“I don’t know that much about your ceremony,” Mahala said.
“We hold it every year, just after the spring sowing,” Harriett said. “All of the girls who have started their monthly bleeding are led here by their mothers and the other women of Lincoln. They wear white dresses, and the mayor gives a speech welcoming them to the communes as women. It’s a Spiritist custom, but we all follow it whether we’re Spiritists or not. Then the mayor makes the sign of the helix and pricks the finger of each girl to draw some blood, and each girl recites, ‘I give my blood to the communes.’ They’re all considered women after that, and then everybody goes back to the town hall to celebrate.”
“We don’t do anything that elaborate,” Mahala said. “We just get our implants and the physician answers any questions we might have. Mothers or other female relatives sometimes give a small party, but that’s just for the family and close friends.”
Harriett gazed past her. “Looks like we’ve been followed.”
Mahala turned toward the town. Two Guardians were walking along the road in their direction. One of them was Jeremy Courtneys; he lifted a hand and waved.
“Wooo,” Harriett murmured, “he’s brought a friend along for you, and a nice-looking one, too. His name’s Chet, and if it weren’t for Jeremy, I wouldn’t mind taking him on myself.” Plainswomen acted sillier when men were around; Mahala had noticed that in the shops and at the tavern. They sidled up to any likely prospects, batted their eyes, and sometimes even offered a few bawdy compliments. There were, according to Harriett, more men than usual in the shops around the square and in the tavern. More workers had come to Lincoln to renovate the town for the conference, and so there were even more opportunities for flirting.
“I told you before, Harriett,” Mahala said. “There’s someone else for me.”
“And he’s still on Venus, and you’re still here.”
The young man with Jeremy was tall, big-shouldered, and dark-haired, with a broad, pleasant face. Mahala suddenly had the feeling that Harriett had told her Guardian lover that they would both be out here walking by the road about now.
“We just got off duty,” Jeremy called out. “I thought the lieutenant might stick Chet with night patrol duty, but he didn’t, so you can invite him to supper, too.” He glanced at his comrade. “Chester Marjories, meet Mahala Liangharad, Harriett’s cousin from Venus.”
Chet Marjories grinned at her, looking much too affable to be a Guardian. She found herself smiling back at him. Harriett slipped her hand into Jeremy’s. Mahala allowed Chet to loop his arm through hers.
They walked along the road. The tractors and other vehicles that moved across the fields during the day, controlled remotely by Lincoln’s farmers from their homes, were idle now, looking much like the diggers and crawlers of Venus. The sun was setting, the air growing colder. Chet told Mahala a little about himself. His mother was a shopkeeper in Council Bluffs; his father, whom he had seen only twice in his life, was a satellite repair worker. “At least that’s what he was doing a couple of years ago,” Chet added. “I haven’t checked to see what he’s up to now.”
“Have you heard anything about when the conference will start?” Mahala asked.
“I’m so low on the chain of command that I’d be one of the last to know. But I did catch a glimpse of Mukhtar Tabib, so it’ll have to start soon. He didn’t come here all the way from Damascus just to sample a few Plainswomen.”
“Not that he wouldn’t have a few good romps if he did,” Harriett said.
Jeremy suddenly came to a stop. “Look—out there, to the southwest.”
Mahala turned to look. Several tiny specks were barely visible against the darkening sky. “What is it?” she asked, unable to tell how far away the specks were; for a brief dizzying moment, they almost looked like insects only an arm’s length from her.
“Visitors?” Harriett asked. “They can’t be more delegates— my mother would have been told if they were coming.”
“Hovercars,” Chet muttered. “No, they’re slightly bigger than that— hovercraft.” He turned southeast. “And I see a few more over there.”
“Something’s wrong,” Jeremy said. “Anybody authorized to be here would be coming in on a floater—or else we would have been told if they were arriving any other way. We’d better alert the captain.”
Chet pulled a palm-sized communicator from a pouch at his belt; Jeremy grabbed his arm. “Not that way,” Jeremy said. “If this is trouble, your message could be picked up.”
“I’ll find him,” Chet said. “He should still be at the town hall.”
“Get rid of that and anything else that can be used to track you.” Chet tossed his comm into the field of wheat, then pulled off his identity bracelet and hurled it from himself. “Good luck,” Jeremy added to his friend.
“Same to you.” Chet started running toward Lincoln.
“Get rid of your bracelets, too,” Jeremy said as he tore his own off his wrist and threw it into the field with his comm.
Mahala moved closer to Harriett, feeling more bewildered than frightened. “What is it, Jeremy?”
“No one else is scheduled to come here at the moment, and now we’ve got twenty hovercraft heading right toward Lincoln. Not everybody was real happy about this conference, you know. There was a rumor going around the barracks before we came here that a few Guardian Commanders were removed from duty and forced to resign because they didn’t like the whole idea and weren’t shy about saying so. Why do you think the Mukhtars decided to have it out here, away from everything?”
“If they thought there might be trouble,” Mahala said, “then why didn’t they station more Guardians here?”
