by Alex Bobl
That's how we could see the light through the storm. It didn't take long to realize that the deportees applied the Forecomers' technologies to suit their own needs. Why not use a lamp like that when you had no other option?
Ahmad's crafty black eyes glanced around shiftily. He hid the whistle in the folds of his robe and removed the shawl showing a broad furrowed face. He had a straight nose, a thick moustache and a wiry graying goatee. He must have been old but he stood straight with his wide shoulders and his hand steady on his staff, giving us a lordly look.
"Lost your way," he said in a husky low voice with a thick Oriental accent and bared his crooked teeth. "Ahmad feed goats, Ahmad see storm. Ahmad see men, come give help."
"We really appreciate it," Kathy said gracefully. "How can we make it worth your while?"
"You know price."
"But," Kathy looked back at me, embarrassed, "We..."
"Ahmad?" I produced the fabric tube with the money. "How much?"
The goat herder bared his teeth again. He shook his head, "You new here, man. You misunderstand. I take your guns. You go."
"What's that for a..." I started but Kathy hissed at me and stomped her foot.
"Who is commander here?" Ahmad gave me a crooked smile as his hand reached into the folds of his robe.
An animal roar made us turn. The storm had shifted over the river leaving a haze hanging over the hills. The visibility was good though. A large mound of rocks which we hadn't noticed earlier was piled up on the ground not far from us. The roaring seemed to come from behind it.
"He is," Kathy nodded at me.
"Then why woman speak?" Ahmad addressed me.
I looked into the man's crafty eyes. This wasn't the kind of man you could convince easily. He knew what he wanted. He had raised tame tigers for self-protection. That's why Kathy didn't want us to go through the valley. She hadn't had time to explain but it didn't matter. Ahmad would find a way to get his toll paid this way or that. This was his territory, and we'd trespassed.
"She spoke because she knew you," I finally said.
Ahmad looked at Kathy.
"He's right," she said. "I tried to tell him we shouldn't go this way..."
The herder raised his hand. "Guns."
"What's the swap?" I said.
"Your lives," the smile disappeared from his face. His eyes went cold.
I knew I could kill him, and he knew it, too. That would be the end of us. His tigers would make short work of us.
"Let's meet halfway," I insisted. "We won't make it there," I waved toward the east, "without our guns."
"Go back to New Pang. Buy more guns," Ahmad said patiently.
"We can't go there," I said. "We need to keep going."
The goat herder raised a bushy eyebrow and stroked his beard. Then he nodded, "Very well. You are Ahmad's guests. Alexie's generator broke. You fix before sunset, we quits."
"Agreed." Now I knew the raiders weren't in the oasis otherwise he wouldn't have offered us the deal. He'd have too many visitors to lodge.
Kathy stared at me open-mouthed but chose not to say anything.
"Go to village," Ahmad's hand reappeared from the folds of his robe and rearranged the whistle on the chain. "Woman will show you Alexie's house."
He nearly walked through me. I stepped aside as did Jim and Wladas. Georgie's sad stare followed the goat herder. The bells jingled and the goats bleated after their master.
Chapter Five
Long Time No See
By the time we got to the oasis, Georgie was in a bad way. Blood had soaked his bandage and pant leg and he was very pale, paler than Wladas who helped Jim to support Georgie's limp body.
"That way," Kathy pointed at the closest sandstone cabin with a straw roof.
The oasis consisted of three cabins fenced off with clay bricks, each with several lean-tos and outhouses. We passed through a flimsy gate under a wooden arch and entered a yard where a few gnarly trees cast shade over a well.
No one came out to meet us.
"Wait under the trees," Kathy said and went into the cabin.
Wladas and Jim helped Georgie to sit down. Wong went for a bit of a recce along the fence. I had a look around.
The water pump stood on a thick log base next to a bolted-down diesel generator, its insides rusting under bent metal covers. No wonder it had given up the ghost. You really had to take good care of these things and put them under tarps to protect them from the elements.
