Sea of Souls by Chris Wraight

Author:Chris Wraight
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science fiction: space opera
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2023-10-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

VOICES

THE PRUDENT CHOICE

AWAKENING

The order would come imminently. Santalina had been plugged in for a long time, waiting. She was in the inner sanctum again, enthroned, the roar of the engines subdued by the thick layers of shielding around the core sphere.

Normally, she would be feeling a level of relief to be leaving the Seethe behind. Exits could be botched, but in general they were safer than entries, and once you were safely back into the black then the worst of the sickness would ebb. It felt particularly bad this time, and the closer she came to the point of departure, the worse it seemed to get.

She let her mind lose focus, enter the Rites of Disengagement. She had to preserve herself this time, keep a little energy for the trials ahead. Kiastros would want a sudden exit, a drop without warning or preparation. After that, the fight would be brief, and if they prevailed he would no doubt want a sudden return as soon as the warp drives were up to it. That was the way of these hunts – rapid switches from one state to the other, all in the cause of keeping the enemy guessing.

She gripped the armrests of her throne, tensing for the impending command. The exposed eye in the centre of her forehead wept a little, still prone to bleeding from the last time. Avati, the little bitch, had noticed it but said nothing, probably appalled at the reminder that the woman she was talking to was a foul mutant. Ah, the hypocrisies they all indulged in, happy enough to make use of her services, all the while pretending ignorance over how she did it. Was Kiastros any better? Probably not. He was polite enough, a result of all that officer-class conditioning, but when he left her chambers he probably went for a pulse-shower afterwards. Only the fellow mutants really treated her as an equal, which was why she missed Ortuyo.

She closed her natural eyes, beginning the process that would see her pull down out of the unreal waves of the empyrean. Just as she did so, she heard the astropath’s voice croaking in her ear.

The… pain…

Santalina’s eyes snapped open again. ‘Garg?’ she said out loud, staring at the interior of her sphere.

Nothing. No echoes, just the lingering suggestion in her mind. It had been his voice alright, only twisted with agony. He was gifted enough to have sent her a vision, particularly while the ship swam in the warp and such things were easier, but it didn’t sound like he’d meant to communicate. It was barely his voice at all, more like a parody of it, though perhaps his evident anguish had disguised the sonic signature.

She checked the chrono built into her throne, reviewed the brass-lined order panel below it. Nothing from Kiastros yet.

‘Xinarola,’ she voxed, relaying the signal through the sphere’s outer casing and into the antechambers where her staff waited. ‘Any word from the captain on the star-speakers?’

‘None, lord,’ came the response.

‘The Master of Engines oversees the work, correct?’

‘I understand so, lord.

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