"I still don't understand, Tarn, why the Sirona are so interested in this operation; why you want this work to stop."
"That is not of interest, Vald' Carr. It is what the Sirona desire. That can be the only interest."
"All right. I suppose I'm in a little bit of a no-win situation here. I need some time to think about it though ... say a week? If I'm going to do this I need to put some things in place, you understand, and I want to think about how I might go about that. Give me a week or two to sort things out, to put things in place, then we can decide whether this arrangement is to our mutual advantage. Depending on what decision I arrive at, we can discuss my terms. Is that agreed?"
"Yes — one week, but no more. We shall talk again — after one week. Then we shall discuss the Sirona terms — not the terms — of Vald' Carr. Vald' Carr has already had much time. Be sure to make the right decision, Vald' Carr. Think well," said the Sirona.
Tarn got down from the chair, turned and walked silently to the door, not even looking back at Carr as it closed the panel behind it.
Valdor drummed on the desk. He had no intention of acceding to the Sirona demands. Obviously this biocomp thing was worth a lot more to them than they were going to admit and that made him convinced that he wanted to run with it. He was in a difficult position, but no circumstance was too difficult to negotiate to an advantage. Besides, Valdor was fundamentally stubborn. The sure arrogance of the Sirona, despite their alienness, and their interference in his operations made him more determined to go ahead with his original plans and damn the consequences. He would beat them at their own game, damned if he wouldn't.
It would take same clever manoeuvring. The idea had still to be to get a sample of the gene sets off world to a safe holding and that was clearly going to be a little more difficult than it had been before. It seemed the Sirona had links, or at least access, to the inner mechanisms of his organisation. He was convinced of that now. He knew he could trust Milnus but he didn't know what other leaks there might be. He'd have to use other meant to achieve his ends.
There was no choice left to him. He had to organise the whole thing himself. Who he could choose to assist him remained the only question. He couldn't transport the samples himself. He'd already seen the fate of one courier, and he valued his own skin too much to take that risk. A week wasn't going to be all that long to get the right things in place.
He sat toying with options for a number of minutes. Not only would he get the sample off world by whatever meant it might take to do it, but he would get himself off world as well. He could leave the basic workings of the organisation to Milnus while he was away, but if he was not around himself, it made him less of a target. The first thing to do was to get himself out of circulation. Probably time to pay Marina a visit. Marina's was well enough out of the way to keep him from the Sirona for the time being and let him act without their interference. The Sirona probably had access to his net too, so despite the loss of information while he was out of the picture, he decided to shut it down for the duration.
He would contact Milnus from Marina's and get him to deliver a sample at some secure location. The only information he would give Milnus was that his Head of Security was to supervise the running of the operation for a few days. That should be enough to keep things ticking over while he was gone.
Valdor reached across and keyed the shutdown sequence into the console set into his desk, then wrapping his cloak about him, made for the private elevator. His decision made, all that remained for him to work out were the finer details of exactly what he was going to do.
Chapter Fourteen
The Cradle
At first, she scrambled through the scant undergrowth, searching for some refuge from the nightmare below. Her body was running on automatic. The Cradle was a place of sanctity and peace, not somewhere torn apart by disharmony and destruction. She knew with an awful certainty that it was true, and yet it lay beyond her grasp. It was just so alien to everything she knew. She ran and ran, trying to leave it behind her.
She spent the rest of the night huddled beneath a clump of bushes, trembling and cold. She dozed fitfully, waking now and again with a start. Each time, she slowly came to awareness of the reality through the sleep haze, and she shivered with the stark chill of shock. Eventually, she reached some sort of control over her emotions, pushed back the disbelief, and realised that she had to do something.
The morning light further revealed the destruction worked the previous evening. She ventured a quick look from her concealment and it was enough to tell her that where she sat was not a good place to be. Egg-like shards stuck from the ground at the lakeshore — all that remained of the vast structure that had previously stood there. Large blocks of what had once been walls lay scattered about the surrounding plane and deep black trenches scored the ground. But there was activity down there.
The large ship was nowhere to be seen, but it had left behind a score of smaller craft flitting and hovering above the landscape. Though tiny, she could see organized groups picking their way among the pieces of wreckage. It looked as if they were searching, and she got the impression that their activity was being directed by the flyers hovering above. It didn't take her long to work out that they were searching for survivors. These people, if people they were, didn't belong to The Cradle. She knew that without even having to think about it.
If whoever it was down there was searching for survivors, it would not be too long before they widened the area of their search. Mahra was too close by far. She needed to put some distance between herself and those ships quickly. Keeping low and as close to any cover she could find, she struck off up the hillside toward the mountains that beckoned in the distance. There she'd find shelter and refuge, and perhaps some space to work out what she was going to do next. She could survive for weeks in the mountain forests if she needed to.
