The Broken Cage (Solstice 31 Saga Book 2) (28 page)

“So they don't make them like they used to. So what?” he quipped.

“They NEVER made them like this.” She wasn't whispering anymore. “And this planet. Terraforming is never this perfect! Honey bees, for Christ’s sake? Deer? Foxes? Dogs, cats, mice, and even rats? How many colonies have you been to? Are any like this?”

“No. Especially the terraformed ones,” he admitted.

“And, why the hell would this ass-backward society halt progress? Do any of this?” She ranted, no longer trying to be quiet.

“Because of the Keepers.” Po approached, without their notice, and she interrupted. “The answer to all your questions is because of the Keepers. The High Keeper, specifically.”

Barcus and Rand remained silent, for a long moment.

“Barcus is right. This changes nothing,” Rand said. She glared at them both. “Ten days.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The Pod Run

“They had no idea the depth of the damage that was being slowly repaired inside Po. I think they had been testing how much abuse she could withstand.”

--
Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, the chief medical officer on the Memphis.

<<<>>>

Po found Barcus, alone, on the bridge of the STU, an hour later.

“I think the nanites have done something wrong to me,” Po said, as she crawled into his lap, the way she used to in the gatehouse. “I can't stop thinking about...being with you. It's very distracting.” Looking up at him, she added, “And, very…wet. All the time.”

Barcus laughed and then kissed her.

“I'm afraid, Barcus.” She looked up at him. “I pretend all the time that I'm not afraid. I've done it my whole life. It's never been this bad.” She looked into his eyes. “I never had so much to lose, before.” She hammered her fists on his chest, halfheartedly. “Damn you.”

“I’m afraid, too,” he said, quietly. Po had expected him to deny her feelings and to whisper platitudes, in that voice that calmed her so well. Instead, he was honest.

“I will be careful. Hume will be there, in case something happens.” Barcus tried to reassure her. “Besides, Em will be there, too. She'd never let anything happen to me.”

Somehow, that fact made her feel better.

Po said, “Stu, lock that hatch, please.”

***

The shuttle approached the dead satellite at a very slow speed. The cargo ramp was already open, and Hume clicked her safety line to a loop on the starboard side.

Barcus was already inside the black maintenance suit, running a comms check; first with Hume in her pressure suit, and then with Worthington via the relay on the moon. It took about three seconds for the audio to get there.

“We are approaching the satellite now, Jim.”

Barcus and Peace entered the rear hatch of Par and secured themselves to each side, facing the center. Barcus was still amused by the smiley face Cook had painted on Peace.

“Slowing. Will reach full stop at thirty meters.” There was a pause of about a minute. “Full Stop.”

“Jumping in ten seconds,” AI~Pardosa's voice said, in a very businesslike way.

“Jumping.”

The rear hatch remained open on the spider as they crossed the open space to the launch platform.

The EM drifted across the open space and latched onto the launching pods, trailing cable behind it, like the silk thread of a web. Em rotated the spider, so Barcus could reach an antenna spire and guide himself down, on his side, as Peace climbed silently down, using the launch apertures as handholds.

“It looks like we are in luck already, Barcus,” AI~Em said to him, out loud, for Worthington's benefit. “It looks like the clamps are simple, magnetic clamps. Press, here and here, and they will release.” Peace demonstrated.

The pod was about three meters by three meters. A cube. Peace stood on the business end, where there were ninety-nine missile launch tubes configured in a ten by ten grid. A small hatch covered the area where the upper corner tube would have been.

Barcus opened the hatch.

“Em, stop! It is powered up. Status lights are green.” Barcus looked closer. “Holy shit. This pod is not 300 years old. All of this tech looks new. I thought this was going to be fried by Ulric's EMP cannon.”

The HUD came alive with a schematic for this precise unit.

“Barcus, you are looking at the control and maintenance systems for this pod. It is currently armed. The very first thing you need to do is lift this toggle cover and flip the manual switch to deactivate the self-destruct unit.”

A simulation played for him in his HUD, to show him what to do.

Barcus followed the simulation accurately and the buttons turned from green to red. He closed the toggle cover, so that switch could not accidentally be flipped again.

“I thought all of this was dead.” He looked up at the antenna. It was obviously ancient. “I think the comms array was destroyed, not the pods. Tell Elkin we may have better plutonium than we initially thought.”

“I think you should detach that cable from the array,” AI~Em said, as she highlighted the coupling in his HUD.

It was a standard pressure coupling, and it came loose with a squeeze in the right place.

There were twelve magnetic clamps. They released all, but the last two—one at each end.

“Okay, Em. On the count of three, release the final clamp and lift. One, two, three, go.”

