Prisoner on Kasteesh Read online

  But not this time. This time the single word that the voice was crying, with such anguish, had been all too clear.

  Hoshiko.

  A name.

  A name she knew.

  The name of her dead father.

  Chapter 2

  Mystery Cargo

  SNOW WASN’T HERSELF the next day. By the afternoon, even Rake had noticed that she was quieter than usual. And for Snow, that was saying something.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  The two cadets stood beside one another at one of the heavy benches of the Academy’s armour workshop. They had both been assigned an afternoon of ‘spit-’n’-polish’ duty. On the benchtop before them lay several complete sets of Gladiator kit, awaiting cleaning. The flashy Arena gear didn’t compare with their own Armouron suits.

  Snow returned Rake’s concerned look with an unconvincing smile.

  ‘Yes. I’m fine. Just a bit tired.’

  She applied a little more resin to her polishing cloth and continued silently rubbing away at the glossy red surface of a small round shield.

  Rake tried again.

  ‘Oddball told me about last night’s training. Why do you think you collapsed?’

  ‘It was just a bad headache, I think,’ replied Snow softly. ‘I’m fine, now. Really.’

  Rake raised his eyebrows, but decided to let it go. He gave a sudden wide yawn, then put down the helmet he was polishing and stretched wearily.

  ‘I’m pretty shattered myself. Thanks to Hoax,’ he added grumpily. ‘Brand worked us nearly all night. It wasn’t even me who set the clacking alarm off!’

  ‘I trust you have both now learned your lesson,’ growled a deep voice. The cadets turned to find Salt in the doorway. ‘Though in your friend’s case at least, I doubt that very much.’

  Rake gave his stern old mentor an uncomfortable smile.

  ‘I have need of your assistance in the main storeroom, Rake,’ Salt continued. ‘We’ve just taken delivery of a new batch of armoury supplies. I’d like you to help me sort through them, please.’ He turned to Snow. ‘Can you manage the rest of these yourself, young lady?’

  Snow nodded.

  ‘See you at tea, then,’ said Rake. He dropped his cloth onto the benchtop and followed Salt out into the passageway.

  As soon as they had gone, Snow put down her own cloth. She massaged the sides of her forehead with her fingertips. She was only too glad to be left alone. Her mind was still echoing with last night’s screaming voice. She had been finding it impossible to give proper attention to anything, or anyone, else.

  She hadn’t known how to tell Rake about the voice. Hearing things wasn’t something you felt comfortable owning up to. It had been bad enough that her sleep had been so frequently disturbed recently. But hearing the voice when she was wide awake took things to a whole new level of weird.

  It was funny, really. After wishing for so long that her bad dreams would stop, she now desperately wanted to hear the voice again. She had persuaded herself that she couldn’t have heard her father’s name last night – it didn’t make any sense. She knew both her parents had died before she was even a year old. But she couldn’t suppress a desire to hear the voice clearly again, just so she could be sure.

  For the umpteenth time, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her thoughts. She hoped to bring the part of her brain in which the voice was still faintly echoing into focus.

  But it was no good.

  What had made it so clear last night?

  A thought suddenly struck her. She had been wearing her Armouron suit, with her medallion in its breastplate. Salt had often impressed on the young knights the unique powers of the ancient totems. Perhaps it was her medallion that had amplified the voice so powerfully? Maybe it had something to do with the Flow – the heightened sense of awareness and responsiveness that each medallion gave its bearer?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Snow hurried to the tall toolrack that stood against the workshop’s opposite wall. Salt and Rake would be busy in the storeroom for the rest of the afternoon. There was plenty of time for her to slip into the Old School, see if her medallion made any difference and still get the rest of the armour polished before evening mealtime.

  She scanned the rack of spanners. She wanted . . . that one. She reached for the heavy tool and pulled it towards her. It slid forward, but didn’t come free. Snow carefully rotated the spanner one full clockwise turn, then pushed it back into place.

  A moment later, the toolrack swung silently out towards her. Behind it lay the opening of a passageway. Snow hurried through, into the secret chambers of the Old School beyond. The toolrack moved smoothly back into place.

