Deathstalker Rebellion (62 page)

“We’ve all changed here. I never really wanted to become a nun, you know. I fled to the Sisterhood for sanctuary, so I wouldn’t have to marry Valentine Wolfe. But I ended up at the mercy of the Wolfes anyway. I never had much time for religion. I just used the Sisterhood as a power base, like many before me. And I only came here because I was bored. But here in hell I found religion after all. In the face of so much evil, you have to believe in God. It’s the only thing that gives you the strength to go on.”

She rose suddenly to her feet, catching Toby and Flynn by surprise. She emptied the jar of the last of the drink and put it down on the desk. “I’ve said enough. I’ll take you around the beds, so you can see the kind of wounds we’re dealing with. Some of the patients might even talk to you, though you’ll have to edit out the obscenities.”

She led them out of her private area and back down the long aisle between the beds. Flynn filmed everything, sweeping his camera back and forth. The tent was still eerily quiet, and no one wanted to talk to them. Toby supposed they didn’t have the strength to waste on moans of pain or complaints. The other Sisters were moving quietly from bed to bed, checking bandages and temperatures, or if there was nothing else they could do, just laying a cool, comforting hand on a fevered brow. Toby kept quiet, too. The last thing this needed was a commentary, and he didn’t have any more questions. The answers were too obvious. To his surprise, he felt mostly angry. This kind of thing shouldn’t be happening, not in this day and age. He’d covered up enough things him
self in the past, as Gregor’s PR flack, but never anything like this. A Family’s troops dying, to hide a Family’s shame. He kept telling himself not to get involved. That this was just a good story. And was surprised to find how close to angry, frustrated tears he was.

“Film as much as you like,” said Mother Beatrice. “The odds are no one will ever see it. I keep trying to get reports out, and the Wolfes keep blocking me. They can’t afford to admit they’re losing the battle here. The Empress might take Technos III and the factory away from them.”

“Some news did get out,” said Toby. “From transport crews and the like. Of the Saint of Technos III, who threw aside her aristocracy to tend the wounded and the dying. That’s what brought us here.”

“I’m no saint,” said Bea. “Anyone would do what I do if they could see what I’ve seen.”

“We’ll get the report out somehow,” said Toby. “Even if I have to smuggle the tape out by cramming the cans up my backside.”

Bea smiled suddenly. “Well,” she said archly, “I always said the Wolfes were a pain in the ass.”

Jack Random, Ruby Journey, and Alexander Storm followed their guides down through a maze of tunnels, away from the open trenches and the fury of the rising blizzard. The tunnels sloped sharply downward, their walls revealing the many layers of compacted trash and metal that made up the history of the planet’s surface. The air was warmer underground, but the three newcomers were still shivering. Light came from metal lanterns hanging from the low ceiling, a pale yellow glow that was hard on their unaccustomed eyes. People bustled around them as they descended deeper, always in too much of a hurry to do more than stare or very occasionally nod a greeting. They were all heavily muscled, with little covering fat to blur the hard edges. Their eyes were stern and concentrated on the matter in hand, and none of them smiled or uttered an unnecessary word. Tall John and Throat-slitter Mary led the way down in silence, the stiffness of their backs rejecting the possibility of questions. Random and Ruby and Storm stuck close together, as much for shared warmth as mutual support.

“How the hell did they build all these tunnels and trenches in the first place?” said Ruby, scowling at the metal
walls. “I can’t see whoever the opposition was at the time agreeing to a truce while the rebels brought in digging equipment.”

“They probably used captured energy weapons to blast out the original tunnels and then widened them over the years by hand,” said Random. “We’re looking at the end result of decades of hard work. Maybe longer.”

“Damn right,” said Tall John without looking back at them. “The original work happened so long ago that no one now even remembers the names of those involved. We’ve been building our tunnels for centuries, each generation adding what was needed at the time. We have to live underground. It’s all that’s left to us. In the old days, there were the military satellites, with their tracking systems and weaponry. These days, there’s the weather. And besides, the factory complex has its own force Screen. We’ve always known the only way past the Screen was under it. The Wolfes know it, too. That’s why they have their own people digging tunnels, too.”

