Seeds of Earth

  allowing the K5 agents who arrested her to carry out the

  interrogation . ..'

  'So help me, Donny, if she's harmed I will kill them!'

  'Calm yerself, man - she was only brought in less

  than an hour ago. Sundstrom knows about this and he's

  doing all he can to get her released, but you being under

  suspicion in the matter of Ambassador Horst isna help-

  ing!'

  Theo shook his head, almost snarling with rage and

  frustration.

  'So what was all that with the comm?' he said.

  'DVC intelligence got hold of your comm's signal ID

  this morning and they've been listening out for it. Their

  tracking is pretty rudimentary but the Brolturans' isn't -

  I was told that it would be possible for someone to use

  the comm-hub network to locate a particular comm, as

  long as the battery's in and it's switched on.'

  'Okay, so what is the next move?' Theo said. 'I'm

  not leaving Solvjeg in there ...'

  'First things first,' Donny said. 'Where's Horst? Is he

  all right?'

  Theo gritted his teeth, ran his fingers through his hair,

  grasping a handful for a second. How the hell am I

  going to tell this tale}

  'The truth is that I don't know.'

  Donny gave him a hard look. 'You're the one that got

  him away from Gangradur Falls just yesterday - how

  come ye don't know where he is?'

  T know the last place I saw him.'

  'Which was where?'

  'A secret chamber under the temple on Giant's

  Shoulder,' Theo said, and gave him a condensed account

  of what he had witnessed last night in that cold, black

  vault. Wearing a frown of concentration Donny listened

  closely and, to Theo's surprise, became neither angry nor

  derisory. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully.

  'Sundstrom once said that the Uvovo were making

  their own plans for resistance,' he said. 'Wonder if that

  was what he meant. . .'

  'Well that is exactly what happened. Just speak with

  my nephew Greg, and he'll confirm it all.'

  'Aye, well, there's a thing,' Donny said, suddenly

  sombre. 'A short while before I found you I got a mes-

  sage saying that K5 has arrested Greg Cameron and

  they're bringing him to Hammergard by zeplin.'

  Theo bowed his head a little, feeling the weight of

  events. My family, he thought. I've put them it.

  danger . . .

  Then he realised something and snapped his fingers.

  'By zeplin . .. that means they'll have to tie up at

  Northeast Fields and come the rest of the way by road.

  Can I borrow your comm?'

  Donny regarded him a moment. 'You thinking of

  putting yer Diehards up against K5? - wouldna recom-

  mend it, they're hard cases, each and every one.'

  'My men know what's at stake,' Theo said, holding

  out his hand. Donny give him his comm, a slim, grey

  functional model, and Theo punched in Rory's number,

  'Aye, who ur youT

  'Rory, it's me.'

  'Jeez, Major, caught me by surprise, there - didna

  recognise the number . . .'

  'Where are you, Rory, and who's with you?'

  'I'm at Maclean's wee place on the coast road, just

  outside the city, and there's Janssen, Ivanov, Henriksen.

  Mad Davey, and Nikolai and Barney're here, too.'

  'They're supposed to be at Bessonov's ...'

  'Aye, Major, but the cabin got raided last night - cops

  and some hard-looking milint types hangin' around by

  the time we got there so we scarpered.'

  'Okay, I need you to get across town to Northeast

  Fields - Greg Cameron's being brought in under armed

  guard and I want you to take down the escort and get

  him safely out of the city.'

  'Right, sir, what are we up against?'

  Theo looked at Donny. 'How many guards and what

  will they be carrying?'

  'Shouldn't be more than four,' said Donny. 'Sidearms."

  Theo relayed that, adding, 'And these are well-

  trained field agents, Rory - they won't be a pushover.'

  'That's a'right, Major - me and the boys like a wee

  bit ae' a challenge now and then.'

  'Fine - and don't take Barney unless he's happy with

  the idea of being shot at!'

  'Right - we're on our way.'

  'Good hunting,' Theo said, then closed the comm

  and handed it back.

  'I hope you know what your doing,' Donny said.

  'Now, are you still set on trying to get your sister?'

  'Yes - are you going to help me? I'll make the attempt

  on my own otherwise.'

  Donny squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if at a

  stabbing headache. 'I must be off ma head,' he said,

  opening his eyes to stare at Theo. "Cos ye know what? -

  I am going to help ye, though God knows it's going to

  be risky.' He nodded towards the square. 'This way.'

  'I thought the ordinary detention rooms were in a

  sublevel of the main building,' Theo said, realising that

  they were heading across the square towards the

  Assembly annexe on the east side, where the Defence

  Ministry had its offices.

  'Aye, but there's a far better chance of me getting you

  past security at the civilian staff entrance ...' He slowed

  and cocked his head. 'Do you hear that?'

