This is about Aeryn on her own, moving on but ending up in the last place she wants to be…along the way she makes a discovery, meets an old friend and gets into very deep dren.
CH 5. FLYING SOLO
CH 6. GHOSTS
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5. FLYING SOLO "I hated you, I loved you too. Bad dreams in the night…" Kate Bush, Wuthering Heights"Fly safe," Aeryn whispered. She bit lip and held her breath. Cry? Don't cry? What difference did it make now? Her face crumpled and tears tumbled down her cheeks as her sleek black prowler burst away from Crichton.
28 arns later and she had reached her first destination. She felt dreadful. She had flown without stopping for the only trading centre within prowler range, Xelp Xelp 77. She was no longer used to such long, uninterrupted flights and the cockpit stank of stale sweat and urine. She had been sick a short while ago and now the stench of vomit filled her nostrils.
She spent less than two arns on the planet, just enough time to get the prowler refuelled and food cubes purchased. She didn't want to hang around any longer than absolutely necessary in case she bumped into Chiana or Rygel. They had set off with D'Argo for Xelp Xelp 77 shortly before her own departure from Moya and she had no desire to repeat painful partings.
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Aeryn checked her flight trajectory and glanced at the energy readings. The fuel gauge was hovering on empty although she still had several more arns of flying before she reached G'Amba 9, the latest dren-hole planet on her search. She sighed. It felt like she hadn't slept in a weeken and she was shattered. She yawned and shook her head trying to shake the weariness away. Keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead, she reached down and picked up the water bottle at her side and took a long drink. She'd added campcoff, a potent stimulant, to it to help her stay awake but even so she could feel her eyelids becoming heavier by the microt.
What was she doing? Was this really what she wanted? It had been over a monen since she had said goodbye to Crichton and the others and she missed all of them more than she realised she would. She wondered what they were doing, whether they were happier than she was. She hoped so. She stared into space. She'd made her decision. Second thoughts now were foolish. Nothing had changed. So why did it still hurt so much? John would've got her message by now. She hoped it explained what she hadn't been able to say in person, that he'd understand and forgive her. Somehow it was important that he didn't think badly of her. Oh, for the love of Cholak! She was going to cry again. Really, this had got to stop. Who was going to accept her as a trained fighter and killer, if she burst into tears every five microts? "Get a grip Aeryn," she scolded herself.
A flashing red alarm light on the dashboard caught her eye and she reached forward and flicked the switch to turn it off. Her eyes scanned the sky around her and she eased the steering controls to the left, pushing the prowler into a gentle arc towards the small planet now registering on her monitors.
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Aeryn locked her prowler and looked around her. She had landed on a small strip of cleared earth just outside a walled trading town.
The town, barely visible through the drizzle and mist, was G'Amba 9, once a former Peacekeeper fortress and thriving Sebacean outpost. It was named after the planet itself, which had first been successfully colonised by Sebaceans during the Breakaway Wars. It was now a planet in decline. Few settlements remained and the majority of the population was to be found in and around this trading centre. The perimeter walls of the town, built of enormous black-stone blocks, were starting to crumble and a profusion of weeds grew all around the base, eroding the soil and slowly undermining the foundations. Only one of the corner lookout posts reminded intact and there was nothing left to suggest that this place was once the talk of the system.
Scanning the horizon, Aeryn could just make out the towering cliffs all around, part of the town creeping up its craggy ridges. Almost 80 per cent of G'Amba 9 was rock and the cliffs were honeycombed with tunnels and abandoned mine shafts, a perfect hideout for outlaws. She took a deep breath and started walking.
By the time she reached the town gates she was cold and wet. There was no obvious security check and Aeryn entered unchallenged. The exercise and fresh air had not cleared her head and she was beginning to suspect that it wasn't the stress of the past few monens causing the sickness. It was early evening and the light was fading fast as she reached the main square. The small, dirty looking shops and stalls around the edges were beginning to close for the day. There were only a few people milling around and many of the shopkeepers had taken in their signs and were packing up their goods for the night. In the middle of the square was a tall four-pronged pole that shed a yellow pool of light over the whole area. Aeryn sent shadows dancing across all four walls as she walked across it.
