Nexus by Robert Boyczuk (philippa perry book TXT) 📖

>“There’s nothing I can do to get at the bomb,” Sav said quickly. “You said so yourself.” He inched his hand up onto the board, felt for the keypad, moved his fingers towards the key that would zoom the display. One press would enlarge the projection at the centre of the bridge by a factor of two-unless the operator had keyed in a larger value. Then it would double that. “I can’t do you any harm. Let me be here at the end.” Clearly Josua had zoomed the display by at least an order of magnitude from the last time Sav called it up, but had he left that value active? Zooming up the suns by a factor of two might not be enough to blind him, to make his aim uncertain. “If I’m going to die,” Sav said, “I want to be there. With you and Ruen. You owe me that at least.” Without taking his eyes from Josua, he moved his index finger three keys over, then hesitated. Three? Or was it four? He couldn’t remember.

“No,” Josua said with resolve. “There are too many ways you might mess things up.” He shrugged. “The hull’s pretty thick. I think I’ll take my chances.”

Sav’s fingertip settled on the fourth key. He pictured the symbol on it, a small square on the left side with an enlarged square on the right. But his finger seemed uneasy, to suggest this wasn’t the familiar key. Perhaps he’d been right to start, that it was the third key….

“I’m sorry, Sav.” A look of pain flickered over Josua’s features, as if he were truly saddened by what he was about to do. But, whatever misgivings he might have had, the gun never wavered. His finger tightened on the trigger, and the hammer drew back the tiniest distance. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Sav jammed his finger down hard onto the fourth key; at the same instant he kicked himself free of the couch. The suns at the centre of the display exploded in a blinding light and he snapped his eyes shut. The report of Josua’s weapon followed almost immediately, and pain seared Sav’s lower leg, like someone had hammered him with a metal pipe across the shin. Gasping, he spun out of control, crashed into a panel and caromed off. Banging into a bulwark, he began rolling along its surface. Another crack of the gun, but this time the bullet must have gone wide of its mark. With his eyes still screwed shut, Sav flailed with his hands, caught something in his right: the familiar metal cylinder of a handhold. He fought the bright spur of pain that had lodged in his skull and opened his lids a crack. His vision roiled from the shock of light and the intensity of his wound. Through his slitted eyes he saw that he had been thrown a quarter turn around the bridge. He hung above the blazing incandescence of the double suns, the opening belowdecks now hidden on the other side of the projection. Another shot rang out; flecks of metal fragments from the bulwark behind peppered his neck like tiny, burning needles.

“Damn you!” Josua screamed and fired again. This time the bullet crashed into a display panel below Sav’s feet, splintering it with a loud crack. Josua’s vision was clearly still dazzled. Two more shots in rapid succession, two more misses, followed by a string of oaths. Shutting his eyes tight, Sav watched the lambent afterimages burn down his vision like shooting stars. He waited breathlessly for the next shot. But nothing came.

Sav held his breath. The agonizing wound in his leg had brought momentary clarity back to his thoughts and sharpened his senses. From the shattered panel below his feet came a crackling noise. The smell of burning insulation filled his nostrils. Gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain in his leg, Sav tried to focus on the sounds of the bridge.

The soft click of a key. A brief pause, and another click. He’s trying to kill the display, Sav thought. Except this was only Josua’s second flight on a longhaul ship. He’d be guessing at the position of the key, wary of pressing the wrong sequence and causing another unexpected result. Which, Sav thought, should give me enough time.

Pulling himself into a crouch, he rotated his body until his head pointed directly towards the display; he winced as his feet brushed lightly against the bulwark and an intense pain shot up his wounded leg. He ignored it; he had to concentrate. Opening his eyes an infinitesimal amount, he could make out nothing but the dazzling effulgence-and the faintest outline of the bridge lying across that luminosity like a ghostly imprinting. He changed angles slightly, attempting to line himself up so that when he kicked free he’d pass between the panels of webbing, through the center of the display-and end up on the ladder belowdecks. His shin throbbed, as if in protest of what he was about to do, but he knew this was nothing compared to the pain that what was coming next.

Screwing his eyes shut and sucking in his breath, he launched himself towards the heart of display.

Pain tore up from his shin, rammed an electrified pike up his leg and through his torso, driving its tip of agony into the seat of his brain. He screamed, his lungs emptying out. He clamped his jaw shut fiercely, biting down on his tongue to stifle the sound. He was moving across the cabin blindly, unable to change his trajectory.

Josua fired again, but the shot went wide. Falling into the veil of searing white, Sav extended his hands. Even with his eyes shut tight, the light burnt into his cornea, illuminating his eyelids redly, silhouetting dark veins in double images that staggered like drunks. Though he knew it was only a projected image, he had subconsciously braced himself for the consuming fires of the suns. But there were no scourging flames, just something warm and sticky that ticked across his hands and face, tangled in his hair, adhering wetly to his scalp. And then he realised he was flying through globules of his own blood.

