DustRoad

by Tom Huddleston

  “She sent me ahead,” Nate told them. “With a message. We were hoping to arrive last night, but first we had a flat tyre, then we kept getting stopped at roadblocks. Not that they did any good. The Five managed to smash through every one of them. And now they’re nearly here.”

  “We need to find a radio transmitter,” Joe said. “That’s what Kara’s message was about.”

  “But there’s hardly any time,” Nate insisted. “They really are right be—”

  There was a sudden flare of light, slanting through the fog across the Bay. It was followed by a deep, shivering boom, loud in the stillness. But this was no thunderstorm, Cane realised – the glow was tinged with red as the sound came again, followed by the crash of falling stone.

  Nate gulped. “Right behind us,” he finished.

  18

  Negotiations

  The Five’s army rumbled through the fog, down towards the Oakland shore. Through the train car’s observation dome Kara could see trucks and assault cars rolling ahead, fractured stone buildings rising on either side. The sun was a pale smear, wisps of mist clinging to the glass.

  They had advanced for a day and a night, cutting through the Mariner defences like a knife through water. The Five’s opponents may have had the technological advantage but it had made them complacent – what fortifications the Mariners had were poorly manned, the men at the roadblocks entirely unprepared. At the first sign of trouble they scattered.

  Things hadn’t gone entirely to plan – early that morning the trucks had taken a wrong turn, smashing through a high wall into a stretch of grassy parkland. They were halfway across when someone in the train car had gasped and pointed, and Kara saw a huge shape keeping pace with them, ears flapping as the elephant stampeded through the fog. A hairy-headed ape had bounded on to the roof, thumping its chest and bellowing, and Kara had remembered Nate telling them about this many moons ago. To the Mariners, he’d said, all life is precious. In Frisco we have zoos and sanctuaries with animals from all over the world.

  All life? Kara thought now. Really? They seemed to have taken much better care of the animals inside the fence than the humans outside it.

  She wondered if Nate had made it back to his people bearing the message she’d given him. She wondered if anyone would listen even if he had. But most of all she wondered where Joe was and whether she’d made the worst mistake of her life letting him fly away.

  “We’re in position.” Knuckles’s voice brought her back to the present and she peered up through the glass roof. Above them hung a green sign with white arrows on it: BRIDGE AHEAD, it read, KEEP RIGHT. Beyond it the road sloped upward, vanishing into the fog. “All stop,” he ordered into a radio handset. “Hold for instructions.”

  The trucks wheezed to a halt, their engines ebbing into eerie silence. Kara could hear the sea lapping on the shore up ahead, and all around them the howling of escaped creatures.

  Dash turned in his chair, facing her. “We’re here,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  Kara nodded nervously as Knuckles reached for his transmitter and tuned the dial.

  “What if your friend never made it?” Boxer asked. “Or if this Council of theirs won’t listen?”

  “Then we do it the old-fashioned way,” Scar growled, slamming his fist into his palm. “I still don’t know why we’re bothering with any of this, jeopardising our entire operation on the strength of—”

  “Because your brothers promised,” Kara said. “Because I stopped Redeye from killing you. And because it’s the right thing to do.”

  She took the handset from Knuckles, thumbing a switch on the side. “Nate, can you hear me?” she said. “Nate, come in please.”

  The only sound was static, and the thump of her heart.

  “Can anyone hear me?” she went on. “Anyone at all, if you can hear me just—”

  “Kara?” The voice was distant and crackling but she recognised it right away. “Kara, it’s me!”

  “Joe?” she almost shrieked. “You made it! Is Nate with you?”

  “He’s here,” Joe told her. “And his aunt too. She thought this might work better if everyone could see each other, so if you can broadcast pictures we should be able to pick you up on spectrum band 732.5.”

  Kara looked at Knuckles and he shrugged, rifling through a box of electronic equipment that he kept under his table. “I swear we’ve got an old camera around here somewhere.”

  “Joe, are you in one piece?” Kara asked. “I was so worried.”

