CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
It was just a kit of survival rations, but Keene couldn't remember food ever tasting so good. He hadn't been able to resist opening some of the packs from the probe's store and nibbling while he used the emergency-band unit to talk to Heeland and Sariena. At the same time, while shielding the compartment with his body, he had surreptitiously removed the automatic and concealed it in his clothing. After finishing the calls, he set aside the medical provisions and a selection of clothing and food items to take back down for Charlie. Now he could do nothing but wait for Sariena to call back, and so sat with his back against the probe's engine, savoring the almost forgotten luxury of cheese, crackers, a mint cake bar, and self-heating coffee. His three young escorts, possibly having acquired a partiality for Kronian food from earlier visits, hadn't been able to resist the temptation either when he offered them samples. At first they had approached warily as if suspecting a trick, but now they were squatting around him, munching chocolate squares and fruit drops approvingly. Keene wondered how much they might know of where the departed expedition was heading.
"Jorff? . . . Sky Soldier who commands." He made signs and gestures that attempted to convey the concept. The youths looked back at him with expressions of what looked like genuine concern to be of help, but total incomprehension. One of them said something and accompanied it with motions that left Keene equally at a loss.
Weariness was creeping over him. Something hot and wet burned his knee. He jerked his head up with a start, realizing he had been fading and let the mug tip in his hand. He tried again, making movements in the air to represent flying vehicles, then indicated the open ground below, where the flyers had landed. One of the youths nodded finally that he understood and pointed to the north. "Sky Base. Serengeti." No, Keene groaned under his breath. He already knew where they had come from. How to get across that he wanted to know where they had gone to?
The boy sitting in the center put his hands in the position of holding an imaginary rife and then pointed to his chest. "Me with gun. Shoot," he informed Keene proudly. One of the other two said something that sounded derogatory. The third laughed. Keene accepted that he wasn't going to get anywhere.
His thoughts wandered to the runabout upended back where they had left it, waiting for a call. For some reason he pictured birds perching on it. Why was he thinking about birds? He felt the curve of the probe's side pressing into his back. Probe . . . Up in the Varuna . . . Erskine should have known better than to try pulling that stunt. . . . How could a few command that much power? That was the problem. The Kronians had never faced opposition. They never had understood power. . . . Cavan understood. . . . Cavan and Harvey Mitchell with his Special Forces unit, and the plane they had flow in to California . . . Vandenberg when the tide went out, leaving miles of uncovered mud . . . Walls of ocean breaking over the mountains above Pasadena . . .
Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . .
The tone from the emergency-unit handset propped on a rock beside him jolted him back to wakefulness. He groped for it blearily and clicked it on. It was Sariena.
"Lan, are you all right?"
"Oh . . . uh? Yeah. . . . Sure. What have you got?"
"You can stop worrying about Pieter and the people in the Scout. What's going on is more involved. The source couldn't give the whole story, but it seems to have to do with a bigger tribe who live in some caves."
"Caves? That sounds like the place that Rakki and his original group came from."
"That's what I thought too. But now listen to this, Lan." Sariena's face was grave. "As far as the source could make out, the plan is to install Rakki there as chief. Zeigler left to rendezvous with them somewhere. So they'll all be arriving together, making it a big event. He must be using his image to force an alliance of the two tribes. Can you see what this might mean?"
Keene was fully awake now, his eyes wide. He saw exactly what it might mean. "He's building a private army. The larger group they've just found farther east on the coast will be next—and whatever others turn up later. He'll be able to challenge the leadership when they arrive. And that's how the new world will be built."
"Unless Kronia prevents it. Would that be possible?"
"They're too far away to do anything in time. And if Valcroix's people have taken over the Aztec and deliver it to Zeigler with the capability it's carrying . . ." Keene's voice trailed away as the plan finally became clear in all its horrifying completeness.
"Lan. What is it?"
