They passed the church just as Tam was trying to explain to her the nature of religious worship in Scotland.
“You see,” he said, “originally there was the Roman Catholic Church, but then came the Reformation in 1560, and out of that came the Presbyterian Church of Scotland, but the Catholics and the Episcopalians were still around as well. Anyway, the Church of Scotland kept having arguments about how it should be run, and in 1847 two churches left to form the United Presbyterian Church, although an earlier fight had also produced the Free Church of Scotland in 1843. You follow me?”
“Not really,” said Syl.
“So,” Tam continued, “the Free Church split in 1893, with a group going off to call itself the Free Presbyterian Church, and then in 1900 most of the Free Church joined with the United Presbyterians to form the United Free Church, except for those who stayed on as the Free Church of Scotland. Then the United Free Church joined with the Church of Scotland, but there were still some folk who didn’t want to, so they continued as the United Free Church. Ye ken?”
“No,” said Syl, who by now was completely confused. “Not at all. They all worship the same god, don’t they?”
“Absolutely,” said Tam. “I think,” he added.
“Which kind are you?” asked Syl.
“Oh, I don’t go to church,” said Tam. “I just find it all amusing.”
“At least they’re not killing each other over it,” said Syl. She still found it incredible that people would destroy each other over the nature of a being nobody had ever seen.
“Aye, you’re right,” said Tam. “They haven’t killed anybody in ages. You kind of feel that they’re not really trying hard enough anymore.”
The Land Rover pulled in behind the drugstore. There were a few people on the street. One of them waved to Tam, and he waved back. The windows at the back of the Range Rover were very small, and the glass was smoked. Only those sitting in the front seats were visible to the people outside.
“You stay here,” said Tam, as the others got out. “Don’t go wandering off.”
“Why did you need me to come if I’m just going to sit here?” asked Syl.
“Just Joe’s orders,” said Tam. “We’re picking up a special delivery. He thought you might be able to help with it. We’ll let you know when you’re needed.”
And with that they walked off. With nothing else to do, Syl slouched back in her seat and watched the world go by.
•••
Meia stood before Lord Andrus and General Danis. She had spent the night away from the castle, following tunnels and exploring the crematorium. She had found a subsystem linking the main tunnel to a previously unknown Corps research laboratory at Launston Place, not far from the Old City Wall, but even wearing the uniform of a Securitat, and with an array of false identity cards, she didn’t believe she could successfully gain access, and had been forced to retreat. Now, exhausted and smelling faintly of drains, she made her report. The room had been swept for listening devices, and a small electromagnetic pulse was being used to ensure that any lurkers that had found their way into nooks and crannies would cease to function.
“First, what news of our children?” said Lord Andrus.
“Syl is safe, and with the Resistance. My contact anticipates a more detailed message later today. General Danis’s daughter is on her way north.”
The two fathers smiled at each other with relief, then turned their attention back to her.
“I have not forgiven you for what you did, Meia,” said Andrus.
“I understand.”
“General Danis has not forgiven you either.”
“Perhaps if I live long enough, he may find it in his heart,” said Meia, keeping her face studiedly neutral.
“Nobody is that long-lived, not even you,” said Danis. “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“Enough bickering, now,” said Andrus, “for there is much to be done. Continue, Meia. Tell us about the tunnels.”
“I saw bodies,” she said.
“Humans?” said Andrus.
“Of all ages. I think the Corps has been moving them between the crematorium and the lab at Launston Place. There’s a connector from there to a landing pad at the Meadows, which has been used by a couple of large Corps vessels in recent months. I could only access a handful of flight records: some of them went straight offworld, but others flew south to Cornwall.”
“Do you have any idea where in Cornwall?”
“Saint Blazey: the Eden Project.”
The Eden Project had been opened in 2001, shortly before the Illyri invasion. The complex collected plant samples from around the world, housed in adjoining geodesic biomes made from plastic cells supported by steel frames. Since the invasion, it had come under control of the Diplomatic Corps, which had expanded it with additional domes. The stated purpose of the Corps-run facility was to research plant and animal species on Earth with the aim of coming to a better understanding of the planet’s ecosystem.
“If we were jumping to conclusions,” said Danis, “we’d surmise that the Corps, or individuals within it, might be moving bodies from Edinburgh to the Eden Project.”
“What are your orders, sir?” Meia asked Andrus.
“Go to Eden,” said Andrus, “but tread carefully.”
Meia bowed, and left the room.
“How will this end, Danis?” asked Lord Andrus once the door had closed behind his spy.
“Badly, I fear,” said Danis.
“For whom?”
“For all of us.”
•••
Syl was half-asleep in the Land Rover when Heather and Paul returned, carrying boxes in their arms. Behind them came a portly woman in a white pharmacist’s coat, and a pair of teenage boys, similarly laden with boxes. A black truck pulled up behind the Land Rover. Tam was in the passenger seat; the driver was a red-haired man whom Syl had not seen before. They exchanged words, and Tam climbed out and went to the back of the truck.
