Starship Fall (Starship Seasons, #2)(27)

He stood just inside the threshold and stared at the long-house.

I stumbled to my feet and waved at him.

He glanced across the chamber at me, then back to the long-house. His expression was an odd combination of fear and awe, and only later did I come to understand why.

I rubbed my eyes and stumbled towards him; he strode past me, intent on the long-house. He was muttering something under his breath, like a man deranged, and I thought I caught, “Surely... surely not, after so long?”

He stopped at the foot of the ramp, staring up, and called out, “Is it really you in there?”

Blood pounded in my head, misting my vision. I stared at the long-house and saw the tall figure of the elder emerge. He stood at the top of the ramp, staring down at Hawk.

“Hawksworth,” said the being behind the mask.

“You were always one for the grand gesture,” Hawk said, “the theatrics. Well, you’ve had your time–”

The elder reached up and removed the ornate face-mask that covered his head, and I saw that he was not an Ashentay at all, but a human, a balding, long-faced man in his late fifties.

He stared down at Hawk with bright blue eyes and said, “I’ve found my place at last, Hawksworth. I know where I belong.”

Hawk sneered. “A bolt hole, a hiding place.”

“No, Hawksworth,” Grainger said with what seemed like infinite patience, “my rightful place in the universe, providing a service to a wise race.”

“That’s all over, Grainger, You’ve had your period of reprieve. I’ve come for you…”

Grainger laughed. “Hawksworth, listen to me. You fail. You don’t leave here with me. I know. You see, I’ve seen how things work out, I’ve looked upon my destiny.”

“Your destiny,” Hawk said, “is that you’re going to pay for what you did to me back then…” He stopped as Grainger stepped forward and came down the ramp. I thought at first that, despite his fine words, Grainger was about to give himself up. I should have known, though; I should have recalled what Kee had said she had seen in her vision, but the truth was that Kee’s warning was the last thing on my mind as I watched the drama unfold.

Grainger came to the foot of the ramp and faced Hawk, two big men confronting each other as everyone else, the stretcher-bearers and the other Ashentay and myself, looked on. Then Hawk moved, as if to reach out and take Grainger’s arm – and Grainger’s reaction was lightning fast. In a swift underarm gesture he stabbed his ceremonial spear up and into Hawk’s midriff. Even across the cavern I heard the bloody squelch as the blade tore through muscle. Hawk stared down as if in disbelief at the shaft protruding from his diaphragm, then fell to his knees.

The Ashentay moved; they surrounded Grainger and bundled him away, unprotesting, to whatever justice the aliens meted out for such crimes, and I ran to Hawk and held him. The spear had lanced through his stomach and ripped through his back; I judged that it had missed his spine by a fraction, and this was confirmed when Hawk gasped, “David, help me to my feet...”

I held him, eased him up, and took his weight. Blood spread across the front of his jacket, which acted as a sponge. I looped an arm around his back and attempted to half-carry him from the cavern. I felt the thick syrupy ooze of it across my forearm. His breath came in spasms, and from time to time he cried out in pain.

We stumbled through the narrow tunnel, just wide enough to allow me to remain by Hawk’s side, holding him and urging him on. I was exhausted, and Hawk had lost God knows how much blood, and I could only imagine the pain he was obviously suffering – but he was a strong man and he dragged himself up the chiselled steps with a fierce determination, as if to defy Grainger’s best attempts to kill him, and Kee’s terrible foretelling of the future.

I was too taken up by the events of the moment to consider Kee’s vision and what this might mean. Only later, in the long days back in Magenta Bay, could I reflect on all that had happened and ponder the philosophical implications of Hawk’s succumbing to his lover’s prophecy.

Ten minutes later we emerged from behind the waterfall into blazing sunlight. Delta Pavonis was lifting itself over the mountains, and I realised that I had spent all night and much of the morning deep underground.

My plan was to take Hawk back through the jungle to the bison, which was equipped with emergency medical supplies – but in the event, thankfully, I was saved that gruelling journey.

I heard a sudden scream, and looked up to see Kee sprinting across the clearing, closely followed by Matt and Maddie. Kee was carrying something – a medi-kit, I realised: forewarned by her vision – and her face as she stared at Hawk, at the monstrous weapon that skewered him, was a mask of anguish.

Hawk fell to his knees. Matt was already tearing open the medi-case and withdrawing a hypoject of painkiller. He pumped it into Hawk’s thigh, followed by an coagulant, then eased Hawk onto his side on the grass.

Maddie was a few metres away, speaking urgently into her wrist-com. She returned to us. “I’ve alerted the air-medics in MacIntyre. They’ll be here within the hour.”

Kee sat beside Hawk and gripped his hand and sobbed as he lapsed in an out of consciousness. “I’m sorry, Hawk,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry!”

At least, I saw, the wound had ceased bleeding. I looked enquiringly at Matt, who said, “I don’t know. Touch and go. Hawk’s a tough old bastard. If anyone can make it...”