Steve stacked up the pillows and made himself comfortable with his feet up on the bed. ‘When do you plan to pull out?’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Roz. ‘Enrolment at Inner State U doesn’t start for another week but I want to take a look around Grand Central while I’ve got some free time.’
‘Yeah… they say it’s really something.’ Steve gazed idly at the coloured diagram on the tv screen. The sound-track was pure gobbledygook. ‘Is that what you’re going to specialise in – genetics?’
Roz nodded. ‘It’s the only area where there’s still a chance to come up with an amazing discovery that could change the future. Can you imagine what it would be like if we all lived twice as long – till we were eighty – wouldn’t that be something?’
‘Yughh – it would be terrible.’
Roz smiled. ‘Actually, I’ve chosen genetics because the Life Institute is the only medical centre with unlimited research facilities. Who knows? I just might make a name for myself.’
‘You just might,’ agreed Steve.
‘Always provided I qualify, of course. The bottom third of each graduate year are automatically wiped out. That’s it.’ Roz drew a hand across her throat. ‘No retreads.’
Steve shrugged. ‘So what. You still have your Inter-Med. If you don’t want to tap chests and prescribe pills in a base clinic, you can always join a front-line surgical team on one of the wagon trains.’
‘And end up like Poppa-Jack?’ Roz wrinkled her nose.
‘Maybe,’ said Steve. ‘But in the process, you might save your big brother, or some other guys like him.’
Roz smiled. ‘You’ll survive. From what I’ve heard, those Trail-Blazer expeditions are a cake-walk. Okay, maybe the air burns you up, the way it did Poppa-Jack, but don’t start telling me how dangerous it is to be out there fighting Mutes. You know what? When I see those pictures of ’em on the history programmes and hear about the way they live, I feel sorry for ’em. They’re as ugly as bugs and we crush ’em out of existence as if they were bugs –’
‘They’re no better than,’ interjected Steve.
‘Okay, I accept that,’ said Roz. ‘And I step on bugs the way you do. But as my heel goes down, I sometimes ask myself if bugs ain’t got the right to live the same as we do. If not – why are they running around in the first place? Maybe whoever it was who created the First Family made the bugs too. And maybe they made the Mutes along with ‘em.’
Steve studied his kin-sister. ‘You know something? Since we’ve been raised together you’ve come out with some pretty weird ideas but that has to be the weirdest yet.’
‘But it could be so, couldn’t it?’ insisted Roz.
‘It could be,’ replied Steve. ‘But I’m not going to let it worry me. I’ve been training for the last three years to go out there and kill Mutes and that’s what I intend to do.’
‘Go ahead,’ said Roz. ‘I know it takes courage to face the overground. The Federation needs people to push out its frontiers and put down way-stations. There’s danger in that – in just being out there – and I respect you for putting your life on the line. But just as I wouldn’t feel sorry if you were to break your toe stomping on a bug, I am not going to treat you like a hero for killing a bunch of defenceless Mutes –’
‘What d’you mean “defenceless”?’ said Steve hotly. ‘Those lump-heads kill people. Everybody knows what they do to dead Trail-Blazers. They cut their hands and feet off. Plus all the other odds and ends too. And if you’re captured, they skin you alive, smoke you over a fire to keep you nice and sweet then eat you slice by slice through the winter. “Defenceless”… huh! They got weapons, Roz. And they know how to use them.’
Roz gave a quick laugh. ‘Come on, Steve. You know that’s just Trail-Blazer pep-talk. Those lump-heads – as you call ‘em – don’t even know what day it is.’
‘Okay, I admit they’re not too smart. But they aren’t as dumb as you make out either. I don’t get it. What are you trying to prove? And what the heck! I mean – whose side are you on, anyway?’
Roz sat down on the bunk-bed and fisted Steve’s shoulder. ‘Yours dummy. It’s just that–’ Roz grimaced sadly. ‘I don’t know. It’s just that when you get into this business of genetics and you get right down to whatever it is that creates life, you start to think about things. Ask questions. And when you realise just how little we know about how life is created, and the incredible complexity of even the simplest type of cell – just one of billions that go to make up the human body – you can’t help feeling that maybe we ought to ask ourselves if we’re doing the right thing to send guys like you out to kill off more Mutes.’
