Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4) Read online

  Mark R. Healy

  Copyright © Mark R. Healy 2016

  markrhealy.com

  Cover Art Copyright © Mark R. Healy 2016

  Terms and Conditions:

  The purchaser of this book is subject to the condition that he/she shall in no way resell it, nor any part of it, nor make copies of it to distribute freely.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  EPILOGUE

  Join My Mailing List

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Mark R. Healy

  1

  For the first time that Talia could remember, the dirigibles were headed away from the Reach.

  She’d been watching them through the blue haze of pre-dawn for some time, their bulbous shapes like ever-dwindling shadows on the eastern rim of the sky. Part of her kept expecting to see them swing out, to arc across the turquoise murk and set their sights on the Reach as they had done for countless years before, their gondolas filled with the hopeful faces of those who sought to find a better life off-world.

  But they did not turn around. They grew smaller and smaller in the sky until they disappeared against the wash of the pink-tinged horizon.

  The people were leaving. They were getting out of Link, heading for someplace better.

  It hadn’t taken them long to realise that the Reach was no longer a gateway to a new life. Now it was a dead end, a death trap, three sheer kilometres of metal and alloy and shattered dreams. Broken promises.

  Even those lowly folk far below knew that.

  What have we done? she thought dismally. Silvestri, Knile, Skybreach. Me. What the fuck have we done?

  Now, as the first glimmer of orangey-red rays of light scattered across the Wire, Talia slowly got to her feet. She edged forward and leaned over the brink of the platform to look down upon the darkened city of Link far below. Still shrouded in the embrace of night, there was nothing much to see but scattered, shimmering fires that had sprung up in the turmoil of the past few days.

  Nowhere is safe. It’s all gone to ruin.

  At her back, the Wire issued a deep, staccato groan, the sound of flexing metal echoing out across the platform. It was the third time she’d heard it, and each time she’d wondered if the shock wave from the explosion at the habitat was about to descend upon them in full force, wreaking destruction as it slammed across the roof. Yun, however, had assured them that they had time. He’d performed calculations that indicated they would be safe for a couple of hours yet. The staggering length of the Wire would work in their favour, he’d said, to allow them a little longer to prepare.

  Still, she couldn’t stop a shiver of apprehension from running down her spine as the noise finally receded.

  Silvestri appeared at her side, the assault rifle still clutched in his hands, although now he seemed to carry it as if it were made of lead, his arms sagging and his head stooped wearily. He said nothing, but lifted his face to the horizon, to where Talia had been looking a moment before. The two of them stood in silence for a long time before finally he spoke.

  “Where are they going?” he said simply.

  Talia looked and counted four dirigibles suspended in the murk, all with their noses pointed away from the Reach.

  “The lowlands. Where else?”

  “Madness,” he muttered. “There’s nothing out there but death.”

  “I could say the same of this place after what’s happened. Maybe they’re just looking for a way to escape the savagery that’s taken over here. A peaceful place to die.”

  Silvestri sighed. “Their choice, I suppose.”

  As she stared at the dirigibles, Talia’s mind returned to her conversation with Knile a couple of hours prior, when he’d told her that she and the others needed to reach a place called Sunspire Mountain, out in the east. That was where they would find a space elevator that was perhaps their last shot at making it off-world. Since then, she’d been racking her brain trying to come up with a plan for reaching their target – not only safely, but as quickly as possible.

  The talk of lowlands and people fleeing had given her an idea.

  “After we get down to Link, I know where we have to go,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. I think I can get us to Sunspire.”

  Silvestri reached out and gently touched her elbow. “First things first. We’re saying goodbye to Remus, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  She nodded, then turned to follow as he began to walk away. Across the other side of the platform, the others had gathered around the pile of blankets in which Remus’ body had been wrapped. Roman was there, as well as Yun and the two outsiders, Duran and Zoe, the four of them standing solemnly in a loose circle. As Silvestri and Talia approached, they edged to the side to allow them space.

  Talia looked down at their fallen comrade. Remus’ skin was pale, his lips blue, a smear of dried blood caked across one cheek and under his ear. She thought of the important part he’d played the night before; how he’d led Knile and Roman to find the RECS, those hulking mechanical contraptions that had taken the brunt of the Redmen’s attacks. In fact, none of them would be alive now if it weren’t for Remus’ idea to use the RECS.

  The wind swept between the legs of those gathered and ruffled Remus’ auburn hair and the edges of the grubby fabric that had been tucked around him. Silvestri swung the rifle behind his back and exhaled noisily, then cleared his throat.