“Barcus, hold. It's caught on something,” AI~Em said.

“Shit, more cables.” Barcus moved to the right and focused a light between the pods. “Just one more. Jimbo, are you seeing this? Is that what I think it is?”

Comms were quiet for six seconds, before he heard, “Don't move. That line is attached to a pin on a mine just below the pod. Another ten centimeters and you're dead. DO NOT MOVE.”

“Hume, do you copy?” Barcus asked.

“Go for Hume,” she replied.

“Send a line over, Hume,” Barcus requested. “I need you.”

A magnetic grapple flew into the back of the Emergency Module a second later. She must have had it already in her hands.

“Clipped on. Moving.” Hume clipped a ring on the line that connected the Stu with the EM. She flew across the void. “Secured. What do we got?”

A safety line played out as she drifted over the tops of the pods. As she came across, she attached a series of magnetic handholds across the top of the pods. She stopped neatly, at the edge, and looked down the crack at the line.

“I see it.” Hume twisted, so her legs were out over the loose pod. “I may be able to get to it, from below.” She climbed down the launch tubes. Just as she was about to slide under the pod, she ran out of slack. Without hesitation, she said, “Detaching safety line.”

“Hume. Wait,” Barcus said.

“This will only take a second.” Her voice was strained as she extended her arm. She wriggled. The pod moved slightly, giving her more room.

“Got it. Lines detached. This one and the next one were hooked on the same ring. Raise the pod. Straight up,” Hume said. “Jesus, Barcus. These are Javelin missiles with high-yield warheads. Do you have any idea how much these cost, a piece? My God. And just on this side, there are almost 1,600 facing the planet. What. The. Hell?”

Hume rode the pod up and toward the cargo bay of the spider, clinging to the cluster of pods. The pod would fit, comfortably.

“Hume, get that safety line back on, and get back over to the shuttle. Use the line you have already attached to draw the EM back into the shuttle,” Worthington ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Soon the pod was secured inside the EM, and it was slowly towed back to the shuttle.

“Secure cargo and descend. The hard part is next. I want you well away, before they even begin,” Worthington ordered.

***

The shuttle was down on the ground in the middle of desolate tundra in about a half hour. The spider exited the STU’s cargo bay and waited.

Barcus cleared out of the suit, and soon Ash and Peace were moving out the containment units and a case of tools, as Hume and Barcus watched from the bridge.

The STU was aloft when they had barely cleared the apron. They had to be away before the harvesting began.

“The schedule says the harvesting will take about twenty hours for all ninety-nine warheads,” Hume said, as she took off her helmet.

“Elkin will be picking them up. You'll be at some bar in Exeter, dammit,” she teased. “Have one for me.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The Flask and Anvil

“While we were in Exeter, distracted, it happened. None of us saw it coming. None of us knew then that it was all a setup, an escape.”

--
Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew.

<<<>>>

Worthington, Barcus, and Rand dressed the same in elegant, black tracker garb that Ronan had sent along. Rand wore the unnerving security helmet from the
Ventura
. It helped hide the fact that she was female. Her voices were set to menacing male tones. With the hood all the way up, it was not noticed. Her drone also flew recon as they worked.

Ulric dressed in beautiful, traditional Keeper robes of dark browns. The other three will be his personal guards. Po dressed in the traditional, black habit and hood with veil. She’ll stay with Ulric, as well.

Ronan would not attend.

Grady would only go, as himself.

Barcus added the Raptor blade, directly in front of his sidearm. It helped to conceal it; it neatly combined with his tabard and cloak. Ronan provided a black sheath.

Exeter was far bigger than any of them had thought. It was a real city, with an estimated population over 60,000. They watched the city below, through windows inside the passenger’s compartment of Ronan’s shuttle.

Em came along–docked into the cargo bay with legs folded in and covered with a sailcloth tarp, like the other pallets in the hold–to provide BUG drone support and EmNet comms with the team.

Burke stayed with Ronan, as always.

Ronan’s estate was vast. Barcus estimated that just the formally groomed part was over 1,000 acres. It backed up to the forest at the base of the mountains that made up one side of the valley the Exeter filled. As the sun set and the clouds blazed with light, they set down on a formal patio, near the residence.

The passenger compartment of Ronan’s shuttle was below the flight deck and had its own exit on the left side. When the door opened, it was exactly how Ronan said it would be. Two flanking rows of armed guards with swords and crossbows stood at attention. His castellan waited at the bottom of the ornate, portable staircase that had been placed for their use.

Ronan made his way out, with the entourage in tow, in a predefined order. They were to speak to no one. Barcus, Rand, and Worthington walked behind Ulric, who was followed a pace behind by Po and Grady.

