The Prodigal Sun (26 page)
Authors: Sean Williams,Shane Dix
Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #Space Opera
“Unfortunately,” Haid continued after a moment, “the facts have leaked. And they are damning, whichever way they are interpreted.”
Roche took a deep breath. She could sense that they were approaching the real reason for his visit. “Go on.”
“Well, on the one hand, I’m being pressured to turn you in myself, by those who think Sabra had the right idea. They’re supported by another camp, who believe that you and Cane led Sabra into the old quarter to murder her. Taken together, these two factions comprise a majority of us down here.”
“But you don’t agree?”
“No,” he said. “And therein lies the problem. If I decide not to turn you in, I’ll be disobeying the wishes of the very people I’m supposed to serve.” Haid ran his artificial fingers across his ebony scalp. “At the heart of the matter is the fact that I’m an outsider myself; some of the indigenes have always resented me taking over, and they will use that lever to call for a no-confidence vote. Given their clear majority in this matter, I’m bound to lose. And the new leader will no doubt turn you in anyway.”
Roche kept her emotions carefully hidden. “So what happens now?”
“After all the resentment and anger you’ve stirred up, I don’t really have much choice.” Haid’s mouth tightened. “We need an outlet, or the problem will just get worse. The last thing we need right now is a leadership crisis.”
“But you
can’t
blame us,” Roche said urgently, sensing her last chance slipping through her fingers. “Make Cane and me scapegoats—kill us, or whatever—and the High Equity Court will never listen to you.”
“I know that.” Haid shook his head. “And Veden agrees with you. But there are two hundred Enforcers searching the city for you as we speak. Five of our safe houses have been breached. Twenty people have been taken for interrogation. Five have been killed for ‘obstructing investigations.’
“And then there are the Dato. A landing party touched down yesterday and entered the city six hours ago. Reports are coming in of fires in the old subway, lit by the squad. It looks like they’ve found an entrance to our underground network. If that’s the case, then it’s only a matter of time before they find us here.” Haid glanced briefly around at the walls of the cell before his gaze fell back upon Roche. “Twenty Enforcers we could bribe. Fifty we could fight in self-defense. But two hundred and a well-armed Dato squad...” He shrugged helplessly.
“But we need to do
something
,” he went on. “Which is why I’ve decided to take you with us.”
Roche studied him quizzically for a moment. “Take us where?”
“To the landing field, of course. We have to attack while they’re busy in the city, and hope your plan works.”
“My plan?”
“I spoke to Neva and Emmerik. They believe it’s sound, and I’m prepared to go with their judgment. They’ll be in the attacking party, along with you and me and five others.”
“But what about the command codes? There’s no point attacking until—”
“We have the codes. Maii learned them an hour ago.”
“And weapons? We’re hopelessly outgunned for a frontal assault—”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll fix it.”
Roche took a deep breath, resigning herself to the fact that the decision had been made, and nothing she said could change it. “We need time to prepare, then.”
“We have two hours.” Haid’s artificial eye regarded her implacably. “You’ll suit up and meet the others as we leave. Until then, you stay here.” He reached into his jacket and removed a work slate—a small processor with a flatscreen and compressed keyboard—which he handed to her. “Whatever happens, we can’t just sit back idly here, waiting for the Dato Bloc to arrive. You can still be useful, if you want.” He nodded at the slate in Roche’s hands. “The others will be busy getting equipment ready. Study this for us; make sure the plan will work. I’ll send someone down with Cane as soon as we’re ready.
“But remember: this isn’t an official action. As far as the indigenes are concerned, I’m still considering your fate. When we leave, it’ll supposedly be to turn you in. So do your best to look cowed, and don’t breathe a word of this to anyone else.”
With that, he keyed the door open and left.
Roche activated the slate and sat back down on the bed to study the image that appeared on the small screen and the heading above it:
PORT PARVATI SECURITY: CONFIDENTIAL
She stared at it for a moment, unable to absorb the sudden reversal. Haid was right, of course: if the Dato were actively hunting her, it would be only a matter of time before they found her here. They needed to move somewhere else, somewhere safe. But there was nowhere safe on the entire planet, nowhere to hide. And if the Enforcers truly were distracted by their own searches, then it made sense to attack the landing field while their defenses were down—to hunt instead of being hunted.
