by Jake Elwood
"We might have mushed a few plants," Harper admitted. "Sorry about that."
The farmer inclined his head but didn't speak. The silence stretched out.
"I'm curious," Harper said at last. "What might be your opinion on the Dawn Alliance occupying your planet?"
The farmer didn't speak, but his lip curled and he leaned sideways to spit a gob of saliva past the edge of the vehicle.
"That's how we feel, too," said Harper.
Alice, whose only purpose on the mission was to talk to colonists, found herself shut out of the conversation. The farmer's name was Jules, and although he hadn't actually seen any of the invaders, he had strong opinions on the subject. He considered himself a loyal citizen of the United Worlds, which seemed offensively naïve to Alice. It was convenient, though. Jules, without being asked, offered to help them in any way he could.
Harper gave him a carefully edited description of their mission. Without actually telling the man a single useful thing about where they had come from or what they needed, he expressed interest in looking at the nearest spaceport while avoiding Dawn Alliance attention.
"You better take the Big Red Dog," Jules said. "No one will look at you twice in that thing." He looked around at the shuttle and the hillside. "Is this all of you?" When Harper didn't answer he said, "Never mind. The Dog will seat four in the cab and a bunch more in the back. Takes about an hour to get into town."
"We'll have to leave the shuttle here," Harper said. "We'd like it if you didn't mention this to anyone."
"Set her down in my yard," Jules said. "She won't stand out near as much there. And you won't have to trample my crops getting over to the Dog."
The pilot set the shuttle down so close to a long yellow barn that he almost scraped paint from the boards. One marines stayed behind with the shuttle. Alice and the others climbed out to look at the Big Red Dog.
It was another vehicle that Alice didn't quite know how to name. She supposed "truck" was the closest she could come to an accurate label. It was a ground vehicle, with half a dozen fat rubber tires. Two tires supported the cab, a glass and metal bubble with a short ladder on either side to reach the doors. The other four tires supported the box, a long filthy rectangle covered in rust spots that blended into the bright red paint.
Harper and a couple of marines took a minute to change into civilian clothes. They kept light body armor and sidearms, covering both with long, loose-fitting shirts. The rest of the marines stayed in full combat gear and clambered into the back.
Alice got into the cab, where Harper took the controls. The Big Red Dog was entirely manual, and Harper spent a couple of frustrating minutes trying to get the hang of the controls. Alice looked from him to Jules, who stood beside the truck with an expression of growing anxiety. Finally she said, "Oh, for pity's sake, haven't you ever driven one of these?"
Harper shot her an irritated look. "It's a museum piece. Of course I've never driven one."
"I have." When his eyebrows rose she said, "Okay, not a vehicle exactly like this. But the crater jumpers back on Novograd have the same basic controls." When he didn't move she gestured out the window at Jules. "Come on. Let me drive, before Farmer Joe out there decides we're worse than the Dawn Alliance."
Harper traded places with her, not without some frowning and grumbling under his breath. She ignored him, settling in and moving the seat forward so she could reach the pedals. The dash controls were completely unlabelled, but there were six red levers that had to correspond with the Dog's six tires. Harper had somehow gotten two tires going forward and two in reverse. Alice got all four tires stopped, then switched them to "forward" mode, two at a time, starting at the front.
When the last pair of tires activated the Big Red Dog started to move. She sped up the tires on the left and the truck turned ponderously to the right. She glanced back at Jules, who looked profoundly relieved, and gave him a wave.
The truck rolled out of the yard, down a long gravel driveway, and onto a paved road.
She gave Harper a running commentary as she drove, explaining every control she touched. He listened intently and repeated every detail when she quizzed him. Finally he said, "Why don't you pull over and I'll drive?"
She rolled her eyes, the only reply a suggestion like that deserved.
Very little traffic moved on the roads, and she saw no movement in the skies above. Fields made a multicolored patchwork quilt on an epic scale. By the look of it the land had been shaped by glaciers, sculpted into gentle rolling hills and long smooth plains.
