Seeds of Earth

  lapsed stacks, and angled it for Robert's benefit.

  On the other side of the statue was a wide, clear aisle

  which ran straight to the far end of the vault, where a

  bright, shining pillar sat in the middle of the floor. It

  shone with a cold blue radiance, and as Robert stared at

  the reflected image he could make out several long, dark

  shapes gliding sinuously around the pillar. He swal-

  lowed nervously, feeling a tremble in his hands.

  'That glowing pillar is the upgate,' said Conveyance

  289.

  'It doesn't look like a door or a gate,' he said.

  'It will open for us when we get close enough. The

  plan is for the Reski Emantes to charge at the vermax

  from the sides and draw them away while we head

  straight for the gate.'

  Robert glanced around and realised that he was alone

  in the passenger recess. 'The mechs are gone.'

  'They are positioning themselves,' the mechanical

  said. 'We will know the signal when it comes . . .'

  A voice interrupted it from the companel in the

  recess.

  'We are ready now, 289. Human Horst, we have been

  honoured by the task and your acquaintance - please

  tender our cordialities to our descendant.'

  Conveyance 289 shifted on its eight legs and Robert

  heard the whine of other systems starting within the

  mech's body as it shuffled round to face the wide aisle.

  'The moment is upon us, Human Horst - hold tight

  and be ready to repel boarders!'

  Suddenly the mech shot forward, smooth and fast,

  and Robert realised that they were flying along on sus-

  pensors. He was quivering with the shock and

  exhilaration of it. Dim walls of compacted wares flashed

  past on either side and he focused all his senses on the

  black kezeq shard, gripping it tight in both hands. Up

  ahead he caught glimpses of three fights, Track-Reski

  already still, one flexible track trailing and broken as a

  single vermax, a snake of black smoke, devoured its

  vitals. Hover-Reski, with two vermax chewing their way

  into its casing, was gliding drunkenly off down a side

  passageway. Tripod-Reski had lost most of one leg but

  was leading the remaining vermax pair a merry chase

  back along the wide aisle, moving with a manic, jerky

  gait. They were sacrificing themselves, Robert knew, yet

  they had mentioned a descendant. . .

  The shining pillar was directly ahead, widening and

  growing brighter as they rushed towards it. Robert's

  fear began turning to relief tinged with a pang of sorrow

  at the small mechs' fate. The gate opened, shimmering

  silver and gold and icy blue, and as they plunged into it

  Robert was momentarily dazzled.

  'Human Horst, I was wrong - there were . . . six .. .'

  He felt Conveyance 289 quiver but his eyesight was

  blurred, showing him only a flowing, flickering tunnel.

  'Help me, Human Horst, I am under attack . . . use

  the kezeq sssshhaarrrrddd ...'

  He blinked, eyes widening as he saw the vast walls of

  opaque images and fractured landscapes past which they

  fell. His mind rebelled. A primal terror was trying to

  make him curl up into a whimpering ball, eyes closed.

  But his eyes were open and he saw one of the vermax

  attached to the forepart of the mech's carapace, eating

  its way inwards. Shivering with cold and fear, Robert

  loosened the couch straps, moved carefully forward to

  lean halfway out of the recess and with the shard lashed

  out at the writhing black snake.

  It squirmed and he stabbed it again and again. As it

  began to disintegrate something hot and bristly landed

  on his left shoulder and bit his ear with what felt like a

  mouthful of needles. Crying out, he lurched backwards,

  trying to twist away, and saw yet another vermax cling-

  ing to his shoulder, its fang-ringed mouth splattered with

  his blood as it reared back, readying for another lunge.

  Robert screamed in terror and hate and thrust the

  kezeq shard at his attacker, ramming it into the open

  gullet as he slipped off the couch. The vermax thrashed,

  its hot bristling form hissing as it shoved itself against

  his neck, despite the sword.

  Which he could feel pressed against his skin and face

  by the ferocity of the assault. Then suddenly the vermax

  let out a brittle rasp and began to break apart. By now

  Robert had slumped to the floor of the passenger recess

  and with the vermax crumbling to dry pieces of black-

  ness he tried to lift or push the terrible, nullifying cold of

  the shard away. But the fingers of his right hand had lost

  all strength while his left side felt like a block of ice

  from shoulder to hip, from his neck up into his head.

  Whiteness flowed. He could hear Conveyance 289

  speaking to him but it was far, far away, icy echoes of

  words dissolving in the cold along with the strange,

  translucent walls that flew silently past.

  In his thoughts, whiteness flowed.

  53

  THEO

  They were fifteen minutes from the landing field's west-

  ern boundary when a comm began beeping inside

  Pyatkov's greatcoat. Theo and Donny glanced at each

  other then watched the intelligence chief reach into his

  coat.

  'How come you've got a comm that works?' Donny

  said.

  'It's not a comm,' Pyatkov said as he produced an

  odd, white object shaped like a curved teardrop. He put

  the bulbous end to his ear and said, 'Yes?'