Looking around, she noticed several diners open for business. Wondering if some food and a drink might help, she walked across the muddy square and took a window seat at the quietest looking place. She really couldn't cope with noise or hassle right now. The bar walls were bare black brick and all the furniture was made from a flimsy grey metal. The place was almost deserted and a waiter quickly appeared at her side. She glanced at the hand-written menu he offered her and ordered Sebacean mint stew and a warmed glass of raslak. As the waiter, a Sebacean-Luxan half-breed by the look of him, went to bring her order, Aeryn considered her next move. The squad she sought was rumoured to work out of a base in this sector so if she asked around a bit she ought to be able to find out for sure. She'd have to be discreet though or they'd think she was a spy. Or perhaps not, maybe her best bet would be to attract attention to herself. If they were here, or around here, her asking questions might just flush them out. Risky. They might just decide to eliminate the potential threat but the alternative was to wander across the territory never getting any closer to her goal. And she'd always preferred the direct approach.
The waiter bought her order and she sat, food untouched, staring into space. After a while she realised she was watching an old couple make their way slowly across the cobbled square. The Sebacean man was carrying a large bag of provisions while his female companion held a makeshift weather protector over his head. They came to a halt halfway across the square and appeared to be arguing. The old man put down the bag and the two of them stood in the rain, arms waving wildly at each other. After a few moments, a smile and a kiss were exchanged and it was all over. The old man bent down, picked up the bag and the pair continued their journey. Aeryn smiled through her tears and her heart ached for what she had lost.
The pain of John's death was still as raw as on the day it had happened. She had tried to train her mind not to think of him but back on Moya, with the other John, it had become impossible. This simulacrum had haunted her thoughts, his silent reproach harder to bear than angry words. She hated him for making her hurt all over again and at night she hated him for living, even as her body ached for his. Alone in her quarters she had raged at him in her mind, screaming for him to explain why it had to be her John who'd died. Why hadn't he died instead?
But she'd felt herself slipping. He was still John and he still worked that indescribable magic on her. In the cargo bay, the look in his eyes had been unmistakable and almost impossible to resist. It would have been so easy to say yes, to slip into his arms and pretend everything was alright. But it wasn't alright and never would be. He was a living memory, a bittersweet reminder of a different lifetime. One she could never return to. No one could imagine what it had cost her to leave but she knew she couldn't live with a ghost, or the chance of losing him again.
Shaking her head, angry at her weakness, she stood up, dropped a few coins onto the table and walked out.
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Aeryn lolled back in her chair ignoring her untouched breakfast congealing on the plate. She'd been on G'Amba 9 for three solar days now and had not made contact with anyone even remotely connected to the assassination squad. She'd made discreet enquiries with every shopkeeper in and around the main square, the attendants at the landing field where her prowler was parked, and at the seedy hostel where she was staying. And she'd got nowhere. Then she'd hit the bars. That had been a depressing experience. Her questions had been met with blank stares or tall stories that were clearly the work of raslak soaked imaginations. She had also received a proposal of life-partnership and several less long-term offers. Aeryn did not have Chiana's natural talent for manipulating these situations and her first instinct was still to hit first. She'd been thrown of out two places for fighting and banned from another for the same reason. The lack of progress was beginning to irk her and to make matters worse her sickness was increasing in its virulence. She could barely keep anything inside her now and she realised that a trip to a local medic might be in order.
A short while later, breakfast eaten and swiftly regurgitated, she asked around the local shopkeepers and was told there was a Diagnosan who ran an apothecary on the outskirts of town who might be able to help her. Aeryn decided to go immediately. If she had developed some weird illness, not covered by her Peacekeeper jabs, she ought to find out about it now. It did occur to her that, if it turned out to be serious, or fatal, it might save her a lot of trouble living.
Pausing before she left the square, she looked up. The sky was grey and overcast, promising another day of mist and rain. Shivering, she turned into a side street and began to make her way towards the outskirts of town. The streets were narrow and filled with people so her progress was slow. After walking for the best part of an arn the crowds began to thin out and she was able to take more notice of her surroundings. The streets were paved with uneven slabs of black stone, with green mould growing around them. The mould continued up the face of the tall, thin houses lining the route. The houses were also made of black stone with graffiti scrawled across the lower reaches of most of them.