Yet, somehow, it was too much too soon. Her ribs still ached, and her newly injured side throbbed. She needed rest, time to gather her resources. Her allegiances—with Haid, with Cane, with the Box—were still too fragile to test during an all-out attack on the Enforcement stronghold. If any one of them failed, she would be worse off than when she had started.
And hadn’t there already been enough death?
Even as her doubts assailed her, however, her conviction to the plan remained strong. She had a mission—to deliver the Box to COE Intelligence HQ—and this was the best way to achieve it. If she was to leave the planet—which she had to do, in order to succeed—then this was the only way.
She had no options anymore. Circumstances dictated that she should fight, so she would do so to the best of her abilities, and with every resource she could muster, external and internal.
In the end, whether she failed or succeeded, at least she could say that she had tried.
Lying back on the bed, she began to work.
15
Sciacca’s World
Port Parvati
‘954.10.34 EN
0925
After an hour of silence, the Box suddenly returned:
“Box!” Roche sat up with a start, the slate slipping from her lap onto the bed. “Where the hell have you
been
? I’ve—”
Before she could finish, a siren began to sound. Footsteps approached her room, then continued past. Someone shouted in the distance, but the words were too faint to be heard over the screaming of the siren.
Then, even more distantly, she heard the dull thud of an explosion, followed by the sporadic chattering of weapons fire. A tang of smoke began to filter through the ancient university’s air circulation system.
Standing upright, she faced the door. But with the lock on her side disabled, there wasn’t much she could do. She felt impotent, trapped. Slapping the flat of her palm on the door, she shouted to attract the attention of anyone who might be passing:
“What’s going on out there?” She waited for a moment, then banged again. “Hey! Is anyone there?”
The door burst open, knocking her to one side. Haid and Emmerik entered, each carrying a projectile rifle.
“Quickly!” barked the rebel leader. “They’ve found us.”
“The Dato?” Roche hurriedly regained her composure and collected the slate.
“Enforcement,” said Emmerik. “But the Dato won’t be far behind.”
The burly Mbatan came up behind her. “Take this.” Another rifle. “We’ll have to hurry.”
Roche nodded. “Understood.”
“Let’s go.” Haid led the way out of the room. Another muffled explosion greeted them as they entered the hallway; a veil of plaster dust drifted down from the ceiling, and the smell of smoke grew stronger.
“They came up the old subway,” Emmerik explained as they picked their way cautiously through the corridors. “About fifteen of them. They broke through the blockades and overran our sentries before help could arrive from above. We dropped ten of them before their own reinforcements showed up. Reports are a little confused, but our best estimate places them at around twenty, with more on the way.”
“They’re destroying everything as they come,” added Haid. “Batteries, mainframes, stores—whatever they can lay their hands on. They’re making sure that if we leave, there’ll be nothing for us to return to.”
“We have no choice,” said Emmerik. “We
have
to leave. If we don’t, we’ll be caught between above and below when the Dato arrive.”
“I know.” Haid gritted his teeth. “I just hate to be forced into something I was going to do anyway.”
Roche could sympathize, but she kept her mouth shut. They wound their way through increasingly smoky corridors, occasionally glimpsing other rebels, likewise evacuating the headquarters, until they reached a narrow door tucked into a cul-de-sac. Haid opened it with a key, revealing an equally narrow staircase.
“The others are waiting for us topside,” he said. “Cane included. We can’t break radio silence to let them know we’re coming—or to make sure they’re still there. We could be heading into anything, so be ready.” He indicated for them to enter. “Emmerik, you first.”
Roche followed the Mbatan up the stairs, with Haid behind her. The staircase wound steeply upward in a tight spiral, lit by ancient fluorescent tubes every half turn. Explosions occasionally came through the stone walls like the booming of enormous beasts. The loudest, and presumably the nearest, made the steps shake beneath their feet.
Then, when Roche estimated that they had risen about ten floors, the lights went out.
“They’ve reached the main generator,” Haid said into the darkness. “Good.”
“It is? Why?” Roche stumbled in the dark, then regained her balance.
“Someone tripped the breakers before they arrived,” Emmerik explained.
“Didn’t you notice?” said Haid. “No explosion.”
