Seeds of Earth

reporters?'

  Assurances were given by Kuros and Horst, along

  with strained smiles, then farewells and the confronta-

  tion was over. Theo joined the others in an impromptu

  round of applause to which Sundstrom gave a sardonic

  smile and bow of the head.

  'That Horst,' Theo said. 'The man's a hand-

  puppet ...'

  Aye, he just caved at the end, there,' Donny said. 'I

  thought he had more spine than that.'

  'Well, we've no way of knowing what advice he was

  getting from his AI implant,' said Pyatkov. 'Or how

  much control it has over him.'

  'Then there's no point in speculating,' Sundstrom

  said. 'In any case, this is a temporary reprieve until

  Kuros decides on his next move. Pyatkov, Barbour -

  could you wait downstairs in the conference room? I

  just need to have a private word with the Major.'

  The two men nodded, rose and left. Theo returned

  his empty glass to the ornamental table and went to sit

  on the edge of Sundstrom's desk, silent, waiting.

  'The assets, Theo,' the president said at last. 'You've

  got to move them again.'

  'Again?' His heart sank. 'Why? And where to this

  time?'

  Away from the towns and settlements. The Uvovo

  know of many a hiding place in the East Hills - I'll put

  you in touch with one of the Listeners. And why? -

  well. . . time is against us, Theo, even though my steam-

  roller-ambush ploy bought us a little more.'

  'What happens when time runs out?'

  'Occupation, maybe internment for the hard cases,

  with some kind of justification proclaimed loudly along

  with declarations of their generous and enlightened

  intentions towards us. I've seen several reports docu-

  menting the Hegemony's "generosity", worlds where

  every city is reduced to rubble, or where the ecosphere

  has been deliberately poisoned, or where tailored micro-

  organisms were released to expunge a staple crop or a

  vital food animal. Which is what would have been in

  store for us had we not been a colonial offshoot from

  their principal ally.' His eyes were full of a ferocious

  resolve. 'There has to be resistance, Theo, a guerrilla

  struggle against the Hegemony that will deny them the

  right to be here.'

  'Surely public opinion back on Earth wouldn't stand

  for Hegemony occupation?'

  Sundstrom smiled. 'Public opinion depends on public

  perception, and across Earthsphere, especially amongst

  Human sectors, that perception is shaped by a news

  media consensus led by ...' He raised a hand towards

  Theo, expecting him to finish the sentence.

  'Starstream,' Theo said sourly. 'What have they been

  saying about us?'

  'That we're a bunch of ignorant, hairy-arsed throw-

  backs. Oh, there have been any number of pretty

  documentaries about Darien's flora and fauna, but oth-

  erwise the general slant is that we're a parochial,

  clannish rabble.'

  Theo remembered hearing about his nephew Greg's

  run-in with one offworld reporter. 'Is Lee Shan with

  Starstream?' "

  The president chuckled. 'He's a piece of work, that

  one - I saw one of his reports on Darien politics that

  went out on a culture and politics channel which isn't

  fed through to Darien, surprise, surprise. It was cleverly

  done, subtle and nuanced, managing to be both accurate

  and completely misleading.'

  'You mentioned seeing reports on the Hegemony and

  now this one by Lee Shan.' Theo paused. 'Have these

  come from the Imisil, Mr President? If so, can they be

  trusted?'

  'More than that, Theo, we had one of the OG's

  newest surveillance terminals, modelled on one from the

  Hyperion, patched into a data nexus on board the Imisil

  ship in orbit. We were able to access the tiernet itself, that

  vast interstellar network; my God, Theo, there are

  oceans upon oceans of information out there, the knowl-

  edge and culture of thousands of worlds, and that is how

  I came to find out the foul history of the Sendrukan

  Hegemony. And can they be trusted? - I have no doubt

  that they have an agenda, but equally I am sure that our

  interests and theirs coincide.'

  'Good, so we can expect a shipment of advanced

  weapons very soon, yes?'

  Sundstrom gave a half-smile. 'Soon, perhaps. That

  Brolturan ship has seeded Darien's orbital shell with

  probes and detects that track everything in the planet's

  vicinity out to beyond Nivyesta's orbit. If something

  happens to disrupt and divert attention, the Imisil

  ambassador will seize the opportunity.' He thumbed

  keys on his desk and the wall screens behind him went

  dead. 'Now, time you went about your business and I

  tended to mine.'

  'Donny Barbour and Mr Pyatkov?' Theo said. 'Why

  the separate meeting for them?'

  'Actually all three of you are to be briefed separately

  and privately by me,' Sundstrom said. 'Thus the capture

  of one cannot jeopardise the others.'

  A practical approach, Mr President, if a bit pes-

  simistic,' Theo said. 'What if they capture you?'

  Sundstrom laughed. 'Trust me, no one is going to

  capture me alive.'

  The two men shook hands.

  'Now go,' Sundstrom said. 'Good luck and good

  hunting.'

