by Neil Davies
"I think Roland was beginning to feel homesick. I'm sending him home."
"Good. I don't think he liked me very much."
But I do, she thought. Oh, I do. I think I like you too much.
"It was simpler before I came to Earth," she said, sitting up, unconcerned at how the thin sheet they had thrown across themselves almost two hours before now fell to her waist, revealing her nakedness to any of her entourage who might pass the window and care to look in.
"Simpler?" Martin opened his eyes, saw Tina sitting up, saw the frown on her face, the pained expression of concentration and worry, of indecision. He knew that expression, had felt it on his own face when trying to decide whether to pull the trigger or not all that time ago on Milos IV.
She's confused, troubled, facing a dilemma of some sort, a decision.
This, he knew, could be the breakthrough the Controller was hoping for, the whole reason he was here. Yet he felt strangely uninterested in whatever it was Tina was struggling with and more concerned with the fact that she struggled at all. He was concerned for her. He realised that he hated to see her looking so fraught.
"Look," he said, his voice soft, caressing. "If you think it will help to tell me about it, fine. But don't feel you have to. I'm quite happy never to know."
She turned her eyes to him and he saw they were filling with tears. Her lips trembled as she spoke.
"Won't your Controller be angry? After all that is why you're here isn't it? To get information?"
Martin hesitated for a brief moment before answering. He should have known she would guess. She was anything but stupid.
"That was my original role, yes. And I still report to the Controller each day. But it's gone so much further than that now." He sat up, slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "I'm not going to tell you that I love you, because I can't do that. But I do care about you a great deal, much more than I should, given the circumstances. Like I said. If you want to tell me, fine. If you don't, that's fine too. I just want you to stop worrying."
Stop worrying! He doesn't know what he's asking. The one true alien race in the galaxy is nothing more than an experiment in artificial intelligence by my company, an experiment that has got out of hand, and I should stop worrying? There's an invasion fleet on its way here, to Earth, and I'm meant to help them when they land, and I should stop worrying? My whole life has been dedicated to Reagold, to The Director, and now I feel an almost irresistible compulsion to betray them to this man alongside me, this soldier who will probably die alongside his colleagues in the defence of this planet, defence against the fleet I know is about to arrive.
She let the tears take control, allowed the sobbing to shudder through her body, as she buried her face in Martin's shoulder.
"I love you," she spluttered between the sobs. "And I feel so stupid crying like this. I haven't cried this much since I was a little girl."
Martin stroked a hand over her head, through her hair.
"Everyone's entitled to cry sometimes," he said softly, thinking back to the tears that had come so freely after his daughter's death. "Some things are worth it."
Tina looked up, wiped a hand across her eyes, smearing tears across her cheeks. She glanced towards the window, saw one of her entourage, a young man named Jeff who had taken over Roland's position, standing a short distance away, rain sodden and staring at the summerhouse. He was too far to hear anything. She turned back towards Martin.
Do it now, before I start thinking again.
"Martin. There's a combined Aksian and Szuiltan fleet on its way here right now. They're going to invade Earth, and I've been ordered to help!"
There, it wasn't so hard. You just open your mouth and the words come tumbling out.
Martin half smiled, surely a joke, before seeing the expression on her face. She's serious!
"But that would be in direct violation..."
"They don't care! You must tell The Controller, convince him. Perhaps if you mobilise soon enough..."
She turned, suddenly, to face the window once again. The drenched member of her entourage, Jeff, was no longer there and the panic hit her hard, full in the stomach.
Shit! How could I be so stupid as to think I would be allowed privacy?
She didn't know where it was, but she was sure it would be there somewhere. A transmitter, one of Reagold's finest no doubt. Almost undetectable.
"Martin..."
But he had seen the direction of her stare, recognised the panic in her face, and was already up and moving towards the door as it crashed open, framing the still dripping figure of Jeff in the grey light from outside, his gun drawn and raised.
Martin crashed into him as he pulled the trigger, felt the bullet whine past his ear, heard Tina scream somewhere behind him.
Tina!
They tumbled into the rain, rolling over and over among the leaves, twigs and rotting fruit of the forest floor. Martin, naked but oblivious to the cold and damp in his rage, grabbed Jeff's gun arm, twisted viciously, smiled a deathly rictus of a smile as he felt the crack, heard the scream of agony from beneath him. He smashed his elbow into the throat of the writhing man, once, twice, and left him gasping for air, muscles jerking in spasms.
Martin grabbed the gun from the dying man's stiffening fingers, knowing that the others would be there at any time, and there had been at least five of them when they set out that morning.
He pushed himself up on to one knee, allowing his reactions, his trained senses, to takeover.
Relax. Soothe the anger. Subdue the fear. Either one could kill me now. Calm, alert, professional!
A snapping of twigs, the sound of hurrying feet almost lost beneath the white noise of the rain.
He turned, raised the gun, aimed at the running figure, ignoring the plumes of dirt that exploded nearby as the other opened fire.
He's running, he can't aim properly. Sloppy. If he had just taken his time...