“But you’re safe down here, aren’t you?” said Storm.

“There’s safe, and then there’s safe,” said Throat-slitter Mary. “Technos III’s other life-forms live underground, too. They live in the deep down, where we rarely go, but they come up from time to time, and then we get to argue as to whose territory these tunnels are. We hunt them for food, and they hunt us for food. We win, more often than not. And it helps weed out the weak. See those old stains on the floor? When we make a kill, we splash the beast’s blood around, to mark the territory. It keeps the bastards at bay for a while.”

“You mean they get up this far?” said Ruby.

“Oh, sure,” said Tall John. “In the spring, sometimes there’s hardly room to move in here for fangs and claws and nasty dispositions.”

“Good,” said Ruby. “I could use some exercise.”

“Well, that explains the bloodstains,” said Storm quickly. “But what about the leg?”

Tall John and Throat-slitter Mary stopped and looked back at him. “What leg?” said Tall John.

Storm pointed silently, and they all looked up at the human leg, complete with trousers and boot, protruding from where the right-hand wall met the ceiling. Tall John scowled. “Mason Elliot! This is your area! Where are you?”

A short stocky man bundled in furs up to his chin stepped out of a side tunnel, an ugly black cigar in one corner of his mouth. “No need to shout, I’m not deaf. All right, gracious leader, I’m here. What is it this time? Lost your keys again?”

“What is that leg doing there?”

“Holding up the ceiling. We had to rebuild part of the wall after the last bloodworm attack, and we were a bit pushed for time. We were short of materials, the body was handy … and no one liked him much anyway. Give it a few weeks and the bloodworms will break through again. We can always remove the body then.”

“By which time it’ll be stinking to high heaven,” said Tall John. “I want that leg brought down now. Get an ax and hack it off. Move it!”

“Certainly, gracious leader of us all.” The short man squeezed the end of his cigar out with his fingers and put it behind his ear. He stood glaring up at the protruding leg as Tall John led his party past. Random brought up the rear and was perhaps the only one to hear the short man mutter, “Now, what am I going to use as a signpost?”

Tall John led them on through the tunnels. Random had a suspicion he was being taken by the scenic route, so he wouldn’t be able to describe the way down to anyone else. Random approved. It showed a good grasp of basic security and a healthy dose of paranoia. Unfortunately, since Random passed through the Madness Maze, he couldn’t get lost. He always knew where he was in relation to everything else. He didn’t think he’d tell Tall John that, though. It would only upset him. Random padded amiably along, enjoying what scenery there was. The tunnels were comfortably broad, but the ceilings were low enough that everyone walked with protectively hunched shoulders. Random suspected that the tunnels had been deliberately designed that way, to hinder and disorient invading forces. Presumably, the rebels were used to them. Random found them a pain in the neck. More people appeared as the tunnel floors finally began to level out. They wore layers of leathers and furs, and they all carried their weapons at the ready. They studied the newcomers with cold, suspicious eyes and did not respond to nods or smiles.

“Do your people always go armed?” said Storm. “Surely, you’re in no danger this far down?”

“There’s always danger,” said Throat-slitter Mary. “If not
from sudden security attacks, then from the beasts that live below. There are always people listening, but they can’t be everywhere. So we’re always prepared. From childhood on, we’re trained to be ready to fight for our lives at a moment’s notice.”

“So where do you get to rest and relax?” asked Storm.

“We don’t,” said Throat-slitter Mary. “We can relax when we’re dead.”

Ruby smiled at Random. “You bring me to the nicest places.”

Random smiled, but concentrated on what he was going to say to the rebels when he finally got to where he was being taken. He had a strong feeling it wasn’t going to make him very popular with the underground community, but it had to be said. He’d led too many armies into battle on the hot words of rhetoric and slanted truths, and seen them die without flinching because he believed the cause was greater than the individual. He wasn’t sure he believed that anymore. Either way, he was here to inspire them with the whole truth, not fast-talking. Even if it was a truth they might not want to hear. It occurred to him that he was in the hands of people who might kill him for the word he brought. Random shrugged mentally. They could try.