  For a moment he was silent, listening, then:

  'We did not know of this ... we need at least thirty to

  forty minutes . . . yes, it seems likely ... I understand . , .

  I'll await your call, sir.'

  'Is there a problem?' Theo said as Pyatkov put away

  the comm device. 'Was that someone from the Imisil

  delegation, and what is that thing?'

  'It is an Imisil comset,' Pyatkov said. 'I was speaking

  to Ambassador Gauhux himself and he says that there

  are violent anti-Hegemony demonstrations going on in

  Port Gagarin and Hammergard tonight. Kuros has all

  but accused the Imisil delegation of fomenting civil

  unrest and has demanded that the Imisil leave Darien

  space immediately. Gauhux is already on board his shut-

  tle and is trying to stall for time, but Kuros is

  threatening to have the port security force open fire if he

  doesn't lift off.'

  Theo's heart sank. 'But Rory and his lads are due to

  set their diversion rolling in twenty minutes and we've

  no way of calling them back. We could get through to

  the launch pads only to see that shuttle take off . . .'

  'No danger of that happening,' said Donny. 'That's it

  away now . . .'

  Theo hastily shifted over to the other side of the bus

  and saw clusters of glowing vortices climbing quickly

  into the night sky. At the same time, Pyatkov's comset

  beeped.

  'Yes sir ... I fully understand ... is there? ... would

  they? . .
. ah, I see . . . indeed, sir ... . thank you for all

  your help.'

  With the call over, Pyatkov weighed the teardrop

  device in his hand for a moment, then nodded.

  'Well?' said Theo.

  'We go ahead as planned.'

  Donny burst out laughing. 'So ye do have a sense o'

  humour!'

  Pyatkov looked at him. 'The Imisil had no choice -

  Kuros threatened to send over interceptors from the

  Purifier and blow their ship out of orbit, and they take

  Hegemony threats very seriously.'

  'So why are we going ahead with this?' Theo said.

  'Because one of the Heracles's shuttles, a cutter they

  call it, is sitting in a hangar on the west side of the

  launch fields. Captain Barbour, you've trained on the

  Imisil simulator - what Earthsphere vessels are you

  familiar with?'

  'Hmm, tug, scow, repair gig, and close-support

  fighter ^ the basics are pretty much the same, though.'

  An anticipatory smile came to his lips. 'A shuttle

  shouldna be very different.'

  'And then what?' Theo said. 'Assuming that you can

  get this shuttle up and into space, into orbit, where do

  you go? Will the Imisil ship wait around, and if not

  what are we going to do?'

  'Ask the captain of the Heracles for political asylum,'

  said Pyatkov. 'It's certain that he has very specific orders

  concerning non-interference, but what if a group of

  Darien colonists turns up near his ship in a hijacked

  Earthsphere shuttle, begging for safe haven? If

  Velazquez handed us over to the Hegemony it would

  mean the end of his career because his crew would

  know, which means that the story would inevitably get

  out to the Earthsphere media. He would have to bring

  us on board.'

  Theo smiled in resignation. 'That's a very big "if"."

  'Perhaps, but I am sure of it.' Pyatkov looked at his

  watch and tapped the bus driver on the shoulder, telling

  him to slow down. 'We're almost at the outer perimeter

  checkpoint. There are two guards so I'll distract them

  with my ID and official papers while the pair of you

  sandbag them from behind.'

  It went smoothly. Minutes after they had the guards

  tied up, a call came through on the checkpoint cable

  comm to raise the security level because of an intruder

  alert on the western fence. Donny took the call, disguis-

  ing his voice to sound as if he had a bad cold. At the

  inner perimeter checkpoint the same gambit worked,

  and the bus with the Enhanced was through in just over

  five minutes.

  The wooden hangar housing the Earthsphere shuttle

  was the middle one of a line of three alongside the taxi-

  ing runway. Leaving the bus in a ditch behind a cluster

  of bushes, the Enhanced and their armed escorts skulked

  through the shadows towards their goal, looking out

  for a side or back entrance. There were a couple of port

  security guards out the front while inside a solitary

  Earthsphere marine kept watch from a partitioned

  office. Infiltration went like clockwork, all the guards

  put out of action soundlessly and non-lethally. With the

  marine bound and sat over to one side, they quietly

  came out of the office into the hangar proper. The shut-

  tle was a snub-nosed, large-bellied craft about 30 feet

  long with its stubby wings spreading from the upper

  fuselage. While the Enhanced waited in the office, Theo,

  Donny, Pyatkov and the driver, Giorgi, went over to

  look at the shuttle's main hatch. They were nearly there

  when a tall Brolturan soldier stepped through a door in

  the hangar's massive swing shutter, saw them and

  opened fire.

