Emmerik grunted — a sound that might have been laughter. "For now," he said.
* * *
The rebels' back door opened into a disused building in an abandoned lane. Sun and Soul burned brightly after the darkness below ground, and Roche took a moment to adjust. The air was dry and dusty, as always, and a light wind cast short-lived eddies about her legs. From the southeast, in the general direction of the main entrance to the subterranean headquarters, the air carried the scent of smoke.
The city was quiet, however: no gunfire, no buzz of aircraft. Just the occasional bleating of pack animals and the throaty roar of poorly tuned chemical engines. Life went on, even in the middle of a revolution.
"We'll need a truck," said Haid through gritted teeth. His wounded leg had pained him toward the end of the journey up the stairwell; while Emmerik carefully bound it to staunch the flow of blood, he concentrated on their ongoing mission. "Maii and Veden should be waiting for us not far from here, but there's no way we'll be able to walk into the landing field. At the very least we'll have to ram the gates, and — "
"If something goes wrong on the way in, we'll be in trouble," said Roche, remembering the plans of the landing field she had studied in her cell. "The distance from the Enforcement compound to the administration and MiCom buildings is roughly one hundred metres. Even at a run, we'll be sitting ducks."
One of the rebels, a woman named Jytte, said, "We're attacking the landing field?"
"No one is under any obligation." Haid limped forward, testing his weight on the leg. "You don't have to come along if you don't want to."
Jytte shook her head uncertainly. "It's just that — I mean, the landing field ... ?"
"It's not as stupid as it sounds," said Haid. "Enforcement's distracted, the Dato landing party is busy, and we have the element of surprise. Yes, we're outnumbered, but we'll always be outnumbered. It doesn't really matter. We either succeed with what we've got, or we die trying. It's as simple as that."
"Exactly," said Roche, "but we do need a vehicle of some description."
Haid nodded. "We used to keep a reserve vehicle near here, but it's unfueled and therefore useless." The rebel leader glanced around the survivors, one by one. "Now's the time to call in favours, if you have any due."
No one spoke immediately.
Then, from Cane: "What about a flyer? If we could commandeer one — "
"No." Haid quickly dismissed the idea. "We don't want to tip them off too soon."
"I can help." Emmerik stood up unexpectedly. "There's an old solar-powered van we use sometimes to ferry equipment into the desert."
A short and uneasy silence followed as Haid glanced from the Mbatan to Neva. "I thought I was supposed to know about things like this."
"You are, but ... " The Mbatan shuffled from foot to foot in discomfort. "It's just that some disagreed. Not me personally," he added quickly. "But some of those outside the city — "
"The wild ones," said Neva evenly. "They see us as city people, Ameidio, and what trust we gained from them came grudgingly. But you they've always been suspicious of."
Haid's apparent hurt dissolved after a moment and became a grudging smile. "You indies will never change, will you?" he said. "So where is this van?"
"Not far." Emmerik and Neva exchanged glances briefly; then the woman turned back to the rebel leader. "I'll show you."
"Fine," said the Mbatan. "And I'll meet you at the rendezvous point. I have to organise the ... " He hesitated. "The other matter we discussed."
Haid nodded. "Will an hour be long enough?"
"It should be." Emmerik shouldered his percussion rifle in a perfunctory salute, then headed off along the alley.
"What other matter?" Roche asked, sotto voce.
"Don't worry about it," said Haid. "You'll know when it happens — if it happens at all, that is. And that's up to the indies." Something in his eyes revealed that he was more deeply concerned about the indigenes' mistrust of him than he showed, and Roche sympathised: for all his work over the last few years, the rebel organisation remained at heart divided. And wherever division existed, weaknesses could form. Sabra's death had clearly proven that.
She changed the subject. "What about arms? Any more caches up here?"
"None, I'm afraid." He looked pointedly away, as though she had inadvertently touched upon another sore point. To the group as a whole, he said, "Let's go, people! The sooner we get out of here, the safer we'll be." Then, as an aside to Roche, he added, "Relatively speaking, of course."
* * *
The rendezvous point was empty when they arrived. Haid steered the ancient van to an abrupt halt in a disused lot where it wouldn't attract attention and turned to the five people sitting in the back. Cane, Roche, Neva, and the two rebels faced him in unison.
"We'll wait a while," he said. "The sight of us approaching might have been enough to send them to ground."
Roche thought that was a distinct possibility. The van, with its ripped vanes and irritating whine, was enough to make her nervous. Only a disproportionately solid construction and regular, if roughshod, maintenance had kept it operating this long; it looked as though anything more substantial than a strong gust of wind might send it to pieces. The movement of her suit alone was enough to make it shudder.
