Penumbra

16

Bennett woke by degrees, his memory returning in disordered fragments. For some reason he recalled the ruin of the alien temple first, and then the crash-landed starship. Only then were these images superseded by the events of the night before: Ten Lee and Mackendrick’s capture, the blow to his head and what he had overheard before passing out.

He opened his eyes, expecting a renewal of the pain, but he felt only a dull throbbing where he’d been struck. He was in a wood-panelled room, fragrant with a scent like that of pine. He was no longer lying on the floor but in a comfortable bed. He sat up and stared down the length of his body. He was wearing clean undergarments, not his own. His flight-suit was folded over the back of a chair next to the bed.

There was no guard in the room with him, no interrogator.

He swung himself out of bed and pulled on his flight-suit. He stood and walked to the end of the room and stared through the floor-to-ceiling picture window.

The view was spectacular in its alien beauty. Tenebrae was half risen, its equatorial diameter spanning the entire length of the near horizon. Its opal light spilled over the terraces that marked the various levels of the valley like contour lines. A hundred domes sparkled like beads of dew made monstrous. Above them, lining the far side of the valley, was a forest of wind turbines. As he absorbed the scene he made out the tiny figures of people working on the narrow, stepped fields, and vehicles making their slow way up the switchback track that climbed from the valley bottom.

Only then, as if in reaction to the idyllic scene before him, did he recall what he had heard the night before. He recollected the voice that had wanted them dead, the other, patriarchal voice that counselled less severe measures. Well, he was relieved that the patriarch had won the day, but something was not right on Penumbra. They had matters they clearly wanted to keep hidden, and would even consider murder to do so.

He turned at the sound of a door opening, expecting a colonist. Ten Lee peered through, her face brightening when she saw him. She padded across to Bennett, pressed her head to his chest and held him in an uncharacteristic embrace.

“Joshua, we didn’t know what happened to you! The attack was so sudden.”

She pulled her head away and looked up at him, frowning at the bruise on the side of his head.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I followed you here.” He smiled. “So much for my attempt to free you.”

She looked up at him like a frightened child. “They were human, Joshua. I’m sure they were human.”

“Colonists,” he said. “They crash-landed.”

“They told you?”

“I…” He paused and considered telling her about his discovery of the liner. “Later, Ten. Where’s Mackendrick? We need to talk over what happened.”

“In the middle room, along the passage.”

She took his hand and pulled him from the room and along a corridor. She knocked on the next door and pushed it open.

Mackendrick was in the process of zipping his flight-suit. He looked up as Bennett and Ten Lee entered, came forward without a word and embraced him. He felt the wiry old man in his arms, emotion constricting his throat.

“Thank Christ you’re okay, Josh!”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Bennett said.

Mackendrick saw his bruised head. “What happened, Josh?”

Bennett sat on the bed between Ten Lee and Mack. “I followed you here. Someone saw me and gave me this.” He fingered the bruise. “Before I passed out I heard them talking. They didn’t know who we were, or rather they thought we were terrorists.” He looked from Mack to Ten. “Something’s going on here. They talked about killing us, but decided against it. Instead they’re going to destroy the ship and keep us here—they said they need scientists. They’ll offer us places in their community.” He told them what he’d overheard, the mention of people called Quineau and Klien, the cryptic line about their not finding out.

“Who are Quineau and Klien?” Ten Lee asked.

“I’ve no idea. They didn’t say. I got the impression that Quineau had left Penumbra to tell Earth what was happening here, and that Klien had tried to follow and kill him. I think they assumed we came here because of Quineau.”

Mackendrick was staring through the picture window at the bulk of the gas giant lifting itself through the morning sky.

“We’ll tell them we crash-landed in the mountains north of here, okay?” he said. “We’ll say the ship was destroyed. That way they might not look for it. We’ll make no mention of trying to get away from here.”

“And what is our story when they ask why we came to Penumbra?” Ten Lee asked. “They might be suspicious. If they think that this fellow Quineau sent us…”

Mackendrick considered, and said at last, “We’ll tell them a version of the truth, that we were on a survey/exploratory mission, charting the arm. They should have no reason not to believe us.”