‘But Mutes aren’t people, Roz. That’s not something I dreamed up. Jack spent years out there. Have you forgotten the stories he used to tell us?’
Roz shook her head and smiled. ‘Some of them still keep me awake at nights.’ She got up, closed the door, switched on the tv with the aid of the handset, upped the volume then sat down on the bunk-bed.
Steve frowned and pointed to the tv. ‘Do we have to have that on?’
‘Yeah.’ Roz moved closer to her brother. ‘Do you wanna hear some music?’
Steve leaned back cautiously into the stacked pillows. ‘What kind?’
‘The kind that gives you a real buzz. Blackjack – what else?’
‘Are you crazy?’ hissed Steve. ‘I wouldn’t go within a mile of that junk. Shaft it, Roz. Get rid of it – fast.’ An alarming thought struck him. He sat up straight. ‘Where is it? Have you got it with you?’
‘Of course not.’ Roz pushed him back against the pillow. ‘Relax. There’s this guy –’
Steve put his hand to her lips. ‘I don’t want to know about him, or it, or anything. Don’t get involved, Roz. You know what the score is. Anyone caught tuning into that garbage is in big trouble.’
Roz smiled. ‘You could be right. The word is this guy only handles Code One material.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ said Steve. ‘And stop kidding around. It’s no joke.’
‘Have you ever plugged any blackjack?’
‘No. And I’m not going to.’
Roz smiled. ‘Because it’s against the rules?’
Steve eyed her silently then looked away.
‘Have you ever asked yourself why it’s against the rules?’ Roz pulled his chin round, forcing Steve to meet her challenging look.
‘You know why we have rules,’ replied Steve. ‘It’s the only way people can live together.’ His mouth tightened as she sighed wearily. ‘Come on – that’s Page One stuff.’
‘I know what the Manual says. But it’s not the only way,’ insisted Roz. ‘If people are given a set of rules to live by – limits they mustn’t overstep – it means there must be a whole different way of living on the other side of the line.’
‘Sure,’ said Steve. ‘People tried it a thousand years ago. And what happened? Anarchy, disorder, chaos. The cities burned. The blue-sky world became one great poisonous hell-fire that spawned the Mutes.’
‘Yeah, I know how the history programme runs,’ whispered Roz. ‘Something bad must have happened, but none of us know what – or how bad it really was. We only know what the First Family’s seen fit to tell us. Maybe,’ – she hesitated – ‘maybe, in some ways, life was better than it is now.’
Steve snorted. ‘Are you crazy? Without the Jeffersons there would be no life! If the First Family hadn’t laid down the rules for everyone to follow, the Federation wouldn’t exist.’
‘Yes, but, Steve –’
‘Drop it, Roz,’ hissed Steve. ‘I don’t want to hear any more of this shit.’
‘Okay, forget it,’ replied Roz with a sniffy laugh. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to damage your career prospects.’
‘I was thinking about yours,’ snapped Steve.
Roz looked unconvinced.
‘I’m not kidding,’ said Steve angrily. And to be fair, at least twenty per cent of his concern was temporarily directed toward
s his sister. He took hold of her hands. ‘These wild ideas – this renegade talk. You can’t go jumping the rails like this once you get to Grand Central. What’s got into you?’
Roz pursed her lips then tilted her head to one side as she looked down at their clasped hands. ‘Maybe I need my big brother to look after me.’
Their eyes met and held each other fast.
‘That can’t happen, Roz,’ said Steve quietly. ‘I know I’m real bad about getting in touch but – I do think about you and…’
‘… how it was when we were in high school together?’
‘Sometimes. Things change. People too.’
‘I’m people, and nothing’s changed.’ Roz leaned forward and gave him a long tender kiss on the mouth then sat back with a sigh. ‘D’you realise after this week we may never see each other again?’
Steve smiled. ‘That’s life, Roz. Crying won’t change anything.’
‘I wasn’t about to cry.’ Roz took a deep breath. ‘There was something I wanted to tell you.’ She paused hesitantly. ‘About us.’
