Resistance: Hathe Book One (28 page)

The
vids started with Radcliff’s entry into his office first thing that
morning. The blasted Terran strode into the security wing’s rooms
with cold determination in his dark eyes. Gof saw recognition of
that look on the faces of the veterans on Radcliff’s staff and the
excitement blooming in them. He listened intently to the buzz of
gossip that followed in the man’s wake. His inner frown
deepened.

The
Major had been letting things drift, they said, while he dallied
with his little native, but no longer, by the looks of him. In his
periods of bright, fiery activity, they’d follow him anywhere, and
did he ask some marvelous adventures of them! But these spells of
delving into people’s psyches, as he put it. Bah! The young ones
could have that. Far better those first, heady days of the
occupation when there was going to be urgonium enough for all of
Earth, land for the taking, plunder and spoil for all, with rumors
of the most beautiful women in the Alliance when they finally
unearthed the damned Liegers.

Then,
they had strode the streets like kings, free to remind the natives
just who were their new masters, and all the security wing had to
concern itself with was procuring workers, watching for rebellion
and scouring the planet for Liegers.

As for
the Major! The devil himself, he was. Here, there and everywhere,
his finger in every pie going. He’d been but a captain then, said
the oldest man in the room, sent here to assist the occupying
forces because of his previous experiences on Hathe. In truth,
there hadn’t been a branch of the services that didn’t end up with
his mark on it. Even then, there had been the sign of the leader on
him. And look at him now, second in seniority only to Colonel
Johne. Second to none in real power, they joked. Not that he chose
to use it often, unfortunately.

But
when he did! The older ones laughed quietly, wondering whether the
Commander had ever quite learned of all the measures that had been
implemented.

Yes,
those were the days. He had swept in like now, that dark devil in
his eyes, snapping out orders that changed the whole face of the
planet. It was he who had rearranged the work schedules, doubling
the natives’ output—and lengthening their life spans, admittedly.
He who had set up their mighty intelligence network, delving into
all aspects of native and Terran life. Now, here he was, those
crisp, sharp orders of his snapping out again. The men all jumped
to attention and shut up as their Major came back into the common
office.

“
Jones, get onto Security and tighten up the native checking
procedures. Hawarth, your area is the local work force. Update
native lists and bring me a comparison of work output in the
different sectors. Markham, background all native domestics in
Terran quarters. Reason for imprisonment and length of duty, then
interrogate any who seem suspect.
By my methods
,” he added,
turning to fix a black stare upon the unfortunate man. “You’re apt
to discover more than by the Commander’s methods.

“
Hector, I want our ten top men in my office within three
hours, and I don’t care how difficult it is to pull them out at
such short notice,” he snapped in answer to the man’s aborted
protest. “Hanley, bring me that report on family relationships
among the Hathians.”

“
But, sir, it isn’t quite ready yet. There are a few
permutations I have yet to explore.”

“
I
want the complete report on my desk within the hour,” was all the
sympathy he got. “Contact me immediately if I’m needed, Hanrahan,”
he threw at his secretary, and the tornado swept out as bracingly
as he had arrived.

That,
said the looks on the faces of the old veterans, is that, smirking
at the unfortunate young anthropologist who had only just
discovered that he was, in fact, part of a military operation. Gof
almost felt sorry for the man, then smiled inside. No he didn’t.
He’d have given the young idiot as little sympathy as Radcliff had.
He kept watching the vid.

“
You
can’t scrabble together a conclusion to a paper in an hour,” Hanley
was protesting huffily to any who would listen.

“
Maybe, lad, but I’d get the facts on the old man’s desk
within the time,” snapped Jones, a wily elder statesman who Gof’s
records said had been head of Radcliff’s security wing since the
first days of the conquest. “This place may not be a paradise, but
it’s a sight easier than living on Earth.”

“
He
wouldn’t.”

“
He
has done,” said Jones, and looked fully satisfied with the blanched
face and busily shuffling hands of the young researcher in front of
him.

Gof
switched to other vids. The whirlwind that was Radcliff swept on,
into other departments. A few searching questions, a reminder of
his influence, and there was the beginning of a new vitality and a
curt wariness throughout the Citadel. “After all,” as Gof heard a
soldier remark, “you might be able to get the odd trick past the
Commander, but the Major, now, he could look straight through you,
as if to see the very secrets of your soul. Sure, the occasional
dodge slips through, but only a fool believed the Major didn’t know
about it.”

True
to form, so the growing muttering among the soldiers said, it was
Radcliff who noticed the false sense of security that had crept
over the Terran forces this last year. By the stars, they had been
here nearly five years and would be here forever. But no, reminded
the Major. They were here by dint of their own alertness and would
stay only by more of the same.

Within
a very short time, Gof’s opposite, Colonel Johne, became as
interested in Hamon’s actions as was the Hathian commander. He soon
noticed a newly proud step in his men. It wasn’t hard to guess who
caused it. Johne did nothing as yet, beyond increasing his personal
surveillance of his junior officer in case the man planned a coup.
The Colonel was in silent agreement with the need to find a purpose
for his bored troops and chose to bide his time. As yet, there was
no cause for concern. Radcliff was too well born to be satisfied
with a back planet, far from the power plays of Earth. But for
himself? Ruling over this misbegotten mud heap suited him nicely,
and he meant to hang on to power for many years yet.

Within
a few days, Gof deln Crantz became more than concerned. After the
tenth challenge that morning to his persona of Old Raphe, the
Hathian resistance commander was becoming downright annoyed.
Radcliff’s actions had set alight a vicious spark among the
Terrans, and Gof wasn’t about to let it get worse.

