by Allen Stroud
‘A communication was made off planet, at the end of the operation Doctor,’ said a smartly dressed aide. Walden looked up.
‘The source?’
‘From the site, a transmitter they couldn’t locate before the launch window closed.’
‘What did it say?’
‘Lave, Resistance, Freedom, Help us.’
‘Might be automatic, but best to check. Send another team down when you can ensure they’ll remain undetected.’
‘Yes Doctor.’
Walden waved the aide away and turned to Bertrum. He held out the confiscated batteries. Bertrum hesitated, fearing more tricks, but Walden gave no sign. He reached out and Walden dropped them into his trembling hands.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Walden replied.
‘Why am I here?’ Bertrum asked.
Walden smiled. ‘A question to be interpreted in several ways, if you mean, ‘Why are you prefect of Ashoria or still prefect of Ashoria in light of recent events?’ That I can answer. You were selected for your diligence and conservative nature, which has served us well. I always found you reliable and have perhaps, been a little remiss with my supervision owing to your competence.’
‘Thank you Doctor,’ Bertrum said, ‘but—’
‘To follow the correlation,’ Walden continued, ignoring the platitude, ‘You are still here because despite the minor error, you remain a reliable pair of hands. You work hard; you don’t ask questions at the wrong time or exceed your authority. One prefect has been removed. Two disappearing would unsettle the populace.’
Bertrum felt the knot in his stomach loosen. ‘Karsian’s gone then?’ he asked.
‘He will not return to his post,’ Walden said. ‘The islands require a different strategy.’
‘Doctor, when I asked why I am here, I meant, on this shuttle.’
‘Ah yes, another pertinent interpretation,’ Walden said. ‘You are here in part, because of your error and in part because of mine. The situation I tasked you to resolve will be concluded on the station. Your assistance with this will be most valuable.’
‘You mean the crashed ship and the survivors?’
‘Yes, the prisoners are being brought up as we speak and we’ll be joining them there.’
Bertrum slipped the two batteries into the servo motors on his hips. The faint vibration of power confirmed the unit’s reactivation, not that it meant much whilst they were strapped into safety chairs. The noise of the shuttle’s engines built until gradually they lifted from the pad.
‘I know, you’ve never been off planet before,’ Walden said. ‘Disappointed you’re not going to Quince?’
‘A little,’ Bertrum admitted.
‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t permit the excursion.’
Bertrum gripped the sides of the chair. ‘You cancelled my trip?’
‘Yes, the matter with the ship is vitally important, as you will see,’ Walden said. ‘Also, the scheduled surgery would have made things difficult.’
‘How so?’
‘Prefect, your physical weakness is part of who you are and why I selected you for the Ashoria post,’ Walden explained. ‘It defines and shapes you. Firstfall is an urban commerciality requiring a vigilant hand. Work became your life. You don’t travel or leave, making you the ideal administrator. Any change makes you less suitable and more prone to mistakes.’
‘You were the one who said I was tired,’ Bertrum breathed. ‘You encouraged me to take a holiday.’
Walden shrugged. ‘Perhaps I was being overly concerned or testing your resolve and focus?’
‘Which?’
‘Either or both, it doesn’t matter.’
* * *
Jallin pulled off the dirt track and slowed the truck to a stop. ‘We’re just under an hour from the relay tower.’
Gebrial opened her eyes. She’d been half asleep as they headed south and didn’t really get where they were going. The weak orange sun no longer hugged the horizon, but hovered over them on the journey to midday. ‘What’re we doing?’ she mumbled.
‘Getting some faster transport,’ Harker replied. He shouldered his rifle and drew a small pistol from a holster on his hip and held it out to Gebrial. ‘Here,’ he said.
Gebrial took the weapon gingerly. ‘What’s my part?’
‘Stay behind Jallin and keep your eyes open,’ Harker said. ‘Walk quickly and make no eye contact. Only use the gun if everything goes wrong.’
Gebrial nodded and put it in the pocket of her jacket. Renner got down from the passenger side and pulled out some viewers, staring into the distance. ‘What we looking at?’ he asked.
