Independence Day

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Independence Day Page 6

by P. Darvill-Evans


  ‘Brilliant!’ Ace exclaimed. ‘This is a doddle. Now if I can just identify a docking bay, I’ll bring this thing in.’

  Madok watched in admiration as Ace studied the moving picture, consulted the controls, and operated the thrusters to steer the pod towards the nearest docking bay.

  ‘I wonder how I get the doors open,’ Ace muttered as the pod floated ever closer to the metal shutters.

  As Madok suspected, she didn’t have to worry about it.

  ‘Docking procedures initiated,’ said the voice of the pod, and in the picture on the screen the shutters began to part.

  A row of lights had flashed on in front of Ace. ‘All systems to automatic,’ the voice of the pod said.

  Ace uttered a murmur of disappointment. ‘Oh well,’ she said, ‘I can put my feet up.’ And, to Madok’s surprise, she did so.

  ‘Now then,’ Ace said to herself, ‘what was all that about?

  That Kedin’s a crafty old sod. Charming and very horny, but definitely crafty with it. I suppose he’s trying to find out how much I know about all this futuristic technology. It’s obvious he hasn’t got the hang of all of it. I just wish I knew what he was up to on this godforsaken space station.’

  My lady, Madok prayed fervently, I hope you never find out.

  By the time the pod had landed and the docking bay had refilled itself with air, Madok had been crouched behind the seat for so long that his muscles were knotted and he had to grit his teeth to prevent himself crying out in pain. However, Ace remained unaware of his presence, and he allowed himself the luxury of movement only when the pod’s door was open and he was sure she had disembarked.

  Kedin was in the bay’s control room. Madok could hear his voice as he greeted Ace.

  ‘Ace, thank the heavens you’re safe,’ Kedin said. ‘I’ve worried myself into an apoplexy. It’s all my fault. How can you ever forgive me? And how the deuce did you bring yourself back?’

  ‘I was very, very scared,’ Ace said. Madok could imagine her big, dark eyes gazing up at Kedin’s face. He couldn’t prevent himself imagining Kedin’s sympathetic arm resting on her shoulders. ‘I didn’t have a clue what to do. I think it all works automatically. I just sort of found myself back here. I’m so glad to be back - with you.’

  Madok smiled. Ace was managing to invest her words with a quivering emotion that was almost convincing. She really was a splendid young woman.

  But it wouldn’t work, of course. If she succeeded in fooling Kedin, which was in any case unlikely, he wouldn’t remain fooled for long. Madok had seen Ace piloting the escape pod, and it was clear that she knew more than Kedin did about the technology of the space station.

  Kedin would consider her useful. He would encourage her to stay. And that was all that Madok wished for.

  They walked, keeping close to the banks of hedge-ferns and hurrying between copses of broadleaves, until the sun was a vast golden ball melting across the horizon. Then they found shelter in an isolated barn, and Bep-Wor slept for the few hours of half-darkness.

  When he woke he felt refreshed and full of hope. He found the Doctor sitting in the doorway of the barn, staring into the distance. Bep-Wor wondered whether the Doctor had slept at all. The Doctor looked up and said, ‘Hello.’ Bep-Wor nodded.

  They remained together in silence.

  The world seemed to be at peace. The fields were freshly green, and full of the chirruping of insects. Stands of giant fern cast long, undulating shadows. In the distance, in the gaps between the tawny hills, the sea sparkled.

  Bep-Wor could almost believe that it had all been a dream.

  That there had been no invaders, no damage. He knew he was deceiving himself, but the clear dawn light at least painted the world in optimistic colours. At last he had things to do, and the energy to do them: he would help the Doctor, and he would search for Kia-Ga. He had a purpose.

  His good humour lasted until they reached Porgum. They had found a mule not far from the barn: it approached them, having no doubt seen no other people for many days. Once it had tasted the Doctor’s broth it allowed itself to be ridden.

  The Doctor and Bep-Wor took it in turns to rest their feet, and they made good progress. Only once were they obliged to dive into a ditch to avoid being seen by one of the flying machines.