‘Oh, yeah – what about us?’
‘You and I are different. We are, uh – we’re not like Jack and Annie. Or the others. I feel close to you in ways I can’t explain. I don’t mean how it was before you went up to the Academy. I mean in ways I don’t understand. Haven’t you ever felt that?’
Steve felt suddenly apprehensive. ‘I’m not sure. Give me a for-instance.’
Roz tightened her grip on his hands, and drew her teeth over her bottom lip. Finally she said, ‘D’you remember the day before yesterday when you finally woke up and I brought you breakfast?’
‘How can I forget?’ said Steve. ‘It was the first time ever in my whole life.’
‘Be serious,’ snapped Roz. ‘You remember later on telling me about going up to Level Ten for your solo flight – and how you felt when you saw the overground?’ Roz lowered her voice. ‘Those things you felt inside you? The fear of coming back in?’ She saw Steve’s eyes widen. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t ever tell anyone about that. But do you remember me asking what day and what time it was you made that flight?’
‘Yes,’ whispered Steve.
‘And you told me. But you never asked why I wanted to know.’ Roz fixed her eyes on his. ‘Do you know why I asked?’
Steve gazed back at her. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’
Roz’s answer came in a hesitant whisper. ‘Because I – I knew you were up there. I felt everything you felt – when it happened. I felt the same fear of being buried alive when you hesitated before taxying back under the ramp door. I was in the path lab with the rest of my class. I suddenly cried out. I – I thought the ceiling was going to fall in and crush me. Everyone thought I’d gone crazy. I’ve never had that kind of feeling in my whole life before.’
Steve tried to draw his hands away but Roz held on to him with unexpected strength. The words came spilling from her lips. ‘I saw it all, Steve. The red trees, the mountains, the sun shining on the water, the clouds, the waves of white sand. I was up there with you.’
An unknown terror sent Steve’s heart pounding. ‘Did you try to speak to me through your mind? Was it your voice I heard?’
‘It may have been. There were other voices too.’
‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Where do they come from?’ ‘I don’t know,’ said Steve.
‘Why is it happening to us?’ whispered Roz urgently. ‘Why are we different?’
Steve felt giddy. There was a roaring in his ears. He felt his lips moving; heard a far-off voice saying, ‘I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.’ But another part of him knew that the wave of terror that had swept through his body had been generated by the knowledge that the answer to Roz’s questions lay locked within his mind. Behind a door that he dared not open. A door that had been locked by others because it concealed a secret that could destroy the Amtrak Federation.
Rising early on the following day, Steve went to the Provo office in New Deal Plaza where – with the help of a video-gram from Bart – he got his movement orders amended to allow him to accompany his kin-sister to Grand Central before reporting to the Trail-Blazer depot at Nixon-Fort Worth. Annie Brickman brought Jack down to the subway to see them off. The shuttle from Phoenix slid to a halt at the platform. Roz and Steve put their trailbags aboard then turned and embraced their guardians.
‘G’bye, Poppa-Jack,’ said Roz. She planted a kiss on his forehead and ran a hand gently through his hair. Jack’s lips moved in response, but no sound came out.
‘Goodbye, sir,’ said Steve. He went down on one knee by the wheelchair and threw an arm round his guard-father. Jack’s trembling grip on his other hand suddenly became firm and strong. It was as if the dying man had summoned every last ounce of energy in his exhausted body for the last embrace; the one his ward would remember him by.
‘G’bye Annie.’ Steve and Roz embraced their guardmother.
Annie’s high cheek-bones filled with colour, and her usually firm jaw trembled. ‘Okay, you two – take care of yourselves. And always do what’s right. You got that?’
‘Don’t worry, Annie,’ said Steve. ‘You’re going to be real proud of us before we’re through.’ He grasped his guard-mother’s hand briefly and stepped aboard the shuttle as the air hissed into the rams that closed the sliding doors.
Roz bussed Annie hurriedly on the cheek and stepped inside the door of the compartment. Annie held onto the doors as they slid closed, letting go at the last minute. Roz shouted through the glass. ‘I’ll look in on you tonight!’