  There was a stuttering, whicking sound and Giorgi

  went down, bleeding from head, neck and back, while

  another burst caught Pyatkov in the shoulder and sent

  him sprawling forward. Donny and Theo dived for

  cover behind the shuttle, handguns at the ready. The

  Brolturan started shouting at them and firing short

  bursts under the shuttle. Theo cursed and began climb-

  ing up onto the upper hull while Donny tried dodging

  this way and that. Theo was lying flat on the centre of

  the wing surface when the office door opened and one

  of the Enhanced, a slender, blonde woman, walked out

  and called to the Brolturari. Her hand was already

  raised as if in greeting but as he turned her hand

  snapped forward, arm abruptly outstretched. The sol-

  dier let out a gasping cry, dropped his autorifle, started

  to bring up one hand, then collapsed to the hangar

  floor with something jutting from his eye. The female

  Enhanced walked over, studied him with intense, stem

  eyes, then turned and went back to the office.

  Theo meanwhile was scrambling down from the

  shuttle and hurrying to where Donny was already kneel-

  ing next to Pyatkov.

  'How is he?' he said.

  Donny looked grim, but before he could answer,

  Pyatkov spoke.

  'Bastard ... got me with ... one of those flechette

  machiners . . . clawstorm they call it.. . how did you get

  him ...'

  'One of the Enhanced did,' Donny said. 'Tall blonde

  woman.'

  Pyatkov smiled. 'Irenya, da, of course ...' He looked

  at Donny. 'The hatch . .. code is blue 24, red 18, green

  09 . . .' He paused to grimace at the pain, and Theo

  knew he was dying - there was too much blood.

  'Giorgi? . . .' Donny shook his head. 'A good man - he

  deserved a better death ... you must go. Just leave me

  over ... somewhere with his gun ...' He stared at Theo

  and Donny, then gave a savage grin. 'No one will be . . .

  looking into my head - I have a hollow tooth ... nyet,

  don't argue, just ... do it!'

  So they did. In six minutes, everyone was on board,

  Donny in the pilot couch in the tiny two-man cockpit,

  the five Enhanced strapped into passenger seating in the

  midsection compartment, and Theo moving Pyatkov

  over to sit against a crate near the office, the Brolturan

  weapon in his lap. The Russian's eyes were barely open

  and his entire shoulder and side were soaked in blood.

  'Hangar door . . . office . . .'

  Theo nodded, and as he reached through the office

  window to thumb the button he felt his skin prickle

  when Donny powered up the shuttle's antigravity gen-

  erators.

  That's it, he thought. As soon as that door starts lift-

  ing, the terminal guards'll come running.

  Pyatkov's eyes were closed when he turned round

  and Theo could not tell if he was still breathing or not.

  'Goodbye, Vitaly,' he said quietly then hurried to the

  shuttle, ducked inside and closed the hatch. As it

  autosealed, he glanced along a short passage to where

  the Enhanced were sitting straight-backed, eyes closed,

  hands resting palms-up on their knees. Then the shuttle

  lurched and swayed slightly and he stumbled forward to

  the cockpit. As he strapped into the copilot couch with


  shaking hands, Donny gave a pleased laugh.

  'Nice ship, this,' he said. 'Responsive controls, clearly

  tagged instruments and even an overhead holodisplay.'

  He glanced at Theo. 'You ever flown before? To

  Nivyesta, I mean.'

  'No.' Theo breathed in deep. 'But I'll be okay.'

  'Aye, ye will. Just kid on that it's a ride at the carni-

  val.' Before them the hangar shutter was almost fully

  open. 'Right, time to leave.'

  The first few seconds of smooth forward motion

  were deceptive - once clear of the hangar, Donny angle d

  the nose skywards and fired the main thrusters. A hun-

  dred invisible sandbags pressed Theo down into his

  couch but then quickly eased off, even though "heir

  acceleration did not.

  'Inertial dampeners,' Donny said. 'Should've had

  them on active tracking - sorry 'bout that. Deck gravity

  is on, though, so you'll be able to get up and walk

  around soon.'

  Theo nodded, staring out the cockpit viewscreen at

  the darkening sky where stars were growing brighter as

  they climbed out of Darien's atmosphere.

  'Did our sudden departure turn any heads?' he said.

  Donny grinned, tapping the headset he was wearing.

  'Has it ever! Listen to this ...'

  He poked a couple of screen controls and suddenly

  voices erupted from the console speakers.

  '. . . flight is unauthorised and may incur a punitive

  response -1 repeat, Shuttlecraft Hermes, this is Gagarin

  Tower - you are instructed to return to Gagarin launch-

  way 2. Your flight is unauthorised and may incur . ..'

  'Earthsphere shuttlecraft, this is Preceptor-Captain

  Eshapon of Purifier sub-Phalanx Tuva. A soldier of the

  Brolturan Compact was killed by one of those who

  hijacked that shuttle. You are instructed to return to

  Port Gagarin and surrender yourselves . . .'

  '. . . hey, this is a traffic control-restricted frequency!

  Cut your signal immediately!'

  'My authority supersedes yours - cease your interf-

  erence . . .'

  'Heracles-ops to Shuttlecraft Hermes - what is your

  status?'

  Donny grinned at Theo then thumbed the reply.

  'Hermes to Heracles-ops - please stand by,' then he

  silenced it.

  'We're nearly at low orbit,' he said. 'And I've already

  laid in an intercept course for the Heracles . . . which