A Night Without Stars (31 page)

“Come on,” Lukan said, and started walking back to the hidden cave.

“What were you doing?”

“What?”

“You drove off!”

“Buddy you gotta be—Oh, you thought I was snatching the baby from you, didn't you?”

“No. I just—I…”

“You did! Man oh man, you are one paranoid ass.” He pointed at the ground. “See where Sandy-J is parked up? She's on naked rock. But here, this is earth she's driven over. Sandy-J leaves tracks in this crud, especially after the rain we've just had. So you and I, we go back to the door and cover our tracks. If we didn't do that, we might as well send up a big red flare to show your PSR friends where we are.”

“Oh. Yes. I get it.”

The door was camouflaged by a layer of soil on the outside, leaving it almost invisible amid a sloping pile of gritty dirt that lay against a long rock ridge. It even had weeds growing in the middle of it. Florian and Lukan used branches from scrub bushes to sweep the earth back over the edges of the door, then wipe the car's tracks away.

“Now we go,” Lukan announced as they got back into the Coperearl.

Essie clung to Florian. “Legs stiff, Dada. Stiff.” Her tiny nose was wrinkled up as if she was about to cry.

“Okay, sweetheart. Daddy will fix it.” He began massaging her legs, slightly surprised how chubby they were. Essie had been walking around the garage cave that afternoon, exploring while he helped Lukan; along with her accelerated growth it must be putting a strain on her muscles and joints.

It was only after a minute he realized Lukan was driving without the headlights on. His own Eliter retinas with the u-shadow enhancer routines allowed him to see at night, which must mean Lukan…

“Are you an Eliter?” he blurted.

Lukan flashed him a wide grin. “I am surely not, buddy. I am a proud believer.”

“A believer?”

“In the Church of the Return.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

“So you don't believe?”

“I haven't really thought about it.”

Lukan laughed softly and turned on the radio. The car was filled with the crackle of the speakers and the occasional garbled words of the regiment communications staff.

Florian was still massaging Essie's legs. He stared out over the hood, watching the landscape. Sandy-J was driving along a shallow stone gully. A narrow trickle of water ran along the bottom, almost invisible in the darkness.

Lukan has to have an Eliter heritage,
Florian decided.
No way could ordinary eyes see well enough to drive at night.
He almost pinged the driver just to find out, but decided against it. Not all Eliters embraced their “community.”

After a couple of kilometers, Lukan turned off and drove along a farm track. Florian could see fields of tall wheat on either side of them. On the left, in the far distance, his infrared sight revealed a small spot glowing dull pink. Farmhouse?

Whatever the source, Lukan kept well away from it. He knew every track across the land and through woodland. Knew where the gates in the fences were. The only time they saw a main tree-lined road was when they dashed across it to vanish up another country lane.

Essie fell asleep after a couple of hours and plenty more richmilk. Cozy in Florian's lap, his arms around her. Then the whimpering began again.

“So do you think we'll reach Opole before dawn?” Florian asked.

“Sure thing. Look, a normal run would take me maybe three hours. This route, we're looking at ten. And if we do come up short, I've got me some holes to crawl into. We can wait the day out snug and secure. Quit worrying.”

“Sorry. I've never done anything like this before.”

“Well, I have. Wouldn't have life any other way.”

“But…I thought you believed in the Church of the Return?”

“I do. The Skylords are the only way our souls can find their way to Giu. They are the guiders through the dark.”

“But this life…”

Lukan laughed. “The Skylords don't judge how our life is lived in accordance with all the petty laws and restrictions we invent for ourselves. They judge only if you have led a full life, if you have lived in a way that makes you happy. They care that you have not wasted your mortal existence. And, buddy, this is not a waste. I bring people what they want, and have fun doing it. It don't get much better than that. Take yourself, now. How would you like it if I wasn't around?”

“Good point.”

