by my feet, I realized I had only the weapon I'd first taken with me—the thick silver heel of my boot.
Grabbing the boot, I jumped off the lifepod and crept into the deeper shadows starting to round the harvester.
There was a movement in the shadows. Or so I thought. But it might have been just a reflection on the carapace of the harvester. I waited. Nothing moved. So I started forward again.
And then, suddenly—I struck out, before I realized what I was striking out at. Crashing into something hard, shocked me so much I almost dropped the boot. Lightning fast, between the first strike and pulling back to hit again, I recognized the square chin and brutal straight lips of Lars Einar, yet another of Father's goons. The second time, I hit out with a sense of relief, because when I'd first reacted, I wasn't absolutely sure I wasn't merely attacking some poor harvester doing a last inspection of his ship.
I heard a rustle behind me, and pirouetted, foot raised, to kick another of the goons square on the balls, and take him out with a smack of silver heel to the temple.
I wondered why they weren't wearing dimatough—but of course, that would look weird on circum when supposedly all they were doing was recapturing a Patrician's daughter. Without thinking, I hit with the heel again, to my left. I wasn't aware of having heard anything. Or seen anything. But I was aware of having hit human flesh and bone. And a soft sigh indicated someone who had gone off to a happy goodnight.
I had entered my speeded up state. I spoke to the shadows, "You can't get me. I don't care how many of you there are, you can't get me. Just let me go in and leave me alone."
There was no answer, though my heightened senses could feel a dozen of expectant presences, composed of little more than a stray breath, an odd rustle within the shadows. "Come on, come out of hiding. I'll take you all together or one by one. Come on, you piss bastards!"
"Athena."
It was the voice I last expected to hear. I turned, startled. In the shadows there was—
"Father," I said, at the same time I identified him. He looked like hell, pale and trembling, holding with both hands to a cane—something he hadn't used in very long and only used when he was feeling ill. His face looked more wrinkled, too, like crinkled parchment.
Above it, his merciless dark blue eyes, the exact color of mine, shone at me. "There is no need for all this, Athena."
Was he really here? Was it a hologram?
I took a step towards him, trying to see more clearly.
It caused me to miss the rustle to my right side. I struck out with the heel, but not in time. Something cold was already touching my neck.
As the whole world seemed to recede from my sight, I saw something fall and roll at my feet. A piss-yellow injector. Morpheus. Oh, shit.
The world went black.
Ten
Artificial grav, I'm going to throw up. The thought assembled in my mind, bit by bit, as if I were thinking with instruments totally unsuited for the task. My toes. Or perhaps my stomach. Which was clenching and . . .
Easy, a thought formed in my mind, and it was easy, as if it had come from outside my head. Easy there. It's Morpheus reaction.
Hands, firm but gentle helped me turn and something must have been proffered to catch the contents of my stomach, because there was no hint of dismay as burning bile came shooting out of my mouth. Just, Easy, you'll be all right.
Don't be foolish, I told myself. There was no Morpheus. I took Andrija Baldo down. I escaped in the lifepod. No Morpheus.
As you say, Madame Patrician, This time the voice had a tinge of almost sad amusement
Like the emotion evoked watching the vain efforts of a child to do something she's not capable of. And in my mind, slowly, another scene involving Morpheus assembled—a landing bay and . . . Father!
There were no words in answer, this time. Something clanked nearby, sounding like a
Grabbing the boot, I jumped off the lifepod and crept into the deeper shadows starting to round the harvester.
There was a movement in the shadows. Or so I thought. But it might have been just a reflection on the carapace of the harvester. I waited. Nothing moved. So I started forward again.
And then, suddenly—I struck out, before I realized what I was striking out at. Crashing into something hard, shocked me so much I almost dropped the boot. Lightning fast, between the first strike and pulling back to hit again, I recognized the square chin and brutal straight lips of Lars Einar, yet another of Father's goons. The second time, I hit out with a sense of relief, because when I'd first reacted, I wasn't absolutely sure I wasn't merely attacking some poor harvester doing a last inspection of his ship.
I heard a rustle behind me, and pirouetted, foot raised, to kick another of the goons square on the balls, and take him out with a smack of silver heel to the temple.
I wondered why they weren't wearing dimatough—but of course, that would look weird on circum when supposedly all they were doing was recapturing a Patrician's daughter. Without thinking, I hit with the heel again, to my left. I wasn't aware of having heard anything. Or seen anything. But I was aware of having hit human flesh and bone. And a soft sigh indicated someone who had gone off to a happy goodnight.
I had entered my speeded up state. I spoke to the shadows, "You can't get me. I don't care how many of you there are, you can't get me. Just let me go in and leave me alone."
There was no answer, though my heightened senses could feel a dozen of expectant presences, composed of little more than a stray breath, an odd rustle within the shadows. "Come on, come out of hiding. I'll take you all together or one by one. Come on, you piss bastards!"
"Athena."
It was the voice I last expected to hear. I turned, startled. In the shadows there was—
"Father," I said, at the same time I identified him. He looked like hell, pale and trembling, holding with both hands to a cane—something he hadn't used in very long and only used when he was feeling ill. His face looked more wrinkled, too, like crinkled parchment.
Above it, his merciless dark blue eyes, the exact color of mine, shone at me. "There is no need for all this, Athena."
Was he really here? Was it a hologram?
I took a step towards him, trying to see more clearly.
It caused me to miss the rustle to my right side. I struck out with the heel, but not in time. Something cold was already touching my neck.
As the whole world seemed to recede from my sight, I saw something fall and roll at my feet. A piss-yellow injector. Morpheus. Oh, shit.
The world went black.
Ten
Artificial grav, I'm going to throw up. The thought assembled in my mind, bit by bit, as if I were thinking with instruments totally unsuited for the task. My toes. Or perhaps my stomach. Which was clenching and . . .
Easy, a thought formed in my mind, and it was easy, as if it had come from outside my head. Easy there. It's Morpheus reaction.
Hands, firm but gentle helped me turn and something must have been proffered to catch the contents of my stomach, because there was no hint of dismay as burning bile came shooting out of my mouth. Just, Easy, you'll be all right.
Don't be foolish, I told myself. There was no Morpheus. I took Andrija Baldo down. I escaped in the lifepod. No Morpheus.
As you say, Madame Patrician, This time the voice had a tinge of almost sad amusement
Like the emotion evoked watching the vain efforts of a child to do something she's not capable of. And in my mind, slowly, another scene involving Morpheus assembled—a landing bay and . . . Father!
There were no words in answer, this time. Something clanked nearby, sounding like a
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