by Mark Henwick
Chapter 48
Zara
The sun is still below the horizon, but the east is aflame and scarlet-edged clouds are fraying to reveal an indigo sky, paling to turquoise above the dark earth.
It’s freezing in the mail car, but I open the door a crack to double-check why the train is slowing.
In the twilight ahead, I can see the dark bulk of a distant building outlined with a few lights shining from some windows along a small platform. Past the building, a red control light on a gantry seems suspended in the air.
“Orbaiz, I guess.”
The train shudders and clanks as it brakes, and it takes an age for the jerking and screeching to stop. The whole railway seems primeval, but it’s the way most planets transport over distances. On Kernow, where short-distance travel in some of the provincial capitals is by clean, silent modules hurtling through evacuated subterranean passages, they take an obscure pleasure in the fact that their long-distance railways use steam engines.
Here on Newyan, the trains are electric, with massive battery arrays which need to be swopped out, and that requirement is the reason that re-charging stations like Orbaiz exist.
I pull out my pad and try to connect to the station’s InfoHub relay.
Nothing. No signal.
“It’s not really a passenger type of station,” Kat points out. “No need for a broadcast InfoHub connection.”
“But they must have an InfoHub connection in the office.”
“Yes.”
“And they’ll have enough of a signal to let them connect while they’re close to the office...”
Kat nods.
We all put our heads out of the door.
It’s a long train and the engine has stopped just past the station, next to a special raised platform where the exchange of the battery array takes place. The arrays are as big as trucks and there are loaders specially designed for the job of replacing them.
The wind makes it even colder outside of the mail car. Talan and I pull back.
“We could sneak out while it’s still dark,” I say. “Get close enough to the office to hack their connection.”
“Won’t stay dark for much longer,” Talan replies. “And if we sneak out, remember we’re going to have to sneak back again.” She wrinkles her nose in the way she does when she doesn’t want to do something. “How urgent is it to talk to Hwa right now?”
“Ahhh. Well, difficult to be sure, but—”
“Zara.” There’s something in Kat’s voice that makes me turn quickly. She’s still hanging her head out of the door, ignoring the cold.
“What?”
“There’s nothing happening.”
I look again, and she’s right. There’s no one around.
“The drivers might have gone in for some breakfast,” I say. “Perhaps they’re waiting for the sun to warm things up?”
Kat shakes her head. “Recharging stations get rated on the time it takes to swop out battery arrays. If they’re not working on it, they’ve been told not to do it.”
All three of us are hanging out of the mail car, looking down at the silent, empty station.
Talan grabs the rucksacks.
“Come on. I don’t like this. We have to go check it out,” she says.
We clamber down, moving the sliding door back until it looks closed. Thank the Goddess that the door on this side doesn’t squeal like the other one, because now that the train has stopped the whole of the high plains seem to be holding its breath.
The ground is broken, rocky and covered in short, tough bushes. Moving is difficult, so by the time we get near the station offices, the sun has breached the horizon and it gives us long, long shadows. The closer we get, the more we have to hide, but finally, behind the offices, we find a scatter of sheds which provide us with good cover. They’re not locked—it may be there’s no one for a day’s travel around here who doesn’t actually work on the station, so security is probably pointless. Talan opens the door to the biggest shed and we rush in to get out of the wind.
It’s a storeroom, with big doors at either end that don’t work very well at keeping the wind out.
I look around inside. The place is full of loaders, forklifts and trucks of various sizes. Racks of worn tools and grubby protective clothing line one wall.
We move down to the far end and peer through the ill-fitting doors. We can make out the train engine standing next to the maintenance ramp, the huge yard where the re-charged battery arrays are stored ready for loading and, beyond that, the recharging facility itself. The place still seems deserted. The drivers and staff must be inside the station offices. The nice, warm offices.
I shrug and huddle down against the wall closest to the station offices. This time, my pad connects immediately, but Hwa’s hacking apps take much longer to set up a secure connection.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter, shivering.
Kat is delegated to be lookout at the door that points towards the depot. Talan stomps back to the other end of the shed, pausing only to check out the trucks.
Hwa’s app blinks amber. Not fully secure, a message says.
I’m waiting for something better, but I don’t get the chance. The screen suddenly blanks and the fills with the pulsing message:
GET OFF THE TRAIN!
“What the nova?” My heart skips a beat. How did she even know we were on the train?
Talan hears me and immediately runs back as I get to my feet.
Before I have time to show her the message, the screen clears again, and I’m talking to Hwa.
“Where are you, Zara?” she blurts out.
There has to be a reasonable level of security for her to ask that openly, but the very fact she’s risking speaking directly rather than through coded messages has my heart racing.
“Orbaiz. In a shed behind the station, waiting for the engine battery arrays to be changed. What’s happening?”
“Get out of there. They worked out you were on the train. Two helicopters with Syndacian mercenaries will be there soon. They have seekers. Get away and wait for my messages. We’re looking at options for you.”
The call terminates.
“If they have seekers, there’s no point in running,” Talan says.