“So?”
“Wait a second,” said Emmerik. “You’ll see.”
They continued to climb. Behind her, barely audible over the sound of their scuffling feet, she could hear Haid counting to himself.
“...three... two... one... Hang on!”
Roche braced herself as the air began to tremble. A rumbling sound grew steadily louder until the walls began to vibrate, shaking loose pockets of dirt that rained down upon them, causing Roche to gag. Then, an explosion from somewhere deep beneath her feet, the force of which made the steps themselves buck. Roche slipped to her knees, instinctively wrapping an arm about her head for protection from the rubble spilling down from above. She only looked up again when she heard Haid’s cry of elation in the ringing aftermath, although the darkness still effectively hid him.
“That’ll slow them down!”
“What—?” Roche staggered to her feet, still hearing phantom echoes of the blast in her ears. “The generator blew?”
“Self-destructed. A little contingency we prepared years ago, if we were ever forced to leave.” His voice held equal parts triumph and regret. “They might think twice next time before advancing so quickly.”
“Maybe,” Emmerik muttered from farther up the stairwell. “But we no longer have a headquarters.”
“Not that it matters anymore,” Haid responded, although less vigorously. “Soon we’ll either have the landing field, or nothing at all.” A hand reached out of the darkness to nudge Roche upward. “Keep moving. We’ve still got a long way to go.”
They exited the stairwell a few minutes later, Emmerik first, with his rifle ready. The safe house was clear, although shots rang out from somewhere close by. Roche followed the Mbatan through the corridors of the building, Haid at her side, until they reached the garage where they had disembarked from the truck two days before. Sunlight seeped through grimy windows, casting geometric patterns across the packed earth floor. Roche blinked, startled; she had lost track of the time underground.
A fleeting figure passed across the other entrance to the garage, and was gone before Roche could raise her rifle. It returned an instant later: Cane.
“Good, you’re here,” he said. He was wearing combat armor provided by the rebels—not powered, but passive; thick plates of black impact-resistant foam padding his torso and limbs. A lightweight helmet covered his head, its faceplate removed. “This way.”
He led them to the room in which Roche had showered. Standing massive and still in the center of the room was the suit they had stolen from the Enforcement team in Houghton’s Cross.
“Hey, Proctor,” Roche said, running a hand across the suit. “Am I glad to see you.”
“We recharged its batteries before the generator blew,” said Cane.
“Excellent,” said Haid.
Roche moved forward and removed the data glove. Cane held the Box in position behind her back as she stepped into the headless shell. When her palm slid home into the suit’s left glove, the armor came to life, wrapping around her body in an intimate yet intimidating embrace.
She took a step, feeling the solid thump of the suit striking the floor through her feet. Again, the sensation of power diffused through her veins—hypnotic, and misleading. Still, it was good to be feeling strong and in control once again.
Cane, standing behind her, placed a helmet on her head. “There’s an Enforcement team outside,” he said, both to her and the others. “We’ve been holding them off until you arrived.”
“You and how many?” asked Haid.
“Six others. Two on each floor, sniping from windows.”
“How many Enforcers?” Haid asked quickly.
“A dozen or so, most of them in the building opposite. Maii says there’s another team on the way.”
“Maii’s here too?” Roche turned to face Cane.
“Veden, too,” said Cane. “We’re going to need both of them if this plan is going to work.”
“Is he up to fighting?” said Roche.
“Sylvester finished treatment late yesterday,” Haid explained. “His system has been flushed clean, and his long-term prognosis is good. Whether he can fight or not, though, I don’t know.”
“We’ll have to carry him out, then—”
the Box interrupted, speaking over Haid’s plans to get Veden out of the safe house.
“Maii?” The rebel cast his one eye toward the ceiling. “Did you hear that?”
“You’ll be trapped!” Roche protested, her voice unnecessarily loud.
“Are you sure?” asked Haid.
Haid described a rendezvous while Roche strode heavily back to the garage. Intermittent gunfire crackled in the street outside. Faintly at first, but growing louder, she began to hear the nasal buzz of aircraft.
“If we go outside, we will be caught in a pincer,” said Cane from behind her.
“I agree.” She flexed the fingers of her suit’s right glove. “We’ll have to go back down again and come up another way.”