He stared hard for several seconds. "The Trojan is part of it too. It didn't get lost on its way to Jupiter. It's coming here. With its firepower as protection, they'll be able to get a self-sufficient operation going before Kronia can organize anything. After that, they could be practically invulnerable. The only chance is to stop Zeigler now. With no friendly base waiting for them, where do they go?"
"But if they've still got Trojan . . ."
"They do what? Destroy Serengeti? How does that benefit anyone?"
"Blackmail, maybe. By threatening the Varuna. They might be crazy enough."
Keene sighed. She was right. But what else was there? "We just have to risk it."
"But how? What can we do?"
Keene rummaged through the possibilities in his mind, but nothing immediate leaped out. The only answer he could give was, "I don't know. But whatever the chances are, they exist there, where Zeigler is, not here or at Serengeti, where he isn't."
"But we don't even know where he is," Sariena said. "And even if we did, what could either of us do? We're under armed confinement here. All you have there is a dead probe."
Three faces were watching Keene curiously, aware from his manner and tone that something important was afoot but having no idea what. He thought of Rakki and his warriors meeting with Zeigler somewhere out there in the wild lands to the east. . . .
Somewhere in the area over which Heeland's airmobile was circling.
"There might be a way," Keene said. "Stay tuned."
* * *
Since Keene's call, Heeland had been making discreet inquiries about the accessibility of the ship's outgoing communications beam. The situation didn't look promising. Control was exercised from the surface, and the local monitoring stations in the Communications Room were manned by Zeigler's own technicians, covered by guards posted there and in the adjoining Control Center. "Tapping in somewhere" in the way Keene had vaguely suggested sounded all very well in principle, but the reality would require expertise and opportunity of a kind that he hadn't come close to identifying yet. He had remained in the Probe Director Section and was considering what to do next, when Keene came through again.
"Kerry, how far away is that flying mobile?"
"From you? About twenty miles east now."
"I'm playing a hunch. Can we get a scan of the area south and eastward from the base toward the Spine? Sweep for transmissions? A couple of flyers left from here earlier, and more from Serengeti. I think they're heading that way. We need to find them. It's important."
"That's still a big area. You don't have anything more specific?"
"Sorry, that's the best I can do. We'll have to trust to luck."
"I'll move the mobile over."
"Can you launch the probes and use those? Cover more area. I want you to land the mobile here at Joburg. Is there any reason why a person can't get a ride in it?"
"It's not equipped to carry people."
"How about in the probe racks? I'm not looking for first class."
"I guess . . . if we kept the altitude low. It could get pretty cold up there all the same."
"I've got the emergency blanket from the probe that's here. What's the mobile's radiation shielding like?"
"It's adequate. We still have to work around things like mobiles."
"And communications?" Keene asked.
"That could be a problem. Like I said, it isn't intended for passengers. It doesn't carry any." Heeland frowned. On the screen, Keene was racking hi
s brains too to come up with something. "Unless!" Heeland said suddenly.
"What?"
"I only launch two of the probes and keep one in the mobile. Then you can use its local unit and the mobile's on-board relay."
"That'll work. Do it. I'm on the ridge up above Joburg."
"Hit the red button on the panel that says Locator Beacon. We'll just follow it on down."
* * *
Aztec didn't have a Hub. While Trojan stood off at a distance of five miles, the ferry bringing its boarding party docked at the transfer locks situated slightly forward of midships. Minutes after the connection was made, armed parties were spreading out through the Aztec to secure it. Commander Reese with his officers received Major Ulak on the Bridge Deck and was formally notified that the vessel was now property of the Terran Planetary Government, and that his command was subordinated to the Defense Force. Ulak then made a surprising request: that the lieutenant-commander seconding the boarding party be permitted to speak privately with Ms. Vicki Delucey, one of the scientists from Kronia, who was traveling with the Aztec. She was notified accordingly, and by the time the officer was conducted to her cabin, she was already waiting there. Her expression didn't change as the two guards who had escorted him ushered him through and closed the door.
