Macao Station

Chapter Forty-Four

Blinded! He was fucking blinded!

Carver lurched, sightless, feeling for the bastard who had shot him, but he couldn’t get his bearings. His eyes stung and burned, streaming with tears that he couldn’t even reach to wipe away.

‘Kill them!’ hissed the dragon. Its voice, although still faint, buzzed with raw, desperate energy. ‘Kill them! Before they get away!’

But he couldn’t — he couldn’t even tell where they were. His head was beating like a heart, the blood rushing inside it with audible force. He had dropped the cutter, but that seemed like the least of his concerns. He knew that he was in the open, vulnerable. The asshole friend with the laser might shoot him at any moment.

‘No, you idiot — they’ve escaped!’ scolded the dragon. ‘It’s too late.’

‘Fuck!’ cried Carver, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his sight, as if he could shed the blindness like a dog shaking off water. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he twisted away violently, lashing out. His fist connected with something soft and he heard a startled intake of breath over the radio. He didn’t care if the target was friend or foe.

He tried to force his eyes to open — they burned like hell, as if somebody had rubbed salt into them — but he could already see a little better. The world was still a vague, shifting haze of light and dark patches, but he thought he might not be permanently blinded after all. Staggering, hands outstretched, he reached a wall, where he turned around and sat, holding his head in his hands, wishing he’d brought the strip of fader caps with him. Not, he supposed, that he’d have been able to take them with his suit on.

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, not caring if the escaping cowards heard him or not. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t concern yourself too much,’ said the dragon a little more calmly. ‘We can still do what we need to do. Find somebody to fly the loader first. I don’t think you can do it right now, and you need to get away before they return. Welby can be trusted — ask him to find another pilot for you.’

‘Yeah, Welby thinks you’re his god. Maybe you are,’ Carver said. The dragon didn’t answer, but he knew that it was right, that Welby would do as he said. How much control Welby had over the other ex-prisoners remained to be seen, however. ‘Welby!’ he called. ‘Come here!’

He felt the clanging of approaching footsteps through the deck, and when he looked up he could make out the shadow-shape of the little man standing over him. ‘Carver,’ said Welby’s voice in his earpiece. ‘What shall I do?’

‘Find out if one of the others can fly the loader — the big ship in the middle. It’s big enough to take us all out of here.’

‘Certainly. Would it be impudent of me to ask where we intend to go?’

Carver felt his jaw clench as he answered. ‘It might be, Welby, it might be.’

‘Some of these men will follow me to the grave. They are my congregation — the faithful — and they have been awaiting this salvation. I believe that the Old Ones have sent you. This one you call the dragon. I am eager to find out more, I confess. My people will obey you without question. But others among them — those who are lost, who will not listen — will want to know what we intend to do.’

‘What others?’ demanded Carver rudely, blinking his eyes.

‘This might work well for us,’ said the dragon slyly. The eager, hungry note was back in its voice now. ‘These unbelievers.’

‘Did you hear that, Welby?’ asked Carver with sudden suspicion. He had to know. Before going any further, before bringing this little cultist and his friends right into the court of his precious dragon, he had to be sure.

‘Hear what?’ asked Welby neutrally.

‘I thought there was someone else on the radio, I guess,’ said Carver with immeasurable relief. Of course, Welby could be lying. But he thought not. ‘Just ask about the loader, will you? I need you to help me until I can see properly. And we’re going back to the asteroid. Where it lives.’

‘Fine.’ The dark patch that represented Welby faded away, and then Welby began talking to the other ex-prisoners. Somebody asserted that they had flown an identical ISL at Platini Dockyard and the matter was quickly settled. Doubtless they’d be better at it than Carver was. That was good and soon he’d be back where he belonged, in the dragon’s lair. And this time he’d have an army with him. He was wondering what the dragon had meant when it had said that the presence of the unbelievers might work well for them.

Interesting. . . he thought. It’ll be interesting to find out. He couldn’t wait for his vision to come right again. His eyes still stung like nothing he’d ever known and the burning was almost more intense than before. But those patches of light and dark were already beginning to crystallise at the edges. The others were talking excitedly. It sounded like the new pilot was starting the ship up. Carver felt a hand on his shoulder again. He turned to see the now-slightly-clearer shape of Welby standing over him again.

‘Come on,’ said Welby. ‘We’re good to go.’ He helped Carver to his feet. Good old Welby. Carver was lucky to have found him. He just hoped Welby could maintain order until he himself could see properly again. Surely the dragon wouldn’t let things fall apart now. Its own freedom was near at hand. It needed him. He needed the prisoners. Maybe when his eyes were truly better he’d kill one or two of them, just to make the point.

‘That’s right,’ said the dragon, reading his mind.

Maybe that was what the unbelievers were for. . . Carver grinned to himself, despite his stinging eyes and ringing head.

‘Get my plasma cutter,’ he said. ‘I dropped it, but I’m not sure where.’

‘It’s okay,’ said Welby, helping Carver along with a hand under his arm. ‘I already retrieved it.’

‘Good,’ said Carver significantly. ‘I’ll be needing that.’