They came at long last to a reasonably large chamber. The ceiling was at least twenty feet above them, and Random, Ruby, and Storm straightened up with varying sighs of relief. The walls were solid polished metal and ranked seating followed the walls all the way around, interrupted only by the single entrance. The seating was full of people, packed shoulder to shoulder, staring down at the newcomers with harsh, watchful eyes. A man and a woman stood in the center of the open space, waiting. They didn’t look particularly welcoming, either. Tall John and Throat-slitter Mary led the three visitors forward.

“This is Ragged Tom and Specter Alice,” said Tall John. “Together, we’re the council of the underground. Talk to us, Jack Random. Tell us why you have come here.”

Jack Random smiled and nodded at the council members, and then at the surrounding watchers. If the numbers were supposed to intimidate him, they’d thought wrong. He’d faced unfriendlier crowds than this in his time and worked under greater pressures. He took a moment to study the two new councillors.

Ragged Tom was an average height, average weight man with nondescript features, who didn’t look any more ragged than his contemporaries. Specter Alice, on the other hand, looked crazy as a cornered sewer rat. She was short and old, with greasy gray furs and remarkably similar hair sticking up in spikes. She also had wide-staring eyes and a line of drool leaking from one side of an extremely disturbing smile. Random was just glad she didn’t want to shake hands. He felt like throwing things at her, on general principles. Tall John mistook his pause for nervousness and started the ball rolling.

“We’ve been fighting here for generations, and after all we’ve been through, we’re still fighting. The council therefore came to the reluctant conclusion that just possibly we couldn’t do this on our own. We need help. Fighters, weapons, supplies. We were told the Golgotha underground could supply these things. But all they’ve sent us is you three. No one here has forgotten that the last time we asked for help, the cyberats not only knocked out the military satellites that had been plaguing us, they also screwed up the weather satellites. We’ve been living in the resultant hell ever since. Give us one good reason why we shouldn’t send the three of you back to Golgotha in several small packages, to express our extreme displeasure?”

Random smiled, entirely unmoved. “Firstly, the lack of military satellites and the disrupted weather are all that keep the Wolfes from calling in an Imperial starcruiser to selectively scorch the planet’s surface down to whatever level necessary to wipe you all out. Secondly, the only reason the Wolfes haven’t brought in a complete army of mercenaries to deal with you is because it would cost them more than it’s worth. Start getting too successful too quickly, and they might change their minds. And thirdly, if any one of us is harmed, Golgotha will disown you and you’ll never see any help from the outside. Have I missed anything?”

“Just one,” said Storm. “It’s only a matter of time before the Empire provides the Wolfes with new military satellites, with sensors powerful enough to punch right through the weather, to ensure uninterrupted production of the new stardrive. And that will be the end of all surface fighting, as far as you’re concerned. It could also be the end of your first real chance of winning in years. Forget the screwup with the
cyberats. That was a long time ago. Let us help, before your time runs out.”

“And if one of you so much as even looks at us funny,” said Ruby Journey, “I will personally kick that person’s ass up around his ears.”

Everyone paused to look at Ruby. Absolutely no one present doubted that she meant it. Random coughed politely, to bring their attention back to him.

“According to our reports, your war has been going well of late. Tell us about that.”

“The size and number of our tunnels limits the ways the Wolfe security forces can attack us down here,” said Ragged Tom in a high chilly voice. “And we’re more adapted to the conditions than they are. They don’t like coming down this deep. Too many nasty things live down here apart from us. Up on the surface, things are much the same. Our ancestors were genetically engineered to withstand the worse this planet could throw at us. The Wolfe troops don’t have our advantages. Just superior numbers and better weapons. But they’re only fighting to win; we’re fighting to survive. Which is why the trenches are pretty much as they always have been, with neither side holding an advantage for long.”

“We don’t give up,” said Specter Alice in a harsh cracked voice. “We’re the refuse, the thrown away, the discarded. We’re the Rejects, and we’re proud of it. We reject the Empire and all it stands for. The Wolfes are just the latest face the enemy wears. So don’t think we’re so desperate we’ll take your help and never ask the price. We won’t swap one master for another. We’ll fight and die alone, if need be. So help us or be damned. We bow to no one.”