Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 (86 page)

The
enemy
had
apparently
been
taken
aback
by
the
bombing, and
the
Command
had
been
granted
a
much
needed
period
of
rest and
recuperation,
which
allowed
many
of
its
sick
and
wounded
to
recover
in
hiding.

But
that
respite
had
ended,
less
than
a
Standard
year
ago,
as
the same
Militia
officer
who
had
once
harried
them
nearly
to
their
destruction
returned
to
the
field,
armed
with
higher
rank
and
more soldiers
and
resources.

The
Lord
giveth,
and
the
Lord
taketh
away,
she
thought,
wryly.
For just
as
Hal
Mayne
had
rescued
her
Command
and
her
mission,
so he
had
somehow
been
the
factor
that
caused
the
officer
Barbage
to hound
them.
Barbage
had
a
past
history
with
the
young
Earthman, that
apparently
energized
him
far
beyond
any
Militia
officer
the Command
had
faced
in
the
past.

One
resource
Barbage
had
been
given,
that
past
Militia
pursuers had
lacked,
was
aerial
reconnaissance.
Satellites
capable
of
close-resolution
viewing,
and
aircraft
capable
of
similar
tasks,
were
exceedingly
rare
on
the
Younger
Worlds;
they
were
too
expensive,
in terms
of
metal,
fuel
and
manufacturing
capability,
to
be
easily
purchased.
Most
Younger
World
military
establishments
were
not
willing
to
spend
their
scarce
resources
on
a
tool
so
little
needed
and
so easily
destroyed
by
anyone
with
access
to
any
of
a
variety
of
cheap, easy-to-obtain
anti-aircraft
weapons.

But
Barbage
had
a
few
aircraft,
and
she
believed
that
if
the
Command
tried
to
move
on
through
this
freshly
fallen
snow,
its
tracks might
be
easily
spotted
from
above,
setting
the
pursuit
back
on their
trail.

So
they
would
rest,
waiting
out
their
enemy,
who
might
become distracted
or
confused,
or
shift
his
attentions
elsewhere.

The
Command
was
in
much
better
condition
sixteen
days
later, when
it
reached
the
head
of
Esther's
Valley,
a
broad
reach
of
stony soil
whose
farmer
inhabitants
were
largely
sympathetic
to
the
idea of
rebellion.
The
Command
intended
to
split
into
small,
harmless-appearing
groups
that,
traveling
openly,
could
filter
down
to
the
valley's
lower
end,
where
they
would
rendezvous
briefly
before splitting
up
once
more,
to
head
out
across
the
plains
toward
their
intended
target,
the
Militia
arsenal
at
Gracegiven.

But
even
before
the
Command
reached
a
likely
place
in
which
to stop
and
sort
itself
into
smaller
units,
one
of
the
scouts
returned from
the
valley,
to
report
there
were
two
white
shirts
and
a
gray shirt—the
latter
with
a
large
triangular
burn
mark
on
it—drying
on
a clothesline
outside
the
first
house
they
had
come
to.
It
was
a
signal known
among
the
Commands:
there
was
important
news
to
be
had.

"Two
weeks
without
a
sign
of
the
Accursed,"
the
youngster Mose
Palomares
said.
"I
knew
it
couldn't
last."

Behind
him,
Joralmon
Troy,
one
of
Rukh's
veterans,
did
not
even try
to
suppress
a
laugh.
Mose
had
proclaimed,
just
last
night,
that this
time
they
had
well
and
truly
shaken
the
Militia
off
their
trail. Mose
was
more
than
a
little
mercurial
in
temperament,
Joralmon knew,
but
in
action
he
became
cool
and
steady;
so
his
comrades
accepted
his
other
vagaries
for
their
entertainment
value.