  As they approached Porgum, however, Bep-Wor’s new-found determination and cheer withered. As the mule jolted him from side to side he could see the signs of destruction: roofs torn open, columns of smoke rising into the air.

  Porgum was the nearest settlement northwards from Bep-Wor’s own village: a large, thriving place with a mercantile quarter, well-stocked shops, and a weekly grain and flour market that served the entire island. The annual music festival drew crowds from all over the archipelago.

  There was nothing to say. The mule trudged onwards with the Doctor holding its halter, and with each step it became more and more obvious that Porgum had been devastated.

  All too soon they were walking between the wrecked houses, picking their way round piles of tumbled masonry and smouldering fires.

  The only sound was the clop of the mule’s hooves. The town was deserted.

  Bep-Wor scanned the skies. He told himself he was keeping a look-out for flying machines, but the truth was that he couldn’t look at the scarred houses. The Doctor, he thought, was inquisitive enough for both of them: the strange little man, his face grim, peered along every choked alleyway and through every smashed wall.

  ‘Bep-Wor,’ the Doctor said at last, as they left behind the last ruined villa on the outskirts of the town, ‘I saw no bodies. It looks like the aftermath of a battle, but there are no bodies.’

  At first Bep-Wor failed to understand the meaning of the Doctor’s words. When he understood, he was appalled. His stomach lurched and he felt nauseous. ‘Bodies?’ he said.

  ‘You mean dead bodies? You think the invaders have killed people?’ Could the invaders have killed Kia-Ga? It made no sense.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not uncommon,’ the Doctor said. ‘It’s the way invaders behave. And your people could have killed some of the invaders, as you defended yourselves.’

  Bep-Wor barked a short laugh. ‘Defend ourselves? Doctor, we have no defence against the invaders’ machines. You’ve seen the flying machine. You’ve seen the damage caused by the explosives. The invaders come, and the people run before them. They herd us like cattle.’

  The Doctor’s keen gaze roved across the skyline of broken rooftops. ‘So the invaders destroy the houses after all the inhabitants have fled?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Bep-Wor had thought the Doctor understood that already. ‘I watched them destroy my village.’

  The Doctor nodded, but he looked perplexed. ‘Let’s continue on our way,’ he said. ‘I want to find these invaders and have a stern word with them.’

  Bep-Wor insisted that the Doctor should take a turn riding the mule. Bep-Wor walked. They emerged from the northern outskirts of Porgum. Bep-Wor felt his spirits lift a little as they left behind the ruined town and found themselves trudging through small fields planted with sourwheat and squashes.

  They were on higher ground, among thickets of tall ferns, when Bep-Wor noticed that the Doctor was listening to something. He had his hand cupped at his ear. They were approaching the edge of the plantation when Bep-Wor heard it: the sound of machines.

  ‘Proceed cautiously,’ the Doctor said. ‘Don’t go into the open.’

  They stopped in the shade of the last spinney of ferns, and looked down into the flat valley below. Spike-grass and recumbent ferns covered most of the landscape in shades of green, rippling in the breeze. Here and there fields had been marked out and planted: winding tracks led from the fields to the road which descended from the tree-ferns and stretched away into the distance.

  And in the middle of the valley, next to the road, the land was scarred and seared brown. A vast metal machine, the size and shape of a bow-roofed barn, stood in the middle of the burnt area
. Nearby, and looking insubstantial alongside the big structure, were four flying machines. Still smaller machines, some of which Bep-Wor recognised as weapons which threw explosives, were drawn up in lines on a field between the burnt area and the hill on which Bep-Wor was standing. Other machines had wheels, and some of these were moving along the field-tracks and the main road. Bep-Wor realised that it was the movement of the wheeled machines that created the insistent racket.

  ‘Internal combustion engines,’ the Doctor said. ‘Propeller aircraft, armoured cars. Field guns.’ He turned to Bep-Wor.

  ‘Your people have none of these?’

  ‘No.’ Bep-Wor felt defensive. Should he be ashamed? Of what? ‘What would we want with machines that can only destroy?’