  'You too, sir.'

  And as he left the study, Theo was struck by a fore-

  boding that this would the last time he would see the

  man alive.

  38

  ROBERT

  After the conference call with Sundstrom and Kuros, he

  sat there at his desk, feeling an odd exhaustion of the

  mind. His thoughts were like worms slowly pushing

  themselves through a dark, muddy cave, taking an inor-

  dinate amount of time to reach the other side.

  'Robert, how do you feel?'

  How did he feel? He blinked, breathed in deep and

  turned to see Harry in a patterned grey lounge suit,

  seated at the end of the desk with concern in his fea-

  tures.

  'You look tired, Robert,' he said. 'It's my fault, I

  pushed you too hard on the deployment matter . . .'

  'Harry, Harry ... you were only doing your job while

  I was just, well ... wrong-footed by Kuros. Just wasn't

  expecting it. And Sundstrom - I was so furious at that

  gambit of his, and yet I can admire the way he played it,

  played us.'

  'Politics is politics, whether it's on a backwater planet

  or at the Great Assembly on Earth.'

  Robert nodded and sighed, gazing out of the first-

  floor window. The road was quiet, deserted, lit by a

  teardrop-shaped lightpod hanging from a question-mark

  lamp-post, ancl as he watched it began to rain, bright

  flecks falling within the radiant halo, dark spots speck-

  ling the ground.

  'So what will you do about the marines?' asked

  Harry.

  'Order Captain Velazquez to deploy them down

  here,' Robert said, turning to beckon
Rosa over. 'After a

  quick game of chess.' From a desk drawer he took a

  folding board and a box of pieces. 'Black or white, my

  dear?'

  'I'll play .. . black,' Rosa said, and as she sat on an

  opaque high stool, sixteen translucent black pieces

  appeared on her side of the board while he patiently set

  out the white side. This was a joy, he thought, playing a

  relaxing game of chess with his daughter after a hard

  day's work. But look at the lateness of the hour! - he

  would have to see her safely tucked up in bed once this

  game was over and not a moment later.

  Robert played first, then move followed move, white

  pieces and dark, opaque grey pieces staking out terri-

  tory, threatening assaults, shoring up defences.

  'Robert, Lieutenant Heng is still in the building,'

  Harry said. 'I'm sure he would know the state of readi-

  ness of the Heracles's marine complement. Might be

  prudent to know this.'

  'Hmm, you think so?' He pondered a clash of pawns

  on the board before him. 'Very well, have him come

  up.'

  It seemed only a moment or two before there was a

  knock at the door. He called out and a young man in

  an Earthsphere olive-and-brown uniform entered,

  approached and gave a stiffly formal bow.

  'Mr Ambassador,' he said.

  'Ah, Lieutenant - my daughter, Rosa.'

  A moment's hesitation, then the officer bowed again.

  'Miss Horst.'

  'A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant,' Rosa said.

  Horst nodded. 'It is very good of you to answer my

  summons at this hour. I shall shortly be issuing a request

  to Captain Velazquez for a company of marines to be

  redeployed down here, but in advance I should like to

  know what their state of readiness is.'

  'I understand, sir. The Heracles carries two full

  marine companies, complete with lowalt fliers, ATVs

  and med-mobiles. Either or both companies can be

  scrambled and ready for deployment in under an hour,

  and a full company can be translocated to the planet's

  surface in about six hours, if all three shuttles are avail

  able.'

  'Excellent, Lieutenant, and how would you describe

  morale at the moment?'

  'Very good, sir. Everyone's keen to do whatever they

  can for the Darien colony'

  'Of course, which is only natural and which we are

  already achieving!' Rosa moved a bishop across the

  board and placed it on a square occupied by one o'

  Robert's knights, then poked her tongue out at him. He

  smiled and removed the knight. 'So, Lieutenant, when

  do you return to your ship?'

  'The cutter is supposed to leave Port Gagarin at I

  a.m., sir, but we have been advised to be there by 7.30 at

  the latest so I thought it advisable to start out as soon as

  possible.'

  'Then I shall detain you no longer, Lieutenant. Be on

  your way, and pass on my warmest regards to your cap-

  tain.'

  'I shall, sir.' He bowed to Robert and again to Rosa,

  who smiled sunnily.

  As the young officer left, Robert returned to the game

  and after a moment's scrutiny saw that he was a few

  moves away from a complete defeat.

  Another game, Daddy?' said Rosa.

  'Young lady, if your mother were here she would be

  outraged to see you still up at this hour . . . well, perhaps

  one more . . .'

  'Robert, you were going to issue that order to

  Captain Velazquez,' said Harry, who was standing at

  the other window. He was smiling in that narrow-eyed,

  head-tilted manner that signalled disapproval.

  'Oh, but I'm busy with Rosa, Harry - would you

  patch into my messenger and send a note for me? You

  know the basic details.'

