And the majat-azi touched her, urged her on, breathlessly, faster and faster. “Mother,” they cried, “Mother, Mother, Mother.”
Raen gasped for air and kept moving, stumbling on the uneven floor, catching herself against the rough walls.
All at once the blue lights were not sufficient. Vast darkness breathed about them, and they streamed along the midst of it. A great pale form loomed ahead, that dragged itself painfully before them, huge, filling all the tunnel.
It was Mother, who moved.
Who heaved Herself along the tunnel prepared for Her vast bulk. The walls echoed with Her breathing. About Her were small majat who glittered with jewels; and before Her moved a dark heaving flood of bodies, dotted with azi-lights.
Majat-language boomed and shrilled in the tunnel, deafening. And, terrible in its volume, came Her voice, which vibrated in the earth.
Raen gathered herself and passed beside that great body, moving faster than ever Mother could. There was room, barely, that she and the men with her could avoid the sweep of Mother’s limbs, that struggled with even thrusts to drive Her vast body along, at every rumbling intake of Her breath.
“I am here!” Raen cried.
“Kethiuy-queen,” She answered. The great head did not turn, could not; Mother remained fixed upon Her goal.
“Am I welcome, Mother? Where are you going?”
“I go,” Mother said simply, and the earth quivered with the moving of Her. Air sucked in-again. “I go. Haste. Haste, young queen.”
Anxiety overwhelmed her. She increased her pace, moving now among the Drones, whose chittering voices hurt her ears.
Then the Workers, all that vast horde, azi scattered among them; and the strange-jawed egg-tenders, leaving their work, precious eggs abandoned.
She looked back. Mother had almost vanished in the shadows. She saw Merry’s bruised face in the faint blue glow, felt the touch of his hand.
“We’re going north,” she said, comprehension suddenly coming on her, the Workers who had plied the basement, the preparation of a way.
“To fight for them?” Merry asked hoarsely, and glanced back himself, for there were men who still followed. Perhaps they all did; strung out through the tunnel, it was no longer possible to see. Perhaps some collapsed in withdrawal, gone mad from fear; or perhaps training held, and they had no sensible dread.
“I belong,” she said, “where this merges.”
“Where, sera?”
“Home,” she said.
viii
A horde of steps approached the steel doors, a surge of panicked voices. Moth stirred, lifted her head, although to do so took more strength than she had left to spend on them, who troubled her sleeping and merged with dreams.
“Moth!” A voice came out of the turmoil. She knew this one too, old Moran, and fear trembled in that sound. “Moth! Thon is gone— gone. The hive-masters couldn’t hold them. They’re in the City. Everywhere—”
She touched her microphone, braced before her on the console, beside the wine bottle and her gun. “Then lock your own doors, Moran. Follow my example.”
“We need the codes. Moth, do something.”
She grinned, her head bobbing slightly with weakness. “But haven’t you figured it out yet, Moran? I am.”
“The city’s in wreckage,” the voice from Moriahsaid. “Leo, Leo, we’ve still had no contact with him. There were majat here. Even they’ve left, moved elsewhere. He should have been in contact by now.”
“Hold the ships,” Leo repeated, and looked up at the other azi, his own and the station’s. They were exhausted. There had been no food, no off-shift. He thought that he ought to send for something to eat. He was not sure that he had appetite for it.
The betas sat in a knot over to the side of the door. One of them had become ill, holding his heart. He was an older beta. They fed him medicines and he seemed to have recovered somewhat; this was of no concern, for he was not a necessary beta. None were, individually.
“Call the galley,” Leo said to one of the others. “Have food brought up here.”
The beta rose, came, moved very carefully while he was at the corn board. He spoke precisely the request and retreated again among his fellows. Leo stood watching them.
Moriahand the shuttle called again, on the quarter hour; and again.
Then a light flashed at the door, and a cart arrived from the galleys, redolent with food and drink. Azi brought it, unloaded it, bent to unload the lower tray.
Suddenly a gun was in one azi hand and a bolt flew for comp, raked it. Leo fired, and the azi spun back against the doorway, slid down. Others froze in dismay, died so.
Lights flickered. Sirens started sounding, lights all over the board flaring red.
“He’s a plant,” one said, bending over the azi who had fired. He wiped with his thumb at the too-bright tattoo. “A ringer.”
The sirens multiplied. The betas rushed to the boards and worked at them frantically, and Leo hesitated from one threat to the other, null-mind pressing at him. “Get away!” he shouted at the betas. One of his men fired, and a beta died at the main board, slumped over it.
A sign began flashing in the overhead. DISENGAGE ALL SHIPS, it ordered. The ship. Sanity returned with that responsibility. Leo fired, taking out the betas who would not obey his shouted orders, and leaned over com, punched it wide-broadcast. “ Eroscrew.” His voice fed from the corridors outside and throughout the station. “This is Leo. Return to the ship at once. Return to the ship at once.”
It was necessary to hold that, above all else. Morn would expect it. “Go,” he shouted at the others with him.
And then because it occurred to him that he dared not leave betas near controls, he killed them, every one.
“They’re running,” the young Upcoaster said, leaning against the glass and pressed to it, staring up the outside concourse.
“Don’t!” another cried, when he pushed the door open.
There were no shots, only a breath of cold air of the docks.
“Come on!” Itavvy cried at his wife, snatched Meris from her arms; and the Upcoasters sprang for the doors too, all of them starting to run, baggage left, everything left.
The floodlights on the vast docks were flickering, red lights gashing warnings, sirens braying. Itavvy sucked a lungful of the thin cold air and pelted after the artist, cast a look over his shoulder to see that Velin followed. Tears blurred the lights when he looked round again, a flickering that spelled out Phoenix. The ramp was ahead of them, through a tangle of lines. Someone fell behind him, scrambled up again. The artist took the ramp; Itavvy did, Meris wailing in his ear, and for that, for herhe did not fall, although he felt pain in his side and his chest. They ran the frozen ramp, over the plates that should have moved to help them.
And the hatch was shut.
“ Let us in!” he screamed at it. Others caught up with him, hammered at the metal with their fists. Itavvy wept, tears streaming his face, and Velin flung her arms about them both, him and Meris.
It was the oldest Upcoaster who found the intercom recessed in the ramp housing. He shouted into it. “Shut up!” he yelled back at them when they added their voices; and from the intercom: “ Stand by.”
The hatch hummed, parted. Azi crewmen, their faces sober and unamazed, stood waiting to help them aboard.
They stood inside, with trembling hands proffered tickets, evidence of passage.
The hatch sealed behind them.
“Brace where you are,” a voice grated from the intercom overhead. “We’re disengaging and getting out of here.”