  She headed straight for the armour store, an annexe off the main training chamber. On its ancient stone wall, in a neat row, hung the five unique sets of armour, with their accompanying weapons, that Salt had crafted for his young Armouron recruits.

  Snow’s blue suit was by far the smallest. She lifted it down and carried it out into the training hall.

  Now that she was about to try the medallion, she was more than a little nervous about what the result might be. Last night, she had almost passed out. What if that happened again?

  Trying not to lose her nerve, she pulled the medallion from its snap-grab housing in the centre of the breastplate. She put the armour aside and clutched the medallion tightly in her small right hand. Then she closed her eyes and once more tried to summon the voice in her mind.

  She felt the familiar tingling sensation spread through her nervous system as she connected with the medallion’s Flow.

  Several seconds passed.

  Then several more.

  Nothing happened.

  Snow felt her hopes draining away. Then another thought struck her. She had been wearing her helmet last night. Maybe that had had an effect, somehow.

  She hurried back to the armour store, grabbed her helmet and put it on.

  The effect was immediate and overwhelming.

  Hoshiko!

  Snow reeled against the wall, as the anguished cry filled her head once more. Leaning against its cold stones, she fought desperately to stay on her feet. She struggled to control her breathing and steady her racing pulse.

  Hoshiko! wailed the voice again. I am here!

  In a way that she could only feel, not understand, Snow had a vague sense of the voice’s source. The mind-cry was coming from a particular direction, a particular place. And Snow’s entire being compelled her to answer its call.

  Drawn by an instinct she could not resist, Snow slowly and unsteadily made her way out of the storeroom and towards the hidden passage that led to the Academy shuttle garage. She stumbled along it, still wearing her helmet and clutching her medallion. Her mind throbbed with the echoes of the voice’s last cry.

  Snow reached the wall at the end of the passageway. She ran the fingers of her left hand along the mortar line above the third course of stones, at knee height, until she found a small gap. She eased her fingertips into it and released the catch inside. The entire section of wall swung silently towards her, creating an opening just wide enough for a person to pass. Snow slipped through, and the secret doorway closed behind her.

  Even in her dazed state, Snow knew better than to wander aimlessly out into the main garage area. Supply shuttles ran frequently to and from the Academy and there was always a chance the garage would be occupied by technicians or cadets on loading duty. She mustn’t be seen.

  This afternoon, the garage was busier than usual. Snow ducked down behind a pallet of gruel-mix destined for the canteen kitchens, and peered out cautiously to see what all the activity was about.

  There was only one vehicle currently occupying the garage. But it was large enough to take up most of the available space – much larger than the shuttles that typically docked there. It was a freight shuttle. Its rear cargo doors stood open, revealing its spacious hold within.

  A pair of armed White Knights were patrolling the
area around the shuttle’s loading ramp. On its starboard side, facing her, Snow could see a large Perfect Corporation logo. Now she remembered Salt’s warning to Tea-Leaf – about steering clear of the garage for a while.

  The area between the freight shuttle and the supply stacks Snow was hiding behind was occupied by a huge white cargo pod. It was in its collapsed state, for loading. Its four sides and top were folded down on their hinged edges so that the whole thing lay on the garage floor like a vast flat-plan. Two men were busy using mag-lev pallet-floats to manoeuvre a giant yellow canister, ten metres square, into the centre of the collapsed pod.

  Snow recognized the overweight, balding man. He was the garage manager, one of the Academy staff. Judging by the other man’s Corporation overalls, he was probably the shuttle’s pilot.

  From her hiding place, Snow eavesdropped on the conversation they were having.

  ‘What’s in the can, then?’ the manager asked.

  ‘Not sure. It’s all a bit hush-hush,’ said the pilot. ‘I don’t always get to know what I’m carrying – just fly where I’m told, no questions asked.’ He nodded his head discreetly at the patrolling White Knights. ‘But whatever it is, it’s had an escort from the moment I picked it up.’