  “I wish I knew what to say,” he said, his eyes downcast. “I wish I knew how to pay tribute to you, Remus, and all the others we lost yesterday – people like Iris, and many others who were with us in Skybreach. I could tell you that I’m sorry, that it was my job to protect you, but I guess it’s too late for you to offer me forgiveness. I could thank you for all you’ve done for me, and those standing with me, but those words would be hollow. I could wish you well in the afterlife, but…” He shrugged. “I don’t know what lies beyond.” He pursed his lips. “I will say this: you were a good man, and you deserved a better end. I hope you’ve found peace.”

  Silvestri fell silent, and the howl of the wind across the platform was suddenly the only sound to be heard. To Talia, it was the voice of desolation, of hopelessness. It told her that there was no point going on. That soon, all of them would be cold and pale like Remus.

  “Take a few moments to offer your own thoughts,” Silvestri suggested. “Then pack your things and let’s go.”

  Talia clapped her right hand across her ear as Roman stomped past in the RECS, headed down along the path toward the elevator. In her le
ft hand, her holophone was crammed against her head as she attempted to hear what was happening on the other end of the call. She vaguely heard a connection initiate, but then nothing but static.

  “Knile, are you there?” she said. There was a crackle in response, something unintelligible that might have been Knile’s voice coming through from the longwave. She glanced at Silvestri, who gave her a questioning look. “I don’t know if it’s working. I’m not hearing anything back.”

  “Tell him what you need to tell him, and hope that he’s listening,” Silvestri suggested. “That’s all we can do right now.”

  She nodded. “Listen, Knile, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I have a plan to get to Sunspire. My old boss, Bagley, might still be in Link. He coordinates a dirigible construction facility. I’m hoping we can negotiate a deal with him. Travelling by air will get us there a lot quicker. Do you read?”

  Static again, and something that sounded like interference or crosstalk. Talia thought she heard Knile’s voice in there somewhere, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “Anything?” Silvestri said.

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Try again later. It might clear up.”

  She gave him a worried look. “You don’t think he’s–?”

  “No. You’ve been hanging around Knile long enough to know that he’s practically unkillable. He’ll make it to Sunspire. We just have to make sure that we hold up our end of the bargain.”

  “Yeah.” She hung up and returned the phone to her pocket, then glanced over as Yun approached, a troubled look on his face.

  “What’s the matter, Yun?” Silvestri said.

  “Something’s been bugging me,” the tech began. “Something that’s pretty damn vital to this whole scheme of ours.”

  “And that is?”

  “The cruiser that was going to meet us at the habitat and take us off-world. We were going to use the comms up there to talk to the captain.” He jabbed his finger toward the sky. “Up in the habitat. That isn’t an option anymore. So even if we make it to this Sunspire place, how are we going to make sure the captain meets us there?”

  Silvestri stewed over that for a moment. “There’s a relay we can use down in Link. I know the location, used to organise trades with buyers from off-world in my smuggling days. I’m pretty sure we can get it going again.”

  “And what if it’s been trashed?” Yun said.

  “Then we go to Plan B.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’ll let you know once I figure that out.”

  There was a shout from the elevator as the RECS reached the door. Inside, the hostages from the night before, including the Consortium techs and the attackers, had been assembled at the rear of the elevator car, still bound, as they waited to descend. One of the hostages, a bearded man with a gash on his forehead, was attempting to hop clear of the ruined RECS that still lay across the doorway. Zoe, who was standing nearby, strode forward and shoved him backward again, levelling her handgun at the crowd.

  “We should get out of here,” Silvestri said. He glanced around, as if checking to see if they’d missed anything, then gave Yun a gentle push toward the elevator. “After you.”

  Yun trotted away obediently, and Talia fell in beside Silvestri as they moved along the narrow path.

  “What’s going to be waiting for us down in the Atrium?” she said, a note of dread in her voice.

  “Hopefully a coffee stand and an assortment of piping hot dirt-buns.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s taking optimism to a whole new level.”

  Silvestri gave her a grin. “I can probably go higher, if you’d like.”

  “No, I’m good.” Ahead of them, Roman had used his RECS to grip the prone machine in the doorway in preparation for dragging it aside. Zoe and Duran moved into the elevator, keeping a close eye on the hostages, and Silvestri, Yun and Talia clambered across after them. With no one left to follow, Roman hauled at the debris, pulling it free amid a squeal of metal, then quickly drove his RECS forward before the doors could shut.

  It was a tight fit, but somehow they squeezed in.

  The doors closed, and the roof disappeared from view. A feeling of bitter defeat washed over Talia at the thought of leaving this way, but she pushed it down and tried to focus on the task at hand.

  Silvestri hit the button, and the elevator began to descend.

  2

  Roman watched as the power gauge on the RECS receded to nothing more than a faintly glimmering wrinkle, like the last hint of sunlight on the horizon before darkness came. It flashed once, then went out, then hesitantly returned with even less conviction than before.

