Юн Ли - Revenant Gun

That, or he was going crazy after all. But he could stop dead and question the information, or he could make use of it before the beleaguered Rahal stopped him. He chose the latter.

Jedao dove through the closing doors, which flinched back open at his approach. Handy safety feature, that. Then he skidded left, ran down a dreary segment of hallway lined with forbidding hangings of the hexarchate’s wheel, turned left again, and narrowly avoided crashing into the lift. He’d wondered if variable layout would prove an issue, but it didn’t seem to be active in this section. He bet it had something to do with his disabled augment.

Curiously, the Rahal didn’t pursue him. At least, he didn’t hear her footfalls behind him. But she would alert the command center of his escape, if she hadn’t already.

At this point, the inexplicable othersense betrayed him. Not because it was wrong—no one occupied the lift, or was waiting for it with him—but because it failed to account for things like lift codes. The augment must transmit those on his behalf, something else he’d never thought about before. Now he was shut out.

All right, that wasn’t going to work. Maintenance shaft, then? He couldn’t remember whether those required access codes, too. It beat staying here to be treed, though.

He retraced his steps back to the intersection and took the hallway curving in the other direction. After passing several mysterious doorways—his sense of whereness told him nothing about the rooms’ function, just a jumbled distribution of masses that he couldn’t translate into visuals—he located a maintenance shaft. He’d never known anyone other than the servitors to use them. Engineering always sent him reports collated from the servitors’ records. Thankfully, whoever had designed the moth (Kujen?) had ensured that the shaft could accommodate a human. Good thinking: what if the moth needed emergency repairs and servitors weren’t available?

Jedao flexed his hands, then began climbing up. He swallowed a sudden surge of panic at the sensation of the walls closing around him, even though they weren’t, and fought back the claustrophobia. The mysterious inner map connected him to the world outside the shaft and gave him the illusory reassurance that he wouldn’t die alone.

His arms and legs protested the unaccustomed exertion. The aches were an excellent distraction from the situation. A less welcome distraction was his internal awareness of the swarm moths. He almost lost his balance once, twice, while unpuzzling their maneuvers. While he’d had no trouble recognizing formations and the modulations between them on the tactical subdisplay, this unasked-for proprioception was hard to get used to.

Halfway to his immediate goal—a small chamber where he could regroup and figure out his next move—he started to worry. There was still no sign of pursuit. And he didn’t believe in luck. Not good luck, anyway.

Jedao reached the chamber. For whatever reason, there was no artificial gravity here. He suffered a moment of disorientation trying to figure out which wall to use as a floor, then clung determinedly to the one where he’d emerged.

Each wall contained panels with numerical and graphical readouts, none of which he knew how to interpret. He didn’t dare interfere with any of them. He might be in the midst of a quarrel with Kujen, but he wasn’t about to play technician with the command moth.

He released his grip first with one hand, then the other, cracking his knuckles. His hands were already threatening to cramp. He huffed a self-deprecating laugh. Maybe Doctrine didn’t need to chase him when they knew he’d tire himself out. Where could he go? The command center was the only place where his presence had any meaning.

A flicker-ripple alerted him of someone’s approach. Only one—person? A servitor? A very large centipede?

He could run again, but to what end? Better to stay and see if he could talk sense to whoever it was.

The newcomer proceeded at an infuriatingly slow pace. Jedao clambered over to another wall so he could jump them if they looked hostile. He hated treating his own crew as hostiles, but Kujen hadn’t left him much choice.

Eventually a different officer emerged. First Jedao saw the man’s blotchy, balding head, then a blocky pair of shoulders almost too wide for the maintenance shaft. Aha: the wolf’s-head emblem again, heavily foreshortened. Another Rahal. “I know you’re in there, sir,” the officer said without craning his head to look at Jedao.

“Splendid,” Jedao said. “Take me to the command center.”

“You’re under—”

“—arrest. I know. That’s too bad, because you’re going to take me to the command center.”

The Rahal still didn’t change the angle of his head. “How are you going to contrive that , sir?”

“I would prefer not to fight you,” Jedao said, doing his best to project I am a badass . Instant soldier, just add water. Ruo, you would be laughing so hard at what I’m trying to pull here. “You have a job to do and I might need you later.”

“The hexarch gave his orders.”

“The hexarch,” Jedao said, “is on another moth far away. I’m right here.”

“Sir,” the Rahal said, “please return quietly with me or we’ll both suffer the consequences.”

“Tell me,” Jedao said, “how’s the battle going?”

“Inesser was completely unprepared for the shear cannon,” the Rahal said. “Your assistance is not required.”

Fuck. “You need me to stop the fighting,” Jedao said. “Or do you really want all the Kel shooting each other? That can’t be good for morale.”

The Rahal was scowling. “You’re the Immolation Fox. Why do you—argh!”

Jedao had launched himself from the wall and delivered a chop to the side of the Rahal’s neck in passing. He grabbed the Rahal by the arm and pulled him into an embrace, not out of amorous intent but to keep the man from smashing into the wall. Jedao checked his pulse: alive, thank goodness.

A quick search revealed that the Rahal had brought spider restraints with him. Jedao trussed him to the handholds. “Sorry about that,” Jedao said on his way out of the chamber with its chatter of status displays. “I’ll send someone for you later.”

When he emerged from the next maintenance shaft, a squad of six Kel awaited him. Their guns were trained on him. Slowly, Jedao raised his hands and smiled at them. One woman’s trigger finger shifted, withdrew. What the hell did I use to do while smiling at people? he wondered.

“Commander Kel Talaw will see you,” said the highest-ranked one, a sergeant whose expression said she wished she were enjoying a nice quiet nap in barracks instead.

“Why,” Jedao said, “were you afraid I was going to break down the doors if you didn’t take me in?”

“The commander is being very indulgent.”

“I’m sure.” Jedao surveyed the squad. “Commander Talaw is the one I want to talk to anyway. I’ll permit it.”

“It’s not your decision.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Of course it isn’t. Well, I’d hate to keep the commander waiting.”

The sergeant made an irritable gesture. One of the soldiers holstered his gun and brought out spider restraints.

What is it with people and those things? Jedao thought. Did real spiders spin the restraints, or were they human-manufactured? Perhaps somewhere in the bowels of the Revenant lived a colony of spiders, diligently weaving spider restraints for wayward generals.

The horrible pain scraped through his head. It helped that he was prepared for it this time. Commander Talaw must have fired the shear cannon again. Jedao listened for the Revenant . Nothing.