  He lowered his voice, so that Snow had to strain to hear.

  ‘From what I can gather, whatever is inside was meant to be the main event at the next big Gladiator show – something special for the beast-fight fans, I reckon. It’s been shipped halfway across the galaxy, I know that much.’

  The garage manager looked impressed, then a little puzzled.

  ‘So how come we’re loading it up again?’ he asked quietly. ‘Why didn’t it make it into the Arena?’

  ‘I overheard one of the guards saying that whatever it is, it’s sick,’ explained the pilot. ‘Not fit to fight. So they’re shipping it back to where it came from. Once you and I have got it safely loaded, I’m to shuttle it straight to the spaceport. There’s a Corporation carrier ship being prepped for lift-off later today.’

  ‘Can’t say I’ll be sorry to see you go,’ admitted the garage manager. He cast an uneasy look in the direction of the White Knights. ‘Having police crawling all over the place makes me edgy. I like to run my own shop.’

  By now, the two men had dragged the huge yellow canister into position in the centre of the cargo pod’s base. They powered down their pallet-floats and the canister settled gently to the floor. Both men stepped clear of the flattened pod.

  ‘Right,’ said the manager, taking a small remote from his toolbelt. ‘Let’s get her closed up.’

  He pressed one of the remote’s buttons. The sides of the cargo pod immediately began to fold up from the floor. The lid section, too, began to flap smoothly over, until . . .

  Bang!

  A puff of dark smoke and a shower of sparks suddenly burst from one of the pod’s lower edges. It froze, with its transformation into a box-shape not quite complete.

  ‘Dunk!’ The manager gave the part-closed pod a kick. ‘These new PackSmith power hinges are clacking useless! I’ve had three blow in the last month! I’ll have to fetch a spare. Give me a hand.’

  He strode away, grumbling, to fetch the necessary part from his workshop. The pilot accompanied him.

  Snow’s gaze remained glued on the cargo pod. The weird mental pull she had first felt back in the armour store was drawing her towards the yellow canister. Somehow, she felt sure that the mysterious mind-call had come from something inside it.

  Hoshiko! Come!

  The cry came again, stronger and clearer, leaving her in no doubt about its source.

  Snow watched the two White Knight sentries pacing back and forth. If I can just get over there without those Kettles spotting me . . .

  She timed her dash for the moment both White Knights were turning, their backs momentarily towards her. She made it to the pod and squeezed her slight body through the narrow gap between two of its jammed side panels.

  Once safely inside the pod, she took a good look at the yellow canister. Up close, it seemed even bigger. It was at least three times Snow’s height. Its sides were solid and sealed – there was no way to tell what they contained.

  Maybe there’s an opening in the top, thought Snow. I might get a look inside from there . . .

  She slipped her medallion into her tunic pocket, and began to clamber agilely up the canister’s ridged side.

  She was two thirds of the way up when the mind-cry hit her again.

  This time, its intensity was too great for Snow to bear. As her mind filled with the desperate yell of anguish, she clasped her hands to her helmet – and fell.

  She hit the floor of the cargo pod hard and knew no more.

  Chapter 3

  Snow Alert

  ‘HONESTLY, TEA-LEAF, IT was classic!’ bragged Hoax. ‘When I shoved the ID-belt in the trash, I had no idea things would turn out so well. I was just hoping a fake alarm would stir the supervisors up a bit, maybe buy us a break from chores.’ He grinned broadly. ‘But it was way better than that!’

  ‘Why? What happened?’ Tea-Leaf was always the most eager admirer of Hoax’s pranks. She recognized a fellow artist. Deception and trickery were key to her own survival on the tough streets of Nu-Topia.

  ‘Well, when the alarm went off,’ continued Hoax, ‘they tracked the signal to the slops wagon easily enough. They called it back into the loading bay. Pretty soon there were supervisors all over it. Rake and I were on packing duty, so we got to watch.’

  He chortled to himself.

