‘That was Trask,’ Alexei said in a low voice. ‘Van Krieger’s deputy and a brute. Looks as if he’s being helpful. Wonder how much he is getting paid.’
The former minister went and sat at the table and the greyhaired huntress moved to stand behind him, watching the rest with hard eyes. A slender hooded man stepped out from behind a stack of crates and sat on a chair further back, face hidden in shadow. Greg frowned and was about to ask Alexei about the newcomer when Vashutkin spoke.
‘Mr Cameron,’ he said, getting to his feet, hand outstretched. ‘It is an honour to finally meet you, although I wish it were under less cramped conditions.’
‘An honour for me too, Mr Vashutkin,’ Greg said, shaking the man’s hand and sitting down opposite him. ‘I’m a great admirer of your radio speeches. They’re quite, eh, energetic.’
Vashutkin chuckled. ‘I only gave a handful over the air before Trond Council asked me to stop as it was offending someone’s wife. I am glad that you enjoyed them.’
‘It’s not just me – I have it on good authority that in the towns, certain disrespectful youths gather in secret and recite from transcripts of your speeches, as well as the usual drinking and smoking. I’m told that the bits where you’re comparing President Kirkland to various species of mudworm are especially popular.’
After the deaths of President Sandstrom and his ministers, the Darien Assembly chose Kirkland, leader of the consolidation party, to be president of a government of national unity. Since taking office, however, Kirkland had proved increasingly compliant towards the Brolturans’ security plans.
‘Good, good! That proves how despised the snake is, and I’m sure that he knows.’ He shook his head. ‘Kirkland wasn’t so bad before all this, but he has not the kind of soul that would resist corruption, so he has been eaten by it.’ He paused to glance over his shoulder. ‘Are we secure?’
The woman leaned forward a little and spoke in a Norj accent.
‘He says that there is a single pickup in the ceiling but it is now cancelled.’
The Rus politician seemed to relax a little, then glanced at Greg and smiled at his unconcealed curiosity.
‘My companions are a little … uncustomary, da? A mystery for later – now, let us sit and speak of resistance.’
Greg loosened his heavy outer garment, feeling warm suddenly.
‘Well, we have been focusing our attention on information gathering,’ he said. ‘Also keeping the escape routes and safe houses secure, and trying to keep essential knowledge restricted to cells. So far we’ve been getting folk away from most of the inland towns and some of Hammergard’s outlying districts but we hope to expand that, maybe even tackle one o’ their detention centres.’
‘I understand why you wish to do this, my friend, truly I do. But the hard truth is that you will have to cut back on these activities, not increase them.’
Dismayed, Greg sat back. ‘Why’s that?’
‘For two reasons. First, if they escape into the mountains and the forests, the number of dissidents making life difficult for the occupiers goes down. Second, some of these escapers are bringing families and relatives which again pleases the Brolturans because caring for such non-combatants drains your resources, dulls your military edge and reduces your flexibility.’
‘We can’t refuse to help people who’ve suffered at the hands of the Brolturans,’ Greg said levelly. ‘If somebody’s been singled out for harsh treatment, then I’ll do all I can to get them to safety. That’s not gonnae change.’
‘Of course you would, Mr Cameron, and I would too, except that I am recognising the realities of the conflict, the brutal realities, while your methods just make the occupation easier for those stinking offworlders. Change will have to come if we are to work together.’
Greg stared at him, dismay turning to irritation and dislike. He could almost hear a possible response at the back of his thoughts: Aye, Mr Vashutkin, now that you mention it I can see those realities so how about this – instead of helping folk escape, we’ll give ’em guns and explosives, ye know, kids and grannies too, along with a list of targets we want dealt with. And for those far gone in despair there’s always the suicide bomb option, just the thing tae unnerve the occupying forces. What d’ye say?
But at the back of his thoughts was where the sarcasm remained. The situation was too grave for anything but a framework of courtesy, even a flimsy one. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, hands clasped on the table.
‘Could you tell me what you mean by “working together”?’