The endless farms made her think of home, although Novograd looked much different. Her home planet was a crater-pocked wasteland with little atmosphere before it was terraformed. Fields tended to be circular, with hardy trees around the border of each crater. Parkland was strange, but it was a Green Zone colony, so she felt as if she more or less belonged.
At last they crested a ridge and saw the city before them. It looked like a child's collection of toy blocks, every building cubical, laid out in tidy rows.
More details emerged as the Big Red Dog rolled closer. The buildings were colored in soft pastels, each one a different shade. A few taller buildings jutted up in the center of the city, but the nearer buildings were all precisely two stories tall.
There was no sign of the Dawn Alliance. It had to be here somewhere; the fate of the Laureline was proof of that. So far, though, the occupation seemed to be using a light touch.
Alice slowed the truck as they neared an intersection. A broad highway, empty of traffic, crossed their own road at right angles. "Here's the turnoff," she said to Harper. "What do you think?"
"I think we stands out too much," he said. His gaze scanned the horizon. "There's no traffic to blend into." He glanced at Alice, then gestured straight ahead. "Go on through."
She nodded and gave the tires a little more power. A left turn would take them around the outskirts of the city. It was a quieter way to approach the spaceport, but going through the city might be a little more discreet.
The cab of the Dog smelled of dirt and grease and sweat. Alice longed to open a window and smell the green farmland outside. The padded seat beneath her, which had seemed perfectly comfortable when she started driving, now felt lumpy and hard. She was suddenly desperate to get out of the vehicle, to stretch, to walk, to do something.
It's just nerves. Pull yourself together. She took a few deep breaths, found it didn't help, and frowned through the windshield instead.
"It'll be fine," Harper murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. "You'll see."
She glanced at him, nodded, and went back to staring down the highway.
Back on Novograd every building had its own design. Here on Parkland every building seemed to have been built from the same template. As the Dog rolled into the city she saw cubes on every side, with doors and windows in precisely the same place. Residences and businesses had the same structure, only the signs in front identifying them. People made some attempt at variety, adding awnings or decks and decorating their yards, but the city had a repetitive uniformity that set Alice's teeth on edge.
"Turn here," Harper said, and Alice massaged the bank of levers, bringing the Dog around in a gradual turn. The big vehicle didn't corner well. She'd have to keep it on wide roads without too much traffic.
They rolled north, Alice dividing her attention between her driving and the city around her. There was some light ground traffic, a mix of wheeled cars and hover vehicles. The Dog was the biggest thing on the road, and a few pedestrians gawked as it went past. Alice cringed at the attention, but told herself the truck was too bizarre, too absurd, to incite suspicion.
People on the street wore a mix of local and galactic fashions. The local look was natural fabrics in bright colors. Novograd clothing tended to be baggier, but the palette was just as bright.
She'd expected the people to look furtive and sullen, as if they were suffering under the yoke of a savage invader. She'd expected troops on the street cor
ners and armored transports rumbling back and forth. But there was no sign of the Dawn Alliance, and the locals just looked … ordinary.
It was strangely unsettling, and she tried to puzzle out why. I should be relieved. If it's like this here, it might be like this at home. Things might be okay.
But we've been invaded. It's not supposed to be okay. It's not supposed to be ordinary.
"Why aren't they angry?" she muttered. "Why's everything so peaceful?"
"Well, there's a détente," Harper said.
She glared at him like he'd insulted her, and his eyebrows rose. Her hand tightened involuntarily on a lever and the Dog shuddered as one wheel sped up. She edged the lever back and stared through the windshield, embarrassed.
"Not everyone can go charging off into space to play pirates," Harper said.
She gave him a dirty look. "I wasn't playing pirates. I was-"
"A free-range revolutionary, I know." He grinned. "Most people doesn't get to do that. Most people needs to get on with their lives." He gestured around at the street. "That's what they's doing. Just getting through another day."
