Scavenger Blood

by Janet Edwards

  “I wanted to eat with the others because I was concerned about Phoenix,” I said.

  “You knew that Phoenix’s temperature was almost back to normal, and Braden would tell us if her condition got worse again.”

  I couldn’t think of a good reply to that, so I kept quiet as I went through the fire door.

  “I’m beginning to think that you’re avoiding being alone with me,” said Tad, in a wounded voice.

  “I’m not avoiding being alone with you. It’s just that our relationship is a bit difficult at the moment.”

  “Can you explain why it’s difficult?” asked Tad.

  I groaned. “It’s difficult for a whole host of reasons. We need to hide our feelings from everyone in the alliance. The situation is extremely dangerous. I’m busy helping Donnell. This isn’t a good time to rush into anything.”

  Tad was studying my face. “This morning, I started wondering if I was obeying the wrong set of social rules. I used my web to do some research on Earth customs, but those include everything from incredibly long courtships to marriages between people who’ve never met at all.”

  He paused. “The current custom on Adonis is for relationships to progress through several specifically defined stages before marriage. After what happened to my father, my grandfather was eager for me to marry and have children as soon as possible, so he always made it clear that he’d expect me to skip rapidly through those relationship stages.”

  Tad shrugged. “I don’t care about Adonis customs or what my grandfather expects. It will sound ridiculous, but the person I most respected as a child was one of my martial arts trainers.”

  “I don’t see anything ridiculous about that.”

  “The ridiculous bit is that he was an Adonis Knight,” said Tad. “I’m guessing from your expression that you don’t know what that means.”

  “No, I don’t.” I pointed at the door ahead of us on our right. “We need to go into the Security Control Room. Donnell told me to set you up with second level access to the security system, so you can enter and leave the sixth floor instead of having to send Nadira downstairs with messages for us. You mustn’t go out of the Resistance wing without one of us as an escort though.”

  Tad glanced at the notice on the door. “It’s lucky that the Security Control Room is in the Resistance wing of the building rather than one of the others.”

  I opened the door. “That isn’t luck. When the Resistance first took over Parliament House, they moved into this wing of the building because the Security Control Room was here. The other divisions arrived a lot later.”

  Tad followed me into the room. “I was explaining to you about Adonis Knights. The families of the first colonists on Adonis were honoured with the title of Adonis Knights. A core group of them got together and invented a code of honour and a set of trials based on the first colonists’ struggle to survive. My grandfather describes the whole thing as idealistic rubbish, but it impressed me as a child. It still impresses me now.”

  I frowned at the control screen on the wall. The raw emotion in Tad’s voice showed he cared deeply about this, so we needed to finish this conversation before sorting out his security access. I turned to face him.

  “I wanted to do the trials of Adonis myself,” said Tad. “The Wallam-Crane family obviously weren’t among the first colonists of Adonis, but we were made honorary Knights when we moved there. That meant I was qualified to be a trial candidate, but my grandfather refused to let me enter. He said that I didn’t have time for it, and the trials were too dangerous.”

  Tad pulled a resigned face. “I have to go to Zeus in Beta sector to continue my research, so I’ll never be able to do the trials now. The code of honour is still deeply significant to me though, so I try to live up to its standards of behaviour on things like relationships, faithfulness, honesty, justice, and only using my power to help others rather than harm them.”

  He paused. “You’re probably thinking my grandfather was right about it being idealistic rubbish.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with trying to behave well to others. I haven’t met your grandfather, but everything you’ve said tells me that he’d call this code of honour rubbish, because he doesn’t care about anyone or anything except building new interstellar portals.”

  I’d been trying to work out why I was attracted to Tad, and had come up with several reasons, but felt there was a far more crucial factor involved that I didn’t understand. Now Tad had explained that factor to me. I was attracted to him because he believed in an idealistic code of honour, and it shone through in everything he did, especially the thing that Donnell kept commenting on: Tad’s almost embarrassing eagerness to help us.

  It was ironic that I’d finally made sense of my attraction to Tad at the moment when I was ending our relationship. I had to stop dodging the issue and accept that was what was happening here. Tad was pushing for us to have time alone together, pushing for us to progress our relationship, and I couldn’t agree to that.

  Tad was still talking, earnestly looking into my eyes. “According to the code of honour, my priority in our relationship should always be to make you happy. Please tell me what would count as rushing for you, and what would make you happy?”

  It was best to say this bluntly. “I agree that the priority in a relationship should be to make each other happy, but there’s no point in me explaining what would count as rushing for me because... Well, Rogue’s death shocked me, and I’ve decided I should end things between us.”

  “I appreciate that Rogue’s death shocked you.” Tad seemed to be choosing his words with paranoid care. “It shocked me too, but it didn’t make me want to end our relationship. If anything, it made it even more important to me. Can you explain why you feel so differently?”

  “I’m used to death, Tad. I’ve seen a man die in a fall. I’ve nursed a dying child. I’ve attended far too many burials.”

