The Heretic (Beyond the Wall Book 1) (18 page)

‘Time to earn your keep, preacher.’

‘What?’

‘You know those gunships, right?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve been in them enough times, unless I’m missing my guess.’

For a moment, the preacher said nothing. Then he said, quietly, ‘Yes.’

‘What’s their primary purpose—air or ground assault?’

‘Ground. Peacekeeper support and tactical assault.’

‘But they’re sublight capable.’

‘For short periods,’ the preacher said. ‘They don’t carry enough oxygen or fuel for long trips, and full sublight drives are too heavy for the manoeuvrability they need for a ground assault.’

‘So I’m guessing if we keep them going long enough, then punch up towards the atmosphere—they’ll have to pull out, or risk not having enough fuel to get back down again?’

The preacher said nothing for a while. Shepherd watched him—he was considering it. ‘Debatable. You keep them flying long enough, make them burn up fuel manoeuvring, and maybe. If they don’t put us down first.’

‘And in those canyons?’ Shepherd nodded towards the mountains.
Deny the attacker a shot, Raine. If you’re defensive, use everything you can find to keep things neutral.

‘The gunships may not be built for air superiority, but they’ll manoeuvre just as well as you.’

‘No better? What about scanning systems?’

‘Full spectrum. Long-range radar and subspace field disturbance, but they won’t be able to get a clear fix while we’re in the canyons and valleys. Also heat signature, but only at a relatively close range.’

‘So to see us in the fog—’

‘They’ll split up—one in the canyons searching at close range and another panning the mountains from above for any trace on their systems.’

‘Mountains it is.’

‘It’s too high a risk,’ the preacher said. ‘We’re as likely to hit something and go down as they are. I have another way. If it doesn’t work, we go with your plan.’

‘What is it?’

The preacher leaned over to the nav display and brought up the mapping system for Herse. It was outdated, not as detailed as Shepherd would have liked, but he watched the preacher glide through the massif until he found what he was looking for. The preacher pointed to a system of caves.

‘Head for there and turn on the comms in the hold. I need to go down and find a harness.’

As the airlock door shut behind the preacher, Shepherd shifted in his seat. He hadn’t ever expected to be using outdated mapping to navigate through mountains at speed and in the middle of a storm—or to find a cave system that could be anywhere.

He glanced down at the display and then out again. They were close now, and in any other situation, the vista might have been beautifully dramatic. Beneath a clear black sky perforated by glistening stars, the mountains stretched as far as it was possible to see. Vast, jagged obsidian shards clawed at the sky, summits and cols shrouded in snow. The landscape formed a labyrinth of valleys and canyons, carved between unforgiving massifs. And everything was swathed in a great pall of slate-grey storm clouds, which billowed up from the valley floor and climbed to the shoulders of the mountains. Lightning still flared deep within.

Beauty almost always hides a dark side.
If Soteria clipped a wall or was caught by the electrical storm, she’d go down. Out there, in remote unforgiving wilderness, they’d never be found. They’d die alone in the frigid cold. Of course, if the gunships found them…

Shepherd closed his eyes, breathed out slowly and eased the throttle forward. The mountains parted and a fissure opened up between them. It meandered tightly between rock, snow and ice—barely giving him enough space to breathe, but the same would be true for the gunships. The walls of the mountains, shrouded in mist, would give him cover, and the gunships would struggle to resolve a firing solution for more than a second at a time, and they were just as likely to end up as wreckage on a rock face or glacier as Soteria was. He eased the freighter into a steep dive.

It’s all about energy, Raine. Too much energy and you might get in range, but overshoot. Too little and you lose manoeuvrability if you’re defending. The right balance shifts according to where you are, who your attacker is and the ship you’re in. Smaller guys will have more manoeuvrability than you, if their drives are big enough.

Soteria slipped into the mist at the mouth of a nearby canyon. The fog and rock blurred into a wash of grey as he banked left then right. Swirling wind tugged and pushed at the hull. Strobe beams beneath the front wings cast a shimmering light, which played across the gloom. The serrated flanks of the mountain were barely visible through the pall. Shepherd glanced down at the navigational displays and manoeuvred through the valley using the limited information he could glean from them, and what little he could see ahead. The gunships were close now, but as soon as they entered the mountains, they would need to slow down and orient themselves.

You can’t rush this either, boys.
Agonisingly slowly, Shepherd built up speed, easing between crags and fissures and overhanging cornices, gently picking his way through the maze. The wind swirled around him, clutching at the freighter and trying to fling her into rock and ice. The proximity sensors, set for manoeuvring in tight cargo-loading bays, began to whine quietly. In here, confined and threatened, he understood their complaints. He found he had been holding his breath, and let it out. His muscles felt tight, and he rolled his shoulders to try to relax. Sporadically, the smothering mist shifted and broke for a moment, and rock walls suddenly appeared like black ghosts, dark and wet and glistening in the light cast by Soteria’s strobes.

The comms system crackled to life and the preacher’s voice, tinny and far away, filled the cockpit. ‘Ready when you are. Open the loading bay doors and I’ll do the rest.’

‘Understood,’ Shepherd said. ‘The wind is strong in this valley; it’s going to take some time. You’ll need to be quick when I get her level.’

‘Just get her there.’

He had guessed what the preacher was going to do. He was going to drop the barrels into the caves and detonate them with an explosive round from the rifle. It was designed to fool the gunships think that Soteria had crashed into the mountainside. Bring down enough rock, and they might just assume the wreckage was hidden beneath it, a mile below. Hide close enough, concealed by the mist, and the heat from the explosion would confuse the gunships’ scanning systems, mask the heat from Soteria’s drives.

It could work. Maybe.

