That left him with only one choice: to go forward. He maintained his course, despite the awful tightness in his throat, and the growing conviction that at any moment kinetic slugs would rip his little craft to shreds.
In the last moments before the flier finally docked with the Sequoia, Luc allowed himself to believe he might actually escape the assault unharmed. He was rewarded with a stream of fire that scored the flier’s hull, shattering most of its external sensors.
For several seconds more than was good for his mental health, Luc found himself cut off from the outside world, unable to verify if the craft had even made it to the relative safety of the station’s dock. Then the emergency systems activated, and the flier informed him in cool machine tones that the external air pressure had equalized, and he could now disembark.
On exiting the flier, he briefly surveyed its cracked and burned hull with dismay. He didn’t need an expert to tell him it would very likely disintegrate if he tried using it to escape back down to Vanaheim’s surface. If he was ever going to get back off the Sequoia again, he’d have to find some other mode of transport.
On the other hand, if the Ambassador was hiding somewhere on the Sequoia, there must be a second flier somewhere. He made haste, exiting the dock and moving down the station’s long, central hub as fast as he was able.
Luc didn’t get far before a low, rattling boom travelled the length of the hub. After a moment, he found himself drifting slowly to one wall. Whatever had just hit the Sequoia had pushed it into a slow spin that he suspected was outside of its design limitations.
His bowels turned to water when the walls and bulkheads around him screamed in protest, and he felt the irrational yet nearly overwhelming urge to turn back. But after another minute the station’s gyroscopic systems appeared to reassert themselves, halting the spin. He pushed on, travelling along the length of the hub with the help of rungs embedded into its cylindrical walls.
A thin wail echoed down the hub, and a breeze tugged at him. Grabbing onto a rung, he realized it was getting harder to breathe. Up ahead, he saw an emergency pressure-field pop into existence.
And flicker out again.
And back again.
Clearly, the station was in bad need of maintenance.
In that same moment, several mechants, all with Sandoz livery, came rocketing out of a side passageway. Luc froze for a moment, then looked around for some kind of hiding place.
More mechants came hurtling after the first group, these ones lacking markings of any kind. They engaged the Sandoz mechants in a blur of clashing steel and directed-energy fire.
Luc scrambled for the meagre shelter of a flange that joined two sections of the hub, then cautiously peered over the top of the flange, watching through splayed fingers as the carapace of a Sandoz mechant turned first orange, then white, before exploding messily and sending molten steel and plastic spraying in all directions. He ducked back down, squeezing his eyes shut.
The next time he looked, Ambassador Sachs had appeared from the side passageway. Most of the Sandoz mechants had been destroyed, but the remainder appeared to sight Luc when he popped his head up, accelerating towards him.
Then something very remarkable happened.
One of the Sandoz mechants aiming straight towards Luc halted abruptly, its limbs weaving spastically for a moment before it began to drift, out of control, striking the flange behind which Luc hid before rebounding and drifting back towards the centre of the hub.
The same thing happened within moments to each of the two other surviving Sandoz mechants. They span out of control, apparently lifeless.
Luc stared over at the Ambassador, who gestured to him to come out of hiding. His unmarked mechants set about finishing off the enemy machines with their energy weapons.
Somehow, Luc knew Sachs had stopped the mechants with his lattice. He wondered if anyone in the Tian Di realized just how powerful the Ambassador apparently was.
‘Over here, Mr Gabion,’ Sachs called to him, his voice sounding thin and far away, as if he was shouting to Luc across mountaintops. The malfunctioning pressure-field continued to flicker on and off further down the hub.
Luc didn’t need any more encouragement and kicked himself across the hub, black dots swimming at the edges of his vision as he struggled for breath. He grabbed onto a handhold and pulled himself inside the passageway, following the Ambassador as he turned, passing through yet another pressure-field.
Suddenly Luc’s lungs were filled with moist, scented air. The Ambassador’s mechants followed them through the pressure-field moments before heavy doors swung into place behind them, blocking access to the hub.
Luc slumped against the side of the passageway, almost drunk on oxygen, while Ambassador Sachs regarded him from nearby, one gloved hand casually slung through a wall-rung.
‘Mr Gabion,’ the Ambassador said with wry humour, ‘we hope this wasn’t just a social call, because your timing is terrible.’
Luc followed Sachs along the passageway and into one of the arboretums with feelings of deep trepidation. These feelings only increased when he saw through its streaked and filthy transparent panes the battle that still raged beyond the fragile dome. He followed the Ambassador over to a low stone bench near the centre of the dome, where tall ferns spread broad leaves above their heads.
‘Why the hell do you want to talk here?’ Luc yelled after him. ‘One of the other domes is already cracked open and you’re losing atmosphere all over the station. If the Sandoz target this dome, we’re dead!’
At first, instead of responding, Sachs turned to face him, pushing back his hood to reveal a close-shaven skull. Then he pinched the front of his mask with two fingers, deftly peeling it away to reveal a mouth that was little more than a lipless line below a pair of indents where a nose should have been. His eyes were wide, and entirely black. Luc stared back at him in shock.
‘Contrary to appearances,’ said Sachs, ‘we are quite human. This body is optimized for survival, and can function in vacuum for short periods if required. In answer to your question, it is our belief the Sandoz forces are intent on capture rather than execution. That is why they are being so cautious.’
Luc laughed weakly. ‘You call what happened back there cautious?’
‘They could have destroyed this station in seconds,’ the Ambassador pointed out, ‘something they have manifestly not chosen to do. And that other arboretum was accidentally destroyed by one of our own mechants during an exchange of fire.’
This is crazy, Luc wanted to yell, but managed to hold it back.
‘All right,’ he said instead, ‘then you should be aware that I know you visited Javier Maxwell in his prison, because I visited him there myself not long after. I learned more about what’s been going on than I ever wanted to.’
The Ambassador regarded him with surprise. ‘How did you know we were there?’
‘By keeping a close eye on you after my previous visit here. When you disappeared from Zelia’s surveillance networks, we realized the nearest thing to your last known location was Maxwell’s prison.’
‘Very impressive,’ the Ambassador conceded. ‘We assume you want to know what we were doing there.’
‘I already have a pretty good idea what. I know Vasili was killed because he’d found out about Cheng’s secret entrance into the Founder Network.’
‘And how did you come by this information?’