  I ran my fingers through my close-cropped hair, and thought how it symbolized the constant danger of the life I led. A life where I daren’t grow my hair long in case it was used against me.

  “When Rogue was shot, it made me face the fact that our relationship doesn’t have a chance,” I said. “Raeni and Rogue were perfectly suited, there was no reason they shouldn’t live happy lives together, but it ended in Raeni holding vigil over his coffin.”

  I’d promised to keep Raeni’s secret, so I couldn’t tell Tad the thing that bothered me most. That Raeni’s unborn child had already lost its father.

  “If Raeni and Rogue couldn’t have a happy ending,” I said, “what chance do we have with our secret relationship? Everything has been against us from the start, and even if we get the alliance to a new home, we’ll still have to overcome massive problems to have a future together.”

  I sighed. “You’ll have to go to Zeus and help the Fidelis Project build new interstellar portals, while I can’t leave Earth with this gun on my arm, and there’s no way to remove a bonded Armed Agent weapon without killing me.”

  “After the division leaders decided that the whole alliance should leave New York, I told you I’d find a way to keep visiting you, and eventually move back to live on Earth permanently,” said Tad. “You agreed that could work.”

  “Yes. I knew that having a relationship with you would be a huge risk. I was still willing to trust in you finding a way to get back to Earth to visit me, but the situation has got far worse now. Nobody is safe setting foot outside Parliament House, we’re under siege by an army of falling stars, and Cage is stalking us with his sniper rifle.”

  I groaned. “I thought that we’d at least be safe inside Parliament House after Raeni managed to keep the leadership of Queens Island, but Cage’s supporters will just declare their own new division instead, and the alliance will be torn apart anyway. I’m used to taking risks, Tad, but I need a glimmer of hope for the future if I’m going to let our relationship develop into something deeper. Right now, I’m not seeing any hope of getting the alliance o
ut of New York before the firestorm hits us.”

  “I see,” muttered Tad.

  I forced my voice to be calmly practical, faced the control screen, and turned it on. “Now let’s sort out your security access.”

  Tad gave the control screen a distracted look. “Why does this still work when all the other wall vids in New York just give error messages about having no signal?”

  I shrugged to show my ignorance.

  A second later, Tad answered his question himself. “Ah, it’s because my ancestors were all paranoid about security. They believed the only way to stop anyone hacking their way into a security system was to keep it totally isolated from the Earth data net.”

  “What do your ancestors have to do with this security system?”

  Tad gave an embarrassed cough. “Your father talks as if the Wallam-Crane Portal Company owned the world during the era of United Earth. While that isn’t completely true, they did have immense influence over the United Earth Government, so the security systems used in the Regional Parliament Houses were one of my family’s designs.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I felt this just confirmed the vast gulf between Tad and me. I’d been right to decide we couldn’t have a future together.

  Tad was still busily talking about the control screen. “When you turn on other electrical devices, they automatically try to connect to the technical area of the Earth data net to get their operating software. The connection fails because coverage in this area was lost after the major solar storm in 2389. Since the security system here has no link to the Earth data net, its control screen has self-contained operating software and still works.”

  The control screen was displaying a message. “Please enter password.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “When Donnell told me to do this, he didn’t mention anything about a password.”

  “He’s written his password on the wall.” Tad pointed at the wall next to the control screen. “My ancestors would tear their hair out at such a blatant breach of security.”

  I tapped in the password, and the screen displayed a handprint. I tried putting my hand on it, and it showed a new message. “Blaze, command level. Select option required.”

  There were a lot of options listed. Authorization sounded right, so I touched that, then set the name to Tad and the level number to two.

  I frowned when nothing happened. “I’m not sure what I do now.”

  “I have to put my hand on the registration plate, and then we connect that to the system.” Tad went across to a nearby table, put his hand on what looked like a door plate, then brought the plate over and pushed it into a slot on the wall. “Now you put your hand on the screen to confirm the settings.”

  He’d obviously looked this up on the Earth data net. I followed his instructions, and then managed to get out of the system and turn the screen off by myself. We left the room and headed on to the steel security door that led to the staircase.

  I gestured at the door plate. “You’d better open the security door to make sure I set up your security access correctly.”

  Tad didn’t move. “So you want to end our relationship?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re saying the problem isn’t with you and me, but with the situation we’re in?”

  “Yes,” I repeated.

  “Then we need to improve the situation,” said Tad briskly.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hug him or hit him. “That’s all you have to say? We need to improve the situation?”

  Tad put his hand on the plate of the security door, and it slid open. “Yes. I’ve spent most of my life facing the seemingly impossible task of building new interstellar portals. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of obstacles I need to overcome, but I’ve learnt how to look for a way to make progress, and focus on taking one small step at a time.”

  He turned to smile at me. “The way to improve our situation is to deal with Cage and his supporters, and the first step is exploring the subway tunnels.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Tad and I did our best to be quiet as we walked down the main staircase of the Resistance wing, but our footsteps still sounded unnervingly loud. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw Machico was sitting on a chair by the curtained entrance to Reception. He glanced at us, and lifted a hand in what seemed to be a gesture of good wishes.