They should be fighting. She wasn't being entirely fair, but she didn't care. They should do something.
"Take the next left," Harper said, peering into his bracer. "The spaceport should be straight ahead."
She nodded, putting all her concentration into a corner that was tighter than she liked. A horn chirped, and she lifted a hand from the control levers long enough to make a rude gesture through the window. As she got the Dog straightened out Harper said, "Off to the right. There's a place to park."
Alice pulled the truck into a parking lot, maneuvering among smaller vehicles, and rolled to a stop. She rolled her shoulders, releasing tension, and looked at Harper.
"Jones, you're with me. The rest of you wait here. Stay sharp." Harper swung his door open.
"Hang on," Alice said. "I thought I was supposed to talk to the locals."
"We isn't talking," Harper said. "We's doing reconnaissance."
"Sure," said Alice. "That's fine until someone comes over to talk to you. The first time you open your mouth they'll know you're United Worlds."
"You doesn't sound like a Parklander either," Harper pointed out.
"True. But I sound like I'm from the Green Zone." She gave him a pointed look. "I don't sound like a marine."
Harper sighed and closed his door. "Fine. Keep your eyes open, and do whatever Jones tells you, all right?"
"Of course," Alice said, and opened her own door. A treacherous part of her wished he'd stood his ground and made her stay behind. She squashed it. I can handle this.
Chapter 8
Jones was a tall young man, made solid by the armor under his shirt. His presence comforted Alice as she walked beside him down a wide sidewalk toward a high fence that marked the perimeter of the spaceport. He seemed to feel the same tension she did. She could see it in the set of his shoulders, in the way he scanned the street. She could see it in the way other people reacted to him. A woman with a child in a stroller stepped into the street to give him a wide berth.
Janice reached out impulsively and grabbed his hand. He looked at her, startled, and she whispered, "You're frightening people. You look …. You look like a marine."
His eyebrows rose.
"You're attracting too much attention," she said. "Smile at me, for God's sake."
He stared at her, his brow furrowed. Then his lips twisted in an unhealthy grimace.
"Well, it's a start." She pointed at a random store window. "Nod your head. Good. Now point at something."
"Uh …" He looked around, then pointed at a store across the street.
"Good man." She smiled up at him and patted his shoulder playfully. "You're not a marine doing reconnaissance in occupied territory. You're Farmer Jules' hired hand, seeing the sights with your girlfriend. And this is the biggest city you've ever seen. Understand?"
For a moment his tension increased, his face contracting in a frown of concentration. Then he laughed, a surprisingly loud sound, and stepped in front of her, leaning down to peer at something in a store window. When he straightened up his shoulders were almost a handspan lower, and his smile looked genuine.
"Atta boy." She squeezed his hand. "Now let's go see this big fancy spaceport. They sure don't have those back on the farm."
The fence around the spaceport embodied the contradictions that defined life in the colonies. The posts were wood. In fact, they were hand-cut logs with knobs and protrusions where branches had been cut away. Wood was a plentiful resource here, after all.
The panels that stretched between the posts were polymer, colored to resemble wood but clearly turned out in a factory. The blend of high technology and rustic handicraft was the kind of thing Alice took for granted, but it triggered baffled amusement in visitors from the United Worlds.
They walked along the fence, which stood just taller than Alice, until they came to a gap for vehicle access. Just beyond the gap was the terminal building, made of two of the standard cube buildings side by side. At the terminal entrance she saw her first Dawn Alliance soldier, a bored-looking man in dark fatigues with a laser rifle slung from his shoulder.
Jones' shoulders rose to their previous altitude, so she tugged on his hand, turning him until they faced the landing field. She pointed at the first ship she saw. "Is that a passenger ship?"
"No," he said. "That's the Laureline."