  Harry was still and silent for a second, then he said:

  'That's it done, Robert. Do you want to retire to bed

  now? Since you decided not to cancel tomorrow's

  engagements, I would recommend catching up on some

  sleep.'

  Robert frowned as he rearranged the pieces. Why

  was Harry being such a nuisance? Couldn't he under-

  stand that a father had obligations to his daughter?

  'Really, Harry, I've just agreed to play another game.

  I'm sure that I'll be able to meet the day's . . . the

  day's . . .' He paused, feeling a little dizzy and seized by

  an irresistible need to yawn. The room dimmed and

  seemed to grow pale as if a grey veil fell upon every-

  thing.

  Were those his hands that were carefully putting

  away the chess board and pieces? Was that his voice

  that said 'Goodnight' to Rosa and his fingers that

  switched off the intersim? His legs that carried him

  upstairs to change into his sleep wear, his bed into which

  he slipped? Grey hands, grey veil, grey voice, just like

  that moment during the conference call when his mind

  seemed to stumble but something in him carried on.

  Grey voice, grey hands, grey veil, his mind like a grey

  cave across which he crawled, sinking at last into grey

  sleep.

  39

  CATRIONA

  Morning sunshine speared down through Segrana's

  upper canopy as Catriona guided her trictra along the

  branchways, heading back to that deserted village, back

  to the vodrun. The cold air was laced with damp odours

  of leaf and flower stirred and swirled by the heat of the

  sun. Rising wafts of warm air carried insects higher to

  unfurled, nectar-beaded blooms, new luscious leaves,

  overnight fungi and tiny water pools held in the crooks

  of tree limbs. Seeing this, Catriona knew that every

  insect had its predator, whether it was a bigger insect or

  a bird or some small, furry pseudo-mammal. Or even a

  plant, luring with sweet smells and bright colours, trap-

  ping the quarry with snapping leafy jaws or sticky,

  smothering leaves or steep-sided drowning sacs. There

  was even a tree which enticed insects into a crack in its

  bark which closed convulsively when an intruder tickled

  certain fibres within.

  And as Catriona travelled, always her thoughts cir-

  cled back to last night's strange dream in the vodrun, to

  the warning about invaders gliding through Segrana's

  shadows. Predators stalking prey ...

  After that unsettling and curtailed vigil, she had

  returned to the Human enclave and a restless night of

  shallow, inconstant sleep. Rising early, she had tried to

  focus on her backlog of research work, sorting and cat-

  aloguing samples, but her mind wandered back to that

  dream, her childhood at Zhilinsky House, Julia . . .

  Yes . . . Julia. Then she had taken out her coram,

  pondering the fact that there were people she could

  contact and favours she could call in. In the event, how-

  ever, the reliable details she gathered provided only a

  sketchy picture. For about a year the government's

  Special Designs Division had been maintaining a

  research post at Pelagios Base, the old oceanography


  platform ten miles up the east coast. Then several weeks

  ago a dozen or more additional personnel had arrived

  but were taken off Pilipoint in a large launch which

  headed for Pelagios Base. There was never any mention

  of Pelagios and its staff in any public announcement or

  memo or directive from Pilipoint's administrators, but

  the community's rumour-mongers took it for granted

  that the new people had been Enhanced. Another hand-

  ful had arrived in the week following, of whom

  Yurevich was the most recent, all of them with that

  aura of lofty intellect. And then last night, while she

  was getting ready for her vigil, some eighteen to twenty

  of them had left on a special shuttle flight back to

  Darien, including Julia Bryce - a friend on the embarka-

  tion staff had noticed the name on a passenger manifest

  before it was removed.

  Beyond that, there was little of substance. Nothing on

  Enhanced identities, and not a clue as to the nature of

  the research taking place at Pelagios. And certainly no

  explanation for the evacuation, although it wasn't

  impossible that the Brolturan ambassador's murder had

  played a part.

  It was a setback, this near-perfect information black-

  out, but not that much of a surprise. The Enhanced and

  their minders were secrecy obsessives and habitually

  paid great attention to details, ensuring the integrity of

  that blackout. Catriona realised that it would take more

  digging to find out anything useful, more time than she

  had today.

  Instead, she had made a few more calls to fellow

  researchers in other enclaves dotted around the conti-

  nent-spanning forest of Segrana. She was looking for

  any reports of odd happenings or sightings and found

  herself being offered innumerable reports on the curi-

  ous and often inexplicably purposeful behaviour of the

  forest's flora and fauna. But when she made it clear

  that she was after more mysterious, unattributable inci-

  dents documented in the last couple of days, she was

  left with a handful of accounts: a set of bipedal prints

  leading up the sandy beach of Emmerson Bay on the

  north coast; four perfectly circular holes drilled into

  the 200-foot-wide bole of one of the five pillar trees

  that made up the outer northeast buttress cluster; the

  cut-up carcasses of five crab-analog ogmi found beside