nothing they could do for her now. As they steered away from the ice floe, he heard bolts striking the boat roof. The night blazed with fire and searchlights. The drums and the cries grew ever more frantic. The ice, gleaming yellow beneath the flames, was spotted with inert bodies.
As they pulled away from the battleground, Vikram saw something like a comet streak through the air from the rafts and explode alongside another skadi boat.
Drake was visibly shaking.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”
They were drawing near to the first tower when dazzling white light blinded Vikram. A speeder lay directly in their path. Vikram veered the boat sharply right. The searchlight followed. He increased their speed. The light lost them momentarily, then switched off.
He could hear the drone of the smaller, higher performance motor as the speeder approached.
Grimly, Vikram began to lurch the boat in a zigzag pattern. It was large and unwieldy and he could hear its sides groan with the strain. The sea was getting choppier too. Bad news for the speeder and worse news for them. The fry-boat was not designed to be out on open water, and now they were a good half kilometre from the towers, moving further away from the fire fight.
Nils swore as he leaned out of the hatch, watching for the speeder. Shadows scooted past. He thought it was the other boat, but now it had vanished entirely. The noise of the waves masked the two motors. He could sense the other boat out there. Waiting. Listening.
“Vik, I can’t see them.” Nils whispered this time. He came to stand beside Vikram. Drake took up position at the hatch.
“Where the hell are they?” muttered Vikram.
He reduced the engine power. They were almost drifting now. So was the speeder.
Residue noise from the fire fight echoed across the water. From a distance, it looked like a strange ritual, a dance between flames on the water surface. Vikram could not tell who was winning.
“Why don’t they just open fire?” hissed Drake.
“They want prisoners,” said Vikram. “Juraj’s gang are so crazed they won’t stop until they’re all dead. The skadi need examples.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Run for it.”
Nils nodded. “It’s our best chance.”
“Hang on tight.”
He took a firm grip himself as he swung the boat back towards the city and hit full throttle. Instantly the searchlight flickered back on, some hundred metres away, and began roving the waves.
The boat lurched forward, jamming into the encroaching waves. Vikram wrested the craft first one way, then the next. Crates of kelp and fish shunted from side to side. His elbow cracked against metal, sending bolts of pain up to his temples. Spray dashed in his face. In seconds he was drenched.
“Where are they Drake?” he yelled. Drake hung precariously out of the hatch.
“Right on our tail, seventy metres,” she yelled back.
“Watch out now, you’re coming into the city.” Nils, clinging on beside him, could see a little better.
“You’ll have to direct me.”
He was steering blind now. He could only trust Nils’s directions. He sensed the first towers looming up on either side as they barrelled back into the maze of the city. A shot glanced off the roof.
“Fifty metres!” Drake shouted.
“Shit.”
Vikram began to weave. Their only chance now lay in using the towers as cover.
“Listen. You two have to get out. I’m taking this over the border.”
“You’re what?” Nils hung on as the boat lurched.
“I have to get over the border tonight. I can’t explain.”
“It’s that bloody girl, isn’t it? That Rechnov woman?”
“This is the best chance I have. All the skadi are back there, the border will be as close to unguarded as it ever is.”
“Vik-”
“Just do it, will you? They won’t follow you.”
“Yes, they’ll follow you, you idiot-we should stick together!”
“Come on,” said Drake. She staggered up the boat. “Nils, come on. Tell us when, Vik. And good luck.”
Nils was shaking his head, plainly furious, but Vikram had no more time. As they approached Market Circle, he choked the throttle, slowing the boat just enough to skid past a decking. Nils and Drake leapt from the hatch and dropped flat to the decking. Vikram powered ahead once more. He risked a glance back and saw that the speeder had followed him. Nils and Drake were safe.
Now it was just the two boats. Vikram’s only advantage was that he knew the western waterways. He closed his eyes momentarily, allowing instinct to take over. Through Market Circle. Out the other side. This part of the west was quiet. He was following the route taken by the waterbus on the day he went to the Council. As he approached the border, the speeder was hard on his tail, but his assumption had been correct-there were only two skadi boats stationed at the checkpoint.
Setting the boat on a direct course through the gap in the border net, Vikram ducked low. The shooting came late; the border guards had not expected his clumsy vehicle to charge. He hurtled straight through, searchlights sweeping overhead.
He was in the City.
The speeder was chasing him, and now one of the border boats as well. He kept the fry-boat straight. He had to get out fast, but they would not be able to shoot so easily deep in Citizen territory. He chose a residential tower-swung the boat in close and leapt from the fully powered vehicle. He hit the decking hard, hurting his ankle, and rolled. Jumping to his feet, running to the doors, he pounded the open button. The doors slid apart and Vikram darted inside. He heard a shout as the skadi spotted his exit, and then the doors slid shut.
He was inside a clean, low lit lobby with four lifts. He ignored them and ran into the stairwell. The skadi would be following.
He raced up the stairs until he heard the sounds of them entering the building. Now he had to be silent. He removed his dripping shoes and socks and carried them. He moved on up in bare feet, as quietly as possible, unaware if his pursuers were doing the same. His heart was pounding so fiercely he was sure they must hear it. There was no shortage of electricity in the City; every floor had the same low night lighting. No dark corners to hide in.
Ten floors up, he came out of the stairwell and ventured into the corridors. He limped past the numbered doors of apartments. He was acutely aware of his appearance, tattered and soaked. He had a fresh cut on his temple which he could feel now was bleeding. His only hope was that at whatever time of night it was, the Citizens who lived here were all sleeping.
And then he saw it-so simple, so easy. The fire alarm.
He kept going, through the heart of the tower, looking for a stairwell on the other side. First he needed somewhere to hide. With every step, he felt the fear of capture heighten. Sweat lined the inside of his clothes. He didn’t dare look back. What if there were cameras? What if they were lying in wait?
He kept going up until he found what he was looking for-a cleaning room, full of mops and buckets, with enough space for a skinny man. He limped back into the corridors. The fire alarms were posted at every level. He took a deep breath, glanced once around the silent corridors, and smashed it with his good elbow.
The noise was shrill and instant. Vikram ran back to the cleaning room and slipped inside, pulling the door to. From his tiny prison, he listened to the sounds of the tower waking up. Running footsteps pattered on the carpets as people evacuated their rooms. Their voices were groggy and confused.
“What’s happening?”
“Where is it, where’s the fire?”
“Orla, get back here now, don’t run!”
They streamed past him. An age seemed to pass before they had all gone. When the noise had faded, Vikram slipped out and continued back up the stairs. He had no doubt that the fire fighters would be investigating that floor
