by Larry Niven
They made their way safely to their wings, walking as quietly as they could, listening for the sounds of Council patrols. Her shirt stuck to her back with dried sweat from the flight up here. Her pulse raced.
Vassal led them oddly away from Turtle Rock, over the fence, and then up higher on the crater’s flank, so they flew down to land on the turtle’s beak from above. Harry was lying across the beak, watching Clarke Base. He looked up as they landed with jarring thumps on the big rock that made the shell. Harry’s face was a mask of worry and fear, but a smile stole through it before he turned again to look down. Rachel stripped her wings and ran the short distance down the turtle’s back, jumping lightly onto the beak, slowing so that she didn’t fall. She sat on the edge of the rock, feet dangling over the drop. Clarke Base spread below them, and Harry pointed down at the warehouse. Council surrounded the building; Moon Born walked its edges warily.
“Has Dylan answered you yet?” Rachel gasped out, her breath still fast from flight. She worked her shoulders backward and forward, loosening tight muscles.
Harry’s voice was a whisper, breaking as he said, “He told me that he loved me. He asked about you. Told me to keep you away.”
“I had to come,” she said. “You’re here too. You understand.”
Harry turned his face toward hers. Had he been crying?
“Yes. But there is nothing to do but watch. I’m afraid . . . afraid I’ll watch my boy die down there.”
Rachel swallowed hard, knowing it could happen.
Bruce joined them, moving more carefully than Rachel had, settling on the far edge of the stone in a hollow that would protect him from slipping off the edge. He looked down hesitantly, then pointed. “Something’s happening.”
They were high enough that Council below them looked small. Rachel squinted, and made out a woman who had to be Liren, followed by others, walking toward the warehouse. She stood and started backing up, her eyes on the tiny figure of the advancing High Councilwoman. Liren would be a disaster here. Harry grabbed her arm—”What are you doing?”
“Getting my wings.”
Harry pushed himself up and stood unsteadily. “Don’t go down there.”
Vassal, in her ear: “No.”
“I have to,” she said.
“I’d have gone, but I . . . I was afraid. And what could I do?” Harry’s voice was high-strung, a little wild. “You’ll die. We need you, Rachel. I need you. I’m trying to reach Dylan. Here—send him a note. Maybe together we can make him come out.”
One look at his face told Rachel he wasn’t ready to hear that his plan wouldn’t work; couldn’t work. Dylan wouldn’t back away now that he had committed.
Rachel looked down, tightening the wing-frame straps against her biceps. Going in there was right. She had started this; she was the one who had given Andrew the information that had spooked him into this. She had known better even when she told him.
Bruce stood and walked toward her.
“No,” she said, holding up her hand to block him. “Stay with Harry. He needs you. You have your own family to protect. Get everyone into Refuge. Don’t tell them where I am—assume whatever you say is monitored.”
Bruce stooped to pick up his wings. He gazed at her steadily, holding his wings loosely in one hand, not moving to put them on. “We Earth Born have done as badly by you as Council.”
His eyes were filled with a deep sharp darkness of guilt. So that was why he had followed her. He continued, slowly, emphatically. “You stay, or I go.”
“No, Bruce. Your people are not yet implicated in this. You cannot afford it.” Bitterly, “I am only a Moon Born. You might be able to help my family if you stay away from this. Now, keep Harry safe for me.” She started to choke. “And Sarah. She’s the only one of my family who is safe now. Help keep her that way.”
Rachel looked Harry in the eye. “You too. Watch after Sarah. Stay safe. You have family: Gloria, Miriam, Beth. They’re on their way to Refuge. I don’t have anyone but Sarah that isn’t already in the fight—I need to know Sarah’s all right, that someone is looking out for her. I’ll try to keep Dylan safe. I’ll do my best.”
Harry’s eyes flashed pain at her, but he nodded. Bruce started to lift his wings, slipping an arm into a strap.
“And I’m the one they’re least likely to shoot,” she said. The last was a lie, but Harry would believe it. Maybe Bruce would too.