“Out you get,” said Heather to Syl. Paul stood smirking beside her.
Syl clambered from the Land Rover.
“What are you looking so smug about?” she asked Paul.
“I’m not smug, just happy.”
“Well stop it. It’s unnerving.”
The woman in the white coat stared at her curiously. The boys with her were goggle-eyed with a mix of amazement and cautious hostility. The only Illyri they ever saw this far north were probably on patrol, and they certainly did not go around sitting in the backs of Land Rovers squabbling with humans.
Tam reappeared to her right, and he was not alone.
“Uh,” said Syl. It was a very small sound, but it contained as much emotion as a single syllable could accommodate.
“Is that all you have to say?” said Ani. “Uh?”
And the two young Illyri lost themselves in an embrace.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
T
am, with Lex for company, decided to stay a little longer at Durroch. Lizzy, his girlfriend, lived a short distance outside the town, and he planned to ask her to join him and give him a ride back to the farm when his business in the village was done. The capture of Gradus—however valuable a prize he might be—had created problems for the Resistance, and there was some debate going on between Trask in Edinburgh and the representatives of the Green Man. There were also questions about what to do with Syl and Ani. A safe location would have to be found for them, perhaps long-term given the trouble they were in. There were plenty of places to hide in the Highlands, but the land was full of those who harbored deep resentment for the invaders. Trask had made one thing clear to his counterparts in the northern Resistance: if any harm befell the two girls, those who had failed to protect them could expect to be hunted to death along with those directly responsible—and Trask would help the Illyri to do it because
it was his head on the chopping block. He had no illusions about Meia and her capacity for vengeance.
Syl and Ani sat in the back of the Land Rover with Steven, who had also been reunited with his brother, while Paul and Heather sat up front. The two young Illyri compared their stories of how they had ended up in a Jeep in the Highlands, talking over each other excitedly, and laughing for the first time in what felt like forever.
“God, you two are noisy,” said Paul. “It’s like having a pair of sparrows trapped in the back.”
“Is he still soft on you?” asked Ani, deliberately loudly.
Syl nudged her hard in the ribs.
“He’s soft in the head,” she answered. “I know that much.”
Paul had begun to reply when Ani cocked her head and shushed him.
“Don’t shush me,” said Paul. He was getting tired of being treated like an idiot by these two alien girls. They might have saved his life, but it struck him that he was paying a rather high price for it.
“Shut up,” said Ani. “Can’t you hear it?”
Now Syl could. It sounded like the distant buzzing of bees, but it was still beyond the range of the humans.
“Ships,” she said. “Big ships.”
Paul didn’t hesitate.
“Get off the road,” he told Heather. “Make for those trees.”
Heather did as she was told, making a hard right turn down a ditch and across the fields until they came to a copse of evergreens. She knocked down some of the younger growth trees getting them under cover, and narrowly missed crashing the Land Rover into one of the larger ones, but eventually they were hidden, and she killed the engine.
All was silent.
“Nothing,” said Heather. “There’s—”
“No,” said Paul. “They’re right. Listen!”
The sound grew louder and louder, until the ground itself seemed to vibrate, and then, with a whoosh, two black skimmers flew low over the trees, heading south. All five occupants clambered from the vehicle to watch their passage.
“I’ve never seen black skimmers like those before,” said Paul. “Who are they?”
“Securitats,” said Syl. “At least, I think so. They like black.”
But their attention was captured by the three massive cruisers that appeared from the north. Those on the flanks broke right and left as they came, while the one at the center continued on a straight course. At last all five craft were hovering in a circle around the distant village of Durroch.
Slowly they began to descend.
“No,” whispered Heather. “God, no. Tam. Tam!”
•••
Tam had been drinking a swift half pint in the Beggar’s Arms in Durroch when the incoming skimmers caused the glasses on the bar to vibrate, and set the bottles of spirits rattling on the shelves. Tam swore. He had a gun tucked into his trousers, and the first priority was to get rid of it. He didn’t want to be armed if he was searched. Chances were that this was part of the effort to trace the survivors of the shuttle crash, and if everybody remained calm and said as little as possible, then all would be well. He just had to be careful where he hid the gun. He called over the landlord, known as False Ed because of the wig he wore. False Ed was trying to reassure the handful of customers in the bar, and keep them drinking. He didn’t want to lose money unnecessarily.
“You still have that compost heap out back?” asked Tam.
“Aye, we do.”
“Give me a bag.”
The landlord found a plastic carrier bag under the bar, and Tam wrapped the pistol in it as he made his way through the kitchen. He found a big bin filled with vegetable peelings and discarded food from lunch, and buried the gun in the middle of it. He then marched outside to the compost heap, and casually spilled the contents of the bin at the back of the rotting pile. The bag containing the gun remained entirely concealed; Tam couldn’t see the Illyri wading through the stinking mass in their nice uniforms to search for contraband. He put his hand to his eyes and looked up at the sky. A black skimmer made its gradual descent to land in the open field at the back of the pub. He counted one more, but it was the three big incoming cruisers that made him fearful. He put the bin down and walked to the main street. Residents of the village had emerged from their homes too, alerted by the noise. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. The village was surrounded. Lex, standing at Tam’s feet, barked at the craft overhead.
