Child of Grass: Sea of Grass, Book Two

by David Gerrold

  After a while, people started climbing aboard the chopper again, settling themselves for the next leg of the journey. Da came back with the blanket, followed by a grinning Smiller. She sat down opposite me again. “You may have saved our butts with your caution, Kaer. Someone fiddled with the schedule on this side, and sent two members of our hand-picked service crew off to one of the northern monitoring stations. So we had two substitutes working on the chopper—people we don’t know very well. Good mechanics, but we don’t know for sure where their loyalties lie.” To da, she said, “I’ve spoken to Danielle. She’ll keep them with her until after we take off, then she’ll send the whole team back through the Gate to work on the other side. Remember that convenient pressure leak? Well, for safety’s sake, Administration has ordered a full-maintenance safety inspection. That’ll keep both sides locked down for a long while, and it’ll keep everyone so busy that anyone who might know something will have no opportunity to send a signal out. A nasty business this,” she admitted. “If we suspect these folks in error, well . . . we still can’t take any chances, can we? Danielle will keep them all on the other side until we’re safely back.”

  To me, she said, “I think we’ve managed to get across without detection. You did good, Kaer. Some people know that a chopper came through tonight, but the only people who’ve actually seen the craft will have no opportunity to tell anyone what they’ve seen. Danielle has told the crew not even to talk among themselves. Anyone she catches spreading a rumor, she’ll send him back to Earth. And these guys like the big money they can earn here. The honest ones won’t talk, and if we have any dishonest ones, they won’t talk either, because they need to stay onsite to spy.” She stopped herself. “Anyway, I think we did it. Next stop, North Mountain One. By the way, did you get the chocolate bar I sent?”

  I held it up for her to see. She grinned. “Better save that for an important occasion. You hold the only chocolate bar on the entire planet.”

  They closed the chopper doors then and the pilot started revving up the engines. We lifted smoothly into the air and we were away, flying through the night skies of another world. I lifted up the window shade, we didn’t need it anymore, but there wasn’t much to see. The ground below was dark; there were no lights of any kind. Or if there were, they were too dim to see. Would a campfire be visible from the air?

  “You haven’t eaten in a while,” said Smiller. “Do you have hunger? We ate while they serviced the aircraft.” She rummaged in her pack. “We brought you a couple of sandwiches and some hard boiled eggs and cheese and cookies and an apple and let me see what else I grabbed—” She was pulling food out of her bag while she talked. I wasn’t really hungry, but after all that I felt impolite not eating something.

  “We’ll assemble the team at North Mountain One,” she said. “We’ll lock down our final plan while the mechanics service and refuel the plane. We hope to move out before two in the day.” Linnea had a twenty-seven hour day, but they divided it into nine daylight hours and six nighttime hours. Obviously, the nighttime hours were longer than the daytime hours. And because the daytime hours were still longer than Earth hours, they seemed to drag on a lot longer. Dusk and dawn belonged to neither night nor day, and were considered times of no time at all. Even though we’d been living under the Linnean calendar for over a year, I still had to work to translate. “Two in the day” meant nine-thirty. I think. Maybe nine. Eight-thirty? It was hard to tell because dawn didn’t officially end until the first shadow appeared on the sundial, and every place was its own time zone anyway.

  Smiller saw me mumbling numbers to myself and counting on my fingers. “About nine,” she said, laughing. “Everybody has the same problem. We’ll all give thanks to the Mother when these people finally invent real watches.”

  Another thought occurred to me then. “How many installations does the Administration have on Linnea like North Mountain One?”

  Smiller counted in her head. “Twelve. We have plans to build two more. We would have sent the construction teams over already, but then this business with the Scouts happened. Why do you ask?”

  “Do you think—I apologize for asking this, but you’ve made me suspicious now—do you trust all the people working at all the observation and monitoring stations? If someone is passing information and equipment to the Hale-Stones, they would have to have a base to work from.”