  Tad and I hurried on to the Resistance back door. Donnell was already there waiting for us, with a group of four unlit lanterns standing on the floor next to him. One of the expanding poles that we used to check for hazards under snow was leaning against the wall. Next to it, weirdly, was a broom that had been painted white.

  Donnell gave our knife belts to Tad and me. As we buckled them around our waists, Weston and Vijay arrived. They already had their knife belts, were also armed with both swords and bows, and had peculiarly thin, white cloaks over their coats. Weston handed cloaks to Tad and me as well, and I saw they’d been roughly fashioned out of white sheets.

  “Even at midnight, someone might be looking out of a window,” said Weston. “We don’t want any of Cage’s supporters to see us leaving and wonder what we’re doing. White sheets aren’t perfect camouflage, but they’ll make us less visible against the snow.”

  Tad and I put on the cloaks and tried to adjust them to cover as much of our dark coats as possible.

  “I’ve got both lanterns and flashlights for you.” Donnell handed flashlights to everyone. “Blaze is in charge,” he said, in a meaningful voice, “but I’m sure she’ll listen to helpful advice from Weston and Vijay.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Good luck with your exploring.” Donnell put his hand on the door plate to unlock the back door. “I’d like you to be back here by an hour before dawn.”

  He stepped forward to give me a hesitant, fleeting hug, then I picked up a lantern, and walked out into icy air. It was brighter outside than I’d expected, because it was a clear night, and the light of an almost full moon was reflecting off the white blanket of snow. There was slush on the ground where I was standing, because of the warmth of the building, but I only needed to take two steps further forward to find myself in snow that came near to the top of my boots.

  I turned to face the others and saw they’d all picked up lanterns too. Weston was holding the expanding pole, which he’d pulled out to its full length, while Vijay had the broom. The two of them were exchanging worried looks. They didn’t seem to have much faith in my leadership ability.

  “I thought we should cut straight across the vegetable garden to the old security outpost,” I said, eager to show that I wasn’t totally useless.

  Weston nodded. “You’re thinking that if anyone notices footprints heading for the old security post, they’ll assume Donnell sent someone out there to collect a power storage unit?”

  There was only one intelligent thing to say to that, and I said it. “Yes.”

  Weston led the way, using the pole to check the ground underfoot, and I followed him. I looked over my shoulder to make sure Tad was keeping in line, and saw the reason we had the broom with us. Vijay was dragging it lightly over our footsteps in the snow to blur them.

  When we reached the small concraz building that had once been a security outpost, and was now used to hold power storage units, I turned to frown back at the conspicuous trail we’d left in the snow.

  “It’s impossible to hide tracks in fresh snow,” said Vijay defensively. “We’re just making it less obvious that a group of us came out here rather than just one person.”

  I’d been desperately trying to appear competent to Weston and Vijay. Now I suddenly realized their worried looks had been because they were equally anxious to prove themselves to me. I remembered the way they’d reacted to Tad’s comment about their age, boasting about their strength and competence while carrying Phoenix up the Resistance staircase. Had the joking lecture really been aimed at me rather than Tad? Could they seriously believe that I didn
’t appreciate how valuable they were?

  “You’re doing an excellent job,” I said. “I’ll be relying on your help during the rest of this trip.”

  It might have been my imagination, but they seemed relieved.

  “We’ll be taking the path to the boathouse now,” I said, “and then turning west between some buildings to look for a subway entrance. Am I right in thinking that we’ll be out of view of the Parliament House from here on?”

  “Yes,” said Weston. “We can leave the broom here, and collect it on our way back. We’d better keep wearing the cloaks though. The danger now isn’t one of Cage’s supporters seeing us and wondering what we’re doing, but Cage seeing us and using us for target practice. Sniper rifles have a terrifyingly long range.”

  “Donnell thinks that Cage will have found himself a comfortable base in a building somewhere near the graveyard, and he’ll stay there until the weather improves,” I said. “I’m not risking taking us further upriver than the boathouse unless we find a way into the subway tunnels.”

  “Donnell seems to be assuming that Cage won’t need to leave his base to hunt for food,” said Vijay.

  Weston shrugged. “Cage won’t want to waste the ammunition for his sniper rifle on geese or ducks, but he’s a good shot with a bow. He should have managed to build up a small stockpile of food by now. At least enough to last him for a few days of snow.”

  “I’m thinking Cage’s problem won’t be killing geese but cooking them,” said Vijay.

  “Cage wouldn’t want to start a fire because we’d see the smoke,” I said. “He should have been able to find a working electric cooking device though, and he can store the cooked food in stasis boxes. Just about every abandoned apartment has a stasis box holding oddments and farewell messages from people who’ve gone off world.”

  “What I meant was that Cage won’t have any idea how to prepare and cook a goose.” Vijay grinned. “With luck, he’ll give himself food poisoning.”