Seeds of Earth

by Michael Cobley

  ened, put out a hand to silence Yurevich then rose and

  came over.

  'Catriona! - it's been many a year. How are you?'

  'I'm well, Julia, I'm fine. How are you? You're look-

  ing . . . well.'

  Julia Bryce, Julia of the warm camaraderie smile and

  the icy, disapproving stare, ruler of their nine-strong

  coactile, her tiny empire, ruthlessly manipulative and

  tactically generous. She was taller than Catriona, pale

  skin accentuating her elfin good looks, dressed in a long,

  dark coat over fashionable dark green formals.

  'Certainly, Catriona, I keep active, as always. I'm here

  to work on a research project, very dry and unexciting

  but worthy. I have Albrecht and Gustave working with

  me - they'll be delighted to know that you're on

  Nivyesta.'

  Cat made herself smile. So the ice-queen still had

  her two favoured minions in tow - Albrecht and

  Gustave had played the role of willing instruments

  who were also clever enough to conduct their own

  little psycho-dramas from time to time. It was unimag-

  inable that they would be 'delighted', considering

  what she had called them on her last day as an

  Enhanced.

  'You must pass on my fond regards.'

  'Of course. So tell me, have you work here?'

  'Oh yes, eco-social studies of the native Uvovo,

  including cultural and biological aspects. It's cross-dis-

  ciplinary and very demanding but I enjoy it.'

  'That is fascinating.' The look of bland regard in

  Julia's face didn't change. 'You know, it's such a shame

  that your enhancements failed at the last - poor

  Catriona, it must have been such a struggle. But you

  have work and that's so important. Well, I must say

  goodbye - perhaps we'll run into each other again.'

  A smile tinged with satisfaction, a nod, and Julia

  Bryce was strolling back to Yurevich. Cat kept the fake

  composure plastered on until she had turned the corner

  out of the lobby and into Pilipoint Station's narrow con-

  course.

  Bitch! She's working 'on a research project' but I

  'have work' — makes it sound as if I pour the tea and

  deliver the mail. Chrome-plated bitch!

  Then she slowed down, in her thoughts as well as

  the furious pace she was marching along at, while

  comprehension dawned. Eighteen years on from that

  tight, fevered hothouse of a coactile group, and Julia

  could still prod her temper and stir up feelings of low

  self-esteem. She had nothing to be ashamed of and

  every reason to feel good about her achievements, yet

  self-justification was not what she needed, rather it

  was a tougher skin.

  Then she stopped entirely, realising that she had

  walked right past the entrance to the small foyer where

  an elevator gave access to the floor where Forbes had his

  office. And on the spur of the moment she decided no,

  she wasn't going to go up there and endure Forbes's

  verbal thuggery. If he truly, urgently, needed a report

  she would be more than happy to send him a text ver-

  sion via the satgrid.

  Feeling liberated, at least for the time being, Catriona

  strode along the low-ceilinged concourse, past the small

  shops and empty cafe, heading for the main security

  doors beyond which lay Segrana. Or rather a small com-

  munity of Uvovo traders dealing in fresh fish and fruit,

  and a couple of trictra sheds. She knew that the security

  autosystem would sense her ID tag and log her out when

  she left, and that Forbes would find this out not long

  after. But she was eager to get back to the trees, back to

  Segrana to see if there was anything on the file from

  Galyna, but most of all to ponder the Pathmaster

  apparition's words.

  Seek out a vodrun! - the words had come in a kind of

  blackened whisper. Undertake a vigil... all will become

  clear to you ...

  A vigil. What might she learn from it? Something to

  give her investigations an urgency in the eyes of the

  Institute, perhaps, and to bring a certain measure of

  fame her way? Perhaps even enough to ensure that Julia

  and her minions heard about it.

  Well, it might not be the healthiest reason for seeking

  fame and fortune, she thought as she emerged from the

  station and made for one of the trictra sheds. But it's the

  way that makes me feel good!

  30

  THEO

  He was recalling the disaster at High Lochiel as he, Rory

  and Janssen crouched next to the ground-floor fire

  escape in a side alley. Sundstrom had been appalled at

  the casualties and furious at the security lapse, fearing

  that the media might piece it all together. But since the

  woman who saw Theo's men had also died in the explo-

  sion, there were no witnesses to their involvement

  beyond that of bystanders. Pyatkov had urged the pres-

  ident to exclude Theo from taking any further part in

  anti-terror operations, but then Rory had appeared with

  a lead on a man who was behind a couple of riots and

  some false flag incidents, inciting antagonistic groups

  to clash on the streets. Rory's informant said the man,

  known as Olgren, was taking orders from another stay-

  ing in his loft apartment in southwest Hammergard.