  Theo heard nothing for a second. There was a sound

  like a high-pitched whine that grew suddenly into a

  loud, roaring rush which terminated in a deafening

  crash as something struck the front of the main

  Assembly building and exploded. Fire blossomed, the

  frontage near the top floors broke apart and debris

  flew ... a missile of some sort, he realised amid the

  cacophony. The impact of the noise and the abrupt, vio-

  lent destruction stunned his senses and he would have

  stumbled and fallen had not Donny caught his arm and

  dragged him onward.

  'Come on! - we've got to get out of the . . .'

  The rest of his sentence was lost as a second missile

  hit a few yards to the left of the first. Another explosion,

  a bright flash and an outburst of flame and pulverised

  stone. Alarms were yammering all around the square

  and panicking, shouting people were fleeing up side

  streets. Then Theo stopped in his tracks as a horrifying

  realisation came to him.

  'The top floor,' he said to Donny. 'Isn't that where the

  president's offices are?'

  Donny nodded grimly, then without hesitation they

  began running towards the burning building.

  46

  GREG

  It was getting aggravating - these K5 people just would-

  n't respond.

  'So, Lieutenant, I'm curious - what part has your

  organisation been playing in the hunt for the murderers

  calling themselves the Free Darien Faction?'

  Lieutenant Laing was a tall man with a lantern jaw,

  dressed like his three subordinates in dark green uni-

  forms lacking any insignia. Seated across from Greg in

  the zeplin gondola, his features were as impassive as

  they had been when he had arrested Greg back at

  Giant's Sho
ulder. However, Greg was sure there was a

  doleful look in his eyes that wasn't there when they left

  the site an hour ago.

  'Sorry, Doctor Cameron, that is privileged informa-

  tion.'

  'Ah, privileged - what a happy state that must be.

  Well, I imagine that the true answer is "none" because

  you're too busy prying into the lives of ordinary folk,

  rooting through their bins and opening their mail. I

  can't help wondering what you were up to at the

  moment when the bullets were flying at the dig back

  there and people, myself included, were ducking and

  fleeing for their lives. Compiling lists of subversive

  library readers, maybe? Or were you secretly recording

  dissident joke-tellers or perhaps even photographing

  the cludgie wall graffiti in every bar and dive in

  Hammergard? Or even arresting elderly women for no

  reason other than to put pressure on a relative - now

  that is despicable.'

  'Your mother is helping us with our inquiries into

  the disappearance of Ambassador Horst, Doctor

  Cameron,' Laing said in a level, deliberate voice.

  'Aye, I'm sure she is.' Greg's anger seethed, and part

  of it was directed at Uncle Theo for having snatched

  Horst away and brought him to Giant's Shoulder. Part

  of it, also, was self-reproach for not having been cau-

  tious enough . .. but who could possibly imagine that

  the Sentinel of the well would grab someone and spirit

  them off to God knows where?

  So now Uncle Theo was a hunted man, his mother

  was under lock and key and he was on his way to join

  her. And the plain fact was that while he was scared for

  them, he was most immediately worried for his own

  skin - these four men, his escort, seemed to display a

  striking similarity of bearing, all sitting in the same stiff

  posture, each face impassive and without a hint of bore-

  dom or wandering attention. In fact, not one of them

  betrayed any kind of personal trait or mannerism, he

  realised with growing unease. He pondered on the idea

  of trying to engage one of them in conversation, but

  before he could do so Laing's comm beeped from an

  inner pocket. The K5 lieutenant answered it, listened

  without expression, then said, 'Understood,' and put

  the comm away.

  'There is a security alert taking place in the city,' he

  told Greg. 'All flights are either grounded or diverted.

  We have been ordered to divert to another destination.'

  'Which is where, Lieutenant?'

  'Privileged information may not be passed to unau-

  thorised persons, Doctor Cameron,' Laing said, getting

  to his feet. 'I am going to inform the pilot of our change

  of course. Please do not leave your seat or my men will

  put you back in it.'

  Greg said nothing but sat back, folded his arms, and

  gazed over at the three K5 men, thinking for one bizarre

  moment how much they reminded him of the three

  robot dogs in The Dancing Engineer, a book he'd read

  many times as a child. What were they called again? . . .

  ah yes, Crusher, Digger and Grinder, that was it...

  Laing returned to his seat and strapped in as the

  zeplin began to bank into a descent. Greg could only

  speculate about their location and battled against feel-

  ings of desperation that threatened to swamp his mind.

  Suppressing thoughts of what might happen to him at

  the hands of these K5 interrogators, he tried to focus on

  imagining what Uncle Theo would do in this situation,

  or even his brother Ian.

  Ten minutes later, while the zeplin was being winched

  down to wherever it was landing, he did not feel any

  more filled with resolve and a daring boldness than he

  had before. But then reason told him that since the odds

  were against him it would be better to be stoic yet pre-

  pared, so he kept his mind stoic while his digestion and

  his legs gave themselves over to quivering terror.