“Take one of the trucks?” Kat says.
Talan shakes her head. “The helicopters would overtake us, and even if they didn’t, they’ll have plenty of time to set up roadblocks.” She frowns. “Unless Hwa comes up with something incredible in the next few minutes, here’s what we’re going to do.”
Chapter 49
Hwa
Hwa does not want to be in this dawn meeting with Subsecretario Yarritu.
She’s left Xing working on plans, but she’s desperate to get back to helping Zara. Yet, what can they do? A massive distraction? Getting a diplomatic car out there will take hours and there are reports of Iruña being isolated from the outside. Presidential Guards on checkpoints for people entering and leaving the center.
Can she challenge the government directly? Threaten them? How?
Xing is processing every possible alternative. And she has to be here, because their overall plan needs all the parts to work together, and saving the lives of the people in the rest of Newyan is high on the list of priorities.
As Xing guessed, Ministro Sánchez is not able to attend this meeting, and Yarritu is making unnecessarily lengthy apologies.
“What happened to the actual Ministro of the Bureau of Food and Agriculture, Subsecretario?” she interrupts him.
Yarritu licks his lips. “An unfortunate accident,” he says. He does not meet her eyes.
Hwa snorts impatiently. “So many ‘accidents’ and ‘incidents’. It seems a dangerous career, to be a senior official in the Bureaux of Newyan. What was your department in the Bureau before?”
“I was... well, I still am responsible for water,” Yarritu says immediately, showing the first signs of enthusiasm. “My particular expertise is the water supply and sewerage
arrangements for Iruña. When the Founders built this city, they built it on this cliff over two rivers, the Argo and the Neve, that they diverted beneath the ground. Visitors to the city are always told to look at the architecture of the temples, the magnificent Belardia Library and the older Bureaux buildings, but everywhere in Iruña, the structures below our feet are the truly incredible engineering and architectural inheritance of the Founders. I have written books about it.”
He fetches a thick tome from the shelves behind him, his name prominent on the spine, and presents it to her.
“With my compliments,” he says, bowing slightly.
Hwa thanks him and takes the weighty book reluctantly. The cover is slightly oily where his sweaty hands have touched the glossy jacket. And the book is cumbersome, so after a polite glance at it, she places it beside her and surreptitiously wipes her fingers.
Yarritu isn’t like the other leaders of the Bureau, but she knows from the communications that Xing has hacked, he is part of their movement. He seems about as threatening as a mouse, but they are all one, this conspiracy.
“We must discuss the distribution of relief,” she says.
“Yes.” He sits again and fastens his gaze on the notes in front of him. “In anticipation of the supplies arriving, all provincial capitals have had infrastructure put in place to facilitate the efficient distribution of food. The space elevator will be cleared of all other traffic and the railway system prepared for shipments as a priority.”
“So I have heard,” Hwa replies, frowning. “Forgive me, Subsecretario, but this is entirely unsatisfactory. The bottleneck of transporting supplies through the space elevator is already unworkable. Your single-line railway system connecting the elevator in Iruña with your network hub in Xorio is a second bottleneck. The railway itself is barely satisfactory, with a likelihood of your exceeding your recharging capacity and the high risk of trains stranded without functioning battery arrays. And finally, in the cities themselves, temporary, untrained police forces, identity checks and illegal incarceration of people without documentation do not seem to me to be aspects of an efficient or equitable distribution system.”
He cannot meet her eye. “Your estimation of our transport structure is excessively negative. As for the matter of necessary policing in the current emergency, we admit to some short term problems, but your characterization appears to be entirely taken from propaganda put out by troublemakers.”
“This is entirely taken from what is happening right now, and I would be delighted if you accompanied me to a city of my choice to observe it.” She leans back. She has already been able to make connections to ‘troublemakers’ and they have been more than happy to begin supplying video evidence. She continues: “Our overriding requirement is this: Xian’s relief supplies will be available to everyone, equally. To this end, the incoming convoy has the necessary personnel and delivery systems to achieve this, without help from you. Supplies and personnel will go directly to the cities by shuttle, Subsecretario, and then directly to the people.”
He raises his head to look at her, and swallows.
“You make it sound almost like an invasion, Delegate Hwa.”
“I make it sound like the only way the people of Newyan are going to survive, because it is.”
“We cannot simply surrender—”
“And we cannot simply hand over supplies to reinforce the suppression of the people of Newyan.”
“I am constrained in what I may agree with you,” Yarritu says after a pause, licking his lips. The man is sweating. He looks nervous, as if he’s trying not to look over his shoulder. Regardless, his words remain firm. “I feel you may be similarly constrained and I believe you’re claiming a level of authority that you may not have.”
He has a point. No one has officially delegated to her the running of the relief effort. She’s been undiplomatic with what she’s said, because of her eagerness to get back to helping Zara. If Sánchez were here, she would have had to be far more careful with her words. There is still the possibility that the Ministro of the Bureau of Justice could destroy the carefully made plans to expose the Hajnal to the Enquiry by cancelling her court case.
