Mammoth Books presents Merlin's Gun by Alastair Reynolds Read Free Book Online Page B

you?”
    Merlin’s voice was soft. “I don’t think you will. I think you’ll do the right thing and return it to the Brittlestar.”
    â€œDon’t make me betray you!”
    He shook his head. “I’ve just issued a command that reassigns control of my ship to you. The proctors are now under your command – they’ll show you everything you need.”
    â€œMerlin, I’m begging you . . .”
    His voice was weak now, hard to distinguish from the scratchy irregularity of his breathing. She leant down to him and touched helmets, hoping the old trick would make him easier to hear. “No good, Sora. Much too late. I’ve signed it all over.”
    â€œNo!” She shook him, almost in anger. Then she began to cry, loud enough so that she was in no doubt he would hear it. “I don’t even know what you want me to do with it!”
    â€œTake the ring, then the rest will be abundantly clear.”
    â€œWhat?” She could hardly understand herself now.
    â€œPut the ring on. Do it now, Sora. Before I die. So that I at least know it’s done.”
    â€œWhen I take your glove off, I’ll kill you, Merlin. You know that, don’t you? And I won’t be able to put the ring on until I’m back in the ship.”
    â€œI . . . just want to see you take it. That’s enough, Sora. And you’d better be quick . . .”
    â€œI love you, you bastard!”
    â€œThen do this.”
    She placed her hands around the cuff seal of his gauntlet, feeling the alloy locking mechanism, knowing that it would only take a careful depression of the sealing latches, and then a quick twisting movement, and the glove would slide free, releasing the air in his suit. She wondered how long he would last before consciousness left him – no more than tens of seconds, she thought, unless he drew breath first. And by the state of his breathing, that would not be easy for him.
    She removed the gauntlet, and took his ring.
    Tyrant
lifted from the moon.
    â€œHusker forces grouping in attack configuration,” the familiar said, tapping directly into the ship’s avionics. “Hull sensors read sweeps by targeting lidar . . . an attack is imminent, Sora.”
    Tyrant
’s light armor would not save them, Sora knew. The attack would be blinding and brief, and she would probably never know it had happened. But that didn’t mean that she was going to
let
it happen.
    She felt the gun move to her will.
    It would not always be like this, she knew: the gun was only hers until she returned it to the Waymakers. But for now it felt like an inseparable part of her, like a twin she had never known, but whose every move was familiar to her fractionally in advance of it being made. She felt the gun energize itself, reaching deep into the bedrock of spacetime, plundering mass-energy from quantum foam, forging singularities in its heart.
    She felt readiness.
    â€œFirst element of swarm has deployed charm-torps,” the familiar reported, an odd slurred quality entering her voice. “Activating
Tyrant
’s countermeasures . . .”
    The hull rang like a bell.
    â€œCountermeasures engaging charm-torps . . . neutralized . . . second wave deployed by the swarm . . . closing . . .”
    â€œHow long can we last?”
    â€œCountermeasures exhausted . . . we can’t parry a third wave; not at this range.”
    Sora closed her eyes and made the weapon spit death.
    She had targeted two of the three elements of the Husker swarm; leaving the third – the furthest ship from her – unharmed.
    She watched the relativistic black holes fold space around the two targeted ships, crushing each instantly, as if in a vice.
    â€œThird ship dropping to max . . . maximum attack range; retracting charm-torp launchers . . .”
    â€œThis is Sora for the Cohort,” she said in Main, addressing the survivor on the general ship-to-ship channel. “Or