"Hello, Robin," she said.
* * *
Mertak came down from the upper level of OpCom and crossed through the guard quarters to the main door. Moving at a normal pace without show of undue haste, he left the fenced security compound and made his way to the power distribution house. Shayle was alone in the control room. Because of the number that were away with Jorff's and Zeigler's parties, no guard was posted here for the time being. All the same, he kept his voice low.
"They're all together at a rendezvous location on the ground. It's a valley southeast from here, just this side of the Spine. I've got the coordinates. . . ."
* * *
Keene had just relayed the numbers to Heeland, when one of his three escorts jumped up suddenly, peering up at the sky. The other two scrambled to their feet also. Keene stood up, following their gaze. His ears caught the muted whine of ducted fans, coming from the east. "Okay, I can hear it now," he said into the handset from the probe.
The dot descending from the gray overhead resolved itself into a bright orange-and-white disk topped by a pair of black tail fins. The boys gazed up apprehensively as it approached, at the same time keeping attention on Keene with nervous glances. He waved up at the airmobile and nodded back at them, trying to look reassuring. "Okay, I've got you on visual," Heeland's voice said from the handset. "Didn't know you had company. What gives?"
"They're okay. Just bring it down right in front of the probe."
"You're not planning on taking those guys too, I hope."
"No, just me."
The mobile landed amid a scattering of dust. Keene picked up the foil-backed survival blanket that he'd taken from the downed probe and moved forward to check the accommodation. Two of the underside racks were empty as Heeland had promised, the third still holding its probe. Keene unsnapped recessed catches locking its emergency compartment cover, then leaned in to activate the comm panel and take out the handset. "Reading?" he checked.
"Loud and clear," Heeland responded on the new channel. Keene shut off the handset he'd been using from the grounded probe. Now he had a channel that would travel with him. He unfolded the blanket and began packing it around inside one of the empty racks. The boys were watching him uncertainly, the leader reaching for his spear now. Keene pointed at the pile of things he had set aside to take back, before the change of plan.
"Back, Joburg," he said, pointing to the direction down from the ridge. "Charlie. For Charlie. You take, yes?" He eased himself down, sliding a leg into the space he had prepared.
"No!" the leader barked, brandishing his spear threateningly. It seemed that allowing Keene to go would be a betrayal of responsibility. The other two picked up their spears and came forward to support him. Keene had hoped this wouldn't happen. He produced the automatic that he had retained and leveled it at them. They stopped, confused and afraid. In the last couple of days they had seen enough to know what such a weapon was capable of.
"Sorry, guys. It's not the way I wanted to end things, but I have to insist. Just stay back there, and no one gets hurt." They didn't understand the words, but they got the message. Keene eased himself into the rack, still keeping the boys covered. "Okay, take her away," he told Heeland. The three youths stared helplessly the mobile lifted. As it cleared the ridge, Keene saw figures outside the huts below, some pointing, others running about. Its arrival had obviously caused a commotion. He hoped Charlie would be able to figure out at least something of what it meant. The mobile continued in a turning climb toward the east.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Wernstecki stood in the Aztec's cargo hold, absorbed in thought as he stared again at the groups of squat, cylindrical AG exciters, each more than six feet across, mounted in their massive steel supporting frames. For transit they were secured solidly to the ship's main structural members, stacked crossways to the vessel's length for symmetrical mass distribution. Capable of generating shaped force-fields to shear blocks weighing hundreds of tons from bedrock, this battery of them could be made to project a region of intense, narrow-focused gravitational potential, like a beam, back from the tail of the ship and across the surrounding space. And sitting out there just a few miles away was the Trojan, its construction flimsy and extended compared to the Aztec's ruggedness and compactness. It would be like a ferris wheel caught by a grappling hook thrown from a tank. Exactly what kind of damage, disablement, or other effect might be inflicted in this way, Wernstecki didn't know; that would be for those who knew something about ship design to say. But here was a hostile vessel dictating terms because the Aztec was unarmed. But maybe, if properly used, some of the cargo it was carrying could be improvised into an armament that no military mind aboard the Trojan had dreamed of.