“And then?” Bennett asked.

“Then we try to find out what’s going on.” He looked from Bennett to Ten Lee. “You don’t want to run back to the ship at the first opportunity, do you?”

Bennett was the first to reply. “I don’t want to be stranded here, Mack. The longer we hang on, the more likely they are to locate the Cobra.”

“Not if we tell them that we crashed in the mountains,” Ten Lee said.

“But the grass of the plain shows our tracks. All they have to do is follow them back to the ship.”

“There was a storm last night,” Mackendrick told him. “Our tracks would’ve been obliterated. I say we hang on, find out what’s going on here. Ten Lee?”

She nodded, her expression serious. “I too think we should wait and investigate this place.”

Bennett said, “Okay. But we’ve got to be careful. Some of these people would gladly kill us without a second thought.”

“That’s settled, then,” Mackendrick said. “We play the innocent, stranded scientists. We accept their invitation to become part of their society. All the time, we keep our eyes and ears open.”

They talked on, going over what Bennett had overheard, trying to piece together a view of this society from mere fragments of arbitrary information.

Perhaps an hour later they heard a door open in the corridor.

“This is it,” Mackendrick reminded them. “From now on we play dumb.”

They stood and faced the door, Bennett unsure what to expect.

A woman knocked and entered the room. She was in her fifties or sixties and wore a simple brown frock, belted at the waist, and sandals. Bennett noticed that affixed to the collar of her frock was a metal brooch in the shape of a cross.

She smiled disarmingly. “Here you are.” She looked at them each in turn. “Sabine Deauchamps, representing the Council of Elders. I’d normally extend a warm welcome to our planet of Homefall, but after your treatment last night I suspect any overtures of hospitality would fall on deaf ears.”

“You can say that again,” Bennett said.

The woman adopted a pained expression. “Please, allow me to explain. A terrible mistake was made. We’ve been suffering an increasing frequency of attacks from… I suppose you would call them terrorists. They are a faction who oppose the governing body of Homefall. We are a peaceable community, averse to violence, but when our opponents resort to criminal tactics we find ourselves in the position of having to defend ourselves.”

“Hence our arrest and detention,” Mackendrick said.

Deauchamps gestured. “Please, if you would look at the situation from our point of view,” she said, with a reasonableness that Bennett found almost convincing. “Our patrol came across armed strangers who we knew were not of our community. What was the likelihood of these strangers having arrived from off-world, after we’ve endured almost a hundred years of seclusion? The patrol did what it had been trained to do: detain these armed strangers who they assumed, wrongly in the circumstances, could only be terrorists. It was not long before the mistake was realised.” She looked at Bennett. “I can only apologise on behalf of the guard who attacked you.”

She paused, then went on. “We don’t know the reason for your arrival on Homefall, of course—we assume you are an exploration team—but we’ll aid your stay here however we can. There’s just one precaution we must take. We’re concerned for the safety of your ship. The terrorists will take the first opportunity to attack and disable it as their cause wouldn’t be helped if we established trading links with the rest of the Expansion. If you could tell me of its present whereabouts, I’ll immediately despatch a patrol to ensure its safety.”

Bennett glanced at Mackendrick.

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary,” the old man said. “We were caught in a storm on entry and came down in the mountains to the north. Our ship was irreparably disabled. We managed to salvage supplies and the transporter, but little else.”

Deauchamps considered his words, nodding with concerned understanding. “I’ll tell the council,” she said. “We’ll be convening a meeting this afternoon. My fellow elders would like to question you about your mission, and your long-term plans. I hope you don’t consider this an imposition. We’ve been isolated for so long, and suddenly to have visitors from our homeworld…

“You must be hungry. You’ll find a meal prepared in the dining room. In one hour I’ll send someone to escort you to the council chambers. Until then…” She inclined her head in farewell and left the room.

“I can see why they elected Madame Deauchamps to make the overtures,” Mackendrick declared. “One smooth operator. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve swallowed her little speech whole.”

“She gave the game away by asking about the ship,” Bennett said. “You could almost smell her need to get her hands on it.”

