Outside the fence, a whole chorus of lokak screeches began, rising in pitch and ferocity. He knew that meant they were gathering, ready to assault the estate at the bidding of the Neána. Always the Neána, the eternal enemy, tricksters and betrayers.
‘Yes,’ Dellian said nervously, trying to look at her and not out at the tangled jungle beyond the fence.
‘Good.’ She took his hands. Her fingers were cool and dry and immensely strong. Yirella’s presence always made him content, but this time the physical touch was profound. It wasn’t just his skin that was feeling her; the sensation of touch was sinking deep into his flesh, cooling and relaxing his muscles. He hadn’t realized he was so tense.
‘This is important, Del. None of this, what you’re seeing – the estate, Juloss – none of it is real.’
‘What?’ He turned his head a fraction.
‘No. Look at me, Del. Keep looking.’
Her eyes were wide with love and concern. The emotion was so strong that it was all he could do just to stop his eyes from watering. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said miserably.
‘There is one thing I know you do understand: I am here, Del. I am with you. And I will never leave you. Not ever, because I love you.’
The world behind her was vibrating, as if he were shaking his head frantically. But he wasn’t; no way could he shift his gaze from her beautiful eyes.
‘This is like a game, Del. I want you to play it with me. Will you do that?’
‘Yes,’ he whispered. Scared now. The world was shaking so badly he didn’t know why he couldn’t feel it.
‘There are bad things out there, but they’re not the beasts we were always warned about. These bad things are like nightmare monsters, and they invade your head to fill it with really evil ideas. But I’m here with you now, so together we can fight them off.’
‘I don’t want to fight. I want to go home.’
‘We are home, Del. That’s why we’re here in the estate. This is so you – the very start of you, so fundamental they can’t corrupt it like everything else. You belong here.’
‘Yes.’
‘So we have to take away the abuse they’re suffocating you in. Do you remember your yeargroup?’
‘Yes.’
‘They’re your squad now, aren’t they?’
He closed his eyes briefly, seeing the laughing faces of his yeargroup, their features distorting as if they were reflecting off a buckled mirror, changing and ageing. Except – ‘Rello,’ he groaned as his friend’s face blackened, cracks splitting open to ooze slimy blood before the vision shrank away to nothing.
‘I know,’ Yirella said gently. ‘He’s gone.’
‘We killed him. It’s our fault. We’re nothing more than prisoners. They chained us at birth.’
‘Nobody chained us, Dellian. We’re free.’
‘No. It’s the Saints. They did this to us, they took away our choice.’ He snarled. ‘I’m glad they’re dead.’
‘What?’
He stared at her shocked face. ‘I’m glad,’ he told her truthfully. The world around them stopped shaking. A reassuring grey crept into the colours, toning down the harshness of the tropical landscape. The so-called Saints had been killed; he remembered seeing it so vividly. The Olyix had shared their memory of the time when the revered Salvation of Life had arrived back at the gateway star system. The Avenging Heretic, the Saints’ stolen transport ship – which had stowed away on board the arkship for the whole voyage home – had made a sudden dash for freedom, shooting without warning at the harmless Olyix ships nearby. They had no choice but regretfully to return fire, just to protect themselves from such senseless aggression. It remained so vivid in his mind, exploding in nuclear violence, its radiance shimmering off the gateway’s opalescent splendour. So painful, knowing how much he had been lied to . . .
‘Damn it,’ Yirella snapped. ‘That memory route left you open. Sorry, my fault. Dellian, focus, please. Focus on me.’
He smiled weakly at her as the greyness grew around them.
‘I love you, Dellian. Do you remember that?’
‘Of course I do.’
They kissed as the greyness eclipsed the universe. And they fell . . .
. . . into the orbital arena. A place he adored – such a simple place, a padded cylinder seventy metres long with a diameter of a hundred. Above him, drifting through the air, were thirty hurdles: hazard-orange polyhedrons – as familiar as star formations in the night. Oh, the games they’d played in here. The fun; the wins and losses. And early on he’d broken every rule to attack another boy who was going to hurt Yirella . . .
‘Oh, yes,’ he exhaled. And when he looked at Yirella, she was sharing the thrill of all those memories that came swirling out of their shared youth.
Then she let go.
‘No,’ he exclaimed.
Still smiling, she fell away from him. The arena wall behind her attenuated, showing him Juloss far below. It was under attack. Thousands of big Olyix Resolution ships raced in towards it, glowing hazy amber as they cut through the upper atmosphere at terrific velocity. Mushroom clouds seethed upwards from the surface as cities and estates were obliterated.
‘No!’ he yelled. ‘This is not what happened. The Olyix are our friends. They didn’t do this.’
‘I’ve got the flagball,’ Yirella shouted back joyfully. ‘I’m going for the goal hoop.’
Dellian squinted, seeing her in a protective bodysuit, grinning wildly as she clutched the flashing flagball. The opposing team’s goal hoop hung in space, halfway towards the burning planet. The speed she was travelling was frightening.
‘Careful,’ he said.
She laughed delightedly, on course to score the winning goal.
He didn’t see the number eight player streaking towards her. Except it wasn’t the number eight any more, it was an Olyix huntsphere accelerating hard, targeting systems aligning on Yirella’s lanky body as she flew effortlessly towards the goal hoop.
‘No!’ Dellian cried. His armour suit powered him towards the huntsphere. He struck it hard, knocking it off course. His talon-tipped gauntlets scrabbled against the shiny sphere, scoring long marks in the tough shell. Then it began to flex, with bulges pushing up – as if whatever it contained was trying to reach out and wrestle with him. He strengthened his hold, attempting to crush it in his arms. The sphere responded by softening against his chest, letting him merge inwards. He would fit it perfectly, he knew.
Ahead of them, Juloss split open, revealing the end of the universe, where the silver remnants of stars formed elegant rivers of twilight and fell into the nothingness at the heart. Beside it, a golden light was shining, calling him onward.
Yirella landed on the surface of the huntsphere, legs apart, ebony skin alive with scarlet hieroglyphs. ‘This is going to hurt,’ she said sternly.
‘What? Yi, don’t—’ Somehow Dellian was looking down on himself, the huntsphere, with Yirella balancing perfectly on him, reaching down. Her hand punctured the shell, and the pain was incredible. His scream made the dying universe tremble.
The damage she’d caused had opened up long cracks in the sphere. She tore at them, prising up jagged sections and sending them spinning off into the void. He began to struggle, writhing frantically to escape her merciless fingers.