But how?
He sighed and shook his head. Getting the parameter settings right would need a lot of computing. Then there was the physical problem of running heavy power connections from the ship's fusion converters. How could anything like that be organized or even talked about with the ship occupied? Two guards from the boarding party were watching him from the open doorway at the end of the hold right now. It was impossible.
Approaching footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Luthis appeared moments later, ignored the guards, and came over. "We're gathering in the staff mess—scientific heads and crew chiefs. You need to be there."
"What's happening?" Wernstecki asked.
Luthis had an almost bemused look on his face, as if he didn't quite understand it himself. "Did you know that Vicki's son is here—one of the officers with the boarding party?"
"Yes, Tanya told me."
"Apparently, the two of them had a long talk at his request. Now she's come out and told Reese that what we've been hearing about the whole . . . everything that's going on, isn't the whole story. There's another side to it that we should be aware of. Reese thinks we should all hear it."
Wernstecki couldn't believe it. After all the vehement opposition he'd heard Vicki voice to the Pragmatists and what they stood for, she could have turned around so easily? He shook his head, equally mystified. Landen Keene had said on a number of occasions that he refused to discuss politics with scientists because they were totally naive when it came to such matters—even Terran ones. So what was a Kronian scientist like Wernstecki supposed to make of it? But there was nothing to be done except at least listen, he supposed.
"Very well," he said. Luthis turned, and they headed back toward the forward part of the ship.
* * *
Knives of cold found their way through, however Keene tried to pull the foil-backed blanket around himself. The roar of the fans close-up pounded into his skull, and no matter which way he twisted in the rack space, a bar or an edge or a
protuberance of some kind seemed to be digging into him somewhere. He thought of Charlie lying on a soft palliasse in a warm, dry hut, being pampered and fussed over by hordes of women.
Receding away to the right, he could see part of the river that they had followed, continuing below the lake before turning away to the west. Below, the land was a desolate succession of humps and ridges, new sedimentary deposits just starting to acquire a covering of vegetation like the coasts he had seen from the probe over New York: the unworked raw material of land, yet to accumulate the effects of time, the elements, and life in action. Then came the steep eastern scarp, formed by the broken edge of the tilted crustal block. Ahead, to the southeast, across a flat wilderness of sandy basins and marshes, the skyline of mountains loomed larger and higher.
"Okay, got 'em!" Heeland's voice came suddenly from the handset, which Keene had wedged against the side of his head. Keene moved it to where he could see the tiny screen. It showed an aerial slant view from a distance of four objects on the ground. A zoom-in revealed them to be two small personnel carriers and two larger site buses.
"I see them," Keene acknowledged, yelling above the din from the fans. "Where are they?"
"A hundred and twenty-five miles ahead of you. The probe that's sending this is cruising a mile out. I sent the other one farther north before you gave me the coordinates. It's on its way, but it'll be a while."
Figures were standing in line at one of the buses, moving forward and boarding. They were in regular tunics—Zeigler's force from Serengeti, not Rakki's warriors, who must have been already inside the other craft. "Looks like they're leaving," Keene said. "We must have just caught them."
"Looks like it," Heeland agreed.
Even as they watched, the last of the figures entered, the door in the side of the bus closed, and the craft began lifting off. Heeland put the probe into a wide circuit, tracking them as they rose. The four vessels formed up and settled onto a southeast heading, continuing the way both they and Keene had been going, which put him in the position of trailing them. The airmobile was built for endurance not speed, and would fall behind the faster flyers. But the probe would be able to shadow them. He would just have to follow where they led and catch up later, after they arrived.
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