Sav’s vision darkened abruptly, like he’d passed into the umbra of an eclipse. Opening his eyes a crack, he saw he was through the display; the wall swam towards him. Through the glare he made out the shadowy outline of the ladder leading down to the crew quarters. To his right was a smear of colour that must have been the pilot’s board. But the light was still so intense it was difficult to make out any detail, to tell whether Josua was facing the display or turned around towards the board. Sav held his breath, prayed that if Josua was looking at the display his vision was still so overloaded that he wouldn’t be able to see the figure drifting a few meters to his left. The ladder drew close; Sav stretched out his fingers to catch at the nearest rung-The display winked out.

Ahead, the brilliant wall had degenerated into a confusing wash of murky colours tricky afterimages. Sav waved his hands frantically, trying to feel for the rung that had seemed only scant millimeters away. The palm of his left hand smacked against a rung; he grasped it reflexively, swung his other hand around and seized a side rail. He used his momentum to let his legs swing up and over his head so that he would face down, toward the opening belowdecks. His good leg thumped against the upper part of the ladder; he fought his momentum, holding his wounded leg rigidly to try to prevent it from striking the wall. But he was only partially successful, and the impact caused an intense ripple of pain. He grunted, biting off the sound as soon as it had escaped him.

“I heard that!” Josua said, his voice triumphant.

Sav gripped the ladder tightly, not daring to move a muscle, not daring to breathe. The fiery afterimages had begun to subside, and the dark blotches were beginning to resolve themselves into the familiar objects of the bridge. Now Sav could make out Josua’s blurry outline, the snout of the gun weaving back and forth like a snake.

“I know you’re over there. I can see you.”

Sav knew he was lying, for Josua’s head was upthrust and moving like that of a blind animal trying to catch scent of its prey. If he was certain of his target he would have fired already. He can’t have many shots left, Sav thought. One, maybe two. If he fires and misses, then he knows I’ll be out of here before he can reload the magazine. That was why he’s hesitating. He’s waiting for me to give myself away by moving. But, Sav realised, it didn’t matter: the longer he stayed here, the better Josua’s vision would become. He had to move. Tightening his grip, he prepared to launch himself toward the crew quarters.

From belowdecks Ruen swam up the ladder right toward Sav.

“The Dissolution is at hand!” The patrix‘s deep voice was euphoric. “Rejoice!” Foul breath wafted into Sav’s face as the holy man pulled himself so close their noses were almost touching. Ruen’s eyes were wide and glassy, his brow beaded with sweat.

“Ruen,” Josua shouted. “Where’s Sav?”

“What?” the holy man sounded confused. The urgency of Josua’s words seemed to penetrate his ecstasy. “Why, he’s here,” Ruen answered, as if he were mildly surprised at the question. “Right above-”

Sav grasped the holy man’s thin arms and wrenched them from the ladder; he jerked the astonished patrix upward, simultaneously propelling himself down, twisting their bodies round so that the holy man rotated towards Josua.

“Blasphemer!” he screamed as Sav’s head passed behind his knees. “You shall be afflicted for daring to-”

The crack of the gun cut off Ruen’s words. Sav felt the holy man’s body butt lightly against his and heard the sudden exhalation of breath, a huge gasp as if Ruen’s lungs has emptied out in massive deflation. Then a wet, strangled noise.

Sav craned his head back; his vision had cleared enough to see the holy man still moving upward, his bony jaw open. Ruen grasped his neck in both his hands as though he was trying to choke himself. His eyes were wide with disbelief. From between his fingers a long elastic rope of blood leaked out, surface tension breaking the red line into small globes that followed in his wake in a wobbly procession.

Sav’s momentum carried him into the crew quarters; above, he could hear Josua cursing, shouting incoherently at Ruen. Drifting through the crew quarters to the hangar deck, Sav caught at a rung on the ladder, righted himself in front of the airlock leading to the dropship bay. He hammered his fist against the airlock button and the door recessed into the wall. Pulling himself through quickly, he spun around and pressed the button to seal the airlock. A moment later he was in the dropship, dogging the hatch and then strapping himself into the pilot’s seat.

He looked around the tiny cabin.

When he’d fled the bridge his only thought had been to reach the safety of the dropship. Until this moment he’d been running on adrenaline, without any goal other than this one. But here he was, alone, wounded and in the grip of a fever. His thoughts slowed, becoming muddy. Maybe Josua was right. Maybe killing me would have been a favour. A sense of hopelessness took possession of him. Was this to be the end, cowering in the dropship, waiting for Josua to detonate the bomb?

No! Sav thought, his fevered brain aching. Lien said she’d help. She promised. She was all he had left. If he could rescue