Still, the van had survived the desert for decades without failing. And as Haid had said, they had to make do with what little they had. It wasn't too late to turn back, but the number of alternative courses of action open to them was dismayingly small.
Sure enough, minutes after the van had come to a halt, they heard a gentle rapping at the rear panel.
Neva leaned across to open the door. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd made it."
The fact that he was even conscious — given his previously comatose condition, and the lack of medical resources available to the rebels — amazed Roche. And, much to her surprise, she realised that she was relieved.
As though he could sense her staring at him, he opened his eyes and nodded in recognition.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Roche," he said with disdain — although something in his eyes suggested to Roche that his contempt was superficial. "It looks like I'll be pulling through, after all."
"No, I — " Roche started in embarrassment, wondering when her feelings for the Eckandi had changed.
Veden didn't give her a chance to consider. "I hear you've been taking good care of Maii," he said.
"Trying to," she replied, conscious of the others watching her. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired." Veden touched the bandage lightly with one hand, and closed his eyes again. "And a little ill, to be honest," he said. "So if you'll excuse me, I need to rest."
Embarrassed by his weakness, Roche turned away, focusing her attention instead upon Maii's account of their escape.
"Where?" asked Haid sharply.
"Useless," Haid muttered. "Still, it's another diversion."
"Followed by a witch hunt tomorrow, no doubt." The rebel leader shook his head. "I'm all for long-term survival, but squatting down and waiting to be killed is something else entirely. As I see it, the only way out is to attack now, before we have nothing left to attack with. That seems obvious to me. Or have I lost it?" The last was directed to Neva, who smiled reassuringly.
"No," she said. "Our home is worth fighting for, no matter what it costs."
"But that's just it," Haid said. "I'm fighting for something that isn't even my home. What about the others? Where are they when we need them? Why aren't they fighting?"
"When the status quo shifts," Neva said, "what might once have seemed intolerable suddenly becomes desirable. Especially in the city, where conditions are relatively comfortable. Although they keep secrets from you during times of peace, you must realise that your most ardent supporters now are from the desert."
"I know, I know. But that doesn't make it any easier." The rebel leader slumped forward. "Where the hell is Emmerik, anyway?"
Silence fell. Sensing a need to keep matters focused on the immediate future, Roche leaned forward to outline the plan to the two rebels who had elected to join them. Cane also watched with interest, quickly picking up the essentials of the plan and adding useful advice of his own.
Half an hour passed slowly. When the briefing was running under its own steam without her input, Roche leaned back to rest, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the heat buffeting her face.
After a moment, she realised that she could hear voices — not those of Cane and Neva running over the plan, but two others, inside her head.
said one, male: Veden.
Roche opened her eyes. Neither Veden nor Maii displayed any sign of the fierce debate occurring between them. To all around them — except Roche — they might have been sleeping. Only an occasional wince betrayed the pain the Eckandi was feeling. If he knew that Roche was eavesdropping, he made no sign.
But ... why was she able to listen in on the private conversation? The two previous mind-dumps Roche had received had been concerned with Maii's origins and Veden's plan to liberate Sciacca's World. There had to be a reason for Roche to be a witness to this conversation as well. With renewed interest, Roche closed her eyes again to listen more closely.
Veden expected to die, and soon. She could sense it in his words, in the thoughts he directed at his young ward. The fact that he was prepared to die alone while Maii fought elsewhere was convincing proof of how strongly he felt for the reave. He had already hurt her by dragging her to Sciacca's World with him; he didn't want his death to hurt her further.
Maii, naturally, denied this possibility, being more concerned with his well-being than her own. The strength of his feelings gave his side of the argument more credence than it deserved — for how would Maii feel if Veden did indeed die while she was elsewhere? She would blame herself for the rest of her life, regardless how long or short that might be.
Roche was surprised to realise she could understand how Maii felt: some of her dislike for the trader really did appear to have vanished. Perhaps it was seeing him in such poor health, or — more likely, Roche thought — she understood him better now. She suddenly realised that the information Maii had fed to her served a double purpose, without her being aware of it: not only informing her of Veden's history, but also revealing the side of him that she had yet to experience directly, the side that bonded Maii to him. In the dream-dump, the threat that he had once seemed had been effectively neutralised, without once resorting to covert mental nudges.