Her instincts were right. It was late morning by the time she heard the first flyer's sound pass overhead. Quickly she ducked beneath a group of bushes and crouched while the craft whined overhead. She could see the silvery hull glide past through the leaves above her and she stayed very still until the whirring drive sound faded away through the branches. The craft was moving in a zigzag pattern, obviously searching for something. They couldn't know about her, or at least she thought they couldn't, so it should give her some space to get away.
Several times during the course of the day she was forced to duck for cover, as one or more craft passed over her. She was oblivious to the cuts and scratches she sustained. All she could think about was to get away. She had no idea if they were searching for her. All she could feel was her breath catch in her throat and a sense of urgency driving her onward toward the distant crags as her heart pounded in her chest.
Mahra paused to catch her breath, panting with the exertion. Nestled beneath the shadows of a large leafy tree, she rested her back against its trunk. Still breathing heavily, she looked down at her hands, and saw the comp clutched firmly in her grasp. She had been gripping it tightly since the moment of her flight. Painfully she relaxed the grip.
She allowed herself a few moments to work back the feeling in her fingers. Once the numbness had passed, she tried to activate the comp, but the device was dead. She shook it once, twice, then tried again, but it remained an inert lump. She was well and truly on her own. She tossed the small box in frustration to the carpet of drying leaves at her feet. She stared at it thinking about what Aleyin had said.
Suddenly there was something wrapped around her face. It covered her nose and mouth and pressed her back against the tree. Mahra struggled against it, tried to shake herself free, the panic welling up inside her.
And then there was someone crouched in front of her. He was garbed all in black and her eyes widened in recognition. Slowly he took his hand away from her mouth.
"Aleyin!" she said.
"Shhh," he said, raising his hand to his lips. "I don't know how close they are. Can you tell?"
"Ho
w did you get here?"
"No time for that now. We have to get away."
The Old One's former student looked ruffled and full of fear. His gaze flitted nervously round the surrounding trees. Mahra could see his robes were torn and there was dirt on his face.
"Who are they? Why have they done this?" asked Mahra. Aleyin shook his head, still throwing nervous glances about him.
"I don't know. I don't know," he said. He dragged at her arm. "Come, we have to get away from here."
Mahra nodded. He was right. She got to her feet and beckoned him to follow.
"Aleyin, this way. If we can get to the mountains, we should be able to make it hard for them to find us. We'll be all right if we can get there. They'll never find us."
Aleyin swallowed and nodded. He looked completely lost. She urged him to follow and struck out through the trees. Aleyin seemed to be moving with some difficulty and she slowed her pace.
"Did you see it?" she asked him. "Were you there?"
He stopped and a look of horror washed over his face. "Yes. I was close — very close. A few minutes more ... "
"Did anyone else get away?" she asked.
He seemed to shake himself and then realize what she was asking. "N-no, I didn't see. I just knew I had to get away. I was on my own."
Mahra still felt afraid herself, but she knew she couldn't give into it. She had to get them as far away as possible. That was the first thing. She could think about contacting the others later. She urged Aleyin to follow and headed off toward the distant peaks. She had to think. Mind sharp.
Then she remembered — her comp. How could she contact anyone if she didn't have it? It might not be any use, but she had to take that chance. She quickly looked back at Aleyin, but he carried nothing with him apart from his dishevelled robes.
"Aleyin, wait," she said. "Wait here. I have to go back. I dropped my comp back there."
“Are you sure that’s a good—?”
Mahra stilled him with a motion of her hand and a quick shake of her head.
She headed quickly back down the trail they had just come up. She found the clearing again without any difficulty and spotted the comp nestled there to one side among the fallen leaves.
Then, suddenly, she heard movement through the undergrowth behind her. There was not much cover in the clearing apart from a small clump of bushes off to one side and the sounds of approach were growing steadily. Quickly she made a break for the tangle of shrubs and vines, dragging her pack behind her beneath the mass of leaves. The clear sound of feet tramping through the undergrowth was punctuated by voices, indistinct as yet, but without doubt, coming her way. She barely dared breathe as she made herself as small and as still as possible.
Three tall figures burst into the clearing. The three men stopped at the small wooded glade's centre, scanning the vegetation about them for signs of movement. Mahra’s heart pounded in her ears as she lay frozen watching the dark unkempt figures standing before her. It seemed so loud, she wondered that they didn't hear it as well.
The three were dressed in dark padded leathers, belts crisscrossing their jackets. Long straggly hair flowed freely about their swarthy features. Very slowly, they turned their heads, listening. One looked in her direction. His head turned slightly to one side and she caught her breath. He seemed to be listening to something coming from a device set in his ear, because he lifted his hand to reposition whatever lay there.
"Yah, about here?" he said in a rough, accented voice, holding something to his throat as he spoke. He turned slowly studying the area again. "You sure that thing's not telling you lies again? No sign of a runner here."
Mahra felt the pit of her stomach go chill as she remembered the comp she so carelessly tossed to the ground. Her eyes widened as she saw it, half buried beneath the boot of the man who spoke.