Jeremy now looked as confused as she felt. “That’s a damn good question,” he replied, “and I don’t have an answer.”
Mahala pulled off her bracelet; Harriett did the same. The specks were growing larger, but with the sun almost below the horizon, she could no longer see the vehicles as well.
“Come on,” Jeremy said.
“What are we going to do?” Harriett asked.
“Hide,” he answered, “and hope like hell that we don’t get found.”
They ran through the field, keeping low, concealing themselves below the tops of the growing stalks of wheat until they reached a tractor. They were closer to the town now, able to see the road and the lights of the nearby houses through the wheat.
Jeremy looked back. “Bad news,” he gasped. “Those are Guardian hovercraft—I can see the black shield insignia on the front. We would have known if more Guardians were being ordered here.”
They dropped to their knees and crawled under the tractor. “Will we be safe?” Harriett whispered.
“I hope so,” Jeremy said. “We’ll be able to see something of what’s going on from here.”
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Harriett said.
Jeremy said, “You don’t believe that, Harriett.”
Mahala was thinking of the suspicions Dyami had voiced about the conference. “Be quiet,” Jeremy continued, “and don’t move, and don’t do anything that might give you away. If they pick us up on their screens, and there’s a good chance they will if somebody does a complete sweep, maybe they’ll take us for some kids playing hide-and-seek or lovers having some outdoor fun.”
“Lovers?” Mahala pressed herself against the ground. “There’s three of us.”
“Plainswomen have been known to share,” Harriett murmured.
They fell silent and waited. Even huddled under the tractor with the others, Mahala could feel how cold the air was getting. In the distance, she heard a soft sound that might have been the wind or else the hum of the approaching hovercraft. She was unfamiliar with the sounds of this world. She had come to Earth thinking that her worst problems would be having to get used to open space and unfiltered air. Would Mukhtar Tabib have lured Habbers and Cytherians here only to make hostages of them for some other end of his own? Somehow, she did not think so.
Two of the craft continued into the town. The third hovercraft sank slowly to the surface of the road and sat there.
“They haven’t done a sweep,” Jeremy whispered. “If they had, they would have come over here by now, and I’d be trying to think of some shit to tell them.”
Mahala inched closer to Jeremy. “What do you think they’ll do?” she asked.
“They must have already cut off all the channels from Lincoln to the outside—that would have been the first thing to do. The screen channels first, and then blocks on all the Link portals.”
Mahala thought of the way her screen had been acting up earlier, of the channels that had taken longer than usual to open for her. “Can they do that?”
Jeremy sighed. “A Guardian Commander could. He’d have the authority.”
“But there’s a Mukhtar in Lincoln now,” Harriett murmured. “Couldn’t he override that kind of order?”
“He could if he had enough warning. If he didn’t, I don’t know. His Link to the cyberminds might be blocked by now, along with any other Linker’s. Sooner or later, somebody dose to the Council of Muhktars will notice that.”
“And know something’s wrong,” Harriett said.
“Which means,” Jeremy said in an even lower voice, “that whatever these Guardians are here to do, they’ll have to do it fast.”
“Attention,” an amplified male voice called out in Anglaic, “attention, all residents of Lincoln.” Even at this distance, Mahala heard the words clearly. “This town is now under our control. Stay where you are and remain indoors. Anyone found outside will be shot on sight and detained after regaining consciousness. Be assured that the experience of detention will not be pleasant.”
Jeremy moved forward on his elbows and stomach, raised himself up on his arms, then crept back under the tractor. “We might be able to sneak into town,” he whispered. “The wheat should hide us from that hovercraft until we get to the nearest yard. There’s a hedge there we can use for cover.”
“What’s the point?” Harriett asked. “You heard that announcement.”
“All I know,” Jeremy said, “is that I don’t like the idea of sitting out here and doing nothing. I’ve got friends in there, and you’ve got family, and we don’t know what’s going to happen to any of them.”
“What can we do?” Harriett asked.
“Let’s find out,” Jeremy replied.
They made it safely through the yard, moving alongside the high hedge until they came to a narrow road. The door of one house farther up the street opened; two Guardians led a man down the steps, followed by a third Guardian. Mahala noticed then that the man in the custody of the Guardians had his hands bound behind his back. She recognized him now, even in the shadows of the dimly lit street: Kesse Enu-Barnes.
“Looks like they’re doing a search and rounding people up,” Jeremy said. “Harriett, do you think you can get Mahala to your house without being seen?”
Harriett glanced across the road toward a path that led between two houses. “Maybe,” she said. “We cut through there and it’s two roads over. Let’s just hope we can avoid any search parties. What are you going to do?”
“Head for the square. They’ve probably taken over the town hall by now.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Harriett said. “I know the shortcuts—you don’t. They might pick you up before you get there.”
“Harriett—”
“My mother’s probably still in the town hall,” Harriett whispered, “in her office.”
“What about Mahala?” Jeremy asked.