“We were all better off in the Void. We belong there. Our minds were strong there. I truly believe that this is a temporary exile, that Giu is punishing us for the crimes Nigel committed. But the Skylords will find us again, because they are the compassionate angels who have always guided us. It is why they exist. And when they do finally come to Bienvenido, we must show them that we have learned our lesson, and be humble in the face of their glory. If we can do that, if we show that we are worthy again, then they will guide us back.”

Florian didn't argue, much as it galled him. All the files he had in his head, all the superior Commonwealth knowledge, told him what an utter load of crud the Church of the Return was. Yet he held back. He'd learned long ago that logic and facts never meant anything to true believers—of anything. And now he was slightly scared of Lukan, too—not just because he was completely dependent on him, but also because of how the man would react if he learned what the child was, the hope she was bringing to Bienvenido.

How many more people like him will she have to face? How much anger and fear?

Smiling down at her little face, he brushed strands of hair from her forehead.
It's not fair, not fair at all.

The radio messages faded to almost nothing after midnight. By then they were driving through broad, open countryside, where the farm tracks stretched on for kilometers, and Lukan rarely changed direction. Progress was good.

It was only when they drew closer to Opole that the regiment chatter started to build again. And this time there were sheriffs out there as well, reinforcing the roadblocks.

“—definitely going for the city—”

“—Coperearl is modified—”

“—high speed—”

“—chased Lukan before—”

“—looks all battered, but—”

Lukan sucked down a breath. “Now, how about that? They know we're coming.”

“Joffler!” Florian grunted in dismay. “He betrayed us.”

Lukan's answering laughter was shocking. “He's a drug dealer, buddy. What did you expect?”

“Yeah, but—”

“You think all he does is pass waltans along to the city? He's got deep connections, and Letroy is his territory. He supplies a lot of small local dealers. You weren't five percent of his traffic. Means he's got a lot to protect when those troopers came a-knocking.”

“Crud!”

“You betcha. Now, from what I've heard on the radio, they've got every road into the city staked out and blocked.”

Florian instinctively hugged the girl tighter. No way could he let the PSR get her. Not now he'd seen how they reacted to the space machine, how desperate they were to get their hands on him.
Crud, it's going to have to be Port Chana.
He dreaded having to face Lurji again after all these years and those terrible words spoken at the end. But for the girl's sake he was just going to have to swallow his pride—assuming he could find his brother. After all, the sheriffs never had.

“I suppose I might know some people in Port Chana,” he said miserably.

“It's a dump,” Lukan said flatly. “Besides, I'm due to deliver you to Opole.”

“But they've got it surrounded.”

“They've got the roads covered, sure, but there's plenty of rail tracks into the city.”

“They'll be covering the stations as well!”

Lukan laughed again. “I said rail tracks, not trains.”

Less than an hour later, the Sandy-J was sitting atop a steep railway cutting. The lights of Opole were creating a pale haze in the predawn sky, five kilometers away to the west.

“You ready?” Lukan asked with a manic grin.

“Oh, Uracus.”

“Come on, buddy. This is what I was talking about before.
This
is living.”

“Yeah,” Florian muttered. “But for how long?” Clearly, Lukan was crazy.

“Oh, yeah, here we go!” Lukan gunned Sandy-J down the slope.

Florian squeezed himself back into the seat, holding the girl firmly. They must have been tilting at fifty degrees, though it seemed they were only one degree off vertical as they dropped. He could feel Sandy-J's back end starting to slide sideways. Lukan spun the steering wheel enthusiastically, fighting the skid, keeping them stable.

Then they reached the bottom of the cutting, leveling out with a lurch. Essie moaned in her sleep as she was jolted around. Florian shushed her, stroking her face softly.

Lukan steered Sandy-J onto the tracks. The metal rails stretched out ahead of them, perfectly straight lines reaching into the heart of the city.

“Do you know the train timetable?” Florian asked nervously.

“Nope! Just hoping the Skylords are smiling on me tonight.”

“Oh, crudding Uracus.”

“Hey! Young ears, buddy.” Lukan slipped the car into third gear and accelerated. The big tires thrummed monotonously over the sleepers as they raced forward. For the first time, Sandy-J showed off the kind of speed she was capable of.