The freighter was smaller than she'd imagined, a squat bulbous thing with a long scorch mark down one side. By the look of her, most of the internal space would be cargo holds. The crew areas had to be tiny. She thought of the crew, now probably locked in cells somewhere nearby, and wondered if they were enjoying an increase in personal space.
"Come on," said Jones, and stepped toward the terminal, tugging on her hand.
"Wait," she said, stumbling after him. "The guard-"
"He's not really doing anything," Jones said. "He's just letting people walk past."
She wanted to ask if he was sure, but of course he was. She gave the soldier a nervous glance, then remembered herself and gazed up at Jones instead. He had a long, wide, horselike face, but she put on her best dreamy schoolgirl look and fixed her eyes on the lumpy outline of his jaw. He reached across with his free hand to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear and the two of them walked into the terminal, smiling like fools.
As the doors slid shut behind them she straightened up and let go of his hand. Half a dozen passengers sat in a lounge in one corner with luggage resting on hovering carts near their feet. No one else was in sight. No staff, no travelers, and certainly no Dawn Alliance soldiers.
A wide doorway across the terminal gave access to the field, with a smart sign flashing warning messages about the dangers of ship thrusters and cargo robots. There was no other access control. Alice and Jones crossed the terminal, watched the doors slide open as they approached, and stepped out onto the landing field.
The Laureline perched on a rectangle of asphalt to the left. The rest of the field held about a dozen small craft, mostly atmospheric ships. There was another cargo ship, an intra-system craft by the look of it, and a sleek passenger ship.
"Look," said Jones, and pointed. "There, behind the tourist bird."
The 'tourist bird' was a fat ship with bulbous windows on every side, designed for aerial sight-seeing jaunts. Beyond it a squat cylinder of gray metal stuck up like a silo. It took Alice a moment to realize the gigantic tank was in fact a ship.
"That's a fuel ship," Jones said. "I'd bet my shirt." He looked around. "I wonder if we could-"
"Not so fast," she said. "We don't even know if it's full. Hell, for all we know it's full of water, or grain or something."
Jones took a single step toward the tanker. "We needs to get a closer-"
His voice broke off as she put a hand between his shoulder blades, grabbing the top of his armor through his shirt, and pulled him back. "Cool your jets," she said. "Let's try so
mething a little more discreet, shall we?"
He frowned. "Like what?"
She gestured to one side, where a man and a woman in baggy coveralls were crossing the field, heading for the terminal building. "Let's ask them."
They followed the two pilots to a little automated café at the far end of the terminal. Alice couldn't have said why she was sure the two were pilots; they just had a look to them, a swagger completely at odds with their rumpled coveralls that said they soared above common people. They were the only two customers in the café, and neither of them looked up when Alice and Jones walked in.
Jones kept his mouth shut as Alice waved a credit strip in front of a sensor and filled a couple of cups with coffee. She handed a cup to Jones and led the way to the table where the pilots sat. The pilots looked up at last, and Alice said, "I'm sorry to bother you. Would you mind if we joined you for a minute?" She sat without waiting for an answer, and Jones took a chair across from her.
"I'm Alice." She nodded at Jones. "This is …" Her voice trailed off. I have no idea what his first name is. "Jay," she finished. "We were supposed to make a short stopover on the way to Tazenda. But the Dawn Alliance showed up, and our ship bugged out, and now …" She lifted her hands in a "what can you do" gesture. "We've been keeping our heads down. Staying with someone on a farm in the sticks. We're not really sure what the, ah, political situation is." She leaned forward and lowered her voice, although the four of them were the only ones in the café. "We're not sure how safe it is."
The two pilots looked her up and down. The man was in his forties, the woman perhaps ten years younger. He had a genial, homely face, currently creased in sympathy. The woman's features were a good deal sharper. She pursed her lips, looked from Alice to Jones and back again, and said, "You should present yourself to the local commander. He's got offices in the police station."