  ‘Picture the scene. By now, some of the Gladiators are helping out with the search. Our fat-headed friend Stamper is one of them. When they figure out that the signal is coming from inside the wagon’s load chamber, he goes marching up to its main hatch, bold as brass, and wrenches it open to get at whoever is in there. And the slops wagon dumps pretty much its entire load right on top of him!’

  He doubled up with laughter, delighting once again in Stamper’s humiliation.

  ‘It couldn’t believe it,’ he said, wiping his eyes. ‘I nearly died!’

  Rake was listening to his friend’s account too. He looked anything but amused.

  ‘What Mr Comedy here hasn’t told you,’ he said bitterly, ‘is that after he played his oh-so-hilarious prank and then completely gave the game away, we spent most of last night clearing up the mess.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that, mate,’ said Hoax, looking not very sorry at all. ‘And thanks for sticking up for me. “Stand Together” and all that . . .’

  Rake snorted. ‘I’m pretty sure that the Armouron founders didn’t intend their code of honour to be interpreted as “cover up for your dunk-head friend”. Still’ – his scowl gave way to a sly grin – ‘it was pretty sweet seeing Stamper standing there up to his neck in rubbish. Worth a few hours shovelling slops, I guess.’

  Tea-Leaf laughed heartily. ‘Nice one, Hoax! That muscle-bound bully deserves all the humiliation you can dish up!’

  ‘Salt wasn’t impressed when you two missed training, though,’ said Oddball. He too was waiting in the Old School chamber. It was late evening, time for the young knights’ next session of secret instruction with their Armouron mentor.

  Tonight, it had proved safe for Tea-Leaf to join them. The large freight shuttle that had been so heavily guarded by White Knights over the past few days was no longer parked in the garage. Its police guard appeared to have left with it.

  ‘The old man won’t be too chuffed with Snow, either, if she doesn’t turn up soon,’ said Tea-Leaf. As yet, there was no sign of the team’s other female member. ‘We ought to be getting our gear on in a few minutes. Where’s she got to?’

  ‘That, Balista,’ growled a low voice, ‘is a matter of some concern.’

  The four youngsters turned to find Salt behind them. For a big man with a dodgy leg, he had an uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere.

  ‘What do you mean, master?’ asked Rake.

  ‘Alida has gone m
issing,’ said Salt. ‘When I returned to the armoury workshop this evening, I found her absent and the task I assigned her unfinished. This struck me as out of character. She is the most reliable of all of you.’

  The others didn’t protest. Snow was completely dependable.

  ‘When I sought her out, to request an explanation, I could not find her. I wondered if for some reason she had come here, to the Old School.’ He frowned. ‘I found her armour out of storage and her medallion and helmet missing.’

  ‘I thought it was a bit odd when she didn’t show up in the canteen at tea,’ said Rake.

  Oddball looked puzzled. ‘Why would she want just her medallion and helmet?’

  ‘What about her cadet ID belt?’ asked Tea-Leaf. ‘Had she taken that off?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge,’ replied Salt.

  ‘’Cos if she’s still wearing that,’ continued Tea-Leaf, ‘she must be in the Academy somewhere. Otherwise the alarm would have gone off again.’

  Hoax looked a bit shifty. ‘Not necessarily. Last night, after Stamper got slimed and I blew my cover, they realized it was a false alarm – that there was no escapee. So they stopped searching for the ID belt. But they couldn’t get the alarm to stop. In the end, they decided to shut down the system temporarily. I don’t think it’s back on yet.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ confirmed Salt. ‘Which means that Alida could have left the complex, even wearing her belt. If she has, we need to find her as soon as possible.’

  ‘But why would Snow go off without telling anyone?’ said Rake. ‘Like you said, master, she’s the reliable one. It’s just not like her.’

  Salt let out a long sigh. He scanned his trainees’ concerned faces, uncertain how much to share with them.

  ‘Alida has been experiencing some unsettling mental disturbances,’ he said slowly. ‘I believe she may be in a somewhat troubled state of mind.’

  The others exchanged knowing glances. Rake spoke for all of them.

  ‘There’s something different about her, isn’t there, master?’