Daughter of Nox

Chapter Forty-Three

Freya watched as more bodies descended from the ship, each of them giving off a faint glow as they sunk to the ground.

"Those slagging repeller packs," Etta said from beside her.

Nero wore a puzzled expression "What's a repeller pack?"

"Of course you wouldn't know," Deirdre snapped. "How the flaming hell you can be a First Marshall is–"

"Quit it," Freya said, cutting across her. "Just stop."

"Freya," Etta said with worry in her voice, "do you have any idea why there are soldiers coming down from that ship in repeller packs?"

"They aren't actual soldiers," Deirdre said. "It's another one of Reynard's tricks like. Just like the last slagging time."

"No," Freya said. "No, I don't think so." She took a step back. "Something isn't right here."

"This isn't part of the sim," Nero said, backing away as well. "Didn't you see? Your shot went through the ship."

Deirdre pointed a finger at Nero. "You don't get to talk, you slagging coward."

"I think Nero might be right, Dee," Etta said. "Whoever that is, they aren't part of the sim."

"We need to go," Freya said. "Now."

"And fail the sim?" Deirdre said. "No thanks. I'm over listening to any plans you have to offer."

"Look at their uniforms," Nero said. "Those aren't like anything the Ministry wears."

Deirdre rounded on him, her dreadlocks swirling around her head like a nest of vipers. "What did I say to you?"

Her raised voice echoed around the open space. Freya reached out to touch Deirdre's arm but Deirdre slapped her hand away.

"Stop it, Deirdre," Freya said. "Stop yelling."

But Deirdre didn't seem to hear her. All of her attention–all of her anger–was concentrated completely on Nero.

"Tell me!" Deirdre shouted. "What. Did. I. Say?"

Freya saw one of the soldiers look up at this, and she realized that the whatever blanket of sound the ship had provided hadn't been enough to suppress Deirdre's shouting. He slapped the soldier next to him and pointed to the four Novices.

"They see us," Freya said. "One of them sees us. We've got to go."

Freya grabbed a hold of Deirdre's arm and tried to pull her along, but Deirdre ripped her arm from Freya's grip.

"Get off me!" She looked at the place where Freya's hand had been. "Never touch me. Especially with the same hands you put on that Rimmer."

Freya felt her own anger rise, before she glanced back to the soldiers. Three of them had broken off from the main group and were crossing the distance to them, weapons raised.

Deirdre, her back to the soldiers, looked over her shoulder at them. When she turned back to Freya her mouth was twisted with disgust.

"Coward."

Then, with one smooth motion, Deirdre spun on the soldiers, her rifle belching plasma bolts as she turned.

Deirdre wasn't aiming. That much was clear. Freya wasn't even sure if she was looking. Plasma bolts stabbed into the night air like shooting stars sizzling into atmosphere.

The soldiers looked as though they might dive for cover, but then they stopped short of actually doing it. At this, Deirdre stopped firing, looking down at her rifle like a child who's just been caught misbehaving.