Inside
the
farmhouse,
Avila
Cotter,
an
older
woman
with
a
burn scar
on
the
left
side
of
her
face,
told
Rukh
that
the
news
had
been spread
throughout
the
land,
in
hopes
it
would
get
to
Rukh
soon;
for she
was
the
one
most
concerned
with
it,
because
it
involved
the Core
Tap
in
Ahruma,
the
one
her
people
had
damaged
so
badly:
the Accursed
of
God
had
completed
their
repairs
to
the
Tap's
infrastructure.

Work
on
the
Tap
itself
would
soon
resume.

"It's
likely
a
trap,"
Tommy
Molson
said
that
evening,
the
serious expression
on
his
normally
cheerful
face
displaying
the
lines
of
his age.
He
had
only
recently
been
made
the
Command's
Lieutenant, Rukh's
second-in-command.
It
was
a
position
of
trust,
and
the
promotion
was
an
impressive
achievement
for
one
who
had
been
with the
Command
for
such
a
short
time.

Tommy
Molson
had
shown
up
two
months
after
the
successful sabotage
mission,
asking
to
be
accepted
into
the
Command.
Reluctance,
on
the
part
of
Rukh's
veterans,
to
accept
a
newcomer
was only
to
be
expected;
and
yet
Tommy
was
known
to
them
by
reputation
as
the
canny
leader
of
a
very
small
Command
that
had
operated far
to
the
north
of
Rukh's
usual
range.
Moreover,
he
had
brought with
him
a
half-score
of
his
own
warriors,
bringing
them
to
a
Command
whose
veterans
were
acutely
aware
their
own
numbers
had been
significantly
diminished
in
their
last
campaign.

Tommy
had
eased
possible
frictions
by
joining
the
Command
as an
unranked
member,
and
his
experience
and
leadership
abilities, along
with
his
willingness
to
work
and
good
nature,
had
won
him steady
movement
toward
greater
responsibility.

No
one
criticized
his
movement
up
the
Command's
somewhat informal
rank
structure;
the
stress
of
life
in
a
Command
could
teach a
Warrior
of
God
more
about
his
fellows
in
one
month
than
most people
would
be
able
to
learn
in
a
lifetime.

Tommy
was
quite
aware,
as
the
Command's
senior
leadership gathered
about
the
communal
fire
to
discuss
the
news,
that
none
of the
veterans
here
could
hear
his
voice
without
remembering
the nearly
legendary
James
Child-of-God,
who
had
been
Lieutenant until
shortly
before
the
sabotage.
But
Tommy
would
not
let
that stop
him
from
doing
his
duty;
all
here
knew
that,
having
seen
that he
had
proceeded
about
his
new
job
in
a
quiet
and
humble
fashion. It
had
not
led
his
new
comrades
to
forget
James,
but
it
nonetheless earned
him
their
respect.

"It
may
well
be
so,
Tommy,"
Rukh
replied.
"All
places
are
possible
traps
for
us,
you
know
that."

There
were
quiet
nods
among
the
veterans.

"First
of
all,
what
do
we
know
of
this
Avila
Cotter?"
Tommy asked.
"Are
you
sure
we
can
trust
what
she
says?"

"I
never
met
her
before,"
Rukh
said.
She
looked
about
the
circle. "Anyone?"

There
was
no
reply.

Nonetheless,
it
was
not
unusual
for
the
Command
to
obtain
information
from
someone
they
did
not
know—or
supplies,
or
shelter. Avila,
however,
was
in
fact
known—by
location
and
description
although
not
by
name—to
many
senior
Command
leaders,
for
she functioned
as
part
of
the
informational
network
the
Commands
had no
choice
but
to
rely
on.

They
all
knew
that
Avila
Cotter
and
her
kind
lived
in
as
much danger
as
any
active
Command
member—but
without
the
option
of being
able
to
move
about
and
lose
themselves
in
the
countryside.
It was
vital
to
the
Commands,
as
they
roamed,
to
be
able
to
check
in with
known,
and
trusted,
local
contacts,
but
those
contacts
themselves
were
always
in
grave
danger
of
being
detected
by
the
government;
they
could
not
perform
their
self-appointed
tasks
if
they went
elsewhere.