The reave hadn't lied, after all. She may have manipulated Roche when they first met, but not since then. The fact that Roche's feelings for the Eckandi had changed, making her sympathise with Maii's side of the argument, was nothing to be concerned about. If anything, she should feel relieved that she was thinking with her own mind, her own thoughts.
Clearly Maii thought a reconciliation between her mentor and Roche was possible. Perhaps Maii had brought Veden up to date on Roche in a similar way. Certainly he had greeted her with less resentment than at any other time since they had met — actually going so far as to initiate a conversation, an indication that his previously automatic dismissal of her no longer held sway.
But there was more than just reconciliation at stake. Roche could sense that, even as she struggled to decipher what the rest might be. She didn't know whom to sympathise with most, but she knew how to break the stalemate. If that wasn't what Maii intended, then Roche was out of ideas.
"If he can't walk," she said, cutting across the other conversation in the van, "then I can carry him."
Veden, startled, opened his eyes, and Maii turned to face her.
"What?" said Neva, staring at her in confusion.
Roche shook her head. The voices had ceased, leaving an emptiness in her mind where they had once been. "It doesn't matter. My mind was elsewhere."
At that moment, the engine crackled into life. The passenger door at the front of the van opened, and Emmerik slid into the seat.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," said the Mbatan to Haid, putting his rifle down between them.
"All organised?" The rebel leader searched Emmerik's face for any sign of difficulty.
"I took the liberty of spreading the word here and there, along the way. In half an hour or so, we'll have a diversion to keep Enforcement occupied."
"And the rest?"
"The land lines are still intact. They'll be ready in three hours, and will await my signal."
"Good."
"What's good?" asked Roche, crouching forward in the van to speak to both of them.
"Reinforcements, I hope," said Haid, and put the ancient motor into gear. With a jerk, the van backed out of the lot. Taking the hint, Roche retreated into the cab. Cane caught her eye and winked once.
Roche resisted the impulse to protest that it was her plan, and that she deserved to be kept up to date on new developments. But the whining of the engine made conversation virtually impossible, and the uncertain tone in Haid's voice suggested that maybe she didn't want to know anyway. Better to work with resources presently at their disposal, rather than rely on a deus ex machina that might never arrive.
And as they headed off along the dusty street, two words penetrated Roche's irritation:
* * *
16
* * *
Sciacca's World
Port Parvati
'954.10.34 EN
1475
The van pulled out of the wide freeway leading from the city centre and onto a rising exit ramp that took them up and over the empty main thoroughfare. As the lower road swung away to the left, their new direction curved steeply to the right. Behind them, smoke from a dozen fires blotted out the horizon: the distraction Emmerik had promised. A kilometre farther on, they crested the long rise — and Roche saw their destination for the first time, silhouetted against the slowly setting sun.
The landing field.
A tall, electrified securi
ty fence appeared in their path, vanishing left and right to the periphery of her vision. Beyond it, every last piece of vegetation had been cleared and replaced with a scattering of nondescript buildings on seemingly endless tarmac. There was no visible space that had not been cleared and rebuilt.
The van swung right, following the imposing fence line. To her left she could make out the MiCom building itself, still a good kilometre away but surprisingly close to the fence. She knew the exact distance from the main gates to the complex foyer — one hundred five metres — but somehow the reality of it still surprised her. It made a mockery of the elaborate perimeter and for lousy security all around, despite the guardhouse resting midway between the complex and the gate. She supposed that the plateau upon which the landing field stood was only so big; in order to give maximum area to traffic demands, the MiCom building had to be shunted off to the side. Whatever the reasons, it was close enough to the gates to give her plan a chance.
Roche felt her muscles tighten as the Enforcement tower drew rapidly closer. Almost there. She glanced across the huge dry docks, deserted except for one orbital freighter and a couple of suborbital transfer barges. The landing field at Port Parvati had seen headier times.
As the van broached a shallow hill, one of the interior hangars came into view. Through its open doors she glimpsed a snub-nosed combat shuttle. Every angle was curved and lumpy, reinforced for maximum structural strength, giving it an almost squat appearance. Such ships didn't look like much, but they made up for it in battle; they had demonstrated their rugged endurance time and time again.
Roche recognised its origins immediately. The Commonwealth of Empires didn't build ships like that. Only the Dato Bloc did.
The van swept down the hill and past the Enforcement tower. When the hangar disappeared from view, Roche returned her eyes to the road ahead.
"Do it again," said the rebel named Jytte from beside her.
Across the cab from the rebel, Maii sighed and concentrated.
Sean Williams & Shane Dix - Evergence 1 - The Prodigal Sun Page 27