Barcus and Jimbo scanned around, constantly, on each side. Barcus noticed that Burke stayed behind to supervise the unloading of the shuttle and to ensure no one became curious about the final item that remained in the shuttle.

The group entered through massive double doors that opened before them. Barcus steeled himself for what he knew he would see there.

There were nearly 200 women, on their knees, with their foreheads on the floor, lining the vast hallway. All wore the same deep green, single button dress. Their hair was long and in braids that cascaded down the left side of their necks, if they were on the left, and the right side of their necks, if they knelt on the right side.

Every vase was filled with fresh flowers, beautifully arranged. There were bowls of fresh fruits that Barcus assumed were selected for their beautiful color combinations. Ronan grabbed a golden apple from one bowl as he walked by; and, bit into it, as he listened to the balding castellan, while he looked at the offered plate display.

They eventually entered a center atrium that held massive staircases that rose to the six additional upper levels. Ronan had told him it was used, sometimes, for grand balls for the aristocrats of Exeter. They ascended a staircase and moved into a wing of the building that was his private residence.

Guards opened the double doors at the end of the hall, before they reached it. Polished marble floors gave way to thick carpet, beyond the door. The doors closed behind them.

Ronan stopped in the center of a large receiving parlor, beyond the nave to the suite. He turned to address the group.

“Well done.” He brought the balding man forward. The man was now more relaxed, even smiling. “This is my Castellan, and friend, Jacob Riehl. He runs things at the Ronan Estate. I know you will not be here long, but if you need anything at all, please ask him.

“Jacob, this is Ulric, Grady and Po.”

He shook the men’s hands and then extended his hand to Po.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Po. I hear you’re quite the pilot.” Jacob stood there, hand extended, apparently happy to wait as long as necessary until she, finally, shook his hand.

Not waiting for Ronan, he said, “And, you must be Rand. You can take your helmet off in here, but only in here, I think.”

She took off her helmet, tucked it under her left arm and shook his hand firmly.

Finally, he greeted Jimbo and Barcus. “Gentlemen, I am honored to meet you both.”

Ronan studied the plate Jacob had handed him. He looked up, then.

“We will have a private dinner here in two hours. That will give you time to clean up,” Ronan said, as ten young women filed in, wearing the same deep green dress that was the uniform there.

“I will let my staff introduce themselves. I consider them family. They will show you to your rooms and the baths that are waiting.”

As two women led off each of the men, smiling and introducing themselves, Po moved closer to Barcus as she visibly tensed.

Two women approached Po. One spoke, “Don’t worry, Po. Ronan told us all about you and Barcus.” The woman placed one hand on her own chest and gestured to her partner with the other, and said, “My name is Teek, and this is Ro.” She motioned for them to follow, together. “We will show you to your rooms and help you.”

To Barcus, she said, “Ronan thinks you should shave, so you blend in better.” She talked and walked now, down a side hall. “We have fresh clothes for you, as well.”

“Jacob told us what happened,” Ro said, “We are very sorry for your loss.”

Barcus nodded thanks and looked at Po. She seemed aghast. Ro was not a girl. He saw it in Ro’s expression change. She was a woman of perhaps thirty years. “What’s wrong, Po?” Barcus asked.

“How is it that you speak to him so?” Po asked them. “This is Exeter.”

Ro looked at Teek. Teek answered, “Within these walls, these private rooms, we are in the East Isles, not Exeter. There are no anvils here,” Teek said, seriously.

Ro added, “Ronan said we are to treat you as we treat him within these walls, even though you are the Man from Earth.” She smiled, with no fear. “He even said if I gut punched you, you would, in fact, NOT eat me.”

Suddenly, Barcus knew who she was. This was Ronan’s daughter.

“You, probably not. Teek might be tasty though,” Barcus joked.

Po was the one to punch him first, quickly, followed by Ro and, finally, Teek.

None were aware that AI~Em watched them from thirty-two angles.

***

Barcus allowed Teek to shave his face, as he sat in a barber’s chair in a room off the bathroom suite. Ro wandered about the various rooms with Po, chatting and laughing at the different types of baths in the suite. It had a large shower room, a steam room, a cold plunge pool, and soaking tubs in a selection of sizes and shapes.

When the shave was completed, Ro and Teek made a smooth exit, saying they would be back, in about an hour. They never even offered to bathe with them, to Po’s relief.

The door was barely closed before they were undressing, and Barcus was surprised to see Po selected the shower first.

“I like showers.”

They washed each other’s hair, and bodies, to their great relief and…release. They soaked in one of the tubs, after making love, standing up, in the shower.