I raised the creaky lid and looked inside the well. The water was about sixty feet down the stone-lined shaft. You could tell that whoever had done it knew his job: in a properly lined well, the water level would stay high and clean.
Gutters snaked from the well to each house, some reaching inside the outhouses, other to water troughs and corrals. In one corral a mule swished its tail, its head low in the feeding trough. Several ostriches were wandering about in another one.
Ostriches! They must think they're back home in Africa. The third and biggest corral stood empty - had to be for Ahmad's goats that I'd just seen by the river.
One structure stood apart from the rest - a squat fenced-off barn away from the trees. Wong came to it, took the shotgun off his shoulder and motioned for me to approach. I told the others to stay put and walked over to him.
I smelled blood even before I came close. Wong kicked the door open. Guns at the ready, we cringed and stepped back. Cages stood inside on the floorboards covered with sawdust. Inside them, I saw half-eaten bones and torn animal skins. I stepped back, unable to stand the thick smell of a menagerie. Five empty water buckets stood by the barn door. No marks for telling me who they were for.
Wong nodded at the buckets and gave me a meaningful look. I didn't answer. Instead, I turned round and walked back into the shade.
By the time we returned, Kathy had come out followed by a portly woman, a thick plait of hair dangling below her waist. Her round face was rather crimson at that moment as if she'd spent all morning cooking by the fire. I looked up at the smoke trailing from the chimney.
The woman wiped her plump fingers on a flour-covered apron, rearranged her dress and said in a deep voice,
"This one, no?" She pointed at me. "You promised our Ahmad-jan to fix the machine?"
The woman spoke in a slow Southern Russian singsong. She came to me and offered a firm handshake.
"I'm Alexie, me. I'm on duty here while the men are away on business."
"Yeah," I glanced at Kathy.
"Oh," Alexie looked at Georgie attended by Jim and a foot-shifting Wladas. "He ain't looking good. He'll bleed to death on you in a minute." She looked around and went on, "Bring him into the house. And you," she pointed at me, "go to the larder, get the tools out and see to the machine, will ya?"
After explaining where to find the larder, the woman showed Wladas and Jim into the house. They carried Georgie in while Wong and Kathy stayed outside.
Their choice of tools didn't amount to much. Three box wrenches, two screwdrivers and a pair of pliers. I scooped them all off the shelf and came back out.
"Know anything about generators?" I asked Kathy.
"I can unscrew a bolt if needed."
"Stay and help me, then. Wong," I turned to him, "go and check out direction east. See what's out there."
He checked his handgun, balanced his shotgun on his shoulder and jumped over the fence. I stared at the generator.
"Know when the raiders are coming back?" I squatted by the machine thinking how best to tackle it.
"It'll be a while. Alexie said we've just missed the work shift changeover."
"Hold it here," I dropped the wrench onto a bolt aiming to unscrew the cowling to get to the fuel line.
"It'll be at least another week," Kathy lay her hands on the wrench and held it in position. "We've been lucky. Ahmad doesn't normally bargain."
Lucky indeed. If only I could have worked out what was wrong with the generator!
"You think you can fix it?" h
ope shone in Kathy's eyes.
"I'll do what I can," I grunted as I unscrewed the first bolt.
Once I'd removed the cover, I squatted by the machine tapping the wrench against my leg. What had we got there? A gas feed tap. A fuel pipe. I unscrewed the tank top - empty. I pushed my hand through the hole and felt the bottom. My fingers came out filthy. So... I'd remove the tank, clean the fuel pipe and try to start it.
"Well," I turned to Kathy, "if I don't get it working in an hour, they'll need a professional."
She didn't reply.
"Not to worry," I said. "The engine seems okay, but the tank filter is probably clogged and so is the fuel pipe. Go to the woman and ask her for some rags and diesel. Tell her we'll soon be finished."
As I fiddled with the tools I noticed two children's faces in the window: a tiny tot of a boy with blond tousled hair and an older girl, dark curls framing her curious face. Both watched me with great interest.