“I’ll stick with you,” Mahala said. “If they’re going from house to house, we might not be any safer with Harriett’s household anyway.”
Harriett led them along the road and then into a walled passageway. They came to another street; a hovercraft was up ahead, near the lighted space of the town square. Harriett suddenly darted behind a row of buildings and guided them down a long path to the back of one stone structure.
“This is the tavern,” Harriett said, “and over there is the entrance to the cellar.” She pointed at a small wooden door on her right. “That’s where the backsliding Muslims sneak inside.”
“There might be Guardians inside now,” Mahala said.
“There might be,” Jeremy said. “If there are, then one’s probably on guard behind the door. I might be able to get a shot at him, but you two will have to make a run for it after that.” His hand moved toward the wand at his waist.
Harriett crept down the three stone steps to the door and passed her hand over the sensor. The door suddenly swung open; Mahala recoiled.
A tall blond woman stood in the open doorway, her thin fine-featured face illuminated by a light wand that she held in her hand. Mahala had seen her before, behind the bar of the tavern. Chet Marjories stood just behind her, his weapon aimed directly at Harriett.
“Allison,” Harriett said.
“Mother of God.” The blond woman grabbed Harriett’s arm; Chet stepped back. “Get inside, all of you.”
“I didn’t get to Captain Dullea,” Chet said as Mahala finished her medscan. “My foot went right into a rut in the road. By the time I got to the square, they were taking over the town hall, so I ducked in here.”
Chet’s left ankle was fractured, the cartilage of his left knee torn. He had limped the short distance through the cellar and up the stairs into the tavern’s main room; his ankle was so swollen that he could not remove his boot.
“I can give you something for the pain and swelling,” Mahala said, “but you’ll have to stay off that leg until you’re treated with—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Chet said.
They sat in the back of the tavern. Allison had dimmed the lights, so that they would not be seen by any Guardians at the opposite end of the square. Others were in the tavern, several men in the gray garb of workers and a scattering of townswomen in the customary Lincoln garb of long dresses or loose tunics and pants. Mahala finished treating her patient, then looked toward the front windows. Four hovercraft were parked in the square, in front of the town hall and near the road that led to the floater cradles.
“They rounded up our comrades,” Chet continued. “They marched them over to the town hall—probably have them locked up in one of the meeting rooms. They were bringing in some others, too.” He stared grimly at Mahala. “They brought in some of the delegates who came here with you.”
“Then they might be looking for her now,” Jeremy said.
“They probably are.”
“Is my mother inside the hall?” Harriett asked.
“I don’t know,” Chet replied.
“If I were home,” a woman sitting near them muttered, “I’d greet them with a shotgun when they came to my door.”
Mahala frowned. She had noticed two long projectile weapons locked in a case in the common room of Harriett’s house, but Gisella had told her that they were old rifles passed down through the line and used only for traditional sports such as target shooting or taking pot shots at rats.
“If you did,” Jeremy said to the woman who had spoken, “you’d end up either stunned or dead. Old guns won’t help you against beamers and wands and trained Guardians.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe so,” she said, “but I don’t like the idea of Guardians barging in here and dragging off our guests. What kind of hospitality is that? What sort of beginning of the goddamn new era is that?” Others in the tavern nodded in agreement. Two men in workers’ gray got up and moved closer to a window, watching the square.
“Have they come in here to look for anybody?” Jeremy asked.
The woman and several other people
shook their heads. “Not yet,” the woman replied.
“Then they’ll find her when they do,” Chet said, jerking his head at Mahala.
“I can hide her,” Allison said.
Chet grimaced. “Not from a sweep, you can’t, and there’d just be a lot more trouble for you when she’s found.”
Mahala looked around the room. Most of the people looked angry or frustrated; she had the feeling that they would help her if they could. The Guardians must have come here to stop the conference somehow, perhaps by using Mukhtar Tabib and the other delegates as hostages. They were probably not interested in Lincoln’s citizens or in the visiting workers at all, unless they got in the way.
“Then we have to get her to some place that’s already been searched,” another woman said.
“I can do that,” Harriett said.
“No,” Mahala heard herself say.
“You’re going to stay here?” Chet asked.
Mahala stood up, knowing what she would have to do. “They seem to be after the delegates,” she said. “You’ll just bring trouble on yourselves if you try to protect me.”
“We’re in trouble already,” Allison said.
“They won’t make more trouble for you than they have to,” Mahala said. “I think I should give myself up—and before they come to search this place.”
“But you don’t know what they want to do,” Harriett said.
“No, I don’t, but friends of mine are being held by them, people I care about. It might get worse for them if I don’t give myself up. The Guardians holding them might think they would know where I am.”
Jeremy sighed. “They could be questioning people about that. Guardian interrogations aren’t exactly pleasant.”
Allison said, “I don’t think you should go there.”
“I have to go.” Now that she had committed herself to that course of action, Mahala felt drained and empty. “You’d better let me out the back way. You don’t want them to see me coming out the front.”
Child of Venus Page 41