Shepherd searched until he found the cave system that the preacher had thought would suit them—a pitch-black hollow in the scree-ridden skirt of the massif. He tried to drop Soteria’s nose towards it, but the wind pummelled the hull and manoeuvring in place was almost impossible.

They’ll split up—one in the canyons searching at close range and another panning the mountains from above for any trace on their systems. They must be close now.

He glanced upwards through the glass of the cockpit, but he could see only charcoal clouds lit by lightning. Using gentle bursts of thrust he spun on a pinhead until the rear loading-bay door was facing the cave system, but it was impossible to keep Soteria stable—the wind was too strong, the freighter was moving around too much. If the preacher rolled the barrels out now, they wouldn’t hit the cave; they’d crash down to the valley floor and the ruse would fail.

He wrestled with the controls and shifted away from the cave system.

‘We don’t have time for this.’ The preacher’s voice was like static over the comms line, but Shepherd could still pick out the tension in it. He didn’t reply; just focused on flying.

Wait for a break in the wind, a window to move.

Wait? You must be crazy.

It’s either that, or burn fuel trying to manoeuvre in this damn gale.

He glanced up again, and thought he saw something moving within the cloud.

There’s no time left, it has to be now.

He carefully edged backwards, keeping as close as he could to the cave system until the wind dropped for a moment. When he felt the pressing on the hull ease off, he dialled in a little more power and moved Soteria gently backwards.

‘Now!’ he shouted.

Be quick, preacher.

When he heard the oil barrels thundering as they rolled out of the loading bay, he allowed himself a thin smile of relief. Yet the clamour seemed impossibly loud to him—loud enough to bring the gunships running and he winced inwardly. His palms were damp and his fingers ached from where he’d been gripping the controls so tightly. He ignored the pain and waited. The rumbling went on for what seemed like far too long. Every second he was fighting to control the freighter and keep it in position. Every second it became more likely the gunships would come upon them, naked and defenceless, and see what they were doing. The ruse would be finished and there was no way he could manoeuvre out of the valley in time.

Come on!

Shepherd glanced upwards through the roof of the cockpit. Within the darkness of the storm he thought he could see them—the gunships, almost upon them. But it was just the roiling of the charcoal clouds.

Eventually the noise ceased and he heard the preacher’s voice crackling over the comms.

‘Okay, give me a hundred metres or so,’ he said. ‘That should be safe enough.’ Shepherd moved Soteria away and, almost immediately, he heard the shots from the rifle, even above the howling wind. The preacher kept firing until a deafening explosion bucked the controls in Shepherd’s hands. The freighter rocked violently, and he was forced to back away to maintain control. He turned the ship and surveyed the damage they’d caused. The mountainside had been torn away, the wreckage from the barrels strewn amid the rock. Fire from the oil smeared the mountain, had doused the inside of the cave, and was burning furiously. Even from this distance, Shepherd imagined he could feel the heat.

He backed her away, manoeuvring inch by inch behind the cover of a slab of rock, nearly half a mile lower than the cave system, and held there. The swirling fog and smoke still billowed around the ship, and soon the fire became a veiled orange glow beyond it.

Now we wait.
He glanced down at the nav display, looking for an escape route if the gunships didn’t go for it. If the pilots scanned the wreckage carefully, they’d recognise the ruse. If they came looking nearby, they’d pick up the freighter. Shepherd had to stay close, otherwise the heat from the blaze wouldn’t mask the discharge from Soteria’s drives. If he ran, they’d see the freighter immediately and have plenty of time to secure a firing solution.
Bluffing’s always a risk, because you don’t have a hand, and that’s why you do it—you don’t have any other play.

The preacher came into the cockpit and sat. His face was gaunt and he seemed somehow older, as if this was the beginning of something he wasn’t sure he could finish, and it exhausted him. He stared upwards, out of one of the main windows. ‘They won’t be long,’ he said.

Shepherd heard the piercing howl of their drives before he saw the steel-blue glow through the fog. The gunships were closer than either of them had realised. They were way above and held a strong tactical position. If they found the freighter, it would end quickly.

The wind shook the freighter, trying to pry her out from her hiding place. Shepherd’s palms grew damp as he gripped the controls more tightly.
Everything in this place hates us, wants us to be found.

He saw them through breaks in the fog. They prowled languidly, the red shimmering strobe of their scanning systems passing over the rock face like a wand. Rock continued to fall from the fires burning in the caves.

Back in the township, the gunship had seemed almost surreal to him, offering no direct threat beyond the weight of its oppression. Yet here, close by and above, hunting them, every detail stood out as stark and real as anything he had ever known. Every line and sinew of the armoured hull, every gun port, the incandescent blurring of the air behind their searing blue sublight drives—it all resonated the terrible realisation that if either gunship located Soteria, there would be no fighting back and no time to run. Shepherd held his breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran into his eyes, and he lifted an arm to wipe it away. Apart from the noise of the drives, Soteria was silent.

Yet the gunships still had not found the freighter. They scanned continuously, but discovered nothing. One spun and drove slowly down to the valley floor, passing within a hundred metres of their position. Shepherd watched, his eyes following the ship’s movement, his muscles tensed and ready to move the instant he saw it deviate from its downward course. But its scanners appeared only to be passing over the ground beneath them. He felt caged as the weight of his fear pressed down on him. He fought the urge to shift sideways—to turn and bolt.

‘They’re scanning for signs of life,’ the preacher whispered. ‘Survivors.’

‘Or seeing if the wreckage of a few dozen oil barrels matches the amount of steel and titanium they’d expect to see on a fifty-metre freighter.’

‘Have faith. They haven’t found us yet.’

As if in response, a guttural, thunderous bellow echoed around the massif above them. Shepherd leaned forward and looked up.
Another ship? No way, not this quickly. So what the hell was that?
The growl came again, louder this time.