The boy looked a lot like the landlady and the girl resembled the goat herder. Apparently, Alexie and Ahmad didn't waste their time here.
I gave the kids a wink and started unscrewing the next bolt. Kathy returned with some rags and a can of diesel and began helping me.
"Wish you hadn't been so double fucking quick back at the coast," she sighed. "We wouldn't have been here to begin with."
"Correction," I prized the filter out of the fuel pipe with the screwdriver. "You wouldn't have been here. Neither would we."
She grinned but didn't say anything.
"When did McLean first decide to find out the purpose of carula?" I ripped a rag in two, soaked its end in diesel and started cleaning the inside of the fuel pipe.
Kathy paused. "Half a year? I honestly can't remember. Do you know its purpose?"
"Not really," I gave her a clean cloth and nodded at the filter wishing I hadn't started.
Kathy placed a hand on my shoulder. I put down the fuel pipe. "What is it?"
"Carula," she said. "When the scientists first came to study Pangea, McLean used to see Neumann a lot and also the woman, the biologist. They told him how to grow seaweed. That's when he started his New Pang farms swapping his crops for Earth deliveries.
"So what?" I shook her hand off. "Earth needs carula to make a food supplement. Too many mouths to feed."
"That's not what I mean," she shook her head. "If you compare the amounts of carula we ship and the Earth's population, we'd have to turn the entire coast into seaweed farms. Besides, the riggers still have the gold - why didn't Earth demand it back?"
"Are you talking about the Arctic goldmines transport? The supply vessel that was caught in the jump?"
"Exactly. It was packed to the upper deck with gold. Now why would they waste energy shipping carula back to earth, and leave gold behind?"
"I think I know what you mean," I frowned racking my brains for an excuse to cut the discussion short before the Information butted in. In that case, I'd have no other option but to eliminate Kathy. That would really mess up my plans.
She waited.
"Because," I started, "the energy costs much more than the gold itself."
Kathy chuckled. "Yeah right. You can tell that to the freshly arrived dumbfucks but not to me!"
"So what do you want?" I demanded.
"Just to see how the land lies," she crumpled the rag, blew through the filter and started rubbing it clean. "I knew that McLean would try to use you. He wouldn't work with the FSA. Your Feds must be really stupid, telling him about your mission. He thought that the Feds wanted to expatriate the only carula researcher; they would ask McLean to help you and leave him with jack shit. That's what I wanted to warn you about. I had everything ready, guns, money, I had a whole plan how to give it to you in my brother's house. It didn't work, did it?"
We worked in silence for a while. Then I asked,
"What did the FSA promise you for doing this?"
"Amnesty. For me and my bro."
"How do you think you were going to leave Pangea?"
"I'd go with you," She looked up at me, surprised. "Didn't they tell you?"
I suppressed a negative answer. I'd received no instructions regarding her and her brother.
"Right," I changed the subject. "How do you keep contact with the Fort?"
"I've got a radio."
"Oh," I checked the fuel pipe against the light and took a new rag. "Where do you keep it?"
"None of your business."
So. This was getting interesting. She was probably waiting for me to answer her carula question. Or she might be wary of me leaving her behind. She seemed to have grasped the whole point.
"Kathy. I need to know where you keep the radio in case I need to use it. If you get killed, I-"
"Until I am, I'm still your contact."
I looked into her face. The way Georgie had described her back at the coast, you'd think she was a fucking Nazi. And that's what she'd been at first, but now... Now she was a human being desperate to get home, by hook or by crook. I didn't think she was putting it on. But why would George still hate her so much?
"Sorry," I tried to sound calm, "it won't work this way."
"How will it, then?"
"We've already engaged with General Varlamov's men, if you remember. And we were lucky to survive. Once we find the professor and try to smuggle him out, there will be casualties, believe me."
The kids looked out of the house. The boy walked out into the yard. The girl hid herself behind the wall, sticking her head out.
"I believe you," Kathy rose and reached into her pocket for a flat round candy box. "Some of us won't come back."