False Ed appeared beside him.
“Military or Corps?” he asked.
“My guess is Securitats,” said Tam, drawing the same conclusion from their color as Syl had, although he’d never seen black cruisers before. “You have anything in there you should be worried about?”
False Ed did his part for the Resistance. Everyone in Durroch did. Those who were not active members were sympathizers, willing to store guns and radio equipment, carry messages, or give a bed to strangers who sometimes passed through on Resistance business.
“Just some bad beer,” said False Ed.
“I’ve drunk your beer,” said Tam. “It’s all bad.”
“It’s cheap, though.”
“Aye, it is that.”
But they did not smile as they joked.
The cruisers landed in unison, and there was silence as their engines powered down. Somewhere, a dog barked.
The first figures appeared at the outskirts of the town: a handful of Galateans and several dozen Securitats in full armor, all heavily armed, their faces hidden behind blast masks. They went from house to house and shop to shop, rousting the occupants at gunpoint, ignoring the wails of children and the cries of frightened men and women. Tam and False Ed knew the drill. Searches were an occasional occurrence, even this far north, and were usually carried out by a significant Illyri force in order to ensure their safety. They were more of a nuisance to the locals and the Resistance than anything else. Arms caches were well hidden, and all those who handled weapons and explosives were careful to use solvents to clean as much of the residue from their hands as possible. Also, since the Illyri risked being attacked both flying to or from the search zone, and while they were on the ground, the value of random searches was minimal. Tam couldn’t even remember one being conducted in or near Durroch for at least a year, and on that occasion, as on all others, it had been the Military in charge. The Corps didn’t tend to waste its time with such nonsense; if the Corps or its Securitats arrived somewhere, they usually had cast-iron information, and somebody always suffered for it. That was why Tam was concerned by the sight of the black craft. If it was a Securitat operation, the people of Durroch were in real danger.
After a cursory pat-down for concealed weapons, the villagers were herded into the town square beside a monument to the dead of two world wars. In recent years, old Lee Lennox, the stonemason, had added a granite slab to the base of the memorial, and had begun to carve the names of local Resistance members who had died fighting the Illyri. On two occasions, the Illyri Military had broken the slab and removed the pieces during their search, but each time Lennox had quickly created a replacement. The latest slab was there now, with four names carved on it, the youngest of them aged only fifteen; his name was Boyd, and he had been Tam’s only son.
Tam held Lex under one arm, and patted the dog’s head to keep him calm. He counted perhaps sixty people, mostly women, children, and old men. The older boys and girls had either headed farther north to avoid being drafted into the Illyri’s battalions, gone to one of the big cities to find work, or simply joined the Resistance in the Highlands.
And some, like Boyd, were dead.
Now there was a rumbling sound, and a heavy-tracked troop transporter, its black body bristling with weaponry, was spewed out by one of the cruisers. It stopped at the western end of the square. A second appeared at the eastern end. Their turret guns turned, and were trained on the assembled humans.
The door of the first transporter opened and two Illyri stepped down. One was female, and dressed in the standard uniform of the Securitats. The other wore a dark suit, and a long overcoat to keep out the cold Scottish wind. Tam recognized them both: the female was Vena, the Securitat pinup girl in Scotland. The male was Sedulus, the head of the Securitats in Europe. They were both Category One targets for the Resistance, but Sedulus was the real prize. Tam wished there had been some warning of his approach. A sniper could have put a bullet in his head and made Earth a better place. It was too late now, though. Tam looked to the skies. The clouds were dark and warned of rain. He hoped that Heather and Paul had seen the Illyri approach, and had made it safely back to Just Joe and the others.
Behind Sedulus, Agrons held on leashes appeared. They were more primitive-looking than the regular Agrons, and barely capable of walking upright, but their noses were bigger, the nostrils wider. Tam knew that they had been genetically adapted by the Illyri to enhance their sense of smell.
Tam lit a cigarette, and a great sadness washed over him. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t be seeing his sister again, but he might be reunited with his son. He wondered if the manner of his dying would hurt, then tried to force the thought from his head. Heather had always told him he was a pessimist by nature. She tried to make him see the brighter side of things, and sometimes she even succeeded. Maybe we’ll survive this, he thought. Maybe Sedulus, and his little hunting bitch, and all his armored bullies, will be content to frighten us a bit and let us go after some rough questioning.
And maybe the sun will shine.
Slowly, so as not to alarm the Illyri surrounding them, Tam leaned down and placed Lex on the ground.
“Off you go, boy,” he said. “Go find Lizzy.”
The dog was reluctant to leave him, and it was all Tam could do not to weep at the animal’s loyalty.
Chronicles of the Invaders 1: Conquest Page 27