Rachel looked past them, tightening buckles, seeing the base and the fields. The afternoon sun sparkled on dark flecks of carbon in the rock below her feet and a soft breeze blew across her face.
Vassal said, “I calculate your chances of dying down there at over fifty percent.” The voice had the same evenness it always had. “I suggest you stay where you are.”
Yelling down below; a demand from Liren. Rachel could clearly see three Moon Born guarding the roof. They would recognize her. But many Earth Born and Council down there wouldn’t.
If she stood rooted another minute she’d never take flight.
She drew herself up and looked down at Bruce. He dropped his wings and stepped back.
She stretched, testing the fit of her wings. Her back muscles hurt, shooting pains stabbed around her shoulder blades. Her wings felt like stones on her arms.
Rachel took a step, then another, faster, running down the turtle’s back. Harry called her name just as she took off, spiraling up. It was no way to stay hidden, but this way she could feel the wind. The way down to the top of that building was to follow the updraft first. Her biceps and her wrists hurt. She ignored the pain, making them work, flashing her wings. She had to be seen, to be recognized by the Moon Born on the roof. Justin and Dylan and Andrew knew the yellow-blue pattern of her wings intimately.
CHAPTER 68
EXERCISING AUTHORITY
HALFWAY ACROSS THE street to the warehouse, Liren stopped. What was she doing here? The open sky above her was still too big, and the warehouse loomed large in front of her. Why was she approaching it directly? She had planned and executed their escape from Sol. She had skills. Why wasn’t she using them?
The Council of Humanity had gone around danger, hidden where they could, made noise and confrontation when they could not avoid attention. What would the Liren who’d freed them from Sol be doing now? She shook her head, feeling as if she were emerging from some chrysalis into a hostile world.
She couldn’t back away now. Maybe she wasn’t planning in her old way, but her old enemies had been vastly wise and alien, commanding vast resources. These were just Moon Born.
She kept her needler pointed down, along her right thigh, and held up her left hand, palm open. Maybe they would see it as a sign she wanted to talk. “Moon Born!” she called out, loudly, demanding attention. “I want to talk to Andrew. Send him out.”
A head popped over the top of the building, looking down at her. “I’m here.”
“Come down and talk to me.”
“Who are you?”
“High Councilwoman Ma Liren. Rule of Law for the John Glenn, for the Council of Humanity. I will decide your fate. I suggest you release Star and come down now.” She took a step closer.
“I’ve heard about you. You’re a madwoman. Rachel doesn’t like you. She says you’re the reason we’ve lost so much freedom.”
Rachel? “Is Rachel behind this?”
A deep laugh belled down from the top of the warehouse. “Rachel tried to talk me out of this.”
Liren wanted to see Andrew’s face clearly. He was obviously crouching, and while she couldn’t see his hands, his shoulders were relaxed and he appeared to be set for talking, and looking, and ready to crouch lower if need be. He didn’t look dangerous. She took another step.
“If you come closer, we’ll shoot.”
A laugh escaped Liren’s throat. She felt as if she were watching this from John Glenn. Not here, not standing in the middle of it. Andrew would shoot at Council? “There is nothing to gain. Look around you. Look at how many of us
are here. You would die.”
“But so will some of you.”
“We don’t believe in killing. I suggest that you don’t either.” Liren stood her ground, but dropped her left hand to her side. “What do you want?” she asked, curious in an odd way. It didn’t really matter. The Moon Born would not get what they wanted. She felt as if she were in a play, and the other actors weren’t saying the right words.
Andrew’s voice was shaking. “We want you to leave us. To build your antimatter generator somewhere else.” He stood up now, showing her his full height. He was tall; windows on the ship hadn’t prepared her for the height of the Moon Born. His muscles were well defined, if ropy and thin from low gravity, and standing, he looked both imposing and savage. His voice was deep and steady as he told her, “Stop telling us how to live and what to do.”
“You may not live as long without us.”
“Living with an antimatter collector? Woman, you are crazy. A teaspoon of that stuff would blow up this whole moon!”
