Chapter 11 - Pursuit
They flew on into the night, pain and exhaustion forgotten, adrenaline fuelling their pursuit. John had to concentrate hard to fly in the confusing night air currents and Rodney kept a sharp eye out for volcanic pools, increasingly difficult to spot as the sky became more and more cloudy and the moonlight obscured. This worked to their advantage in one way, in that N'Kishra, looking back during his own spiralling ascents would be less likely to spot them; they only kept N'Kishra in sight because they knew he was there and they knew he was heading for the mountains.
They passed the Needles and uplifting thermals became even fewer and further between. John coaxed as much height as he could out of each one and tried to minimise his downward trajectory after he pulled out of the air current. He guessed N'Kishra would have to do the same.
After several hours John felt a change in the air and looking down, could see the land was less even; they were above the foothills of the mountains. There was a very faint glimmer of light on the horizon; the approaching dawn. This was the coldest hour of the night and John was struggling to maintain his height, but so was N'Kishra, who seemed to be dropping lower and lower and eventually flew out of site into a shallow valley.
"We'll put down here," said John, heading for the near side of the shallow hill that N'Kishra had disappeared behind. "Ready?"
"Yeah, sure, ready," said Rodney, his face uncomfortably stiff and cold from the hours of flight.
They drifted down and came to a stumbling halt, collapsing awkwardly beneath the wings and struggling to extricate themselves. John sat on the ground, flexing his stiff arms and Rodney stamped up and down in place, trying to wake up his sluggish circulation.
The terrain was rough scrubland; thorn bushes and tinder-dry grasses on bone dry, compacted earth. They climbed up to the brow of the hill, crawling the last few yards to peer over the crest. Below them was a ship; not a type of ship they had seen before. Not large, but a few times bigger than a Puddle Jumper, streamlined, but not as narrow as a Wraith dart. Not a gateship, but potentially with a hyperdrive; certainly a ship that N'Kishra felt he could make a getaway in, apparently without the rest of his family.
John gestured Rodney forward and they ran over the brow of the hill, bending low, using the cover of the thorn bushes. John's leg twinged with pain; he'd had to leave his crutches, thinking he'd have a better chance of remaining hidden in the uneven terrain without them. They made their way down the side of the shallow hill, one at a time, alternating covering the ship with their Berettas and dashing from one clump of thorn bushes to the next.
They were soon close enough to the irridescent red-blue hull of the ship to see a hatch in its smooth side. Rodney whispered to John: "Now what?"
John shrugged. "Go in. Confront him!"
They ran out of the cover of the thorns, flattening themselves against the side of the ship either side of the hatch. They peered into the ship, Berettas at the ready. Ahead of them was a smooth corridor with walls slightly curved. They stepped forward carefully, John steadier on his feet, feeling the flow of adrenaline rather than pain, Rodney, his sprained wrist forgotten.
The corridor turned a sharp left and John flattened himself against the wall again, Rodney behind him. He cautiously moved out, weapon at the ready but before he could see what was round the corner he felt a crushing blow on his wrists, his Beretta flew out of his hands and he was dragged round the corner. He felt something hit his wounded leg hard; it crumpled beneath him and he found himself looking up into the face of N'Kishra. Rodney then barrelled around the corner, firing his Beretta repeatedly, but all he acheived was a series of dry clicks.
N'Kishra smiled, nastily. "Don't bother, your weapon was disabled as soon as you entered my ship!"
Rodney stared, mouth drooping in dismay.
"Well, I don't think much of this attempt to bring me to justice! Two poorly armed men, both injured. You'll have to do better than that."
He drew a weapon from his belt. "This weapon, I can assure you, is live," he said. "Now, move!"
He jerked his head, indicating for them to move further into the bridge where there were various control panels and displays showing the surrounding terrain and a star map with a plotted course.
John struggled to get his legs under him, limped a few paces and fell, catching himself on one of the consoles. He could feel blood trickling down the back of his leg once more.
Rodney was distracted by the unfamiliar technology. Unfamiliar, but reasonably straightforward, as far as he could tell. The console beneath the star map contained the controls for the hyperdrive. It was already switched on and Rodney guessed it was a temperamental system that had to be initialised an hour or so before a jump was to be made. He backed away from N'Kishra, leaning against the console as if in fear.
"You won't get away with this, N'Kishra!" said John, between gritted teeth.
"What do you mean, I won't get away with it?" sneered N'Kishra. "I've been getting away with it for years, harvesting the Ancient crystals, selling them off-world and investing a nice, fat profit. And now I can leave this wasteland and choose myself a new life, a life of luxury and power!"
John hauled himself painfully upright. "You've condemned the J'Bari, your own people! You've left them open to culling by the Wraith! Men, women, children, your own family!"
N'Kishra shrugged. "It is regrettable that I had to make a quick exit and leave them, but... life goes on!" He smirked, "or at least it does for some of us!"
"If you kill us our friends will track you down! You'll never escape!" snarled John.
"Well, you know I don't think I will kill you!" said N'Kishra lightly. "I have no wish to be pursued by the might of Atlantis and really, you can't stop me now! Go! Get out! You can make your way back to Central Halls and... deliver my best wishes to the Council and my sincere regrets to my wife and son. Yes," he said with satisfaction, "somebody should make my farewells for me!" His voice changed, losing its bantering quality: "Get out, before I change my mind!"
Rodney moved forward swiftly, put an arm round John's waist and began hustling him out of the ship. They reached the turn in the corridor, and Rodney became more insistent, practically dragging John along. At the hatch he said, "We have to run!"
"Rodney, I can't!" John ground out through his teeth.
"Yes, you can!" insisted Rodney. "I've overloaded his hyperdrive; it's going to blow up!"
An extra surge of adrenaline gave John the strength to run. They scrambled, slipped, staggered back up the side of the hill, thorns tearing at their clothes and skin, and threw themselves down just the over the crest of the hill, arms over their heads. The explosion was terrifyingly huge. Debris rained down all around John and Rodney and set light to the dry grasses and thorn bushes with frightening rapidity.
"We have to move!" said John, hauling himself and Rodney up. "The fire's spreading!"
With no strength to drag the glider and nowhere to launch from, they had to leave it and try to outrun the spreading flames on foot. The smoke from the burning vegetation and the thick, black, chemical fumes from the ship pursued them across the landscape. Soon it seemed as if there was nowhere for them to go, but Rodney gestured up the hill to a rocky outcrop where there was nothing to burn. Rodney scrambled up the side, lowering his arm to pull John roughly up after him. They crawled up the sloping rock and sat, leaning against each other at its highest point, surrounded by a sea of flame.
Rodney looked at John, his face blackened, shoulders and head drooping, hands wrapped round his leg and a grimace of pain on his face. John turned and looked back into Rodney's wide, terrified eyes, his injured wrist clutched to his chest, his posture rigid with fear.
They were both coughing and choking in the poisonous atmosphere, unable to get a proper breath, but John managed to say, "You did good, Rodney, you stopped him."
The two friends slumped together on the rock, the flames licking up its sides, the heat increasing steadily. John felt there was no escape this time. But just before he passed out, he thought he heard Rodney's dry, croaking voice say the strangest thing: "The eagles are coming!"