  “It was really far,” Joe told her. “I nearly got et by dogs, but I met Lenny who makes pictures, and I was at the camp when the trucks came. We got away and found Sedna and Cane.”

  “Hi, Kara.” Cane’s voice was full of relief. “I’m glad you’re alive. I’ve got lots to tell you.”

  “Me too,” Kara laughed.

  Scar gave an impatient growl. “Enough of this schoolgirl chatter. Brother, what’s the delay?”

  “Got it,” Knuckles said, plugging a dusty device into the console. He tapped on the keyboard and an image swam on to the screen, gradually sharpening. Joe leaned towards the camera, fish-eyed in the distorted picture. “We can see you,” he said. “Can you see us?”

  Kara waved a hand. “It’s working.”

  Joe was standing in a large room beneath a curved, transparent ceiling. Behind him were several tiers of benches occupied by silent, attentive Mariners. Nate poked his head in, then the camera turned and she saw Sedna standing beside a high podium made from crossed whalebones, her walking stick clutched in her hands.

  “Kara, are these men with you?” she asked. “These Five that Joe has told us about?”

  Kara stood aside as the clones arranged themselves into a line, identically expressionless as they faced the camera. Grey took a step forward. “We have agreed that I will do the talking,” he said. “But know that when I speak, I speak for all of us. And for everyone who travels with us.”

  A man climbed on to the podium – he had a thin face and blue robes, staring resolutely into the lens. “My name is Alexander Simwe,” he said. “I am the President of the Mariner High Council and leader of the Mariner movement worldwide. How should I address you?”

  “We are The Five,” Grey said. “Just The Five.”

  The President frowned. “Well, you are bold, I’ll give you that. You’ve broken our defences, driven our troops back. But this is as far as you come. Every ship in Frisco Bay has its weapons trained on your position. If you attempt to advance, we will wipe you out.”

  Scar snarled. “We have a few surprises of our own. If you fire on us, we’ll—”

  “Brother,” Dash interrupted. “We didn’t come here to trade threats.”

  “Kara told us you were reasonable people,” Grey said. “That you would be open to negotiation. Will you listen to our demands?”

  Simwe hesitated, then he nodded. “Very well. But I promise nothing.”

  Grey drew himself up. “First, we want access to your technology. We want to see your records, your libraries. We want to know everything you know.”

  Simwe shook his head. “But that’s—”

  “Second,” Grey said, cutting him off. “We want ships, or at least the means to build them. We intend for our nation to become a trading power and for that we need tankers, haulers, perhaps even an Ark of our own some day. And lastly, we need aid – not long term, just until we get on our feet. All across this continent people are starving – we need seeds and tools so we can start planting before the winter.” He held up a hand, the fingers outstretched. “We will give you five minutes to formulate your response, then we will unleash our forces. Your time starts now.”

  He nodded to Knuckles and the connection was severed, the monitor screen going blank.

  Dash looked at Kara. “Well,” he said. “All we can do is hope.”

  * * *

  Joe watched President Simwe as he stepped down from the podium, his fists clenched. “They’re asking too much,” he sa
id. “Access to our records, use of our ships, it’s impossible.”

  “I agree.” Another man had joined them, broad and stocky with a bald head. “We should fire on them now, while they’re not expecting it. Our ships are in position, we could use mounted cannons to—”

  “Kara’s with them,” Cane protested. “Uncle Rex, you’d kill her too.”

  The bald man turned and Joe saw the family resemblance. So this was Cortez’s brother.

  “And besides, it’s immoral,” Sedna put in. “You can’t agree to negotiate and then start shooting. It goes against every rule of decency.”

  Rex snorted. “Decency? These are desert creatures, the scum of the earth. They don’t deserve decency.”

  “But that’s why they’re here!” Joe said, exasperated. “Exactly because of talk like that.”

  President Simwe squinted down at him. “What are you saying, child?”

  Joe took a deep breath. “Councillor Sedna told us how some Mariners think. That not everyone deserves your help, that you should put your own needs first. But when you act like that, this is what happens. People get angry, and pretty soon they come to your door with a big gun.”