Florian desperately wanted to shut his eyes, to disconnect from what was happening until such time as Lukan announced they were in the city and turning off the track. But instead, panic made him sit bolt-upright, his eyes scanning around for any hint of a train—ahead or behind.

After five kilometers, the cutting walls suddenly grew higher and they shot into a tunnel.

“How long?” Florian demanded.

“Dunno.” But Lukan did floor the accelerator. Sandy-J leapt forward.

Florian's enhanced eyes found the soft semicircular glimmer of light that was the end of the tunnel up ahead. Then a pinpoint of bright light was shining in the rearview mirror.

“Train!” he yelped.

Lukan chuckled. “Oh, yeah, baby, this is what it's all about!”

Sandy-J raced out of the tunnel. The cutting walls sank down on either side, and Lukan twisted the wheel. They bounced off the tracks and sped along parallel to them.

“Need a place to hide,” Lukan said. “See anything?”

“There. On the left. Shed.”

“Got it.” Lukan started braking. Behind them, the tunnel mouth was a bright white semicircle as the train approached.

There wasn't much room between the shed and the cutting wall. Sandy-J wound up tilted at thirty degrees, wedged in behind the shed as the train roared past, belching out steam and smoke, pistons pounding. A long line of goods wagons followed. Then silence.

“Skylords,” Lukan said knowingly.

Utter crud!
Florian thought.

A kilometer and a half farther on, they reached an intersection where more tracks joined the ones they were following. The land on both sides flattened out. Sidings branched away from the main tracks. Old abandoned wagons stood on rusting wheels, while buddleia bushes grew tall and spindly between them. Lukan turned off the tracks and found a service road. Two minutes later they were driving carefully through the back streets of Opole's Bingham district.

It was a small brick warehouse along Connolyn Street. Lukan stopped outside, and flashed his lights twice. The double doors were opened, and he drove in.

With the headlights off, there wasn't much light inside. A couple of low-wattage bulbs hanging from the age-blackened rafters high overhead. The warehouse was practically empty, with just some old wooden packing crates along one side.

Lukan took a moment in the silence after the engine had died, staring through the windscreen. “Careful around these guys,” he said softly.

Three men were waiting for them. Florian knew it was an ancient prejudice, but he didn't like the look of them. They were dressed sharply, suits of expensive fabrics, cut well. Heavyset—a bulk that wasn't all fat. And gold jewelry worn prominently: thick rings, bracelets, necklace chains outside their shirts, earrings.

Earlier he'd been intimidated by Lukan; now he was glad the driver was sitting beside him.

Essie woke, blinking, as Florian climbed awkwardly out of the car. Incredibly, she'd grown again while curled up in his lap overnight. The dress was far too tight across her shoulders. Teal lolloped out behind him. Lukan was climbing out on his side, smiling welcome at the men, reaching out a hand. “Perrick, good to see you, buddy.”

The tallest of the three men smiled and shook hands. “Impressive, my man,” Perrick said in a throaty rasp. “The sheriffs have the whole city sealed up. My boys here said it was pointless waiting for you. But me? I said no, we will wait. The mighty Lukan has never missed a delivery. And see, here you are.”

“Yep, here I am. And this here is my friend, Florian.”

“Greetings, Florian.”

“Hello.” He wanted to say more, but Essie was sniveling.

“Dress tight, Dada. Everything hurts. I's hungree.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Daddy will sort this out. There's some milk in my backpack. I'll take the dress off and wrap you in my coat. Be nice and cozy, yes?”

“Hungree! Need toilet.”

The men sniggered. Florian tried to ignore that as he went back into the car and retrieved his backpack.

“You got the cargo?” Perrick asked.

“Sure,” Lukan said. “In the trunk.”

While Florian was trying to pull the last richmilk bladder out of his backpack, one of the men opened Sandy-J's trunk and retrieved the duffel bag.

“Um, I need to go with you to Billop,” Florian said as Essie snatched the bladder of richmilk from his hands. “I need my money.”