‘Hyperrail port,’ Jallin said, ‘runs right into Ashoria downtown. We can either jump on or grab another vehicle from the park.’
‘Is that the plan?’ Gebrial asked.
‘In part,’ Harker said. ‘We’ll get to the city and hit the message box. Afterwards, we do some damage and see who joins us.’
Renner turned, looking surprised. ‘You mean you’ll actually—’
‘Yeah, no point in waiting,’ Harker said. ‘The girl’s transmission is out. If we’re going to get help, we need to show we’re worth helping. Walden has James. He’ll talk sooner or later and we’ll be hunted down one by one. The only chance is to hit hard and hope. There’s a power regulator station near the Hyperrail terminal. We get in, we knock out the city grid. That’ll make people sit up.’
‘The plan’ll work if we move fast,’ Jallin added, ‘means getting on the rail; if we have to take a vehicle, that’ll be a day driving.’ She stared at Gebrial and frowned. ‘Anything you can do about the hair?’
‘My hair?’ Instinctively, Gebrial’s hands went to it. ‘What do you want me to—’
‘Colour or shave,’ Harker said. ‘Bright purple’ll be spotted a mile away.’
‘Try this,’ Jallin said, handing her a small tub. Gebrial opened the lid and wrinkled up her nose. ‘Black camo paint,’ Jallin explained. ‘Used to hide faces in the dark.’
‘You want me to use this?’
‘That or you stay with the truck,’ Harker said.
Gebrial dipped her fingers in and ran them through her hair. The paint was thick and oily. She repeated the process, until the tub was nearly empty. ‘Good enough?’
‘It’ll do,’ Harker said. ‘But don’t stare at anyone too long, those eyes’ll draw attention.’
‘What’s next?’
‘Grab a pack and anything else you can carry,’ Jallin said. ‘We’re walking in.’
Gebrial went to the back and picked out two bags, carrying one on her shoulder and another in her hand. The others did the same, distributing the supplies and ammunition between them. ‘Won’t they scan all this at the terminal?’ Gebrial asked.
‘Outlying stations don’t have much detection equipment,’ Jallin said. ‘They rely on Walden screen monitoring from central LaveSec and the occasional spot search.’
‘But if we go on as a group with all this—’
‘We won’t be, we’ll be going separately, you’ll stay with Jallin.’
‘How busy’s this place?’
‘Should be quiet,’ Harker said. ‘We’re on the periphery out here.’
‘How do you know so much about the security?’ Renner asked.
Harker looked at Jallin who shrugged. ‘We used to be LaveSec,’ he said. ‘We got out.’
‘You got out?’
‘Yeah,’ Jallin said. ‘Officially we’re both dead.’
* * *
Pietro felt the restoration of weight through the pull on his tied wrists at first and then the rest of his body. Station gravity, generated by centripetal force, a subtly different sensation to the planetary variation, but impossible to pin down why.
He knew the equations. The older Coriolis stations were designed to emulate Earth gravity. Directional jets spun the entire structure. Tower blocks were built throughout the superstructure, upside down, with the normal gravity reser
ved for the outmost levels. The inner areas were weak force zones, made for cargo transport and storage. That’d been why Gebrial and her friends had shacked up in the bulkhead sections at Solati, a place no one in their right minds would choose to live.
Hands grabbed his arms and cutters appeared, detaching him from the rail. He was dragged to his feet and pulled forwards towards the exit. He considered making life difficult, becoming a dead weight and letting them take the strain, but there was no point, these people knew their business and wouldn’t give him an opportunity. Best to see how it plays for now.
It had to be Lave Station. They got him through the door and into an umbilical corridor; minimal gravity here, but no chance to escape. Any hope he’d had of seeing other pilots or traders and causing a scene swiftly disappeared. Pietro glanced back. James followed a few feet behind, the same vacant expression on his face.
They turned left at an intersection and the soldiers with James went right. At the end, a lift appeared, which opened as they got close. Pietro was pulled inside, along with four guards, the rest content to wait. Someone selected a level, the doors closed and it began to descend.