“Oh, it would not.” The man was showing his ignorance. A teaspoon wouldn’t even destroy . . . well, it would destroy Aldrin, maybe, or blow apart the Sea of Refuge. How much had Rachel told him? It must have been Rachel. “Andrew, we’ve lived with antimatter for . . . well, sixty thousand years, but it was hundreds of years old when we left Earth!”
Andrew stood in thought . . . posed like a target, Liren thought. Any rifle could have had him. Liren’s pistol . . . wouldn’t reach.
Suddenly he laughed. “All right, Ma Liren. Make me some antimatter and leave it where I can get my hands on it.”
“What?” That was a stunning thought. Liren shook away a hideous vision. “You wouldn’t know how to—”
“I can learn.”
“Blow up your own home? No, not with a teaspoon, but—”
“What would a teaspoon of antimatter do to your carrier spaceship?”
“You’d never get it to us.” Why was she arguing with this rebel? Liren straightened up. “Come down. Now!”
Andrew neither moved nor responded, and she heard no sign of movement from the people behind her. Everything was still. The early-afternoon light beat down on the scene, sharpening the edges of the building, highlighting a scar on Andrew’s arm.
The door closest to Liren slammed open and Star bolted out the door, hopping sideways as if trying to avoid getting shot. She ran, a hitching run, and a hand shot out of the door behind her, squeezing off three shots. Liren saw sparks beyond Star, but she heard someone behind her fall. “Who’s hurt?” Liren called back.
Shane’s voice. “It’s Thomas. He’s been stunned.”
So at least that gun was set to stun. Liren breathed a relieved sigh as Star thudded up to her. A shot came from behind Liren and the door Star had bolted from slammed shut.
Star grabbed at Liren’s arm. “Get back.”
Liren pulled her arm free of Star’s grasp. “What is happening in there?”
“They’re destroying things inside the building. I—I killed one of them to get away. I didn’t mean to. I only had one hand free, and so I kicked, and she . . . she was reaching for me. I broke her neck. A woman, Sheila. She was guarding me.”
“How are they destroying things? What things? Be specific.”
“Smashing things. Not sophisticated. They don’t know what they’re doing. Andrew talked to me. He’s rambling; he expects to die. He expects them all to die. He said they don’t want the antimatter generator built here. They’ve destroyed almost everything in there. It’s not much, really. They aren’t programmers, they’re just destructive, and scared.”
“Any suggestions?”
“Wait them out. They’ll have to surrender.”
“There’s a Y-class flare on its way,” Liren said.
Star’s eyes widened. “I guess that means no waiting. You could just leave and go to Refuge. They’ll die in the flare, or shelter here, or have to follow you.” Star stepped backward, watching the warehouse. “Come on. Get some distance. We need to tell Shane what’s going on.”
“They have weapons,” Liren pointed out. “I’m not turning my back on them.”
Star said, “I don’t want to kill anyone else.” Her voice was shivering. “Not all the guns are set to stun; some will kill. Andrew figured out the control system for them. Or he already knew. I don’t know. Watch the ones on the roof. They seem afraid. Fear might make them shoot if you get closer.”
Liren glanced at the warehouse. Andrew still stood at the edge of the roof, smiling. “Does Andrew have support from the outside?”
“I think all his cronies are in there with him. Most of the Children down here follow Rachel; she’s nonviolent. She preaches Gandhi at them, of all things. Remember your Indian history? They pushed the British off the whole subcontinent using passive resistance.”
Liren laughed. So she didn’t have to worry about getting flanked. But how did Rachel learn about Gandhi?
Shane was beside them now, gathering Star in his arms, pulling her back with him.
Liren backed up, grudgingly, until she was again standing next to Shane and Star. They watched the silent warehouse. Andrew had disappeared.
“Hey—who’s that?” a voice said.
Liren looked around. Who? There—ten feet away—one of her men was pointing—up?
A set of yellow and blue wings, Council make, spiraled down toward them. The flyer appeared to be heading for the top of the building. “Who is that?” Liren barked. She hadn’t given permission for anyone to land on the warehouse. Why weren’t the Children shooting? They were Council wings.