Martin squeezed off three shots, noting with grim satisfaction that each one found its target. The man stumbled, fell, rolled, made a brave attempt to rise again.
One more shot. The back of the man's head exploded, spraying blood and bone and brain in a fantail behind him.
More unnatural sound. A shuffling to his left. Closer, more cautious.
He pushed himself off the ground, diving forward as gunshots cracked through the forest. He felt the searing pain in his left leg as a bullet grazed the ankle, landed and rolled onto his side.
No time for subtlety of aim here. This one's good!
He opened fire, all but emptying the gun into the man who had stepped out from the cover of a tree for a better finishing shot.
Two bullets left, if I've calculated right. Presuming, that is, that Jeff had a full clip and one in the barrel as we would on active duty.
He thought of Tina then, realising that they would want to kill her just as much as him, perhaps more. He ran for the open door of the summerhouse, screaming at the pain that shot through him from his ankle.
Feels like the bastard chipped the bone!
He saw three more Reagold men break cover from the trees between him and the doorway. Two turned towards him, one towards Tina.
I can't get there in time. Tina, I'm so sorry.
He raised his gun, fired off the last two shots, feeling some slight satisfaction as one man went down, his jawbone smashed. The other raised his gun, his expression flat and emotionless.
Just a professional doing his job. Nothing personal.
Martin stumbled, fell face down into wet leaves and dirt. He relaxed his grip on the gun, let it fall from his fingers.
Larn help me. What a way to go! Naked in a forest in the rain.
He almost laughed, until he thought of Tina and of the fate that awaited the whole of Earth if she was right.
He looked up into the face of his killer and forced two words out through his frustration and anger.
"Fuck you."
He looked straight into the da
rk barrel of the gun.
Martin cried out, showered with blood and gore as the man's stomach erupted in an explosion that left organs scattered randomly across the forest floor.
He managed to roll aside as the body fell, landing with a strangely satisfying wet sound precisely where he, seconds before, had expected to die. He looked towards the summerhouse, saw that the Reagold man heading Tina's way already lay dead, just a short step from the doorway.
There were more men between the trees now, uniformed, striding confidently through an area they regularly used in training exercises.
Martin rose to his feet, his nerves gradually calming themselves.
I thought I was going to die.
"Lieutenant Lichfield," said the first soldier to reach him. "You do realise that you're out of uniform?"
Martin smiled, a smile that grew into a laugh that was as much relief as humour. These were soldiers from his own unit, the Controller's personal guard.
"How?" The question died on his lips as a small stealth troop carrier rushed by overhead, its suppressed engine noise barely audible over the rain.
The soldier smiled. "You didn't really think we'd let you do such an important assignment on your own did you?"
Martin and Tina were rushed back to the Controller's palace in the troop carrier, Martin's ankle and Tina's arm, where the first bullet had hit, treated by the on-board medic. They dressed on the flight and were accompanied by three soldiers. The others stayed in the forest, clearing up, checking for survivors.
No doubt with orders to kill, thought Martin.
The Controller was waiting for them in his private quarters.
"What happened Lieutenant?" The Controller was agitated, not yet angry but prepared to be, pacing back and forth. "I had a backup unit keeping a casual eye on you from far away. No surveillance devices, no attempt at listening or even particularly caring about what you were up to. Nothing, in fact, that even Reagold's devices could detect."
Tina, beginning to regain her composure after the turmoil of the last hour, nodded quietly to herself.
That makes sense. We would have known about any genuine surveillance, however sophisticated, but someone watching from a distance could be anyone or no one. That was down to the individual to decide.
She made a mental note to put a comment in her report that perhaps Reagold's security people were too reliant on technology, before she realised that there would be no report, could be no report. She was no longer part of Reagold. She had made that decision when she told Martin the truth, or at least part of the truth.
She thought of the dead bodies in the forest. There could be no more emphatic notice of resignation than that.
"I appreciate that Controller..." began Martin.
"Then," the Controller interrupted, "I receive a message from the troop carrier supporting your support to tell me they have scrambled and are engaging the enemy!"
He stopped pacing, seemed to calm himself, visibly slow himself down. When he next spoke his voice was quieter, reasonable.
"They took a field decision based on the situation and I respect that. I have no argument about that. But what about you, Lieutenant? Why was there a situation on the ground, your ground, that necessitated this intervention?"
Martin was not fooled by the restraint and control of the voice. He knew that anger lurked just beneath the surface. The Controller did not know quite why what had happened had happened, but he suspected incompetence or negligence or just plain stupidity. It was important to put forward the facts before reason was abandoned in favour of rage.
"Controller," said Martin. "They were trying to silence Representative Harrison. She had revealed information to me that they did not want broadcast."
"Stop trying to build the tension, Lieutenant," said the Controller, a trace of irritation seeping into his tone. "Just tell me."
Tina stepped forward, placing a hand on Martin's arm. The look in her eyes stopped him from saying anything further. It was obvious she had made a decision, accepted her current position. She would speak for herself.
