Grayell sighed deeply.
“We’ve got some more data on it now. There are three planets in the system, one of them a gas giant. We’re hoping that there may be some moons, or an asteroid belt we can hide in. We’ll try and peel off from the other ships and hope that they don’t get suspicious.”
“Well, they haven’t realised we’re not a real Luminal yet — we might just get away with it. How long until we’re near the planets?”
“Three hours or so,” muttered Grayell distantly, lost in thought. “I just wish I knew what all these Luminal ships are doing here. They’re still burning up huge amounts of energy to create a hyperspace interdiction field.”
“Ever seen anything like this from them before?” asked Ryann.
“Not on this scale no. I mean, the field is nothing new — it’s the same principal as any hyperspace interdictor — like those used by the police to stop ships that are trying to outrun them — or pirates wanting to knock a target out of a trade-lane.”
Ryann winced. He had mixed with some unsavoury characters in his travels who had used them for that very purpose.
“How big are we talking?” asked Ryann, looking back to the view-screen.
“The long range scans are telling us that the effects cover the entire Lokhus system and much of the way to Typhon-7.”
“If it’s still going on, then surely it can’t have been meant for us. Do you think they’re expecting somebody else?” asked Ryann, looking over to his father in alarm.
“My thoughts exactly,” replied Grayell. “Perhaps this isn’t an invasion fleet after all.”
“Then what is it? A defence force? But against whom?”
Grayell just shrugged and shook his head in fatigue.
They sat in silence for a time.
Ryann studied the view-screen in fascination. He had never seen more than a handful of Luminal ships, and then often only glimpses. Now that he had the chance to study them he could see the similarities and differences between them.
They all conformed to the same basic design — a crescent-shaped craft of vast proportions, each one made from the same alien material. It was a strange semi-transparent surface that showed glimpses of a myriad lights beneath, hinting of great cityscapes.
But there were subtle differences between vessels, as though each had been constructed by different creators. Some travelled in a horizontal attitude, like ponderous flying saucers, whilst others travelled on edge. Some were arrayed with great protrusions of masts, towers, and lights — their hulls adorned with strange symbols, whilst others were simpler, plain designs.
But none compared to the central craft, the one that had attacked them at New Eden and destroyed Jean-Baptiste Grande along with the Ibis. It was so much larger than the others, and it seemed to give off a pale illumination that drew Ryann’s eye again and again.
After a while, he realised that his father was staring at him in silent curiosity. Ryann turned away in embarrassment.
“It’s that ship,” he murmured quietly, his head bowed. “The one that destroyed the Ibis.” A vision of Jean-Baptiste’s face filled his mind’s eye, and he realised that his hand had reached instinctively up to the Reliquary, still hidden in the pocket of his flight-suit. In all the recent confusion he had all but forgotten about it. He considered taking it out and showing it to his father, but something made him hold back.
When he finally did speak, he found it difficult to conceal the anger in his voice.
“I know that Jean-Baptiste killed some of the crew from New Eden, and he probably deserved what came to him. But, his people were innocent — they were families — children. They didn’t deserve to die.”
Ryann’s father stayed quiet for a moment as though measuring his words.
“I made a mistake,” he breathed at last, and the words were barely a whisper. “When that Outlander, Grande, told me that he had taken you hostage — I just saw red. I couldn’t bear the thought that I might lose you again.”
He went to reach out to his son, then hesitated, letting his hand fall back to the table.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled at last. “It was my fault that we brought Locke down on us.”
Ryann looked up.
“Locke?” he asked in confusion.
Grayell nodded over to the view screen.
“James Locke,” he said, pronouncing the words slowly. “That ship. I recognised the markings when we ran into him at New Eden. That’s their leader. Admiral James Locke, commander of the Battleship Oak.”
Ryann stared at his father in surprise.
“That’s his ship?” he stuttered, staring at the grainy image. “The one that destroyed the Ibis?”
“Not his ship no,” murmured Grayell. “Locke is the ship, and the ship is him — his psyche, his mind. He was given such a terrible power by the Luminal entity. And James Locke is not a man that should ever be given power. But, as so often happens, the worst souls claw their way to the top.”
“Who is he?” asked Ryann. “You’ve never mentioned him before.”
It had never really occurred to Ryann that the Lumina were anything other than faceless beings, mindlessly destroying all life within their path. When they had wiped out his homeworld of Islanotis almost three years ago, Ryann had been only a boy of sixteen. His hatred of the Lumina had been unformed — a collection of fury and despair for everything he had lost: his homeworld memories, his father — his future. He had always allowed events to channel his rage towards the Lumina, but it was a blind rage. He hadn’t really considered the object of his hate, as the Lumina were always so removed, both in distance and appearance. The Lumina were just ships to him. He had never seen any beings that crewed them — no-one had, apart from his father.
Myth had formed around the galaxy’s mysterious