“Not one of ours,” someone said, then Shane spoke suddenly, “It’s Rachel. Let her land. Maybe she can straighten this out. They seem to listen to her.”
Shane was standing up for Rachel? Liren’s gun was set to stun. She’d lost an easy shot in her confusion; Rachel was almost at the top of the building. Stunning her wouldn’t kill her. Liren raised her weapon, pointing it at the bright yellow wings. Apollo’s light in her eyes made the shot hard. She squeezed the button, hoping her aim was true.
Lightning flared against her right arm; her weapon spun away. She jerked her eyes back to the warehouse, glimpsing Andrew’s face as he pulled back his arm.
She giggled; realizing Andrew had only grazed her sleeve. Relief and then a fierce momentary joy filled her, and she took the two steps needed to retrieve her weapon. Then she ducked and ran straight toward the warehouse door. Footsteps followed her, Council following her, her handpicked help, surely. She didn’t look back.
CHAPTER 69
THE CHOICE
RACHEL WATCHED LIREN. She saw Liren’s arm rise, the tight set of Liren’s face as she looked directly at Rachel. Could Liren hit her in the air? Changing course would make her miss the roof. A sharp cold twist of fear ran through Rachel’s center. Liren’s hand jerked as she shot and then Liren jumped backward, clutching her arm. Rachel glanced down at the roof in time to see Andrew backing away form the edge, and when she looked back, she glimpsed a flash of white uniform as Liren drove toward the wall and Rachel could no longer see her. More Council ran toward the building, mostly uniformed.
The needle aimed at Rachel had missed. She heard more shots; couldn’t tell where they came from. Dylan stood on the roof, watching Rachel. He waved. Shouldn’t he be watching below?
One of the Council members fell. The rest ran on.
“Lie down,” she shouted at Dylan, now twenty feet above him, and he fell to the roof, crumpling, one arm up, the other twisted under him. Blood leaked from under his head. Rachel felt as if she had been shot. Why hadn’t she been shot? Her brain wasn’t working well. So much death. Now Dylan. Not Dylan!
Justin crouched low on the roof. He inched toward Dylan’s still form.
Vassal was quiet in her head.
The roof brushed her feet. She had forgotten to prepare to land!
She fell. Her winged arms slammed into the rooftop and she snapped her head back, protecti
ng her face. Something broke in her right wing, a loud snap. She tore her wings off; not caring if she damaged them, and crawled the ten feet to Dylan. He was completely still. Just moments ago he had been waving to her. She knelt down and put her hand on his cheek. It was cold. He wasn’t breathing.
The needle must have exploded its electric charge against his skull.
She heard footsteps. She didn’t want to look up, but it could be Liren.
It was Andrew.
His eyes were wild and he ran to her, gathering her in his arms, pulling her onto her feet, away from Dylan’s body. She didn’t want to move; she struggled. He was screaming. “I’m sorry. Go home. You shouldn’t be here. You have to stay safe, or this is all for nothing.” His words were a child’s words, crazy words. She couldn’t just walk out.
Rachel pushed him away. They stood next to each other, shivering. Justin knelt by Dylan, sobbing, clearly angry. Not crazy like Andrew, just angry.
“I was trying to save us,” Andrew said, shaking, crying. “Us, not me. I knew I’d die. We knew it, all of us that came here. You weren’t supposed to come.”
“Shhh, I know,” Rachel whispered. “I know. He’s dead, Andrew. Dylan’s dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Andrew murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Justin crawled toward the edge of the roof, holding one of the Council weapons in one hand. Rachel took three fast steps, reached down, and disarmed him. Justin looked surprised and then angry, and when he reached to take the weapon back, she snapped, “You’ll see that we all die. Is that what you want?” Maybe there was some other way, even now. But what?
Rachel heard hinges, the scrape of the elevator door opening, and turned to look. Liren. Liren looked around quickly, then raised her arm, pointing the weapon directly at Andrew, her face calm and placid, almost satisfied.
Andrew pointed his own weapon at Liren. His arm shook, but he was only fifteen feet from Liren.