Silent
messages whirled through the Hathian sector and soon, but not as
quickly as usual, more disturbing reports flooded in. The checks on
work gangs had been stepped up, and IDs were being requested more
frequently. The number of Terran spies in town had doubled,
infiltrating practically every street and gang. Strange questions
were being asked of domestics, especially those working for Terran
officers.

Damn
that girl. She was supposed to direct attention away from the
Hathians, not increase it. Deln Crantz sent out an urgent command
to Marthe and grimly awaited her report. His grizzled face clapped
in maddened lines, he strode back and forth in the safety of his
cubby room. Then, a thought struck, banishing the
grimness.

Minutes later, he sent a second storm of messages out over the
secret Hathian channels, spreading through the town and deep into
the heart of Terran headquarters. He switched on his vid screens to
Marthe’s rooms, knowing his two captive agents were together there.
The horrified gasp from agents des Trurain and asn Castre as they
scanned his orders was every bit as satisfying as he’d
hoped.

A
joyful wedding to you, Major and Madame asn Castre. May it be a
memorable one!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Marthe woke slowly, a strange quaver roiling in the pit of her
stomach. It was only gradually that its cause dawned on her. Today
was her wedding day.

Yet
apart from the uneasy churning, she felt numb. That couldn’t be
right. Wasn’t a bride supposed to feel something? Fear, eagerness,
anxiety, excitement? Maybe as the day wore on it would come. If she
made it through deln Crantz’ latest scheme, would she be able to
feel again?

The
morning’s diversion, then the evening’s ceremony. Normality seemed
to be sliding away from her. She tried to yank it back,
deliberately flouncing out of the sleeper.

It
woke Hamon. He jerked upright and she could feel the retort rising
in her to whatever he might say. Hamon must have seen it in her
face, for he asked only where she was off to so early in the day.
Nor did he protest when told simply, “Out.” But, then, he would
know he could trust in the guards who always accompanied her. As
soon as she set foot out of their apartments without him, one of
his men would appear at her side as if by telepathy.

Now
she did begin to feel something, if only anger. With a wrathful
glance at his reclining figure on the sleeper, she marched out of
the room. Hamon had recently said she could use his personal flyer,
and she made for it now. In short time, she’d lifted off, edged the
craft through the tunnel leading to the outside and was speeding
across the bleak, endless plains beyond the Citadel.

In her
urge to fly faster and faster, she ignored the silent shadow of the
soldier sitting behind her, all seeing but never speaking. For what
seemed hours, she soared and soared, skimming just above the
endless tussock, with the ghostly wail of the wind her only
accompaniment. Occasionally, a small ground creature would scuttle
away, or an aeron sweep majestically down from the sky and over the
dips and gullies below.

More
often than not, all she could see of the life of this great
wilderness was the constantly moving grasses, the small, hardy
shrubs and the creeping ground plants of the barren waste. All must
struggle to survive the elements set against them—the scouring
winds, the searing heat of summer, the even more biting cold of
winter, and the fierce competition for the pitifully few resources
of the rocky soil.

Right
now, all that struggle answered some savage need inside her. As she
flew, swift and silent over the heart of the plateau country, she
felt the winds scour away the icy walls encasing her. Slowly,
silently, the tears came, pouring from the blind cataracts of her
soul and loosing what could never be loosed elsewhere but which,
for too long, had been buried deep inside her. She let the stream
flow, shoving open the canopy and throwing her head back to let the
wind tear away the drops. It was a great emptying—the last she
could risk, but necessary. She had to let the deep well of tears
dammed inside her drain away to make room for the flood of sorrow
the weeks and months ahead would bring.

A
short while later, the guard made his presence felt. He took over
the controls and returned with a set face to the Citadel. No longer
did they hug the contours of the land, at one with the wind and the
soil, but cut straight ahead, flying high enough to set a direct
course for home. Though her soul begrudged it, her mind welcomed
the harsh denial of the land as the man-made machine rigidly
imposed its will. In its mechanical rule, she found an equal
discipline in herself. She scrubbed her face with her hands,
obliterating all trace of weakness. Her head rose, her shoulders
came back, and her hands draped gently in the elegant posturing she
had been taught as a young woman of the political elite. She
stepped down at the shuttle port, with a gracious smile fixed on
the haughtiest face she could manage.

Hamon
welcomed her back with a sinking heart, seeing the mask set firmly
once more upon that strong-willed face. For once, he was relieved
that the demands of public duty denied them the chance of private
words.

“
My
dear, you’ve returned,” he said blandly. “I was becoming worried.
We seem to have a disturbance in the town.”

“
The
peasants?” she said with a knowing uplift of an eyebrow.

“
Yes. They’re demanding that we deliver you and des Trurain up
to them. And while I wouldn’t mind seeing the last of him, you are
far too beautiful for whatever mayhem is on their
minds.”

“
Torture and rape, most probably.” She appeared totally
unconcerned and in reply to his questioning look, explained: “It’s
the usual demand, once they become intoxicated. I take it there
aren’t enough guards on the square to control them?” He nodded
brusquely and she sighed. “I daresay we’ll have to intervene. If
you could procure a couple of weapons for Jacquel and myself, I
will go and change.”

“
Impossible, and well you know it.”

“
Hamon, we only need one charge each. You may post as many
guards behind us as you like, but we need weapons if we’re going to
get out of this alive.”

“
You
don’t seem particularly worried.”

“
I’m
used to this sort of thing,” she replied coolly. “Meet me inside
the doors to the public balcony in a quarter of an hour and, in the
meantime, let the rabble know we’re coming. They’ll behave till
then.”

She
turned and strode off, calling to a guard to inform des Trurain of
events.

When
next he saw her, he scarcely recognized her, or her companion. He’d
seen nothing like it since his pre-invasion visit to the planet.
Both she and des Trurain appeared to be in full Hathian court
dress. Though where they’d procured them at such short notice, he
couldn’t think.