Station gravity grew stronger as they journeyed further from the docking bay. Pietro eyed each soldier in turn; two women and two men, all carrying hand weapons, having stowed their rifles on the shuttle. They flanked him on four corners, no weak link he could determine.
They reached the designated floor. The doors opened and sensored strip lights winked on along the side of the metal tiles, echoing away into darkness. A nudge got him moving out and down the corridor. Thirty steps and stop. A keycard jammed into a panel and a hatch opened. Three steps down into a small room with a bed and a bucket. Nice.
He turned around and held out his bound hands, only for the door to close and seal, leaving him alone. Pietro sat down on the bed and smiled. I expect Heldaban Kel got the same treatment. The routine wasn’t much different to what they’d practised on Delkar - isolation and limitation to focus the mind. They wanted him thinking about the next step, questions, interrogation and torture.
The faint hum of recycling air confirmed his suspicions. The cell was atmosphere contained, easier to manage if it was located near the station’s outer skin. They could flush and suffocate him at any moment. He lay back and stared up at the ceiling, surprisingly high and unreachable even if he’d stood on the mattress. A large viewscreen immediately over head, winked on as he noticed it.
A face he recognised appeared, a younger Atticus Finch, with hair. No, that wasn’t his name. What had Renner called him? Doctor Walden?
‘Good day,’ the man said and paused. For a moment, Pietro thought he was waiting for a response and nearly replied, but the eyes weren’t on him. They looked past, into an audience further away. ‘Ask yourself a question. What makes us free? Truly? Societies teach us conformity to their rules, morals and limitations. In exchange we are given commodity and resources that preserve our homeostasis, food, warmth and shelter at first, then material wealth. Eventually we learn to accept our lot and forget the hunger and ambition which drove our predeccessors to build the current world we relax in.’
The camera eased in, towards Walden’s face. ‘Empires are built on strength. Strength is borne from fear of failure, a hunger for a better life and a better way, but strength dies when we lose what motivated us ...’
Pietro smiled. No channel or volume controls and an audience with no other option but to listen. Federal interrogators used inactivity and frustration, but this was different.
‘Once, Lave stood at the centre of galactic power, but we lost our way, we became bound by rules and limitations. Now, the only means by which we can restore our status is to abandon the comforts and morals imposed upon us and be ruthless. In truth, you, who languish in a cell, are the free man. Within your mind lies the capacity to defy order and provoke chaos. Such a mind has a place, such a mind can be—’
The door panel slid open and the screen winked out. Pietro looked around. One of the female soldiers from before stood at the entrance, her pistol aimed at him. A man in a bio suit carrying a syringe edged past her.
‘We need a sample of your blood,’ the woman said. ‘No tricks.’
Pietro shrugged and held out his tied hands. ‘Untie these while you’re at it?’
The woman smiled, the gun didn’t waver. ‘No chance of that,’ she said.
* * *
‘Hard seal confirmed.’
On the bridge of the Ronin, Heldaban Kel, unbuckled himself from the navigation chair and moved to the exit. ‘Thanks for the lift,’ he said to Faith.
‘Pleasure,’ she replied.
Kel clumped awkwardly through the arch and out to the cargo airlock. Brahms and two others were waiting to meet him. ‘Ready for the shift change?’ Kel said.
‘Be nice to get my Jameson back,’ Brahms replied grinning. He keyed open the transfer passage and they walked down to the station entrance. Three timed knocks and the door swung wide to a ragged cheer.
Dusty air, the kind you always got on mining stations, instantly carried grit to the back of Kel’s throat. Thirty or more dishevelled figures stood in the main cargo transfer hangar, carrying an assortment of small arms and other weapons. The Phoenix Brigade, men and women who’d fought other people’s wars for too long, waiting for the chance to fight their own.
This chance.
An old man he didn’t recognise grabbed his hand as he came through. ‘Good work.’
Kel gripped his shoulder. ‘Thanks,’ he said and moved past. ‘Any problems?’
‘Couple of minor injuries, nothing we couldn’t manage,’ said an older woman called Archaeo. She was rake thin, but made of steel. ‘You get the planetside message?’