“I want to know more about the so-called terrorists,” Mackendrick said, “In all likelihood, these are the people we should be dealing with. The friends of our enemies, et cetera. If something is rotten in this society, then they’ll know all about it.”

“She didn’t ask if we’d been contacted by Quineau.”

“Probably didn’t want to sound too inquisitive. They’ll no doubt get round to it at the meeting later.”

Mackendrick led the way along the corridor to a comfortably appointed lounge overlooking the stepped terraces. A table was laid with a colourful array of food: great cobs of white bread, various cheeses, sliced meats and native fruits. There were even pots of what turned out to be a passable imitation of coffee.

Bennett helped himself to a plate of bread and cheese and a mug of the coffee substitute. He moved to a window seat with a view of the steeply descending valley, spectacular in its breadth and depth. Only from very close to the window could the valley bottom be seen, the sparkling filament of a silver river twisting its way through a series of green fields.

The few people tending the nearby terraces were dressed simply, the women in pastel-coloured one-piece frocks, the men in lightweight trousers and smocks. The garments were obviously of man-made, manufactured material, and other aspects of Homefall—the wind turbines and crawlers—suggested a well-developed manufacturing industry somewhere. Bennett guessed that this valley was not the extent of the colony.

He finished his breakfast and tried the door leading outside. To his surprise, it was open. He had expected it to be locked, the three of them to be under benign but strict house arrest. He stepped outside. There were no guards in sight. It occurred to him with sudden alarm that the casualness with which they were being treated was a result of the colonists having already located, and disabled, the Cobra.

The door opened and Mackendrick joined him, taking a deep breath and staring down into the valley.

Bennett said, “A worst case scenario, Mack. The colonists find the ship and destroy it, blaming it on the terrorists. What do we do then?” He considered the irony: just four months ago, on Earth, he had been dreaming of life on a colony world.

“What do you suggest, Josh? That we should make a run for it? Take the transporter, or sneak out on foot at night?” He shook his head. “How far do you think we’d get? If they haven’t found the ship, then we’d be leading them straight to it. It’ll be far safer if we lie low, let time pass, find out what’s going on here and then make a break for it.”

Bennett nodded. “Put like that it does make sense. It’s just that the thought of being stranded here…”

Mackendrick smiled. “I suppose there are worse places to spend the last year of my life.” He looked at Bennett. “But don’t worry, Josh. I’ve arranged for a back-up ship to set off here in a year, if you haven’t arrived back by then.”

Bennett nodded, at once relieved at the thought that there would be another way off the planet, and disturbed by the reminder of Mackendrick’s illness.

Five minutes later the small figure of a young woman made her way up a winding footpath, raising a hand in greeting as she reached the garden. “Miriam James,” she said. “If you’re ready, I’ll show you to the council chambers.”

Mackendrick moved back inside to tell Ten Lee.

Bennett watched the woman as she strolled to the edge of the terrace. Miriam James was small and tanned, with cropped black hair. Unlike the other colonists he had seen today, she was dressed in green combat fatigues and carried a rifle. He wondered if she had been part of the patrol that had fired on the others last night. On the lapel of her combat jacket was a small silver crucifix, with a tiny circle beneath each crossbar.

“Why the armed guard, Miriam?” he asked now. “Are we under arrest?”

She turned to him, smiling. She seemed an unlikely combatant. “Of course not.” She patted her rifle. “This is for your own protection. The terrorists have been known to strike at the heart of the settlement. If they decide that you might have information valuable to them…” She nodded up the incline to the terrace that overlooked the building. “That’s why you’ve been under armed protection all night.”

Bennett looked up and saw two green-uniformed guards standing on the road and watching the building.

“Just who or what are the terrorists?” he enquired.

She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. She shook her head. “Later,” she said. “The Council of Elders will answer all your questions.”

Mackendrick and Ten Lee stepped from the building. Miriam James led the way from the terrace and down a tortuously winding footpath between serried fruit brushes and terraces of a wheat analogue.