  ‘Most humans I’ve encountered seem to want little else,’ the Doctor said. ‘Look: there’s your enemy.’

  Bep-Wor shielded his eyes and squinted. He saw one tiny figure, emerging from one of the wheeled machines. Then three more, marching in a line along one of the tracks. The sunlight caught on the polished metal buttons of their uniforms. Now that he had seen a few he found it easy to see others: marching in columns, standing in rows, swarming around the machines.

  ‘They’re definitely human,’ the Doctor said. He sounded disappointed. ‘Why are they here? What do they want? Are they just taking a delight in wanton destruction? Or is this invasion a particularly brutal method of enforcing political hegemony?’

  Bep-Wor could hardly believe his ears. The Doctor still hadn’t understood. ‘It’s worse than that, Doctor,’ he said. He could feel tears welling once again in his eyes. ‘Look. Look: on the road, next to the biggest machine.’

  The Doctor’s gaze followed Bep-Wor’s pointing finger. When he saw the line of people, stretching to the horizon, he said,

  ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘They’re collecting us, Doctor,’ Bep-Wor said. ‘Like animals.

  They clear us from our towns and villages, and they destroy our homes so that we have nowhere to live. They herd us, round us up, and take us away.’

  Having retired to her quarters with the excuse that she was upset - well, you would be, she thought, after being shot into space in an escape pod - Ace had spent some time trying to boot up the communications console.

  It was no use: she couldn’t get the thing to work. It was intensely frustrating. The system had power, and she could get up the introductory screen. But the console in her cabin seemed to be on a low security level, and she couldn’t get into the system at a level high enough to kick it into life.

  During her guided tour of the station Ace had noticed that every screen she’d seen had been blank. It was obvious that Kedin and his men hadn’t worked out how to use the station’s communications system. Their knowledge of radio technology was rudimentary: she’d spotted one of the soldiers struggling to carry a wireless set the size of a suitcase.

  The temptation to show off was almost irresistible. If turning on the station’s communications couldn’t impress Kedin, she was sure that a demonstration of the hologram projector would blow his mind. And she badly wanted to get Kedin’s undivided attention.

  The only thing that stopped her sharing her knowledge with Kedin was her nagging doubt about what he was doing on the station. Who were those low-lifes that had attacked him? Where had they come from? And why was Kedin being so cagey?

  And she had to admit that she was rather enjoying her Mata Hari role. Kedin and Madok still had no idea where she was from, and she intended to keep them guessing - at least until she knew more about them.

  When she’d finally given up on the communications console, she’d thrown herself on the bed and stared at the ceiling until she was thoroughly bored.

  How long, she had asked herself, would it take for a defenceless young woman, alone in a strange environment and surrounded by grim-faced soldiers, to get over the shock of being ejected into space in a box not much bigger than a coffin?

  No idea, she had answered herself. They probably expect me to have the screaming ab-dabs for days on end. But if I have to pretend to be having an attack of the vapours for much longer I’ll go round the bend for real. I’ve had enough of this. Time to go out for a snoop about.

  She’d tiptoed scarcely five metres from her room when Madok emerged from a side-corridor.

  He’s been waiting for me, she thought. Damn.

  Madok had been polite, concerned, and anxious to reassure himself that she had recovered from her ordeal. However, no matter how often Ace told him that she felt fine, he didn’t leave her alone. So much for snooping.

  It was particularly difficult to shake Madok off while she was doing her vulnerable and feminine act. Madok lapped it up, and was pathetically eager to look after her.

  Madok was all right, Ace decided as he followed her doggedly round the station. A regular bloke, once you got past the bluster and the stiff formality. She noticed that he was much more at ease talking to soldiers. He’s a military man, she thought; a career officer. He probably hasn’t spent much time in mixed company.

  He was actually quite good-looking too. But too old for her.

  And too stocky.

  Ace laughed aloud when she realised that she was comparing every man she met with Kedin. She had to pretend she was coughing, and endure Madok’s anxious enquiries about the delicacy of her health.

  The fact was that no one measured up to Kedin’s score on the dreaminess gauge. Ace wanted to see him again: when she remembered his eyes the desire for him was physical, like a sudden pang in her stomach.