  So, after a hectic cross-town dash, during which Rory

  made certain that both men were still there, Theo and

  his men were assigned to secure the fire escape while

  Pyatkov's other teams took control of all the stairways

  and the lifts. The building had eight floors and was a

  mixture of owner-occupier and rented property ... and

  Theo's anxiety was winding tighter and tighter. What if

  this was another elaborate setup? - what if Rory's

  informant had been fooled by another high-tech illu-

  sion? Advance reports from the High Lochiel explosion

  said that a small device, possibly a hologram projector,

  had been recovered from the charred ruins of the top

  floor. Could they be sure that they weren't walking into

  another deadly trap?

  He stood up.

  'Okay, no more waiting,' he said. 'Let's go.'

  Rory grinned as he got up, but gave Theo a narrow-

  eyed glance.

  'Thought we wuz waitin' for Pyatkov's order, Major.'

  'I want to be sure it's not another pit of spikes we're

  getting into, Rory.'

  'Well, ma boy Vlad says he seen 'em both in the last

  hour . . . but aye, yer right, don't want tae get our teeth

  handed tae us again like they did last night.'

  'Okay, Janssen - lead the way, and tread lightly.'

  It was a nerve-racking climb, trying to use the

  wooden flights as cover from above while careful to

  avoid any creaking steps. At last they reached the top

  landing and crouched outside the emergency exit.

  'Rory,' Theo whispered, pointing at the door.

  Rory grinned and produced a small device with a

  plastic dial and a metal tongue which he fitted to the

  bottom of the door.
A minute later they were inside,

  crouching below the height of the windows in the doors

  at either end of an empty, white-painted corridor. Theo

  crept to the one leading to Olgren's apartment, took out

  a pocket S-scope and peered into it.

  What he saw was both alarming and confusing. The

  apartment was airy and spacious with half-height

  partitions sectioning off small sleeping areas in both of

  the far corners. An open-plan kitchen/lounge occupied

  the centre of the apartment and tall windows with their

  slatted shutters flung wide let in what remained of the

  day's sunlight. But in the nearer half of the room sat

  what looked like automatic gun sentries, low, tripod-

  mounted and positioned to provide deadly crossfire on

  anyone entering by the main door.

  What confused him was the two men, one sitting

  near the far side, the other standing near him and

  engaged in a comm call while staring out of the window.

  Both had shaven heads, and the seated one was looking

  down at some kind of grey device which was attached to

  his upper arm.

  Just then he felt his own comm vibrate in his jacket

  pocket. Passing the scope to Janssen, he took out the

  comm and answered in a low murmur.

  'Karlsson.'

  'Pyatkov here - we're about to head up. Start your

  ascent.'

  'Word of advice, Pyatkov - don't charge the door to the

  apartment. There are two autogun sentries guarding it.'

  There was a moment of silence. 'You're up there

  already, aren't you? Damn you, Karlsson, you disobeyed

  my orders ...'

  'And you should be thanking me, but we can argue

  about that later, yes? When you are in position, we'll

  move first and try to shut down the autogun on the left,

  okay, sir?'

  'Acknowledged - proceed.'

  Rory grinned as Theo put away the comm. 'So, is

  Mr Pyatkov still on our side?'

  'Oh yes, but I don't think we'll be getting a Christmas

  card this year.'

  'Something's wrong,' said Janssen. 'They're agitated.'

  Theo grabbed the scope and looked. Both men were

  now standing over a terminal, one of them tapping on

  the keyboard. They stared at the screen for a moment

  then went into a burst of activity, gathering together

  small satchels and several weapons. The odd grey device

  went into a green backpack.

  'They know someone's coming,' Theo said. 'Sensors

  on the stairs and in the elevators, maybe ... and one of

  them is headed this way!' He turned to the other two.

  'When he comes through, I'll shoulder through this side

  going the other way so while he's looking round at me

  the pair of you bring him down.' He thumbed his comm's

  quickkey and when Pyatkov answered he said, 'We've

  only seconds - they're on to you so we're going in!'

  Theo just had time to stuff the comm into his jacket

  and ready his rifle, a Makarov semiautomatic, when the

  shaven-headed man pushed open the door.

  Immediately, Theo charged through the other door.

  The man cried and whirled, bringing a handgun to bear,

  but Rory and Janssen kicked away his legs and wrestled

  him to the floor. The other man looked round and Theo

  saw him smile just before the nearest autogun opened

  up. As rounds hammered holes in the walls and floor,

  Theo dived for cover behind a long display case full of

  seashells of every kind. He lobbed a concussion grenade

  round the side of it towards the autogun then ducked his

  head, covering his ears. The explosion burst apart the

  display, blew out most of the windows, made the floor

  lurch underfoot and left his head ringing.

  Covered in wood splinters and shell fragments he

  sneaked a glimpse round the partition corner and saw

  the second man wearing a backpack and crouching on

  the ledge of one of the tall windows, now empty of

  glass. Seeing Theo he laughed and snapped off a shot to

  make him dodge back. When he chanced another look it

  was in time to see the man tip sideways and fall out of

  sight.