  He wondered for a moment if he should ask Silvestri to run him through the plan one more time, then thought better of it. Silvestri didn’t really have a plan. That was the whole problem. None of them knew what would be waiting down in the Atrium when they arrived. For all they knew, it might be a whole squad of Redmen, or a legion of those crazy insurgents with circles carved in their heads.

  Or maybe it’s empty, he thought. Maybe everyone left.

  He grinned wryly to himself. That was wishful thinking, the least likely scenario.

  In all probability, there would be a host of desperate people out there, armed to the teeth. People wanting answers, or blood. Maybe both.

  And it was Roman himself who was in the firing line again, the one inside the RECS. The bullet magnet. Only now, the hull of the RECS had been greatly weakened after the punishment it had taken the night before. Granted, up to this point it had repelled everything that had been thrown at it. It had done an admirable job.

  But that wasn’t going to last, Roman knew. Pretty soon those rounds would be punching through the weak points in the alloy and finding their way into the cockpit.

  He swallowed nervously. As frightening a prospect as it was, being riddled with bullets was not his main concern at this point. For a start, he wasn’t sure that there would be enough juice to walk the RECS out of the elevator once the doors opened. Silvestri had told him that the RECS, along with a couple of riot shields they’d tossed in the elevator, would be all the cover they had as they tried to make it across the Atrium. If Roman couldn’t get the RECS moving, they could kiss that idea goodbye.

  He was so preoccupied by the power gauge that he didn’t realise the elevator had stopped. He glanced through the cockpit window in confusion.

  They’d reached the Atrium already. This was it.

  “Let me do the talking,” Silvestri said, stooping behind the protection of the riot shield. On the other side of Roman, Zoe did the same.

  Then the doors were opening, and Roman saw a cluster of men and women in dishevelled clothing standing about idly, rifles slung over their shoulders as they chatted amongst themselves. Makeshift barricades had been erected outside the elevator, and beyond, the Stormgates had gone dark, the once majestic arches now twisted and bent grotesquely. As far as Roman could see, the floor of the Atrium was covered in black residue, as if it had been doused under the flame of a giant blowtorch.

  For a moment, no one moved.

  Those who had gathered outside seemed to have been caught off-guard. Casual conversations came to an abrupt halt. Those who had been resting on the floor hastily got to their feet. As realisation dawned, they began to scatter haphazardly, snatching up weapons and finding cover behind the barricades. To Roman they looked like a bunch of teenagers sleeping off their hangovers from a bender the night before, thrown into a panic at finding their parents arriving home earlier than expected.

  Silvestri remained very still and patient as they organised themselves. He waited behind the riot shield, calm and emotionless, observing the behaviour of those outside as if he were an ornithologist studying a flock of birds.

  Finally, a tall man wearing a black bandana shouted for the others to move back from the elevator. He squinted at the newcomers from his position behind a stack of crates, then levelled a rifle at the elevator.


  “No sudden movements,” Silvestri said quietly to those in the elevator. “Be cool.”

  “Identify yourselves!” the man in the bandana bellowed. Beyond him, Roman could see more reinforcements arriving from other parts of the Atrium.

  “We’re not here to fight anyone,” Silvestri called back. “We’re just seeking passage down into the Reach.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Silvestri, and I’m here with several of my companions–”

  “You work for the Consortium?”

  “No. We’re from Gaslight. We were trying to hijack the railcar.”

  “So what happened?”

  Duran glanced at Zoe. “It didn’t work out.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “We have hostages from last night. They’re unharmed, and you’re welcome to take them in exchange for our safe passage through the Atrium.”

  “What about the elevator?” the man in the bandana said.

  “It’s yours.”

  “Bullshit. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “No bullshit. Let us walk out of here and you can see for yourself.”

  The man stepped out from behind cover, his rifle still trained on the elevator doors.

  “What the hell is that tin can you’ve got with you?” he said, gesturing to the RECS. “Some kind of bomb?”

  “It’s a shield. It’s for our protection, that’s all.”

  The man conferred with a nearby companion, a stocky woman with streaks of charcoal across her cheeks and a distrustful glint in her eyes. She shook her head and then gestured impatiently behind her. Then the man looked back to Silvestri.

  “Let our men go,” he demanded. “After we’ve made sure they’re okay, we’ll let you through.”

  “No deal.”

  “Suit yourself. You can rot in there, buddy. See if I care.”

  “Don’t you want to see what’s waiting up there?” Silvestri said. “Isn’t that what you came for?” The man glared at Silvestri but said nothing. “Okay, then. Sounds like this is as far up the Reach as you’re going to get, my friend. Close the doors!” Silvestri barked to no one in particular.