Vashutkin spread his hands. ‘Unfortunately, I have worn out my welcome in Trond – the council has been coming under a great deal of pressure from the townspeople, the dependent planters and stock farmers because of the embargo imposed by Kirkland’s puppet government. In the next few days the council will cave in to Hammergard then tell me and my supporters to get the hell out of their town, but I want to be gone before then. Luckily, you already have a base of operations, this Tayowal, so we can join forces, pool our skills and do some real planning, eh?’
Vashutkin’s grin was wide and enthusiastic and Greg felt like laughing in his face, but gave an answering smile.
‘Mr Vashutkin …’
‘Please, call me Alexander.’
‘Alexander, you have to realise that Tayowal is not a Human settlement but a place that the Uvovo use for ceremonies. They offered it to us as a place of shelter, and we’ve been helping Uvovo evade the Brolturan sweeps, sending them to hideouts in the south and bringing them to Tayowal. I’m not really in charge of the Human community, as such, and I wouldn’t presume to start giving out orders …’ Even though I’m the one who organises food for the cooks, the sentry rotas, dispute arbitration, oh aye, I hardly do anything! ‘If my uncle, Theo Karlsson, were here he is someone who would certainly be in charge, but his Diehards seem to have elected me as his stand-in, either that or a mascot, I’ve no’ quite figured it out yet.’
Off to the side, Nikolai Firmanov was smiling as he leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, saying nothing.
‘You seem to see this as a problem, yet if I were to offer clear leadership perhaps this would not be seen as a problem in these times, perhaps?’ Vashutkin frowned. ‘Informal arrangements work against planning, but we can deal with that at a big-table consultation once we are all together.’
‘I am sorry, Alexander, but without an invite from the Uvovo Listeners, you should not come to Tayowal. I will ask them if you and your men can join us but it’s unlikely they’ll agree. And if you came anyway and set up camp, they’ll just up sticks and vanish into the forest, leaving us in serious barodritt, since we depend on them for eighty per cent of our provisions, as well as the help they give us in a dozen other ways.’ Greg decided to omit the fact that the Listeners saw him as an honorary scholar and the Human spokesman.
Vashutkin gave him a considering look. ‘You have come to rely on them a lot, I see.’
‘It is their world,’ Greg said. ‘Which they’ve decided to share with us.’
‘I understand. My apologies if I seemed … impatient.’
‘Not to worry, Alexander. Look, the ancient Uvovo built quite a few habitats all across this region, dug down into the ground or tunnelled into the sides of hills and mountains. There’s one worked into the caves of the Utgard Barricades north of the forest, and not far from Belskirnir, and it’s pretty extensive too. I’m sure that the Listeners would have no problem with you taking it over.’
Vashutkin seemed mollified. ‘My thanks, Gregory, for your advice and your candour – I shall seek more information about these caves. However, I must still urge you to rethink your arrangements. The situation is going to change for the worse and we have to be ready.’
‘Ready for what?’ Greg said. ‘Are the Brolturans bringing in more troops? Or are the Hegemony?’
‘In a manner of speaking, Mr Cameron,’ said another voice.
Greg looked up. It was the hooded man who had spo
ken. Vashutkin laughed and without turning made a beckoning gesture.
‘Gregory, may I introduce you to my very good friend Baltazar Silveira, who has come all the long way from Earth to speak with us today.’
Half amazed, half puzzled, Greg rose and reached out to shake the man’s hand. Silveira had a slender build and a narrow face, cropped black hair and dark, slightly sad eyes. His smile was faint but his grip was firm. Greg wondered if he was from the Earthsphere ship, Heracles.
‘Mr Cameron, I am very pleased to meet you and your companions,’ he said, his Noranglic carrying an accent that Greg could not place. ‘First, you must understand that my presence on your world has to be kept secret for the simple reason that I am a covert agent for Earthsphere Intelligence. If the Brolturan military or the Hegemony were to learn of me, it would be extremely embarrassing for my superiors, who would force me to leave Darien. And if other powers such as the Imisil Mergence got wind of it, the resulting complications would not be at all helpful.’
