The Heretic (Beyond the Wall Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

further strobes, which flashed red and green intermittently.
    Two other freighters stood on the adjacent platforms. Both were in the process of being loaded. Tractor units, driven by hunched shadows shrouded in heavy longcoats and goggles to protect them from the spindrift, deposited cargo into the loading bays. Behind them, the slate-grey rock of the mountain’s flank climbed upwards and melted into the charcoal fog high above.
    A tall figure, bent against the wind and thinly veiled by the swirling mist, stalked the circumference of one of the freighters, carrying out pre-flight checks. A freighter-tramp, Shepherd thought, making to leave. The man moved efficiently, but Shepherd noticed an urgency in each movement. Suddenly, as if he was aware Shepherd was watching him, the tall man turned and peered through the mist. For a moment he stared at Shepherd, then shook his head grimly. He glanced sideways towards the main hangar and then back again, before jabbing a finger towards Soteria. He didn’t wait for a response before he went back to checking his ship.
    What the hell was that about?
    Shepherd turned and thumped the switch to raise Soteria’s loading ramp, then keyed in the code to seal her. He gazed at his vessel for a moment, his eyes tracing the smooth, grey lines leading to the cockpit. She always looked so graceful to him, settled into her landing stance. Like a feline on its haunches, but arched forward, tensed and ready to pounce. His hand lingered on the bulkhead next to the keypad for the ramp as he considered the tall man’s curious behaviour. The outer rim was full of crazies. You’re the only one I trust in a place like this, old girl. ‘Let’s get you some attention,’ he whispered into the wind. ‘Show you how much I love you.’
    The first set of doors led to the Caisson Tunnel. He had heard techs call it an MRT, but he’d never really known what the letters were intended to refer to. The tunnel was slightly taller than he was, but otherwise not much larger than a coffin. Shepherd stepped inside and the glass doors in front and behind hissed as they closed. Caisson Tunnels were fully automated; he knew that if the scanning system picked up anything, the doors would lock and then the serious problems would begin. Damn things always made him uneasy.
    For as long as Shepherd could remember, no one coming through the tunnels had been able to enter any port without first being scanned for ‘the sickness’. Superluminal travel was physiologically debilitating; it usually brought on severe headaches that started in the eyes, or excruciating pain in the joints. Sensations like insects crawling over the skin were not uncommon.
    Shepherd was bathed in darkness until four blue lights illuminated the chamber. Two ones either side of him progressed slowly upwards from the floor to his shoulders. A third, above his head, moved gradually around the circumference of the chamber while the fourth scanned his eyes. For a full three minutes they scrutinised him until, to his relief, the chamber illuminated white and the door in front of him opened.
    The heaters inside the hangar whined and clacked, belching out more fumes than they did heat. A group of haggard off-worlders with bulging bags and skittish hands gathered by the door, awaiting clearance to head out to one of the freighters. A handful of the rare few , Shepherd thought: those with interstellar permits, or maybe extortionate forgeries from Jieshou or Samarkand. One of them, a woman late in years, caught Shepherd’s eye and watched him for a moment, then glanced quickly away. Shepherd stood a little longer, watching her, then made for Customs. There had been something about her manner that had caught him—something in her restive eyes that made him uneasy. When he reached the Customs chamber, set back behind a barrier of thick plastiglass, he risked another glance back. He couldn’t say why exactly, and he immediately felt foolish. Nothing to see,