Haid and Emmerik, when they had finished making arrangements with Maii, agreed.
“Neva is still down there somewhere,” said the Mbatan.
“So is Enforcement,” said Roche.
“If Maii can contact her, she can open the back door,” said Emmerik. “Or at least keep it from being closed.”
Haid nodded. “We’ll go down via the stairwell—if you’ll fit,” he added with a nod to Roche. “The others will stay topside to keep Enforcement off our backs for as long as possible.”
“Agreed.”
A suicide mission
, Roche thought to herself, glad she wouldn’t be staying behind.
Maii said.
“Good.” Haid glanced around him, at Emmerik, Cane, and Roche. His face betrayed little of the nervousness Roche herself was feeling. He seemed poised but relaxed, much as Cane did: a natural fighter.
There, however, the resemblance ended. Haid had initially learned the ability to fight by implants, whereas Cane seemed to have been born with it. Watching the muscles twitching in Cane’s neck as he led the way back to the stairwell, she wondered how he felt about his experiences so far. Was it just a game to him, a series of obstacles to be overcome in a larger plan—or was he as Pristine as he seemed, despite the evidence?
She doubted she’d ever find out. The best she could hope for—if it was all a game to him, and if for the moment he was playing on their side—was that he’d win.
After that, she was prepared to take her chances.
At the bottom of the stairwell, Roche eased gratefully out of the cramped space and into a dark, smoke-filled passageway. Forced to descend sideways due to the width of the suit’s shoulders, she relished the simple joy of facing the direction in which she was going.
“Clear,” she called to the others, when she had swept the corridor with the lights on the suit’s chest. Apart from smoke and debris, the way was empty.
Haid emerged from the stairwell, followed by Emmerik. Cane came last, shutting the door carefully behind him.
“That way.” Haid pointed ahead. “Turn left at the next corridor. We’ll have to climb down the elevator shaft to get to the right level.”
Roche led the way through the ruined headquarters, stepping gingerly over the debris. Occasionally they passed bodies; apart from one Enforcer, the dead were all rebels. Emmerik stopped briefly at each to identify the victims. Roche waited patiently while he did so; although to her the dead were strangers, to the Mbatan they would have been family.
They reached the elevator shaft without mishap. The doors had been blown open by the explosion of the power plant, and the cage had fallen to the lowest level. Cables dangled like snake carcasses before the entrance, while fires from below gave the scene an almost infernal ambience.
“Two levels down is the one we want,” Haid said. “Do you think the cables will take your weight?”
Roche shrugged. “We’ll soon find out.”
The four of them slithered down the shaft, Cane more speedily than the others. When they reached the right floor, he had already levered the doors open and was waiting to help them through. Roche thudded with relief onto the solid floor. Despite the strength of the suit’s grip, she had experienced a few moments of apprehension on the way down.
The smoke was thicker on the twenty-third floor, and smelled strongly of burnt insulation. The suit lights struggled to penetrate the gloom, and she eventually gave up looking for the most part, relying on hearing to tell if there was anyone ahead. As yet, however, they had encountered no one in the ruins.
“Almost too quiet,” said Emmerik, echoing her thoughts.
“No sign of anyone at all,” Haid agreed.
“I can hear people,” said Cane. “Not close, though.”
“This level?” said Haid.
“Perhaps.” Cane closed his eyes and cocked his head slightly. “It’s hard to tell.”
Haid nodded. “Okay. You and Emmerik wait here. Roche, come with me.”
Roche obeyed, following the rebel leader through the shadows, her chest lights burning circles into his back. He led them down the corridor a short way, then turned left. Fifty meters farther, they came to a locked door.
“Good,” he muttered, fumbling with the manual lock. “It hasn’t been disturbed.”
“What hasn’t?”
“Munitions dump.” He glanced over his shoulder, his artificial iris constricting as Roche’s lights stabbed at him. “We need everything we can get to tackle the landing field. Seeing as we’re already down here...”
The door opened with a click, and Haid waved her inside. The small room contained a single crate, from which he handed her a number of small items. Stowing them carefully in the suit’s chest and thigh compartments, she mentally recorded each item: grenades, mortars, ammunition for the projectile rifles, gas cylinders, pistols, power packs, pressure mines...