  Smiller nodded. “We think so too. We’ve started rotating all the crews at all the stations, transferring some people, sending others on leave, finding reasons to shut down some procedures altogether. This has caused an enormous disruption to the entire operation. It’ll take months to restore system confidence. On the plus side, we think we’ve made it impossible for anyone to send anymore signals to the Hale-Stones—not unless they’ve launched their own satellites or spybird relays. We haven’t detected any signals of any kind, but that doesn’t mean anything. They might have point-to-point UV lasers or something like that.”

  “Or they could be piggybacking their signals through our satellite system,” da said.

  Smiller nodded. “That seems most likely. We have a lot of radio traffic on this planet; most of it is automated. How do you think we get all those real-time pictures back to Earth? We’ll have teams spending weeks, maybe months, reviewing the transmission logs, looking to see if someone has established any unauthorized communications links. But even if we find them, I doubt we’ll find the perpetrators on the Earth side of the link. They’ll have probably sent their transmissions from dummy servers with forged message headers.

  “In the meantime, we’ve changed all our codes. We’ve issued new hardware keys to everyone and locked out every transceiver that doesn’t have a new key. We’ve reprogrammed the software codes too, they’ll change at random, two or three times a day. If you don’t have a new key, you can’t even get on the system. And we’ll issue new hardware keys with every supply shipment. So even a lost or stolen key will lose its effectiveness within hours. That should effectively lock down all the communications channels.”

  “What about our Scouts?” I asked. “You can’t get new keys to them every day, can you?”

  “We’ll keep one channel open just for the old hardware—for our Scouts. Until we can get them new keys. We all know now that we have to assume that the Hale-Stones will hear everything we say on that channel, and we don’t know if all the old codes remain secure, so some things we can’t or won’t say on that channel. But at least we can maintain contact and monitor their well-being, if nothing else. And if the Hale-Stones ever decide to talk to us directly, they’ll have that avenue open at least.”

  “Do you think they will?”

  “No. I don’t. And neither does anyone else. But we have begun broadcasting a message in the clear asking them to contact us. It says, in English: ‘We know you’re there. We’ve seen you. Please reply on this channel.’”

  “What will that accomplish?” asked da, skeptically. “After what they’ve already done, it seems pretty obvious that they have gone so maizlish they wouldn’t dare open a channel of communication.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But we have to take every chance we can to save the program. If we can get them talking . . . maybe we can find grounds for a truce. . . ?”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “It doesn’t matter if I believe it. As a policy, it makes good sense. If nothing else, it gives them something to worry about.”

  North Mountain One

  None of the installations had real place names. They were all called simple things like Big Tree or Flat Rock or Dark Sky. Smiller said this deliberate; there must be no geographical identification for any station. If the Linneans overheard someone refer to North Mountain Two or Fresh Water, it would give them no real clue where to look for the place.

  I was awakened by the eastern sunlight coming in sideways through the chopper windows. “We’re almost there,” said da. “We’ll have breakfast as soon as we land.”

  I pressed my no
se to the window. Ahead of us I could see a huge range of mountains, including one particularly impressive snow-capped peak. The same mountain was visible on the big display screen at the front of the cabin.

  “Is that North Mountain?” I asked.

  Smiller turned around in her seat and glanced forward at the display. “Nope.”

  In fact, North Mountain One and Two weren’t really on any mountain at all. Station Two was built into a cliff side. It was almost completely inaccessible by land. Station One was nestled in a high-plains valley with very steep sides and could only be reached through a narrow pass that looked impassible from the outside. Both were called North Mountain, because they were at the southernmost end of the mountain chain. The rest of the mountains were north.

  We landed fifteen minutes into the first hour of the day. Although I’d gotten a little sleep on the trip, I still felt tired. From the air, there was nothing to be seen. Just a wide sloping meadow, surrounded by silvery dandelion trees. Da was right, they were astonishing—tall and slender and shimmery with gauzy threads. They looked shrouded in fog. We dropped down past them and the fog around them roiled in response.

  After we touched down, I looked around in puzzlement. “But I don’t see any station—?”

