Peter Newman - The Seven

Only Delta does not move, her serenity untouched. Jem is thrown into the opposite wall, Reela and the Vagrant hurled from their seats.

A musical array of flesh smacking against hard surfaces follows.

While the humans recover, the metal snake continues to veer to the right, until it catches sight of its own tail, making circles of muddy brown in the grass beneath its tracks.

The Vagrant hauls himself back onto his chair, one hand pressing against the new bump on his skull, the other taking the control stick, pointing the snake forward once more.

Jem also gets up, going to where Reela curls on the floor. ‘It’s alright,’ he says, gathering her into his arms. ‘It’s alright. Ohh, you poor thing.’

She begins to cry and Jem holds her tighter. ‘Are you hurt? Does it hurt anywhere?’

Reela blinks, looks over to where the Vagrant is, then takes a deep breath. She squeezes her face, squishing the tear on her cheek and forcing down the other ones.

‘Reela?’ Jem asks. ‘Are you okay?’

She nods.

‘Does it hurt anywhere?’

She shakes her head and Jem moves her over to the empty chair. As he fixes Reela into place, he glances at the Vagrant, mutters, ‘She should have been strapped in.’

The Vagrant’s mouth opens in protest but he says nothing.

The snake travels on, its eyes lighting the dark ahead. On the viewing screen, green lines fill in details for frail human eyes. The gradations in the landscape, the outline of trees and, on the horizon, the line where the sea begins.

Unlike the vast majority of the citizens of the Empire of the Winged Eye, no one in the cockpit is in possession of a working chip. The Vagrant has never had one, neither has Reela. Jem does have one but it is poorly made, a cheap replica of those in the Shining City. It malfunctioned years ago. Now it is a purposeless lump, a little bit of junk in his brain. Because of this, none of them hears the broadcast.

Delta does. She does not need a chip to translate the sounds for her. She hears all, understands all. Her head tilts to one side, her mouth opens, ‘Obeisance.’ Even speaking, there is resonance to her voice. It fills the cramped space, charging the air.

The humans are rendered motionless by its beauty.

Fluidly, Delta rises to her feet. ‘I am here,’ she says. ‘Exactly here.’

As if in answer, new lights flash on the viewing screen, and something ripples in the sky above, a ship dropping out of cloak.

It matches the metal snake for speed, flying directly overhead.

The Vagrant points at Jem, then towards the gun turret on top of the snake.

‘I’m not going up there! It’s suicide.’

The Vagrant points again, Reela joins him.

‘I can’t. I don’t know how.’

The Vagrant sighs, pushes the snake to go faster.

The sky-ship has no trouble adjusting its pace.

A warning flickers on the screen: there is an incoming object. Before the Vagrant can react there is a thunk of something attaching itself to the snake’s roof.

A patch as wide as an adult’s palm distorts above their heads, turning red, then white, so bright that all but Delta are forced to turn away.

When the light fades, a hole is left behind, just the right size for the sphere to drop through. It rolls a few inches until it is perfectly positioned in the centre of the space, then lasers project from every point in its surface, making grids of green fall like nets over every object in the room, mapping and highlighting all at once.

The Vagrant abandons the snake’s controls and picks up Delta’s sword. The grid over his face fades from green to red. The ones over Jem and Reela do the same, though Delta’s remains green, vibrant, safe.

The Vagrant raises Delta’s sword as squares on the grid fill with colour, specific, marking in the locations of major organs.

He tries to sing as he brings down the blade but no sound comes from his mouth and the sword does not wake. The blade makes a dull thud as it hits the sphere.

The laser grids stutter, fizz, and return to life.

At the control panel, new proximity warnings sound. Everyone ignores them.

The Vagrant hits the sphere again.

Delta’s sword wakes with a start. It tries to close its eye again but the Vagrant has other ideas. He hits the sphere, singing, and this time the sword reacts, the sound passing down the blade, shimmering as it parts the sphere neatly in two.

Instantly, the grids die out.

The Vagrant stabs a finger in Jem’s direction, then stabs it towards the controls.

‘But I …’ Jem begins, but stops as soon as he meets the Vagrant’s eyes. He moves instead to hover by the controls, ineffectual, as the Vagrant runs deeper into the snake’s belly.

The Vagrant reaches a ladder and climbs up into the turret. The plasglass dome that normally covers it is nothing more than jagged shards around the base, the guns reduced to slaggy tubes. As the Vagrant looks up and down the length of the snake, he sees plumes of smoke where the other weapons are. They have taken away the snake’s teeth.

Above him, the sky-ship descends, getting so close that the figures leaning out of hatches are easy to see as they prepare to jump.

Taking a breath to sing, the Vagrant checks on Delta’s sword. As soon as it realizes what is about to happen, the sword squeezes its eye shut. He bangs it against the side of the turret until the eye opens again, then admonishes it with a finger.

The eye in the crosspiece trembles but doesn’t close.

Again, the Vagrant takes breath, thrusting the sword straight up as he sings. Delta’s sword sings with him, and the air burns blue around it, the force of the song travelling beyond the reach of the metal, surging up until it meets one of the light drives in the sky-ship’s wing.

There is a muffled explosion, followed by a whine as the engine gives out and the sky-ship falls sharply to the left, scattering its cargo of soldiers onto the ground below. The Vagrant watches their brief fall and the individual bounces and tumbles as they land. The sky-ship only bounces once before grinding to a halt.

Satisfied, he climbs back down.

Jem is happy to relinquish the controls, moving to stand behind Reela’s chair.

The Vagrant drops Delta’s sword on the floor with a clatter, frowning at all of the new warning lights on the screen. The display on the screen is no longer augmented, forcing him to squint against the plasglass to try and penetrate the dark. With a shrug, he takes the control stick and pushes it as far forward as it can go.

Delta continues to stare at the hole in the ceiling. She speaks so softly, as to be barely audible. ‘Obeisance, where have you gone?’

The eye in her sword gives her a guilty glance before closing.

Delta’s lips move one more time, soundlessly. ‘Obeisance?’

The Knight Commander stands on the edge of the cliff, soldiers and knights forming up behind, ready. Greyspot Three spreads out below him, a ramshackle sprawl. He sees the metal walkway that leads down into the shelter of the rocks. He sees the buildings, noting again how many have been built without authorization and without reference to any guidelines. They will find more undesirables here, those that operate outside of imperial law, tainted souls, criminals, the enemy.

His head shakes, disgusted, involuntary. He had not realized how bad things had become, though he is sure the Lenses know, which means Obeisance knows. If the First dares to walk their lands, what other monstrosities might they find here? How has this been tolerated for so long? And, foremost in his mind: why didn’t she tell me?

On the edge of Greyspot Three he sees the docks, and beyond them, the Empire of the Winged Eye’s armada, gathering. Their presence forms a floating wall, cutting off escape by sea, just as he and his forces block the cliff paths, sealing the port.