There is no further point to this meeting; she has put down the marker for the way Xian will require the relief to be run, but clearly Yarritu has been told what he can and cannot accept.
“I can see that my arguments will be insufficient,” she says, grasping a face-saving way out for Yarritu. “Very well. I suggest you contact the leader of the convoy when it arrives and discuss the mechanics of distribution with him.”
The convoy won’t arrive for another day or so, at best. She’ll have tomorrow to launch her court case. And whoever is running the convoy will have the rank and power to dictate Xian’s terms.
“That will be acceptable,” he says.
Immediately, she reconnects with Xing through her pad, hoping to connect through him to Zara.
At the same time, she makes to leave, and it’s only when she reaches the door that she realizes he’s followed, to see her out.
“Don’t forget your book,” he murmurs, offering it to her again. His voice softens till it is almost inaudible. “It may be the most important book about Iruña that you will ever read.”
His heart rate has soared. Turning to look him in the eyes, she sees he is scared. More than that; terrified would describe it better.
A tug on her comms captures her attention. Xing tells her the connection to the station at Orbaiz has just gone down. Her stomach contracts with shock. They can’t help her! Zara is on her own.
Hwa blinks and tries to keep her face clear. Yarritu is peering at her, his face showing concern over the fear.
Too much is happening, but her instinct tells her there’s something important right here, in front of her.
She takes his book. He has placed an ornate bookmark in it.
“Thank you, Subsecretario, I’ll be sure to look at it when I can.”
She holds his gaze for a moment more, eyes narrowed, and then turns away.
Chapter 50
Zara
It’s still freezing outside.
The helicopter pilots aren’t dumb. They’ve remained in their warm helicopters, with the engines turning idly and the cabin heating set way up. The mercenaries have disembarked. They’ve surrounded the train, and they’re opening it carriage by carriage, plasma rifles covering every angle.
The helicopters have had to land in the only available large flat space, the enormous dirt yard in front of the battery matrix recharging facility. It’s a big space, and they’ve kept plenty of distance between the helicopters. The pilots have no wish to touch blades, and their landings kicked up such a cloud of dust that the last few meters were flown blind.
Some dumb railway workers have decided it’s a good time to prepare swopping out the engine battery matrix. One of the grubby yellow forklift trucks is inching its way into the yard, one worker driving, half-hidden in the cab, another walking in front, directing it to ensure that the truck comes nowhere near the helicopters.
The pilots grimace. Civilians! One of them waves to get the workmen to go back, which they ignore, but it’s still not worth actually getting out of the helicopters at the moment. Their flight overalls are thin, it’s cold, and the language is hard enough as it is without trying to understand whatever accent these Newyan people use out here, in the back end of nowhere.
Kat’s driving the forklift, inexpertly. I’m the ‘guy’ in front, dressed in a pair of coveralls and wearing a yellow hardhat. I feel like I need another two sets of eyes: I’m having to watch Kat’s steering and the actions of both pilots.
The InfoHub connection died. Not a software shutdown. Someone switched the hardware off deliberately. We’re on our own and executing Talan’s plan.
The pilot who landed nearest the station offices reaches up, where he’s hung his headset. It’s likely he’s going to talk to the mercenaries and get them to send someone from the station to
clear these idiots out of the depot yard. As soon as he speaks, someone will realise what’s happening.
Come on, come on.
I swivel my head; there’s a flash of movement in the cockpit of the other helicopter, the one furthest from the offices.
Now.
I sprint to the cab of the forklift, hauling Kat out and shoving her toward the further helicopter. She runs, but she runs backwards, watching me.
Damn it, Kat! Just run.
The forklift controls are simple, like our plan. I twist the steering wheel, swerving the forklift around. The pilot is scrabbling for his headset now, panic making him clumsy. I force a rusty shovel into the space between the seat and the accelerator pedal, so the pedal is locked full down. And I stay with it just long enough to be sure it’s on target before I leap out of the cab.
That hurts. An unburdened forklift gathers speed surprisingly quickly.
There’s no time to waste thinking about it; I’m just picking myself up off the dirt when the forklift runs into the helicopter’s rotor blades.
I’m already sprinting as the sound of huge crashes and shrieks of metal comes from behind me, followed by an explosion.
At ‘our’ helicopter, the navigator has been thrown out onto the ground. Talan must have hit him hard; he can’t even manage to gather his feet under himself. I ignore him to leap into his seat in the cockpit.
Talan’s behind the pilot, her knife against his throat.
Kat’s looking at the door-mounted plasma weapons in the back.
“Is he going to behave, or do I get to fly?” I yell.
Bluff. I can’t fly this thing.
“He’s flying,” Talan says.
The knife has nicked his skin and there’s blood on his collar.
“I die, you die,” he says hoarsely, in a thick accent.
“Or we all live. Shut up and fly, now.”
The pitch of the engine changes; the helicopter lurches into the air. Dust billows out, obscuring the burning second helicopter.