Seeds of Earth

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Seeds of Earth Page 19

by Michael Cobley


  '. . . which is why I have brevets here to give to you,

  signed by Master Avriqui.' A thin tray slid out from a

  black panel below the windscreen - on it were two doc-

  uments, folded sheets of light blue textured plas

  imprinted with lines of text in Tralesk, a trading lan-

  guage. Underneath was a swirling character written with

  a double-nib, which Kao Chih took to be Avriqui's sig-

  nature.

  'How long till we reach Master Avriqui's hold?' he

  said.

  'We shall be arriving shortly,' said the cart. 'From the

  next junction we follow a vascule out to the tubeworks

  and our destination is not far beyond that.'

  Kao Chih nodded and glanced out at the busy corri-

  dor. Away from the contested arrivals lobby, the station

  took on the kind of appearance he had been expecting,

  archway and doors along the corridors revealing mar-

  kets, kiosks and tiny workshops enveloped in a hum of

  activity, a jostling flow of creatures and sentients from

  every corner of the galaxy. A red-and-black-furred hexa-

  pedal Bargalil gestured with a small forearm to a

  Gomedran selling light-splines and bubbles, while nearby

  a reptilian biped Kiskashin garbed in hooded leathers

  tended a stall where clusters of tarnished pipes smoked

  amid gauzy veils and glittering trinkets. A muscular

  Henkayan was raking through boxes of hardware with

  all four arms, examining finds with a headband scope.

  On the other side of the stall, an old battered mech

  shaped like an upright dumb-bell was doing the same

  thing with microfields while floating on its suspensors.

  Relaxing a little, he smiled, enjoying the view which

  he was seeing from above as Avriqui's lugosivator trun-

  dled along the tall corridor's ceiling path. The shops and

  stalls went on and he wondered if most of Blacknest

  was like this. He saw a pair of Gomedrans haggling

  with a half-shelled Naszbur arms dealer; an octopoidal

  Makhori coldly eyeing passers-by from the opacity of its

  tank; a long-bodied Vusark propped up on a metal

  frame, its many sets of legs flexing rhythmically . . .

  And a pair of beady eyes in a small, snouted face that

  stared straight up at him for an instant then broke away.

  Kao Chih had the merest glimpse of a cowl around the

  observer's head before it vanished into a side turning. He

  was about to mention this but the cart's sentience spoke.

  'Sirs, my master wishes to communicate with you.'

  A translucent panel appeared in the cart's forward

  windscreen and darkened into a display showing their

  adviser and prospective travel companion, Rup Avriqui,

  sitting in a high-backed wood-and-leather armchair.

  Behind him were the glows and shadows of a low-lit

  room. Rup Avriqui was a Voth, a squat bipedal race

  which bore a superficial similarity to a presentient Earth

  species called orangutans. The Voth certainly had long

  arms but also had broader torsos and shorter legs, larger

  ears and flatter faces. They also had a liking for bulky,

  concealing garments - Avriqui was wrapped in layers of

  clothing, some finely woven and intricately patterned,

  others coarse and plain, while on his head he wore a

  strange cap comprising beads and tiny mirrors over

  padded cloth.

  'Ah, most viable our business, noble visitors, and

  most efficient my preparations. Soon we shall be dis-

  coursing upon the urgent matter of your task and my

  part in its workings.'

  'Please accept our thanks for the brevets,' Tumakri

  said. 'Reassurance is a gift which lights our way.'

  'I am gratified to be able to confound the misfor-

  tunes of the current unrest,' the Voth said. 'I must

  confess, however, that I had to nominate Master

  Gowchee's species profile as being Roug in order to dis-

  patch the brevets with my lugosivator. Now I see by the

  evidence of my own eyes, as well as the profiles obtained

  just moments ago, that Master Gowchee is not of the

  exalted and ancient Roug.' The hooded eyes regarded

  Kao Chih. 'Humans are not popular, you see, thus there

  is danger for you at every turn. Fortunately, you will

  both soon be within my hold and I shall have the brevets

  modified . .. what is that noise?'

  A faint knocking sound had suddenly become a loud

  banging. Muttering angrily, the Voth levered himself out

  of his seat and moved out of sight, shuffling footsteps

  receding. For a moment all was quiet onscreen, then

  there was a shout followed by the sound of running feet.

  Rup Avriqui abruptly rushed into view, his headgear

  askew, his eyes bulging as he lunged at the controls near

  the vidcam.

  'Exigency nine, exigency nine!' he shrieked, stubby

  fingers scrabbling at the panel as a pair of hands, one

  metal, one flesh, grabbed his shoulder and dragged him

  screaming away. Then the screen went opaque for a

  second before melting into transparency. Kao Chih and

  Tumakri stared at each other in horror, then grabbed the

  edges of their seats as the cart jerked to a sudden stop

  halfway down the corridor wall.