  “Nonsense,” Rex Cortez snapped. “This boy has no place in these discussions.”

  “Joe travelled with The Five,” Sedna told him. “He knows what he’s talking about.”

  “Then perhaps he’s spying for them,” Rex said to the president. “Have you thought of that? Why not turn him over to my men. They’ll soon get to the truth.”

  “No!” Cane cried out. “You won’t shut Joe up like you tried to do to me.”

  Sedna held her back as Rex turned, shock and anger warring on his face. He muttered a curse then he turned away, tugging a radio transmitter from his belt as he marched from the Chamber.

  President Simwe frowned. “What was that?”

  Sedna shook her head. “One crisis at a time,” she said. “Go on, Joe.”

  He looked up at them. “I just think you ought to listen, that’s all. Perhaps you don’t have to do everything they want, but lots of it makes sense if you think about it. Would it hurt to give them seeds and tools, or lend them a few ships so they can trade? Even let them learn about some of the cool stuff you’ve got, like RPV and teethbrushes. Someone told me the other day that sometimes if you help other people, you actually end up helping yourself. And that’s good, isn’t it?”

  Kara stared from the dome as the seconds ticked by. The fog was beginning to dissipate, shafts of sunlight breaking through. Hearing howls, she looked up to see a family of monkeys taking refuge in the top of a nearby tower, as below them a spotted cat circled hungrily.

  Then the radio crackled and Knuckles flicked on the monitor, watching as the screen wavered into life. President Simwe stood at the podium. His face was deadly serious.

  “I have spoken with some of my … advisers,” he said. “Five minutes is not long enough to formulate a detailed response. Any treaty will have to be thoroughly discussed and ratified by my fellow councillors before I can—”

  “Get to the point,” Grey cut in. “Is it a no or a yes?”

  Simwe clasped his hands together. “We won’t give you access to our weaponry,” he said. “That technology will remain off limits. Any aid that we send will be strictly monitored to ensure that it goes to those who need it most – we won’t have it ending up in the hands of petty warlords. But that aside, if you’re willing to stand down your troops until we can work out the details, then … yes, I think we can come to an arrangement.”

  Kara felt a wave of relief rolling over her. Behind Simwe she could hear cheers breaking out – one of them was distinctly Joe’s. Then just for a moment she heard other sounds – a distant shout and a muted pop.

  Grey looked at his brothers. Dash nodded immediately, followed by Knuckles. Boxer glanced at Scar, who just stared back bitterly. Then he, too, nodded once.

  “You have a deal,” Grey said, turning back to the screen. “I’ll tell our men we have agreed a ceasefire. But our forces will remain in place here until there’s a clear plan to proceed.”

  “I suggest we send an envoy,” Simwe said. “Councillor Sedna could meet you face to face to arrange further— What is going on back there?”

  The President turned, looking over his shoulder. On the screen Kara could see figures moving behind him, hear shouts distorted by the bad connection.

  “Excuse me,” Simwe said. “There seems to be some kind of—”

  There was a loud, percussive sound, making the speakers rattle. Simwe staggered, his eyes widening with confusion. He raised a hand and it was smeared with something, dripping from his fingers. He slumped from sight and Kara cried out.

  “What’s happening?” Grey demanded.

  Kara heard more gunshots and the sound of shattering glass. Joe shouted “No!” as a figure approached the camera, shifting gradually into focus.

  “There will be no ceasefire,” a voice boomed through the speakers, grim and hard and horribly familiar. “There will be no negotiation and there will be no peace.”

  John Cortez faced the camera, a pistol in his hand. Behind him Kara saw armed men streaming into the Chamber. “You will take your army and leave, or you will be destroyed. That is our final offer.”

  He aimed his gun at the lens and fired, and the image turned to static.

  19

  Mutiny

  Joe watched in horror as Cortez holstered his pistol, stepping over the lifeless body of the Mariner president. Soldiers streamed into the Council Chamber, rounding up the panicked politicians. Joe saw Rex barking orders, his loyal troops sealing the exits.