  There was a bump as the gondola nudged up against

  its mooring platform. Laing's subordinates went to open

  the hatch, tip out a set of folding steps then one by one

  hurry down them. As Greg followed, with Laing at his

  back, he saw that they were moored on the ground, an

  expanse of perfect lawn which stretched out to a white-

  painted wall with several odd, conical objects spaced

  along the top.

  When Greg reached the foot of the steps, two of

  Laing's men, Crusher and Digger, seized him by the arms

  and marched him towards the tail of the zeplin with

  Grinder behind him, hand grasping his jacket collar.

  Beyond the tapering stern of the gas-filled envelope, an

  imposing three-storey house came into view, flanked by

  smaller buildings, bushes, gardens, trees, and several

  strange vehicles with stubby wings and painted in green

  and grey camouflage . . . and in the next instant, with

  dread rising in a chorus, he saw the group striding

  towards them, long strides made by tall Sendrukans in

  uniforms and carrying long weapons with multiple bar-

  rels

  'No . . . no, you can't do this! Laing . . .' He started to

  struggle but his captors only tightened their grips.

  '... you cannot hand me over to these people .. .'

  'I am under orders to render assistance to the lawful

  representatives of the Sendrukan Hegemony,' Laing

  said. 'Said representatives have requested temporary

  extradition so that questions may be put to you, which

  is permissible under emergency powers . . .'

  'Emergency . . . are you out of your mind?'

  'Thank you for aiding our inquiries, Lieutenant

  Laing,' said another Sendrukan, who had appeared from

  behind those in uniform. 'I am Assister Sejik, security-

  master to the High Monitor.'

  Like the soldiers he towered over the humans, but

  unlike them he wore pale, flowing garments and in one

  hand carried a slender, golden stave bearing a line of

  black characters and tipped with a small silver figurine.

  'I am glad to be of help, Assister.'

  'Under the agreed terms we shall return Doctor

  Cameron to your custody in six hours,' said Sejik.

  'Would you care to wait?'

  'I am instructed to return after the allotted period,

  Assister Sejik.'

  'That is acceptable.'

  Laing's men suddenly released Greg but, before he

  could react, one of the uniformed Sendrukans grabbed

  both his arms, staring stonily down at him while a

  second produced a silver object which was pressed

  against his neck. Abruptly, all feeling in the rest of his

  body vanished and his head lolled forward.'The terror

  that gripped him was swamped by a surge of numbness.

  Sights and sounds were blurred, vague shapes passing

  by, deep voices booming to one another, strange, distant

  sensations of motion, a muffled swaying, a slow heavy

  tread . . .

  Awareness came back in a rush, like a drowsy half-

  sleep dispelled by fearful realisat
ion. Greg found that his

  hands were bound behind him and he was sitting at a

  square, cloth-covered table on which several glassy,

  gourd-like vessels were grouped around a crystalline

  pitcher with six or seven spouts. The table and chairs

  were on the Sendrukan scale and he felt like a child

  seated in an adult's place. The table covering was a

  detailed depiction of humanoid creatures, Sendrukans,

  he presumed, engaged in a variety of warlike activities.

  Similar framed tapestries adorned the leaf-patterned

  walls, along with some far more modernistic pieces - or

  so they seemed to his eyes. Long, openwork curtails

  hung before tall windows, and gauzy, embroidered ban-

  ners were draped low over the table and in the corners

  of the room. The impression was one of cultured opu-

  lence without excess, while the artworks spoke of

  violence.

  'Doctor Cameron, it is most pleasing to meet you

  again.'

  A deep voice, rich and expressive, spoke and High

  Monitor Kuros stepped into view from behind Greg's

  chair. He was dressed in shades and layers of grey, pat-

  terned and semi-opaque, and wearing his tall, black

  helical headgear. The features, so Humanlike, were com-

  posed, the large dark eyes fixed on Greg as Kuros took

  a seat near the table's corner, his long, graceful fingers

  toying with a small blue vial.

  'I cannot say the same, High Monitor,' Greg said.

  'Handing me over into your custody clearly runs con-

  trary to the basic tenets of liberty. I implore you to

  return me to the keeping of Darien's civil authorities . . .'

  'But we need you here, Doctor Cameron,' Kuros said.

  'We have many questions and we are sure that you have

  the answers.'

  'But under our constitution I have personal rights,'

  said Greg. 'You have given many speeches that mention

  the importance of freedom and liberty - surely you

  understand . . .'

  'I do, Doctor Cameron, but unfortunately you do not

  understand what we mean by freedom and liberty. These

  are qualities conferred upon Sendrukan society by the

  power of the Hegemony - they do not exist by them-

  selves in the universe so they must be created by the

  pinnacle of Sendrukan culture, the Hegemony and its

  laws. Our freedoms and liberties are not permitted to

  contradict the purpose and stability of the Hegemony,