Kel shook his head. ‘Message from where?’
‘The resistance,’ Archaeo said, ‘Seems they woke up just in time.’ She turned away and held up her hand. ‘I need everyone’s attention,’ she said, raising her voice. ‘For those that don’t know, less than three hours ago a five word message originated from planetside. “Lave, Resistance, Freedom, Help us.” First time we heard anything good in decades. Some of you came because you heard them words. We need to respond.’
Kel frowned and realised this wasn’t a reception, it was an impromptu council. ‘You want to change the plan?’ he asked.
‘We may not get another chance,’ Archaeo said. ‘Our goal was to bring heat to this place, drag the Alliance in and start something.’
‘And we’re doing that,’ Kel said. ‘You push harder and people’ll die. We can take a mining station, but we can’t take the planet.’
‘The harvest fleet’s in-system for a couple of hours more,’ Archaeo said. ‘We head in now and we could wreck Orange Star before they leave!’
More spontaneous cheering erupted. Kel looked round, spotting several worried faces. ‘We’re all equal here, Phoenix never had a leader,’ he said. ‘Each job we take we follow the commander bringing the plan. Ain’t no plan to this.’
‘Plenty to gain though,’ Archaeo said, ‘ships, cargo, spoils. We strike and we jump out in the chaos. LaveSec can’t cope with all of us.’
‘If it's credits you want, there’s plenty of mineral ore in the collectors here,’ Kel argued. ‘Those freighters are empty; they’re going to Diso to pick up the harvest.’
‘There’ll be some goods transported.’
‘Worth the risk?’
Kel felt a hand on his shoulder, Brahms, who usually wouldn’t speak here. ‘Kel, we ain’t goin’ t’have another chance.’
Kel sighed. ‘Listen, I’m not sayin’ what to do, but plenty of folk ain’t here, it’s a big ask when you don’t get a voice.’
‘You sore you ain’t got a ship, Kel?’ said someone in the crowd.
‘A little,’ Kel admitted, ‘but if I did, I’d say the same.’
‘Each commander makes their choice,’ Archaeo said. ‘No one’s going to blame people if they don’t go, but a disturbance buys more
time. Those that want to stay, load up all they can find and head for the rendezvous. Sound fair?’
‘Yeah I guess, fair by me,’ Kel said.
The gathering began to break up. Brahms squeezed Kel’s shoulder by way of apology and walked away. Other people shook his hand or waved. He acknowledged each in turn. They were a strange, shattered family, some old, some new, but all scattered through the stars. No, they’d make for their ships. The Python and the Panther in dock ferrying each pilot back to their own, parked up in the asteroid field.
‘I’m sorry about your brother.’
Kel looked around. Archaeo had stayed, she was staring at him. ‘You need to know something more,’ she added.
‘Yeah, what’s that?’
‘The ship you stole outside Solati made it to the planet. We got the message a little time after.’
‘You think they’re connected?’
‘No way of knowing,’ Archaeo said, ‘but the man who killed your brother? If he’s alive, he’s down there.’
Chapter 32: The Offer
The hyperrail pulled away from the station with Gebrial onboard.
She stood in the middle of the carriage with her bags, trying not to look at Jallin who’d sat down a few rows further up. Nearby, an oblivious teenage girl nodded away on headphones and a couple sat next to each other on the opposite side. Gebrial counted six lines of empty seats, but didn’t move towards them. Instead, she gripped the handrail as the hyperrail accelerated.
On the wall at the end, a viewscreen, showed a man making a speech. She recognised him from her dataslate, a younger version of the dead man they’d carried on the ship, Atticus Finch; who everyone else called Walden.
‘… Together we are strong. Only together can we follow the path back to the stars. Billions of people on countless worlds do not know the right path and remain ignorant of the plan. They follow false kings and queens and lead lives of indolence. If they persist in this course, they will be among those who perish during the great tribulation ...’
Gebrial wasn’t sure what he meant, but something about the way he spoke made him sound convincing. She wanted to agree, but wasn’t sure what with.