  'Passengers must evacuate at once,' said the vehicle as

  its sides sprang open. 'Deepest apologies for unforgiv-

  able treatment, masters, but the Avriqui hold has been

  compromised, therefore this unit can no longer guaran-

  tee your safety.'

  'But . .. but what must we do?' said Tumakri, voice

  quivering with shock.

  'Return to your ship is the safest course - the safest

  course - safesafesafesafe . . . please return to your seats

  there is no danger we will soon arrive at residential unit

  stem nine radial twelve ...'

  Fighting a surge of panic, Kao Chih jumped up from

  his seat and dragged Tumakri away from the suborned

  lugosivator.

  'It was right,' he said. 'We have to get back to the

  ship!'

  '... yes,' said the Roug. 'Yes, we must!'

  Then he shrugged off the Human's support and

  leaped into a headlong sprint back the way they had

  come. Amazed, Kao Chih took after him, but with his

  longer legs Tumakri soon opened up a good lead. The

  Roug wove between stalls and knots of sentients, ignor-

  ing Kao Chih's shouts to slow down. So intent on his

  destination was he that he never noticed the gang of

  fur-snouted Gomedra rushing out at him from a side

  passage until it was too late.

  Kao Chih saw the ambush, shouted Tumakri's

  name . . . and in the next instant felt something tangle

  his legs, causing him to dive forward and land with jar-

  ring force.

  'Bind him!' said a guttural voice.

  Half-dazed, he fought against rough hands that tied

  his wrists and fixed a gag to his mouth.

  'The Blacktooth vermin are escaping with the other

  one,' came another nasal, rasping voice.

  'Then render him worthless,' said the first.

  Fearful, Kao Chih tried to yell around the gag and
<
br />   struggled against his captors. Instead, he was hauled

  upright in time to see an armour-clad Bargalil raise a

  hexabow and fire off three bolts. There was a brief, high

  shriek and Kao Chih knew with horrible certainty that

  Tumakri was dead.

  'Sack this one and bring him to our new nest!'

  A cloth hood stinking of machine oil enfolded his

  head and, grasped lengthways, he was carried off,

  friendless, soundless and wrapped in darkness.

  20

  ROBERT

  He hated to be late for meetings, hated being out of

  breath and feeling sweaty and grimy, but sometimes the

  only thing to do was accept it and move on.

  'My most sincere apologies to you all,' he said as

  he entered the president's private conference room, a

  low-roofed chamber with green-textured walls. 'Comm-

  unications with my government have proved very slow

  overnight.'

  'That is quite understandable, Ambassador Horst,'

  said Sundstrom. 'But now we can proceed - I assume

  you recognise everyone present?'

  There were seven people at the large oval table includ-

  ing Robert, Sundstrom; Deputy-President Jardine; the

  intelligence chief, Vitaly Pyatkov; Theodor Karlsson, an

  adviser to the president; General Morag Soutar, the C-in-

  C of the Darien Volunteer Corps; and the sixth, a heavily

  built, middle-aged man in a dark sober suit, whose name

  escaped him until Harry appeared nearby and said, 'Edvar

  Storlusson, master-provost of Trond and Sundstrom's

  unofficial deputy-president for the Northern Towns.'

  Robert smiled and nodded, partly for Harry but

  mostly for the gathering. 'Indeed I do, Mr President.'

  'Good, then before we discuss this terrible event, I

  want us all to take stock of the latest reports. We'll start

  with you, Vitaly - tell us about the High Monitor and

  his staff, then what your investigations have uncovered.'

  Sundstrom sat back in his wheelchair, looking weary

  but also, Robert thought, sustained by the anger and

  outrage he had expressed during his vee broadcast to the

  colony last night. The man had articulated a burning

  repugnance for the attempted assassination in language

  of such lyrical force and delivery that Robert was able to

  imagine what Sundstrom must have been like in his

  younger, healthier years.

  'High Monitor Kuros,' said the intelligence chief, 'is

  well and fully recovered from the shock and distress of

  the attack. He and his staff will be holding a private

  mourning ceremony later today for their murdered col-

  league, Assister Morild. As to the attack itself, we have

  determined that the gunman opened fire from dense

  forest cover overlooking the Giant's Shoulder excava-

  tions. The murder weapon was a forty-year-old 8.5

  calibre Ballantyne rifle, modified for hunting with a

  15x50 telescopic sight and a sculpted, rebalanced

  wooden stock ...'

  Photos of the weapon were being passed around, and

  General Soutar was quick to comment.

  'Practically an antique,' she said in a booming voice.

  'Aye, and pricey, too. But deadly in the hands of a

  marksman - wouldn't you agree, Major Karlsson?'

  There was a brief but uncomfortable silence, then

  Karlsson gave an unflustered smile. 'The gunman was

  probably a good shot, certainly, General. He also has

  excellent woodcraft and stealth skills, but then so do

  RD BERT

  03

  most of the faraway hunters and trappers. What I'm puz-

  zled about is why he abandoned the rifle - he must know

  that it will inevitably furnish us with information.'