‘You have our word, Mr Silveira,’ Greg said, his calm concealing a growing excitement. ‘Outside the four of us, there’ll be no discussion of yourself or your purpose.’ He looked at the Firmanovs and Kao Chih, still wearing cap and muffler, and got nods of agreement. ‘So, the Brolturans are getting reinforcements, you say. Well, after a month of complaints and arguments from Russians, Scandinavians and Scots, it’s no’ surprising, really. What will it be – a regiment of veteran entertainers? A battalion of crack cooks sent in to whip up enough Brolturan delicacies to sweeten our rough natures? Or is it just more troops?’
Vashutkin’s amusement was plain, if stifled. Silveira’s smile was wintry.
‘Brolturan civilisation may be an offshoot from the Sendrukan Hegemony,’ he said, ‘but militarily it should be considered as an adjunct to Hegemony power. This gives them access to a stunning array of cutting-edge battlefield hardware, yet there are a few weapon systems which their patrons keep to themselves, like the Namul-Ashaph. Translated from Sendrukala it literally means “mind that makes”; we would describe it as an AI-autofac, a mobile, nanosourced production unit capable of turning out between four and eight combat mechs a day, depending on their configuration. Our intel shorthand for it is tektor …’
‘Short name, big trouble,’ Vashutkin said to Greg. ‘This is why we have to be ready.’
‘Indeed, yes,’ said Silveira. ‘Part of my assignment is to advise you on what to expect and how to counter Hegemony mech tactics with fortifications and traps.’
As he listened, Greg’s trepidation and dismay deepened. Most of Tayowal consisted of sheltering chambers cut into the sloping sides of a cuplike depression in the Kentigerns’ north foothills; in the event of an attack it would be difficult to defend and would provide poor cover from bombardment. He then recalled that his Uvovo friend Chel the Seer was off in the mountains with the Voth pilot, Yash, and Gorol9, the Construct droid, investigating various old Uvovo ruins with an eye for their defensibility. He mentioned this to Silveira, who nodded.
‘Natural features make the best strongholds,’ he said. ‘With the disadvantage that tunnel complexes can count against you.’
‘So when can we expect the arrival of this factory of death?’
‘It is due to arrive on board a Hegemony freighter sometime in the next couple of days,’ Silveira said. ‘Beyond that I cannot be more specific.’
Greg smiled sharply. ‘Y’know, you must forgive me if I seem a wee bit sour and disgruntled, but in the face of this artificial intelligence dedicated to our destruction would it not have made sense for your superiors to send along, as well as your good self, a crate or two of top-notch weaponry, just to even the scales a little?’
‘Most particle weapons give off distinctive energy signatures,’ Silveira said. ‘If the Brolturans detected such a thing on Darien they would immediately realise that Earthsphere was supporting indigenous insurgents against them, and when the Hegemony learned of it there would be various kinds of hell to pay. Non-Earthsphere armour-piercing guns are being sourced but by the time they arrived the conflict would be well under way.’
‘So we have to make do with a few hunting rifles and small arms, is what you’re saying.’
‘Your situation could actually be worse,’ Silveira said. ‘The tektor you’ll be facing is a class-B unit; the class-A is twice as big and can produce at least twelve mechs a day. There is a world once called Karagal, away at the edge of the Hegemony’s rimward tracts. After a century of protests over the burdens of colonial rule its people rebelled in unison, thinking this would prove their fitness for autonomy. The Hegemony’s response was to send in forty class-A tektors and in a month no one was left alive, a population of a billion and a half wiped out. Because class-As can build class-Bs in addition to a range of mechs.’
Greg exchanged a look with Vashutkin, who raised a sardonic eyebrow.
‘Somehow,’ Greg said, ‘that’s no’ very assuring.’
‘But you are not in that kind of danger here on Darien,’ the agent went on. ‘The Brolturans are going to considerable lengths to portray themselves as benevolent overseers, taking care of security matters while the Human colonists get on with their lives, grateful for that protection. Such propaganda has been pouring out to the subspace newsfeeds almost from the day after Sundstrom’s assassination, and finding out the truth of the occupation is the other part of my assignment.’
