Empress Fallen (Through Darkness Book I)

Chapter Four: A Tyrant Spell: Part 3

iii. Liberatores

They lay there panting for a moment, then Damon got to his feet, offering Miriam a hand. She ignored it, pulling herself up the wall, unable to suppress a yelp of pain.

'Come on.' He put a hand on her elbow gently. 'Dr Sana's on the Flight Deck.'

She gripped his arm, trying to catch her breath. 'The transfer? The transfer?' Fierce coughs wracked her again and she leant into him.

He frowned, half-angry, half-relieved, and half something else. 'You did it. We have the entire database.'

Her knees buckled as she fought to stay conscious and he took almost her entire weight as they staggered through the corridors to the Flight Deck ladder.

'Cassian,' he yelled. Cassian's round face appeared above them, ash smattered over his features. He reached down with both hands and Miriam clung to them wearily. She placed her feet on the first rung and then was half pushed, half pulled up onto the Flight Deck.

It looked smaller than usual. She blinked at the crowd of people packed into the tight compartment. A figure suddenly rushed towards her, stormy grey eyes wet and adoring. Hadrian.

'Miri, Miri.' He squeezed her in a tight embrace and she yelped again. 'Sorry,' he breathed, backing off. Sheyda looked round for a moment from one of the seats in front of the controls, visibly recoiling, her mouth falling open in shock.

Dr Sana rounded on her from the opposite wall.

'You stupid girl.' He lunged forwards and she winced, but his touch was gentle. He led her over to a seat at the rear of the compartment, sitting her down and delving into a medical kit on the floor.

'What in the name of Vindex were you thinking?' he muttered into his chest as he raked through his supplies.

Miriam looked up as Hadrian returned to the helm. He and Sheyda were piloting the yacht. They had just cleared the space doors.

'Bring her about,' Hadrian murmured, frowning in concentration. The yacht arced round and Miriam leaned forward, staring out the viewport.

The menacing Imperial frigate was alight with blinding white flashes as its electrolaser turrets spewed plasma channels at the crippled Firefly. The station had lost four of its six legs, and it was riddled with burning gashes barely encased by failing shields. As they watched, the hangar collapsed in on itself and the floors above crashed down. She searched in vain for the small window at its prow marking where the Flight Deck would be. The whole of Level II was simply gone.

Miriam opened her mouth to yell something, but felt paralysed. Several of the escape pods were drifting along a course to rendezvous with the yacht. The frigate shifted lazily, the starboard turret rotating.

'No,' Hadrian cried, lunging helplessly towards the viewport.

The turret flashed and a white beam cut through the fleeing pods one by one. They exploded silently, their debris merging with that of the station.

'We need to go, now,' Sheyda said softly. 'Charging antimatter drive.'

'No,' Hadrian's voice broke, 'we have to – to go back, help.' Damon put a hand on the old man's shoulder and he slumped.

Miriam winced as Dr Sana spread a clear salve over the sores on her face, neck, and shoulders before spraying something over it from a rectangular blue bottle.

'The skin will be fresh and new again in under an hour,' he said curtly, before moving away. She ran a hand shakily through her hair to find it half the length it had been before, the auburn ends singed to her shoulders. She groaned. Damon looked round in consternation.