  'No!' he bellowed and rushed to the window. There

  was gunfire behind him but he ignored it as he stuck his

  head out the window - and immediately heard a

  motorised whine coming from his right. There was a fist-

  sized object mounted on the outside wall more than an

  arm's reach away, and a taut, vibrating cable was run-

  ning out of it. He pushed himself a little way out onto the

  ledge and looked down to see, in the gathering dusk, a

  figure landing lightly on his feet on the flat roof of an

  adjacent building. Sparks spat from the winch device

  and the severed end of the cable fell away. Theo brought

  up his rifle and squeezed off a couple of shots but the

  man was off at a zigzagging run, dodging between the

  cover of venting ducts and outlets. Reaching the other

  side of the roof he simply rolled over the edge and was

  gone.

  Theo cursed, then noticed that he had cut his arm on

  the jagged remains of the window and cursed again,

  wearily this time. Back in the room the two autogun

  sentries had been reduced to smoking wrecks and

  Pyatkov was standing before the other man, who was

  now tied to a chair with Rory and Janssen immediately

  behind him.

  'The second man got away,' Karlsson told Pyatkov.

  'He lowered himself with a light cable winch fixed out-

  side the window. He got to the south wall of the

  next-door building then I lost sight of him.'

  Pyatkov nodded wordlessly and issued abrupt com-

  mands on a corps-issue handset. Theo glanced at Rory,

  who was nursing a grazed chin.

  'Is this Olgren?' he said.

  'Aye, and a right handy lout he is, too. Interesting

  tats, though.'

  Theo regarded the man, who sat there unresponsive

  and apparently unperturbed. He was wearing shorts and

  a sleeveless shirt, revealing the tattoo patterns which

  encircled his ankles, upper arms and neck. Pyatkov put

  away the handset and faced Olgren.

  'You're in very serious trouble, Mr Olgren, but you

  can help yourself by telling me who that other man is

  and where we can find him.'

  Olgren smiled patiently. 'Utlaginn goes where he's

  needed, sir, resisting the enemies of Darien. All of you

  should be helping the FDF, not hindering us.'

  Theo grimaced - 'Utlaginn' was old Norj for

  'outlaw'.

  Pyatkov regarded the man with stone-cold eyes for a

  moment. 'What are those tattoos for?' he said, pointing.

  'They symbolise the FDF's unity and purity of pur-

  pose.' Olgren shook his head. 'Sir, beyond explaining the

  Faction's principles, I have nothing to say.'

  Pyatkov leaned closer. 'You know, I'm glad that you

  feel secure and armoured by your beliefs - it means that

  when you do break you'll give me all of it, without hes-

  itation or resistance. It's just that these tattoos .. . well,

  in years to com
e they will only serve to remind you of

  what you betrayed. Very sad.' He straightened. 'Take

  him away.'

  Olgren gave no trouble as he was led away and at

  almost the same moment that he disappeared down the

  main stairs, another figure came up and entered the

  apartment. Clad in a brown leather town jacket, it was

  Donny Barbour.

  'Mr Pyatkov,' he said, 'I'm on an urgent assignment

  and require some additional personnel - I wonder if I

  can borrow Major Karlsson and his men, if that's not

  inconvenient.'

  Pyatkov regarded Barbour coolly for a moment and

  Theo could almost hear his thoughts - You're on an

  assignment and I've not been informed!

  'Very well, Mr Barbour, but be sure that they follow

  orders, yes?'

  'Excellent, my thanks ... Major, if you and your men

  could follow me . . .' Then in a lower voice, once

  Pyatkov had moved away, 'Sorry for the short notice but

  we've got a possible lead on the guy that just dived outa

  yon window and we have to move now!'

  Theo glanced at Rory and Janssen, who both nodded.

  'Lead the way,' he said.

  Rather than wait for the lift, which was already on its

  way down with Olgren, they took the stairs at a swift

  pace. Barbour's spinnercar was parked across the road,

  its motors humming on idle. Theo was about to climb

  into the front passenger seat when Barbour said, 'I'll

  need you to drive, Major, while I operate the tracker.'

  Once behind the wheel, he checked the controls and

  instruments then turned to see Barbour hunched over a

  circular display panel whose raised rim was speckled

  with mysterious glowing symbols, and had a line of

  oval, black studs along the bottom edge. Rory poked his

  head through from the back seat, spotted the strange

  display and opened his mouth, but Barbour spoke first.

  'It's a signal mapper,' he said. 'It can isolate a single

  comm call within a radius of 100 metres, match its fre-

  quency and piggyback it through the switching node

  network to its destination, which then shows up as a

  street address. Takes time, though - your boy made a

  call just before all the fun started but he was only on for

  twenty to thirty seconds. Needs at least a minute . . .'

  'Can ye listen in, like?' Rory said.

  'Nah. This wee baby is Imisil tech rush-adapted for