Aeryn walked along a narrow side street glancing at the overhead signs until she came to the place she was looking for. She pushed open the door and heard a small bell tinkle as she walked into the small dark shop. It smelt damp and musty and moss grew between the flagstones on the floor. Aeryn glanced around her. Floor to ceiling, the walls were lined with unlabelled jars of all shapes and sizes and filled with powders, seeds and twisted roots. It reminded her of Zhaan's apothecary back on Moya. Zhaan would have loved it in here. Every time they'd stopped for supplies she had always managed to find time to acquire at least one new sample to add to her collection. The counter was at the back of the shop, a set of weighing scales on its stone surface. Arranged on the shelves behind the counter were a dozen tall glass phials each containing a liquid of a different colour. As her eyes focused on the curtained archway at the end of the counter, the head and shoulders of an old woman with three eyes and long grey hair peeked out from behind the faded green screen.
"I was looking for Bathsandra?"
"Yes dear, what can I do for you?" The woman let go of the curtain and stepped forward. She was little more than a metra tall and dressed in a long green robe that had clearly seen better days. An embroidered black shawl hung across her shoulders.
"I'm looking for something to settle my stomach," said Aeryn, suddenly nervous about describing her symptoms to a stranger.
"Come in, come in, come through here," the old woman beckoned Aeryn towards the archway behind the counter.
Aeryn hesitated. Perhaps she'd been wrong. This woman looked more like a quack than a trained physician. "I was told that you were a diagnosan," she said, remaining where she was.
"I'm not but I do have some medical knowledge people find useful. Did you want a consultation?" The old woman's voice was soft and friendly.
"Yes."
"Then step this way my dear and tell me your troubles."
Aeryn decided she had nothing to lose. If the woman started burning incense and muttering ridiculous incantations to non-existent gods she could always leave. She pushed through the curtains into a warm, well-lit room. A fire burned in the hearth and the walls were lined with bright tapestries woven with intricate geometric patterns. The room smelt fresh and well aired although Aeryn couldn't see any windows. She looked upwards and saw bunches of aromatic dried leaves hung from the ceiling. A trolley of antiquated diagnostic instruments stood in front of an empty desk, pushed in to a corner and draped with a rust coloured sheet. An identically covered reclining armchair stood beside it. The old woman motioned Aeryn to the chair. The examination didn't take long but Aeryn was surprised at the thoroughness of the woman's questions and tests. She was soon handing over her samples, re-buttoning her jacket and thanking the old woman for her time.
"Come back tomorrow morning. I should have the results for you by then," the medic said with a smile. "In the meantime, try to get some rest. You look exhausted."
"How much do I owe you?" asked Aeryn unzipping her purse.
"Nothing now, you can pay me tomorrow. Don't worry my dear, I'm sure you'll be just fine." The woman patted her gently on the back and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "Remember, plenty of rest," she added as she accompanied Aeryn to the street door.
Aeryn took the old woman's advice and went to bed early but she slept badly. The nightmares that had plagued her after John's death had returned and she rose early to escape them. Rubbing her hands against the cold, biting wind she crossed the now familiar market square toward the apothecary. The bar where she normally ate was already open but she decided to forgo breakfast. She didn't think her stomach was up to it. Several people nodded and said good morning to her. She shook her head at this strange display of familiarity from people she had barely met. Turning up the collar of her jacket for better protection against the damp morning air, she set off. She hadn't gone far before a man in a hooded cloak came up to her asked directions to the landing site. As she turned to point in the direction she had just come from, the man pulled a pulse pistol from beneath his robes and whispered to her, "scream and you die. Run and you die. Now, come with me." Aeryn, reacting with the quick instinct of a peacekeeper, raised her arm to knock the weapon from the man's hand. As she began to move she found herself grabbed from behind. She struggled to free herself but a foul smelling cloth was pushed into her face and something heavy hit her on the head. She lost consciousness.