  “John, what are you doing?” Sedna faced Cortez, her stick trembling. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

  “But you left me no choice,” Cortez replied, almost regretfully. “I didn’t want to come here, I was to be smuggled out of Frisco entirely. But when Rex radioed and told me what was happening, how you were prepared to surrender to this scum, I knew I had to return. You don’t negotiate with people like that, Sedna. There’s only one language they understand, only one … one— Joe?” He looked down in surprise. “Shark’s teeth, it is you. And the traitor boy, too. I heard you were lost at sea, along with…” He looked around worriedly. “Kara’s not here, is she? That would be a bad omen.”

  “She’s with The Five,” Joe said. “That’s how we got here.”

  Cortez laughed. “I should’ve known. I’ll bet it was her idea to set up this little summit, wasn’t it? Well, talking won’t save her this time.” He glanced briefly at Cane, shaking his head. “And you, daughter. Your uncle has told me of your treachery. We can deal with that later.”

  Cane clenched her fists and Joe could see the resentment behind her eyes. But Cortez had already turned away, taking Rex’s arm and looking out across the Bay.

  “What is our next move, brother? How do we deal with this rabble?”

  Rex shielded his eyes, peering into the mist. “They have no ships,” he said. “They’ll have to come across the bridge. My instinct would be to blow it up ourselves, before they get the chance.”

  Cortez smiled thinly. “I like it. Sends a clear message that we’re not messing around. Tell your ships to fire. We’ll take out the bridge, then we’ll pound them back into the sand.”

  Rex spoke into his radio and through the fog Joe could see the dark silhouettes of Mariner gunships, their cannons rotating into position. For a moment all was still.

  Then there was a flash of white light and a colossal explosion, so loud that the dome itself shook. Chunks of concrete the size of houses went spinning into the air, lifted on a cushion of heat. The fog was driven back and waves crashed against the dome as the Bay Bridge collapsed span by span into the churning water.

  Cortez watched, a faint smile on his face. “I was thinking,” he said. “Once we’ve driven this rabble back into the desert, what’s to stop us from following them? We could claim this entire continent for the Mariners. Get
the mudfoots working for us, not against us.”

  “One thing at a time, brother,” Rex replied.

  Across the Bay Joe could see the ships turning, their guns training on the far shoreline. They fired and the sky lit up in blue and red, deep booms echoing through the glass of the dome. He gritted his teeth and prayed for Kara’s safety.

  “Full reverse!” Scar commanded, clutching the wall as the smoke from the broken bridge rolled back in a solid cloud. Trucks and cars slammed into one another as they tried to retreat, and beyond them on the water Kara could see the warships’ guns locking into position, blue light flaring in the gloom.

  The shoreline erupted, vehicles and entire buildings thrown into the air, rippling tides of pure heat rocking the train car as it reversed frantically towards a line of industrial buildings that stood back from the water. Sheltered behind them was a concrete lot and the army streamed in, engines grinding as the bombardment continued. Wild creatures fled into the mist, chattering and shrieking.

  Scar turned on Dash. “Are you happy now? Didn’t I tell you this would happen?”

  “It was working,” Dash insisted. “We were so close. If Cortez hadn’t—”

  “But he did,” Scar snapped. “And now we’re pinned down, out in the open.”

  “Enough bickering,” Grey said. “We tried Kara’s plan and it didn’t succeed. I think it’s time for our friends from Arizona to take their turn.”

  Boxer grinned savagely. “Yes,” he said. “Tell them to rain fire.”

  Knuckles grabbed the radio. “Canyon Strike, this is Desert Command. The ceasefire is over and you are go for immediate deployment. I repeat, immediate deployment. Blow them to pieces.”

  Grey strode to the back of the train car with Scar at his side. Kara was close behind them, watching through the glass as the army retreated in disarray. At the rear of the convoy, out of range of the Mariners’ weapons, she could see two hulking shapes – the trucks from Fort Coronado, dark in the smoky haze. Soldiers busied around them, hauling on thick cables.