  'We are trying to trace the rifle's origins and previous

  owners now,' Pyatkov said to him. 'Although the killer

  left no prints or any other evidence, we know from the

  flattened grass that he was of average height with a

  fairly lean physique. One of the High Monitor's body-

  guards took away swab samples from the rifle to see if

  any DNA evidence can be recovered.

  'As for suspects, we have brought a number of known

  seditionists and extremists in for questioning, but

  although some claim to be members of the FDF no one

  can name their leaders or give a coherent summary of

  their aims beyond a handful of slogans.'

  Sundstrom nodded. 'There may be a degree of dis-

  quiet amongst the general populace about some

  aspects of the new situation and its consequences,' he

  said. 'But there is no grassroots support for violence

  and killing. Every call to my office, and to every other

  legator, has condemned the shooting, often in vigorous

  and colourful language! This has extended to my deci-

  sion to cancel the Founders' Victory Day celebrations,

  but you can't please everybody.'

  There were a few laughs and knowing grins around

  the table. Robert smiled.

  'It is most reassuring to know that the Darien Colony

  is united in its opposition to this act of terror,' he said.

  'Whether they turn out to be this Free Darien Faction or

  someone else.' He paused. 'Has anyone claimed respon-

  sibility yet, Mr President?'

  'No one at all,' said Sundstrom. 'It's as if they were

  expecting their vile act to start an uprising but nothing

  happened.'

  'They're not finished,' Karlsson said grimly. 'The next

  one will be worse.'

  'We have to make sure that there isn't a next one,'

  said Sundstrom. 'The Hegemony is adamant about that.'

  'So you've spoken with High Monitor Kuros about

  this matter, Mr President?' Robert said.

  'No, Mr Ambassador, but informal channels between

  ourselves and the High Monitor's advisers have

  remained open.'

  'I see.'

  Robert sat back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. His

  AI companion Harry leaned on the back of his chair,

  bent close to Robert's ear and said, 'You'll have to give

  them some idea of what they're in for if these attacks

  don't stop.'

  He nodded slightly and sat straighter, facing the wait-

  ing Dariens.

  'My friends, the Hegemony takes attacks on its

  officials very, very seriously indeed - if this shooting

  had occurred on Hegemony territory they would have

  instituted the severest measures. Curfews, confiscation

  of firearms, a ban on public assembly, restrictions and

  censorship of all public media ...'

  'That's outrageous,' said Storlusson, the provost of

  Trond.

  'I've not finished, sir. Satellite surveillance would be

  employed in conjunction with positioning tags fixed to

  all vehicles and, if necessary, to all civilians. Communi-

  cations would be filtered and spying devices of every

  kind and size would become omnipresent.'

  'But this is not Hegemony territory,' Pyatkov said.

  'True, but the Brolturans have made a claim to this

  region of the Huvuun Deepzone and I have just learned

  that they have dispatched their ambassador to Darien


  aboard a line warship - originally it was to be a diplo-

  matic corvette but news of yesterday's attack has altered

  their posture. So you see, it really is in your interest to

  show High Monitor Kuros that you mean to keep him

  and his staff safe while doing all you can to capture this

  murderer.'

  The others listened with worried faces, exchanging

  glances when he finished, all eyes eventually turning to

  Sundstrom. The president was silent for several

  moments, his frowning gaze fixed on the tabletop before

  him where he slid and turned a pencil through his fin-

  gers over and over.

  Have I gone too far} Robert thought. Perhaps I

  painted too bleak a picture .. .

  'This is all... illuminating, Ambassador,' Sundstrom

  said at last. 'What is your position on this? What advice

  might you have for me?'

  'My government fully supports Hegemony policy on

  acts of terrorism,' he said. 'Most of the measures I've

  described have in the past been enacted by Earthsphere

  authorities in response to attacks carried out in our

  domains. My advice to you, which my government has

  approved, is to pre-empt the High Monitor's request for

  heightened security arrangements - offer a detachment

  of your best troops as permanent guards for the

  Hegemony embassy and as an escort should he or any

  of his staff need to move outside its confines. Consider

  the measures I mentioned - I'll have a list sent over

  later - and go as far as you can to put them into prac-

  tice.'

  'You'll never get the Northern Towns to agree to the

  likes of censorship and weapons confiscation,' said

  Storlusson. 'They'll fight it all the way.'

  Robert shrugged. 'Then at least propose curfews and

  restrictions on public assembly. Also, you might like to

  think about temporary legislation to help enforce anti-

  sedition options - that would persuade the Sendrukans

  that you're serious.'

  Voices were raised but Sundstrom cut them off with a

  sharp sweep of the hand.

  'Ambassador Horst,' he said. 'I would like to for-

  mally request the prompt deployment of Earthsphere

  marines to aid the security needs of my government.'

  'I'm sorry, Mr President,' he said. 'I have been

  instructed that no Earthsphere troops are to be dispatched

  to the colony at the present time. You see, the Brolturans

 

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