The council chamber was a dome so big that the hillside had been excavated to accommodate its diameter. It was surrounded by a plinth of timber steps, and as Bennett followed the others around the walkway, he recognised the dome as the old astrodome cannibalised from the liner. The lower metre of its curving flank was banded with the red, white and blue tricolour. Above the entrance hatch was a large silver crucifix with a circle beneath each crossbar.

They stepped into the chamber, fitted out with rising tiers of timber seats for the assembly of the council. In the middle of the floor a hexagon of benches had been arranged informally. Six colonists, three men and three women—Bennett recognised Sabine Deauchamps among them—were already seated and awaiting their arrival.

Miriam stood guard at the entrance.

Deauchamps stood in greeting. “Welcome to the Council of Homefall,” she said. “I trust you ate well? If I might introduce my fellow elders…”

As their title suggested, Bennett estimated that all six men and women were over fifty, some as old as eighty. They regarded their visitors with hospitable smiles and nods. They seemed, he thought, about as threatening as the activities committee of an old people’s home.

He reminded himself that appearances were often deceptive.

A small, portly red-faced man stepped forward and shook them by the hand. “Welcome to Homefall, messieurs, madame. I’m Edward De Channay, elected chairman of the council. Please, be seated.”

It was the voice, rich and cultured, of the man Bennett had last night termed the patriarch. He had expected someone tall and silver-haired, not dumpy and balding.

He sat down on one of the benches between Ten Lee and Mackendrick.

Deauchamps said, “This is by way of welcoming you to Homefall, an informal meeting to acquaint you with our society, and to allow us to get to know you.” The other council members nodded in agreement. “There’ll be a more formal welcoming in a day or two, a dinner at which you’ll get to meet the citizens of the valley. I know that Chairman De Channay has one or two questions, as well as many answers to your own questions, no doubt.”

De Channay cleared his throat. “Thank you, Sabine.” He looked from Mackendrick and Bennett to Ten Lee. “Of course, your arrival here has been as much a surprise for us as I suspect it has been for you. A pleasant surprise, might I add. For over ninety years we’ve gone about our lives on Homefall with little hope of establishing contact with the rest of the Expansion. We came here by accident, a fortuitous accident, as it turned out.”

“The Rim wasn’t your destination?” Bennett asked.

“Far from it. Our ancestors were members of the Church of Phobos and Deimos, founded on Mars in the last century. They elected, more than one hundred years ago, to start a colony on a planet where they might practise their religion without outside influence. To this end they set off for a newly discovered, habitable planet in the Sirius system. The details are vague, as the accident happened so many years ago, but an error in the navigation system resulted in the ship being flung far off course. Our ancestors emerged from the void many light years from here, with insufficient energy supplies to effect a return to inhabited space. For two years they explored the few star systems in the region, before chancing upon Homefall, as they christened their new home. In attempting to land they crashed, suffering many casualties. However, they rallied and founded the settlement you see here. For ninety years we’ve prospered, thanks to the will of God, with only occasional setbacks along the way.”

“The terrorists?” Mackendrick observed.

“The terrorists being a case in point.”

“What exactly,” Bennett asked, “are they opposing?”

He tried to discern discomfort in the manner of De Channay, but the elder was practised in the ways of duplicity.

“They’re anarchists and troublemakers opposed to the rule of the council. For almost fifteen years they’ve mounted an armed war against society. The precise politics of the situation need not concern you at this time.”

He paused and changed the subject. “Fellow Elder Deauchamps told me that your ship came down in the mountains. I only mention it as it might be a wise move if we sent out a team to salvage the wreckage, before the terrorists locate the site and destroy what we might be able to use.”

Bennett was aware of the eyes of the elders fixed on Mackendrick, who nodded in broad agreement. “I don’t have the precise co-ordinates to hand, but I know the general whereabouts. I doubt, though, that the terrorists would easily locate the wreckage.”

“You are unaware of the resources of our opponents,” De Channay replied.

The man seated next to De Channay, dark-haired and younger than the others, spoke up. “Your transporter was in remarkably good condition considering that it had suffered a crash-landing.”

Bennett’s throat went dry. He recognised the voice. It was the man who last night had wanted them killed.