‘Information gathering,’ Greg said, thinking of Kao Chih.
‘That is so. There are several unanswered questions which I was tasked with addressing – Mr Vashutkin was kind enough to furnish me with some background on Captain Barbour, the pilot who shot down two Brolturan interceptors with an Earthsphere shuttle.’
‘You know about that?’ Greg said.
Silveira nodded. ‘Indeed – Barbour is something of an underground hero on Earth, and an openly celebrated one on the Vox Humana colonies. Did you know him?’
‘No, but my uncle was with him aboard that shuttle.’
Vashutkin leaned forward, suddenly animated. ‘Black Theo, yes? Major Karlsson, Viktor Ingram’s right-hand man!’ He uttered a low whistle. ‘Was he killed too?’
‘Not entirely sure,’ Greg said, trying to ignore the hollowness in his chest. ‘There was a report from Pilipoint Station that a lifepod ejected from the shuttle before it engaged the interceptors. Maybe he was in it, I don’t know.’
‘What about the moon Nivyesta?’ Silveira said. ‘What do you think is happening up there?’
Up there. Over the last few weeks Greg had largely succeeded in avoiding any brooding over the fate of those closest to him. Catriona and Uncle Theo were missing, that’s all, and no presumptions of mortality were going to take root in his thoughts.
‘The Brolturans cut all communication with Nivyesta, so we’ve no’ had any direct contact with the folk there,’ he said. ‘There’s plenty of rumours, though – Alexander has probably told you a few – but without another source that’s all they are.’
Silveira nodded. ‘And what about Earthsphere Ambassador Robert Horst? Our politivores have been riding endless waves of speculation since he supposedly vanished on the very day that the Hegemony envoy accused him of being behind the assassination of Reskothyr the first Brolturan ambassador. Mr Vashutkin says he wouldn’t be surprised if he had been responsible – what do you say?’
Greg ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed at an ache in his neck. More like what should I not say? Och well, half a truth is better than nae truth at all!
‘Horst had nothing to do with that assassination,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen a cam-vid that proves that it was Ezgara commandos who were responsible, and they take their orders from the Hegemony envoy, Utavess Kuros. As for Horst’s whereabouts, that is a mystery.’ He sighed. ‘What I’m about to tell you is gonnae sound far-fetched but hear me out. My uncle, Theo Karlsson, knew that airborne Brolturan guards were coming to get Ambassador Horst, who was visiting Gangradur Falls at the tim
e. He got the ambassador away by zeplin to Giant’s Shoulder where I was working …’ He went on to relate how they had taken refuge in a hidden chamber within the promontory while Brolturan troops swept the area. He made no mention of the warpwell or its true function. Instead he told them that their presence had triggered an ancient, automated matter transporter which by chance snatched the ambassador away to … well, to somewhere else.
Silveira was frowning, while Vashutkin had chuckled at first and was now leaning back, watching him closely.
‘I do not recall any reports of such discoveries on Giant’s Shoulder,’ Vashutkin said.
‘It only came to light in the days before the crisis,’ Greg said. ‘I realise that you only have my word for this … well, mine and that of my companions here.’ He indicated the Firmanov brothers.
Vashutkin sat straighter and stared over at Nikolai. ‘Is this true? Is that what you saw?’
Nikolai was unruffled. ‘Yes, sir. It happened just as Mr Cameron described.’
‘Exactly as he said,’ added Alexei.
Greg smiled. ‘In fact, that ancient device is probably the reason for the Hegemony’s interest in Darien – why d’ye think they dug a big access tunnel into the core of Giant’s Shoulder?’
Now Silveira looked uncertain, half-convinced. ‘As a technology, matter transportation has never worked consistently but you say that this device accomplished it.’
‘There’s no knowing that Ambassador Horst survived the process,’ Greg added.
The Orphaned Worlds_Book Two of Humanity's Fire Page 3