“I have never felt this clean, this whole, before.” Po sighed. Barcus just smiled, enjoying the quiet in his mind, trying not to imagine the screams of the dying.

They soaked until they were wrinkled. Climbing out, they used thick, soft towels and put on comfortable robes.

They found Teek and Ro in the suite's great room, sitting on the sofas before the fire, reading actual books. They noticed the look on Po’s face.

“Ronan loves books,” Ro said, marking her place. “He has a beautiful library in the East Isles, in his private residence.” She motioned for them to sit across from her.

“On Baytirus, a library is considered a vice. Real books are frowned upon. If you do your reading from a plate, the High Keeper knows exactly what you are reading, and who is reading it.”

Barcus listened and tried not to care. They will be gone in a few days. They will have their own problems.

“What are you reading?” Barcus asked, conversationally.

“A book of poems. Rare are these,” Ro said, wistfully.

Teek stood and walked to another double set of doors and opened one side. “We have laid out appropriate clothes for you. Dinner will be served, soon. Just follow your nose. Ronan is cooking, again.”

Teek and Ro left their suite and they explored. The suite had beds for about twenty people, besides the master bedroom. Retainers had beautiful quarters, much smaller, but luxurious still. They even found a small kitchen and three more baths.

Po was awestruck. Barcus just shook his head.

They dressed.

Po wore a simple dress in dark green, much like the ones she always wore. The single button at the nape of her neck was a black, glass-like, carved stone that looked like an artfully rendered rose flower.

The slippers she wore were ingenious in their simplicity. The iris-like cinch at the top of her foot made for a perfect fit.

Barcus was in fine black pants, boots and tunic. He added a new belt for his gun and Telis blade.

They wandered out into the main suite and were called by the smell of bacon and onions. Following their noses led them to a spacious kitchen where Jimbo, Rand, Ulric, Grady, Ro, Teek and four other women sat around a large table, talking, all at once.

Rand and Jimbo saw them enter and raised glasses to them in a toast. Ronan looked up and gave a nod, as he transferred a pan of diced bacon and onions to a simmering pot of spicy meat in sauce that looked like chili.

He was cooking on a large, gas range. It was a modern convenience Barcus had not seen since he had landed on this planet.

The two women, sitting on either side of Ulric, stood and dragged Ulric to his feet in a friendly, familiar manner. One of them reminded Barcus of Saay. He fixed his smile, to hide his anger and sadness at the memory of her death.

Ronan had his apron removed by two other girls, even younger than the ones helping Ulric. Their dresses were of a satin that clung to their bodies.

Barcus realized it was window dressing, making him look decadent and spoiled.

“Ahhh, Barcus. We will be back in an hour. Ulric and I are going down to put an appearance in at tonight’s feast. Dinner will be ready by then.” He was dressed in very fine clothes, as was Ulric. “There is beer and wine, cider or whatever else you like. Ro, sweetheart, will you start the biscuits in about a half hour?”

They were both swept out by the girls, as if they were pushing an ox cart that was stuck in the mud.

Jimbo shook his head, as the talking began, again. Barcus sat next to him, and Po sat next to Barcus.

“There is a feast?” Barcus asked.

“Yes, apparently, there are over 100 aristocrats down there already. The news Ronan was back spread fast,” Jimbo said, sipping tea.

Rand interjected, quietly, “There is a feast every night.”

Teek was listening.

“Yes. Every night.” She beamed, as if proud of the decadence. “And, every morning the halls are filled again with fresh cut flowers, and every fruit bowl is restocked.” Barcus remembered the single apple Ronan had taken. “The sheets are changed on over 300 beds. The formal hedges are trimmed, and the 1,000 acres are maintained.”

Teek turned serious, now. They didn’t know why.

“Over 100 people go to the night market, every night. They buy tons of food, and flowers, and cloth, and nails, and medicine, and hundreds of other goods to support the household.”

“Do you want to know why?” Ro asked, from the stove, now wearing Ronan’s apron, as she stirred the simmering chili.

She waited for Barcus to answer.

“Please, tell me,” Barcus said. The room was now quiet.

“Because he is a good man.” She paused, she seemed about to cry.

Teek continued, “In this place, it is the only way to serve his people. They know the feasts they cook are not for the aristocrats who pick at it and complain. They are for them. All of this food, and fruit, feed the thousands of slaves that he owns. Food bought from farmers that are not slaves. They work hard for a good price.”

Ro added, “Did you see the new wing being built? This place doesn’t need another room, much less a wing. But carpenters, stonecutters and masons need work.”

Barcus understood. Po could tell from the look on his face.