She opened the box and stared inside for a while, then handed it to the kids.
She didn't look like a Nazi freak. Even if she'd zapped three clones. Could a cold-blooded murderess be so nice with kids? She tousled the boy's hair and told him to share the candy with his sister. Then she came back.
"What's your brother's name?"
"Philippe," she picked up the filter and the cloth.
Actually, the existence of a brother (I remembered the dark-haired French guy at McLean's place) suggested he was the one with the radio. "Does he know your collaborate with the FSA?"
"Who, Philippe? Not the slightest idea. He thinks I deal with several groups. Many raiders do so."
"What if McLean finds out?"
"He trusts me. And he's interested in making new connections. He can't be everywhere at the same time."
"Fine," I put the fuel tube aside and rose to remove and clean the gas tank.
Once I was finished, I said a silent prayer and tugged on the starter rope. The engine jerked and sprang to life. For a moment, we listened to its powerful sound watching the water trickle down the troughs into the corrals and houses. Kathy gave me a weak smile.
"Kill the wretched thing before you waste all the gas!" Hands on her hips, Alexie walked out of the house. "When the men come back, they can start it up then."
She turned to go back in, but added, "Well done, thanks. Now in with the two of you for a wash and a bit of dinner. Go have a look at your friend, too."
"How is he?" I asked meaning Georgie.
"Not good," Alexie shook her fist at Wong who was climbing over the fence. "Can't you use the gate?" she shouted, then turned back to me. "You go see for yourself. I should really leave him here for a day or two. Ahmad-jan and I will take good care of him. He seems fit and strong so he can pay us back by doing a few things about the house."
She went back in.
"So," Kathy asked picking her nails, "you gonna leave him here or drag him along?"
I gave it some thought.
"One of your men can't be trusted," she pointed out.
That was true. The cyber troopers by the river had recognized one of them, but which one? Was it Jim or Georgie? Or Kathy? Definitely not Wladas - he'd just arrived at Pangea, although...
The solution came to me naturally. "I know what to do," I said. "Wong, come along with us."
He looked even worse than before. Sweat trickled down his ashen face. The eyes glistened with anxiety. Without letting me speak, he hurried, gasping, begging us not to leave him "in this fucking rat hole". I asked Wladas what he thought about the wound. He didn't waste too many words. Blood loss and septicemia.
He was right there. It's not the bullets that kill in action: it's dirt. Septicemia - blood poisoning - could turn the smallest scratch into a lethal wound. Especially in the Pangean climate, rife with alien bacteria. I hadn't forgotten my carula wound yet.
I reached into my pocket for a few coins and gave them to Jim. "You stay here with him." I told him to give some money to the landlady. This way she could arrange it with the raiders to take Georgie and Jim back to the loggers.
Georgie tried to object but I didn't listen. I gave Jim's shotgun to Kathy, waved to the rest and walked outside.
Alexie was scrambling out of the cellar hatch in the hallway. I hadn't noticed it at first. She held a pitcher of milk and a packet.
"Here," she shoved the food to me. "Thanks for the generator." She turned to Kathy. "Go and get some water. Take as much as you can carry."
I took the pitcher and the packet of what turned out to be frozen meat. Apparently, the cellar had an ice room.
"Thank you," I said. "I'm leaving Jim to look after Georgie. He'll pay you."
The woman nodded and let us out into the yard. Calling for the kids to come and eat their dinner, she disappeared back into the house.
We filled our flasks and traced the fence heading east. The sun crept toward the horizon but the air was still too hot for comfort. In the tree shade I hadn't noticed it that much. I looked back. The goats and their herder were returning from the river back to the oasis.
This time the tigers trailed nearby flanking the hairy goats who paid no heed to them, apparently accustomed to the predators' company. Three of the tigers were rather large - probably, male. Their skin was a stripeless grayish yellow, two saber teeth protruding from their upper jaws. As for the rest, they looked like normal tigers back on Earth with their catlike heads, long tails and feline gait.