The Prodigal Sun by Sean Williams, Shane Dix Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sean Williams, Shane Dix
for the truth, as Cane took another step forward. “Listen to me; we haven’t much time. We need this ship to escape. If we can just work—”
The Surin hesitated, and Roche realized that, despite the clarity of mind generally required to enable epsense transfer, the reave was close to panic.
Roche hissed through her teeth as the pain increased. She swore she wouldn’t scream, no matter how bad the pain. Half-formed words blossomed in her throat, but were stifled by the reave.
She’s bluffing! she wanted to scream. Reaves rarely killed someone they were riding. The personal consequences were too great.
Cane either suspected this or simply didn’t care what happened to Roche. Taking another step forward, he came within arm’s reach of the Surin, who turned her face away.
Roche sensed fear and timidity in the girl’s words.
The view of the cockpit vanished as the reave switched from Cane’s point of view to Roche’s. The lander bay was filled with dense smoke, billowing through the airlock leading to EVA control. The fire had either worsened dramatically or spread to the corridor outside. Through the pain in her head, she could hear klaxons wailing.
The reave’s voice superimposed itself over everything—pervasive and irresistible:
Cane’s response was prompt and without concern: “No.”
Roche felt the pain in her head increase once more, slicing through her thoughts as though it were a red-hot scalpel.
The tone was cut with panic and confusion.
Roche clenched her mouth shut, using every iota of Armada training to resist replying.
Even as she struggled, a series of small explosions, quite near, rumbled through the hull. Then, with a sudden high-pitched screaming noise, the smoke began to fly away from her back down the corridor.
The pressure from the reave suddenly vanished, and full control of her body returned. Gasping, she fell forward onto the deck, scrabbling for the pistol. Her muscles felt spastic, jerky, as she struggled to her feet and staggered for the airlock controls. She thumped the SEAL prompts in quick succession, hoping that her training would overcome the fogginess in her head.
The outer door slammed shut. The sound of klaxons diminished.
said the Box,
Fighting the haze, she tried to concentrate. “He’s what ?”
“I understand.” Blinking to clear her vision, she stumbled for the ramp and the lander. Cane met her halfway, raised his arms in mock surrender as her pistol swung at him. Then he smiled. The calm with which he did that, his ability to instantly relax once a moment of tension passed, disturbed her. It was more than control. It was almost inhuman.
His resistance to epsense was no less remarkable. Armada cadets received a basic training in mental defense, but no one she knew of, least of all herself, had the degree of control necessary to resist a reave as he had—and she hadn’t—without actually being an epsense adept as well.
“Hull’s punctured,” she said with a calmness she didn’t feel. “Not far away. The airlock is sealed. We’re here to stay.”
“Understood.” He steadied her with a hand on her arm, then continued down the ramp. Moments later he returned with the semiconscious Eckandi draped over his shoulder. “The mind-rider will need him when she regains consciousness,” he explained in response to her sharp look.
“Mind—? Oh, the reave.” The outdated term threw her for a moment. He was making sense, though; the Surin would need someone to give her sensory input, preferably neither her nor Cane. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing
Roche hissed through her teeth as the pain increased. She swore she wouldn’t scream, no matter how bad the pain. Half-formed words blossomed in her throat, but were stifled by the reave.
She’s bluffing! she wanted to scream. Reaves rarely killed someone they were riding. The personal consequences were too great.
Cane either suspected this or simply didn’t care what happened to Roche. Taking another step forward, he came within arm’s reach of the Surin, who turned her face away.
Roche sensed fear and timidity in the girl’s words.
The view of the cockpit vanished as the reave switched from Cane’s point of view to Roche’s. The lander bay was filled with dense smoke, billowing through the airlock leading to EVA control. The fire had either worsened dramatically or spread to the corridor outside. Through the pain in her head, she could hear klaxons wailing.
The reave’s voice superimposed itself over everything—pervasive and irresistible:
Cane’s response was prompt and without concern: “No.”
Roche felt the pain in her head increase once more, slicing through her thoughts as though it were a red-hot scalpel.
Roche clenched her mouth shut, using every iota of Armada training to resist replying.
Even as she struggled, a series of small explosions, quite near, rumbled through the hull. Then, with a sudden high-pitched screaming noise, the smoke began to fly away from her back down the corridor.
The pressure from the reave suddenly vanished, and full control of her body returned. Gasping, she fell forward onto the deck, scrabbling for the pistol. Her muscles felt spastic, jerky, as she struggled to her feet and staggered for the airlock controls. She thumped the SEAL prompts in quick succession, hoping that her training would overcome the fogginess in her head.
The outer door slammed shut. The sound of klaxons diminished.
Fighting the haze, she tried to concentrate. “He’s what ?”
“I understand.” Blinking to clear her vision, she stumbled for the ramp and the lander. Cane met her halfway, raised his arms in mock surrender as her pistol swung at him. Then he smiled. The calm with which he did that, his ability to instantly relax once a moment of tension passed, disturbed her. It was more than control. It was almost inhuman.
His resistance to epsense was no less remarkable. Armada cadets received a basic training in mental defense, but no one she knew of, least of all herself, had the degree of control necessary to resist a reave as he had—and she hadn’t—without actually being an epsense adept as well.
“Hull’s punctured,” she said with a calmness she didn’t feel. “Not far away. The airlock is sealed. We’re here to stay.”
“Understood.” He steadied her with a hand on her arm, then continued down the ramp. Moments later he returned with the semiconscious Eckandi draped over his shoulder. “The mind-rider will need him when she regains consciousness,” he explained in response to her sharp look.
“Mind—? Oh, the reave.” The outdated term threw her for a moment. He was making sense, though; the Surin would need someone to give her sensory input, preferably neither her nor Cane. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing
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