  Da whispered, “Wait.”

  The engines fell silent then, and a little truck came trundling out to tow us in—wherever in was. There didn’t seem to be any roads or runway, but the driver seemed to know where to go. He pulled the chopper under the cover of the dandelion trees, and as we came around one of the biggest, I saw a huge brightly-lit door in the mountainside and I suddenly realized there was a whole city hidden here. Da touched my arm and said, “Welcome to the biggest station on Linnea.”

  Most of the station was underground or built into the side of the mountain. And the parts that had to be exposed to view were camouflaged to look like so much more hillside. If the Linneans ever discovered this valley, the entire installation would be invisible before the first horse got down to the valley floor. The people at North Mountain One were scrupulous about leaving no evidence of any kind that we were here.

  We had to stay aboard the chopper until we were inside the mountain. They didn’t want us leaving any accidental footprints in the soft ground. But once inside, with the hangar doors safely closed behind us, we debarked to warm welcomes from the gathering Scouts.

  Almost everyone here was a trained Scout; many of them I recognized from the Dome. And I guess a few recognized me. As I stepped down the ramp, several of them turned to look at me, smiles of delight spreading across their faces. They waved hello—and I waved back. Others came up to greet me as if I was a movie star, shaking my hand and thanking me for coming. They seemed genuinely glad. I was embarrassed. I hadn’t done anything to deserve this welcome.

  Byrne came out of the crowd and gave me an unexpected hug. “Kaer, it makes me smile to see you here. We have so much work to do to get ready, but we all have so much confidence in you, we can hardly wait to get started.”

  “Wait a minute, Byrne,” said Smiller, laughing as she turned around. “Let’s get some breakfast into the weary travelers first. We do have time for breakfast, don’t we?”

  Byrne lifted her hands in surrender and embarrassment. “Forgive me, Smil. Things have gotten tense around here. Your arrival comes as the first good news in three days. You’ve heard the latest—?”

  “We got the news at Crossover Two. Come on, we’ll talk while we eat. This way, Kaer. Come with us. I want you and your da to stay close to me.” We followed Smiller through a confusing series of corridors and up a wide flight of stairs to a friendly-looking cafeteria. There were more people here, and more friendly waves, but Smiller led us off to a private room. Byrne and the pilots of our chopper, the doctor, some people in jumpsuits, and two Scouts I didn’t know. We sat down at a huge round table in the center of the room. It was as big around as a wheel off a great-wagon; it looked as if it had been built from one.

  Three stewards came hurrying in to ask us what we’d like for breakfast. “Coffee, black,” said Smiller. “And my usual.” The others ordered things like ham and eggs, French toast, waffles, fresh fruit—the whole thing was so unreal to me I began to wonder if we were really on Linnea at all. I hadn’t seen a real restaurant or a real waiter since before we’d come to Linnea Dome; it must have been two years. When one of the stewards got to me, I stuttered and said, “I haven’t seen a menu yet.”

  He laughed. “We don’t have menus here, Kaer. You just tell me what you want and the cooks will do what they can to make you happy.”

  I was suddenly too embarrassed to answer. Yes, I was hungry, but all of a sudden I couldn’t decide what I wanted. Da said, “I’ll have steak and eggs. Medium rare, over hard. Orange juice, coffee, toast. Kaer, would you like me to order for you?” I nodded. “Hot chocolate to start, pancakes and bacon extra crisp, two eggs scrambled in butter, foamy orange juice blended with a little vanilla ice cream, and a glass of cold milk. Will that do?”

  I blinked back unexpected tears. “Can I really have all that?” I suddenly realized how poor we’d been living for so long. I felt guilty having all these things that would have cost us three days of work back in the Dome. Da understood immediately. He put his hand on mine and said, “Kaer, you might have to play the single most important part in this operation. Everybody here knows that. And they all want to make sure that you can handle it, so everybody wants to help take care of you. You can make these people feel very good, Kaer, by letting them do all these nice things for you. Just say thank you and promise to do your best.”