"What do they want, miracles?" He muttered to his companions. "I don't know what we're going to find. Nothing to get a bloody trace on." He looked clearly disgusted and spat to one side. "What sort of job is this, rounding up savages?"
This elicited grunts of agreement from his companions. He swung whatever he was carrying lazily in one hand, up to his shoulder. It had to be a weapon of some sort. All three carried a similar device.
Mahra started to inch her way slowly backward, carefully limiting her movements so as not to attract attention or make any noise. At that moment, the one who spoke shifted his stance. His boot slipped on the comp's smooth surface, he looked down, rapidly crouched, retrieving the small box, and a slow smile spread across his face. His eyes narrowed and he swung his head around to scan the surrounding area.
"Well, mates, still warm. Looks like we've got ourselves a runner after all." he said as he tossed the comp to one of his companions. He lowered his weapon to a horizontal position so that it was pointing out toward the trees that circled their position, slowly tracking it in an arc as he spoke into the device at his throat.
"Yah, we have contact. Starting sweep now."
He motioned to the two with him and they split off, one on either side, each holding their weapon the same way, slowly tracking from side to side as they started to walk toward opposite edges of the clearing. It was time for her to get out of here, and quickly.
Very, very carefully, she edged backward, deeper through the tangled undergrowth. She moved a fraction at a time, her heart pounding ever louder in her ears. Twigs and branches caught at her hair and clothes. The other two were moving away from her. The one who had spoken had disappeared into the trees off to one side, and if she planned it right, she should be able to get out of their view and be able to make a run for it. She was certain she could outdistance any one of them in the forest. She eased herself through the leaf litter, worming backward on her stomach.
Then her foot encountered resistance. She turned her head to see what was blocking her path and froze, her mind gone chill. Her foot rested hard against a solid black boot. She looked upward and gasped as she saw the grinning face of the boot's owner looking down at her. He reached down and grabbing her ankle, effortlessly lifted her skyward.
"So, what have we here?" He laughed. "Hey mates, I've got our runner. It's a mere child. A girl."
Mahra swung helplessly in his grasp. She heard the crashing of his companions through the undergrowth. The pounding in her ears grew louder as the blood rushed to her head and she waved from side to side, suspended in his one-handed grip. The other two emerged from the trees and let their weapons drop as amused expressions covered their faces.
"Not bad," said one of the newcomers.
Mahra didn't like the way his expression changed as he looked at her, scanning her body.
"We could have ourselves a bit of fun here."
"Time enough for that later," snapped the one holding her. "The day's not over yet. Now, you're coming with me, my pretty," he said to her as he bundled her unceremoniously across his shoulder and strode off into the trees.
She still had her blade. They either hadn't noticed it, or didn't care. Her comp and pack were gone; all she had now were her wits. She only hoped Aleyin had sense enough to get away.
Too much was happening too quickly. The sour smell of the one carrying her washed over her as she was bumped along on his shoulder. The combination of the smell and the jolting motion of their passage made her feel queasy. She worked hard to keep the bile from rising in her throat. There was another smell about this man, something very different and unfamiliar. It was a smell that didn't fit here, that didn't belong.
The indignity of her passage was short lived. The trees gradually thinned to reveal a broad grassed clearing upon which sat a craft of the type that passed over her position earlier. She craned around the man's torso to see. This craft was a very different design from the one that she rode in from the call point. It was broad, squat, and ugly. The exterior was metallic with none of the clear plas that afforded the all-around view in her flyer. There were dents and score marks on the outside of the hull. It suited the appe
arance of her captors — probably functional, but not very pleasant to look at.
Her view was rapidly obscured as she was bundled through a large open door on the craft's side and her captors clambered in behind her. Roughly she was shoved to the rear of the large open space and motioned to sat on the hard metal floor as the three took up seats and strapped themselves in, after stowing their weapons beside them. The one who made the remarks about her glanced at her from time to time, and she didn't think she liked the look on his face.
She had little time to consider what was in store for her, because her original captor yelled something and banged on the bulkhead beside him with a closed fist. The large metal door swung shut and there was a definite chunk as a locking mechanism slid home. The floor beneath her began to vibrate and a deep whine grew somewhere beneath her, gradually building in intensity as the craft rose from its position and lifted into the air, before turning and shooting forward. She huddled at the back, reconciled to wait, and see what was in store, though if the glances she was getting were any indication, she didn't much like what it might be.
The three men talked among themselves, almost shouting to make themselves heard above the drive noise that filled the vessel. The insistent whine made their conversation incomprehensible and rattled her bones.
Mahra didn't know how long they travelled. The day's events had proved too much and despite the noise and the vessel's vibrations, she dozed. She was shaken from her light sleep as the craft bumped to a stop with a deep, resonant metallic tone. The three rapidly unstrapped themselves and got to their feet, grabbing their weapons, and waiting for the large side door to open. One casually wandered back and dragged Mahra to her feet and forward to join them. The metal panel swung slowly upward into empty space.
The Jump Point Page 16