  And she wasn’t getting anything out of Madok, anyway. He seemed desperate to please her, but he managed always to evade difficult questions.

  She’d found out that he and many others among Kedin’s men could fly the ships that had been found in the station’s docking bays. He admitted that he didn’t understand most of the controls, and that he relied on the station’s automatic systems to dock his ship. He was proud of the fact that he could bring a ship in to land on a planet, though, and Ace was genuinely impressed: it must have taken courage and skill.

  ‘That’s amazing, Madok,’ she said. ‘No, really, I mean it.

  You must be ever so brave.’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Madok said, but Ace noticed that his cheeks had turned pink. ‘I’m sure you could do it, my lady.’

  Yes, probably, Ace thought. How difficult can it be? But I’m not going to let you know it, mate. Even though it does mean I have to keep up this helpless girly act.

  ‘I wouldn’t have a clue,’ Ace said, and managed to produce what she hoped was a fetching giggle. ‘And now I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time. Didn’t Kedin say that he wanted to see me again?’

  ‘Yes, my lady, he did.’ Madok looked uncomfortable and grumpy. ‘But only if you’re quite sure you’re feeling better.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine,’ Ace said, trying to look frail and wan.

  ‘Where will I find him?’

  Madok closed his eyes momentarily. ‘I believe he is in his quarters, lady.’

  Oh, good, Ace thought. I’ll have him to myself at last. And in his bedroom.

  Madok, blushing furiously, was struggling to express himself. ‘But I would quite understand, lady,’ he said, ‘if you would prefer me to arrange an alternative rendezvous. I appreciate your sensibilities. This station isn’t the most civilised of places, but there are certain standards of behaviour. What I mean is, my lord would not expect you to do anything unseemly.’

  Ace had no idea what he was going on about. She was on the point of blurting out an entirely inappropriate question about Kedin’s usual behaviour with women when she suddenly understood. Among these people it was considered scandalous for a respectable woman, alone, to visit a man’s room. That was all.

  Well, actually, Ace thought, I hope that’s not all, in this case.

  But I can’t say that to Madok: he’d go purple in the face and explode.

  She laid her hand on his sleeve. �
�Kedin is an officer,’ she said, ‘and, apparently, the foremost aristo on the planet. This is a military post, and society’s rules don’t apply strictly here.

  So I’m sure my reputation will be safe.’

  Madok seemed relieved. ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I will happily escort you.’

  ‘I can find my own way, you know,’ Ace said as she and Madok set off.

  ‘I don’t doubt it, my lady,’ Madok said. ‘But as you found out for yourself, these corridors are not entirely safe.’

  ‘And that’s another thing,’ Ace said. ‘You and Kedin still haven’t told me who those creeps were.’

  ‘Creeps?’

  ‘The ones who attacked Kedin. You called them escapers.’

  ‘Mutineers,’ Madok said. ‘We had them incarcerated. They’ll be recaptured soon.’

  ‘They weren’t wearing uniforms.’

  Madok appeared genuinely shocked. ‘Of course not.’

  It was almost plausible. Ace felt light-headed for a moment as the clouds of suspicion she’d been harbouring began to disperse. Maybe there was nothing untoward going on.

  Kedin’s attackers were just criminals who’d escaped; large areas of the space station were locked simply because Kedin’s men didn’t need them, or hadn’t worked out how to get into them; the distant, mournful voices were aural illusions of the kind you could experience in an almost disused warren of corridors.

  Ace grinned. She’d spent too long with the Doctor. When he was around everything had a sinister explanation. She’d forgotten what normal life was like.

  She turned to Madok and impulsively grabbed his arm. She felt him flinch and then relax. ‘If you want to know where your escaped mutineers are,’ she whispered, ‘why don’t you use the cameras?’

  Madok seemed at a loss for words. ‘Cameras?’ he stuttered at last.

  Ace pointed to the ceiling. ‘See that little box up there?

  With a glass eye? It can see what’s in the corridor, and show you pictures of it. I’ll demonstrate later, if you like.’

 

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