When she came to, she was bound, gagged and blindfolded. By the smell, she guessed she was being held in some kind of grain store. She wriggled her wrists to see if she could loosen the leather bonds that tied her hands behind her back but there was no give. Her stomach gave a small churn and she prayed that it wasn't going to try to spill what little remained of its contents. Death by asphyxiation was not on her agenda. She tried to breathe normally and relax her knotted muscles. After a while, when no one came, she stood up, easing the cramp in her muscles. She set about measuring her prison. Ten hops to the left and ten to the right. She knelt down and pressed her head against the floor. Stone. She stood up and repeated the manoeuvre against the wall. More stone. She felt her way, inch by inch, around her cell. No nails, no hooks or sharp edges, nothing to allow her to saw through her bonds. She sighed. Escape didn't seem to be an option. So she sat back down and waited. She felt remarkably calm. Perhaps her training hadn't totally deserted her after all.
After what felt like an age, she heard footsteps coming towards her. They stopped close by. She heard the jangle of keys followed by the click of a manual lock and the rattle of chains. There was a slow grinding noise. A blast of cold air washed over her. She gave an involuntary shiver and heard the sound of a man laughing. Rough, calloused hands grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. Something sharp, probably a knife, was pressed against her neck as the voice she had heard in the street said, " you know the routine. Come quietly and live. Make a fuss and I slit your throat. You choose. It's all the same to me." Aeryn went quietly. She listened intently as they walked but she detected no one else with her captor. She counted each step they took as she had been taught to do. It felt comfortable falling back on her old training.
She had walked 365 paces when an unexpected shove from behind propelled her forward. Her feet tripped over an unseen step, she staggered but caught her balance and remained standing. She gave a small smile. She might be a prisoner but that didn't mean she was going to give a micro-metra. And if, as she hoped, it was the assassination squad she sought who had abducted her, then they would be watching her every move. She would be judged, just as a peacekeeper was judged, on her ability to survive, intimidate and withstand. She turned her head slightly trying to work out where she might be, and how many people were there. She could sense her guide, stood so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck and smell the raslak on his breath but she could also make out other sounds, other voices. The sounds were indistinct but nonetheless she believed there were at least two other people in the room and she thought they were eating. She heard the scraping of a chair and then a male voice called, "Silence". The room became still. Aeryn tensed.
"Take the gag from her mouth," the speaker requested in a relaxed tone.
Released, Aeryn wiggled her jaw, easing the stiffness in her face.
"You're a terrible spy, but a very attractive woman," the voice pronounced with a hint of amusement.
Aeryn stiffened and took a deep breath before replying, "I am not a spy and I don't know who you are."
"Whereas I know quite a bit about you. What brings you to G'Amba 9, Aeryn Sun?" The voice was sharper now.
"Fuel. Sleep." Aeryn was not going to be drawn until she knew who she was dealing with.
"And fighting. You've got quite a reputation across town already," the voice added with a chuckle.
"Simple misunderstandings," she replied, matching his causal manner.
"One of them has only just regained consciousness," the voice was now definitely amused.
"These things happen." She gave an exaggerated shrug of the shoulders.
The voice turned into a short, loud laugh, quickly smothered. "Tell me again. Why are you here?"
Live. Die. It was all just the toss of a coin. "I'm looking for the Millan Astrey."
There was a short pause before the voice answered, "and why are you looking for them?"
"I want to join them." There, it was said. It was done.
"And why would you want to do that?"
"I want to fight," Aeryn replied. She had chosen the Millan Ashtrey because it offered its recruits little more than the chance to fight and die. Their motto was oblivion with honour. The rumours about it suggested a very short life expectancy for its front line operatives. Crais had told her about them.
"Leave us," the voice ordered.
Aeryn felt the warm breath disappear from her neck and heard a chair scrap across the stone floor and two, no, three people leaving the room. She heard her captor move towards her. She felt a cool hand rest on the nape of her neck and a sharp nudge in the small of her back.
"I'm going to take off the blindfold but there's a condition. Do not turn around. Try to turn around and I shoot you. Understand?"
Aeryn nodded.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light once the blindfold came off. She saw she was in a long narrow stone room. The only natural light came from a small skylight directly above her but shining straight at her was a powerful industrial strip light. Beside it sat a small table and four chairs. The table had the remains of a meal on it along with several metal beakers and a half empty bottle of raslak. "Well, what happens now?" She asked.