Annie nodded tight-lipped, and waved both hands as the shuttle carried them away.
The compartment for which Steve and Roz had been issued tickets was only a quarter full. Most of the other passengers slept, or watched one of the overhead tv sets, listening to the soundtrack through earphones plugged into their seats. Saddling the monorail track, and driven by powerful linear induction motors, the shuttle sped eastwards through the close-fitting tunnel whose grey blankness was relieved only by the regular flash of white as the mile marker bands flipped past.
Even though the nearest passenger was four rows away, and there was no possibility of being overheard, neither of them referred to the secrets they had exchanged on the previous day. Lacking any knowledge of telepathy and unaware that the word-concept even existed, Steve and Roz were more than a little frightened of the powers they had unwittingly unleashed – or become prey to. To be ‘different’ in a society whose structure and values were based on a cloying conformity, co-operative group action, and monolithic unity of purpose could, if discovered, lead to undesirable consequences. Deviant behaviour – the mark of a potential renegrade – was a Code Two default which could lead to arrest and extended treatment – known as ‘re-programming’.
Neither of them wanted to risk that. Steve knew that Roz had her own plans and dreams for the future; was aware that success lay in jumping, like well-trained dogs, through the approved pattern of hoops. As Bart had said – the system did not make mistakes. Only people made mistakes. It was people who failed, not the system. Trying to buck it only led to trouble and, for persistent offenders, could even prove fatal. Steve was already a past-master at dissimulation. Indeed, he had understood at a very early age that, in a society whose members were constantly encouraged to exhibit in every facet of their lives the Seven Great Qualities of Trackerdom (Honesty, Loyalty, Discipline, Dedication, Courage, Intelligence and Skill) possession of the 8th Quality – Duplicity – was vital for anyone planning to claw their way to the top.
Roz was different. For a long time, she had actually believed that the Seven Great Qualities immortalised by the sacrifice of the Minutemen and the Foragers, and now said to be enshrined in the First Family, were the guidelines by which everybody should live; that this, in fact, was the way everybody did live. But now even she began to bend the rules. She was learning. Fast.
Steve and Roz spent three days together going round the capital of the Federation
. Everything was much bigger and grander-looking than at Roosevelt Field and even though he had now seen the overground, the sheer size and glittering magnificence of John Wayne Plaza made Steve gasp in wonder. The huge deeply-vaulted central dome – a mile across and half a mile high – opened onto five lofty tunnels, each a mile long, and known as Vistas. These ran out from the dome to form the points of a star – the symbol of Texas, the Inner State, founder member of the Federation.
The new deeps that were being opened up were different too. At Roosevelt Field, where functionalism was still the keynote, the accommodation units were built round the sides of the shafts but at Grand Central – at the brand spanking new San Jacinto Deep – a huge free-standing circular tower with staggered clusters of balconies had been built in the middle of a vast shaft whose walls had been carved to form a series of inter-linked, landscaped terraces planted with evergreen trees, bushes and lush foliage.
From the top of this vertical rock garden, water cascaded down over rocks, was gathered in pools, ran in streams, rivulets and mini-cataracts between mossy banks, splashing and dashing its way down through the greenery into a small horseshoe lake wrapped around the cobblestone base of the tower. Access to the building on Levels Two and Three was via slim arched walkways.
Steve gazed in open-mouthed wonder at the falling plumes of water that spilled over the cleverly arranged ledges, filling the rock pools which in turn overflowed into others below before making the final plunge over a smooth wall of stone into the foaming edge of the lake at his feet.
Roz started back from the water’s edge as she saw several dark drifting shapes make a sudden movement under the surface. ‘Steve – look! There’s something in there!’
‘Yes,’ said Steve. ‘Fish.’
‘Fish? Really? That’s fantastic.’ Roz stared into the water as if mesmerised. ‘Oh, Steve, look at that big dark brown one!’
‘Yes,’ said Steve. ‘That’s a good one to eat.’
Roz shuddered. ‘Uggh! Christopher Columbus! That is really and truly gross, Steve. Makes me feel quite sick.’
Cloud Warrior Page 8