  I nodded tentatively. “I wish the rest of the family could share some of this.”

  “They will, sweetheart. I promise you. After we finish this job, we’ll have a party to celebrate. No matter what it costs. All right?”

  “All right.”

  A steward put a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of me then, with an iceberg of whipped cream floating on the top. And a maraschino cherry. It all felt like it was too much for me, but I held back the uncomfortable lump in my throat and thanked the steward as best as I could, and he smiled and bent down and whispered into my ear. “You call me Drew. Anything you want, you ask me, all right?”

  Six more people came in and joined us then, all wearing pilot’s gear. They exchanged greetings all around. The stewards waited until they were seated and then rushed to bring them coffee and take their orders. After putting down the coffee, they laid out real cream and sugar too. I took a taste of both, just to be sure. But Smiller just pushed them away from her. “Why do you drink your coffee black when it tastes so much better with cream and sugar?” I asked.

  “Because I like the taste of coffee,” she said to me. As soon as the last steward had left the room, Smiller turned immediately to the senior pilot. “Jake, what kind of weather do we have?”

  “Mostly good, Smil. Some large storms moving across the north, but nothing in our way. We’ve got a couple of bumpy patches over Mother Land, but we thought we’d dogleg around that place anyway. A lot of ground traffic, we’ll have to zigzag no matter which you target you pick, but we need a decision before the end of second hour, so we can send the tenders ahead.”

  Smiller accepted this news with a grunt. She glanced to Byrne. “Has your team completed preparations?”

  Byrne nodded. “All except for the final fittings. Give us an hour.”

  “Right after breakfast.” She looked to me. “Kaer, as soon as you finish eating, you’ll go with Byrne. Your da will go with you.” She turned back to the others. “All right, we need to lock in on a final plan.”

  I whispered to da. “What if the spy works here in North Mountain One?”

  He whispered back. “Only the people in this room will know the plan. And outside this room, everybody else has to work on the buddy system. No one goes anywhere without his or her buddy. Everyone watches everyone. He patted my hand. You have your buddy right here, and I have mine. We’ll take care
of each other. Okay?”

  I leaned into him for a quick hug and said something I’d hardly ever said to him back on Earth. “I love you, da.”

  “I know, Kaer. I love you too. You make me very happy.”

  Suddenly all the conversation stopped. The stewards had come back in with trays of food. They laid out the plates quickly, checked to see if anyone needed anything else, then left again as a group. One of the pilots followed them and checked the swinging door. He put a chair in front of it, then he came back to the table, nodding to Smiller.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll tell you straight out. I really don’t like the idea of trying to get into Callo. Not with such a volatile situation brewing. Of course, if the Magistrates choose not to send our Scouts east, then we’ll have to act.” She looked across the table at someone in a jumpsuit. His nametag said he was the Senior Tech. “Alex?”

  Alex was tall and rumply. He looked like he never got enough sleep and his face had creased into a permanent grump. But when he spoke, he sounded like he knew exactly what he was talking about. “We’ve run simulations. We’ve tested the grapples, we’ve dropped them, steered them, picked things up, flown with them. If we have to go that way, we can do it. We can swoop down, grab the cages, and lift them right out of the city square. Of course, that presumes that the Linneans haven’t chained the cages down. If the Hale-Stones find out and warn the Linneans, a few chains can put us out of business. And then we have the crossbows to worry about. We expect the choppers and the scary music will panic most of the crowd. But maybe not—hard to predict what these people will do anymore. If we do it at night, we have cover of darkness and the additional impact of our mysterious lights. But that complicates the problem in other ways, and we still have the crossbow problem. We think we can do it if we keep the choppers high enough to stay out of range—we can drop steerable remotes to grab the cages—but then we lose the impact of a heavenly rescue. The higher we go, the less immediate psychological impact we have. But a lot more curiosity from the Linneans.” He shrugged. “You know the people better than almost anyone. Your choice. What do you think best.”