"Controller." She bowed slightly, a delicate show of respect while retaining her own integrity. I may have turned away from Reagold, but I am not yours to command.
"Representative." The Controller bowed in return, indicating that he understood and accepted her statement of position. "Perhaps you can be more direct than my Lieutenant?"
"Certainly. I was informed by my..." she hesitated, corrected herself, "former company of an invasion fleet heading towards Earth. The fleet is joint Aksian and Szuiltan."
"Invasion fleet?" interrupted the Controller. "They wouldn't dare! There hasn't been any surface fighting on populated worlds for more years than I care to remember. And an actual planetary invasion..."
"I realise it breaks every signature, every understanding, every morality you care to name, but I believe it to be true. The Director would have no reason to lie. I, myself, was ordered to aid this invasion once it had started."
She paused, seemed to consider some matter of importance and reach a decision.
"There will be someone to take my place here. Someone else will have been told to help."
"Every member of Reagold's mission to Earth is being rounded up as we speak, and armed soldiers are boarding and quarantining your ship." He shrugged. "I thought it prudent after the forest incident. But why have you changed your allegiance Miss Harrison? Why didn't you just agree with The Director as usual and follow orders?"
She glanced towards Martin, saw his smile of reassurance.
"Personal reasons."
The Controller, in turn, allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. His belief in Martin Lichfield had not been misplaced.
"I believe it's the truth," said Martin. "Particularly after the reaction of Miss Harrison's entourage. Why else would they try and kill us both?"
"I had thought of that myself Lieutenant," said the Controller.
Martin saw Tina reach out her hand and he took it in his own, squeezing her fingers gently. He felt the slight tremble in her grip and began to realise some of the enormous courage and conviction it had taken for her to turn on her company as she had done. He knew enough about Reagold to know it was as intoxicating, hypnotic and indoctrinating as any of the extreme sects of the Larnian faith that arose on some of the myriad colonial and ex-colonial worlds in the galaxy. To break such conditioning, to stand up and denounce Reagold as she had done, took more courage than he could imagine. He squeezed her hand tighter, feeling guilty that he could not return the love she felt for him, the love that had helped make her decision about Reagold and her future.
"I still find it hard to believe," said the Controller, facing Martin and Tina. "However, I would be foolish to ignore the possibility, especially since the death of Leader Lane and the takeover by the Szuiltans."
Tina smiled in relief and returned Martin's squeeze with her own fingers.
"I will order an immediate mobilisation and the return of the main fleet from deep space duty. If they do invade, we will be ready for them. Their breaking of the old agreement will force the colonies to take our side. This will mean the end for..."
The sound of gunshots close by broke into the Controller's words. Gunshots and explosions.
"What's happening?" shouted the Controller as the three members of his personal guard who were in the room rushed to cover the door.
Martin pushed Tina towards the wall as the gunfire increased, automatic weapons joining what had at first sounded like single shots. It was closer too, Martin realised, and not just from beyond the door. There seemed to be firefights happening on all sides.
"Give me a gun!" shouted Martin.
The soldier nearest to him pulled his handgun from his holster and threw it to Martin just as an explosion ripped the door off its hinges.
Martin was knocked to the ground by the blast, as surely as if someone had lifted him from his feet and physically thrown him. As he shook his head clear, he saw his three
colleagues sprawled among the wreckage of the door and the rubble from the surrounding wall. None of them were moving. He had to presume they were dead.
He looked towards Tina. She looked stunned, frightened, but alive. The Controller, too, was moving, pushing himself to his feet, a volatile mixture of rage and fear twisting his face.
"What is the meaning of this?" he roared at the figures entering the room, weapons drawn and ready.
Martin recognised the uniforms worn by the soldiers. Terramarine Corp. His old unit!
"This is mutiny, punishable by death!" shouted the Controller, aiming his tirade at those soldiers who now faced him, their weapons trained on him. "Who is in command here?"
"We are, Controller."
Martin recognised the voice, stayed still on the ground. They had not paid him or Tina any attention so far and, suddenly realising who was behind this coup, he wanted it to stay that way.
High Priests Loadra and Zeina strode between the honour guard of Terramarine Corp. soldiers, closely followed by the Commander-in-chief of the military, Markland.
"You!" The Controller spat the word out with venom. "What are you doing, you idiot?"
Loadra only smiled, drew a handgun from beneath his robe, and shot the Controller point blank in the face.
He stepped over the fallen body and laughed.
"Finally, we are in control."
Chapter 59
"There's no one here," cried John as he, Ursa, Steve, Jason and Isabelle clattered down the cellar steps.
Ursa said nothing, but stood tense and motionless, glaring at the litter-strewn darkness that had, just hours previously, been home to Walker and his rebels.
"I thought they said they would be here for another day or so?" John's voice was on the edge of hysteria as he ran about the cellar, checking all alcoves, all shadows and corners, desperate for a sign, a note, anything to say what had happened.
"They've gone, all right?" snapped Isabelle. "Stop moaning about it. We've got enough problems."
"But Walker said..."