Mackendrick nodded. “It was practically the only thing we could salvage from the wreckage, and then we had to cannibalise it from the three other transporters we carried.” He looked up, staring De Channay in the eye.

The chairman nodded. “I take it that you are a scientific survey team? Were you sent here, by any chance, as a result of Quineau?”

Mackendrick repeated the name. “I’m sorry… the name means nothing. Who is Quineau?”

Bennett and Ten Lee looked suitably blank.

De Channay said, “In the crash-landing our ancestors suffered extensive damage to the two scout ships we carried aboard the liner. For many years we didn’t have the technological or industrial expertise and resources to repair them. Only twenty years ago were we able to begin the necessary repairs. Then we sent a council elder, Pierre Quineau, to attempt to establish contact with Earth or the colonies and tell of our survival. We’ve heard nothing since, and had given up hope of ever receiving word from or contact with the Expansion.”

Mackendrick was shaking his head. “We came out to the Rim on an independent scientific survey mission, charting new stars and prospecting potentially habitable planets.”

“So the Expansion is moving out to the Rim?” the elder asked.

“I’m afraid not. We are an independent company working outside the jurisdiction and remit of the Expansion. Scientific curiosity, the spirit of adventure, brought us this far out.”

“You’re not part of a concerted exploration of the arm? Can we hope that your loss will be noted and a rescue mission set up?”

“As I said, we are an independent company. Or should that be, we were? There is little or no hope of rescue.”

De Channay spread his hands. “Then I’m afraid, as we do not have the capabilities to manufacture void-going ships ourselves, that until such time as the next ship does happen this way, you are stranded on Homefall with us.”

Mackendrick nodded. “It would seem that way.”

“Then all I can do in the circumstances is avail you of the hospitality of the Council of Elders,” De Channay said. “We can find you suitable positions in the manufactories on the coast, or if you would prefer to farm…” He gestured. “But you have hardly arrived here and I am talking of employment! You’ll need time to settle in, become accustomed to the ways of society on Homefall. I’m afraid that after the sophistication of Earth you might find us somewhat lacking, but I’m sure that in the circumstances… If you have any questions we might be able to answer, my council is at your disposal.”

Mackendrick nodded. “From orbit we detected spectacular ruins to the south of here,” he said.

“Ah, the ruins of the Ancients, as we call them. When we discovered the ruins, and others in the vicinity, we assumed that we were not alone on the planet.”

“But the aliens are extinct?” Ten Lee asked.

De Channay nodded. “We’ve found evidence that there was a great civilisation spanning the globe, intelligent but never industrial. We assume some catastrophe befell their race. Archaeological records date their fall to around five thousand years ago. Perhaps, once you’ve settled in, you’d like to visit the various ruins along the coast?” He looked around at his colleagues. “If there are no more questions? Very well.” He addressed Mackendrick. “For the next few days we’d be pleased if you’d make yourselves at home in the valley. Unfortunately it will be necessary to have armed guards accompany you at all times, in the interests of security and your own safety. Perhaps after lunch you’d like to visit our settlement on the coast? Until then...”

They exchanged handshakes, and the Council of Elders bowed and left the dome.

The guard, Miriam James, appeared at Bennett’s side. “If you’d like to return to the lodge…”

They followed her back up the twisting path, attracting the attention of colonists who paused in their work in the fields and watched them pass. Bennett looked into their faces and saw only expressions of wariness and suspicion.

James remained outside on the lawn, rifle braced across her chest, while Bennett followed Mackendrick and Ten Lee into the kitchen. They found the table set for lunch, a tureen of steaming soup awaiting them, alongside plates of bread and cheese. Bennett sat down and helped himself to a cup of the coffee substitute.

“So…” he said. “What did you make of that?”

Ten Lee sat on the window seat and hugged her shins. “If we didn’t know they were keeping something from us,” she said, “I’d say they couldn’t have been friendlier.”

Bennett grunted. “The friendship of necessity, Ten. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I could spit.”

Mackendrick looked up from his coffee. “But do you think they believed us?”

“About the ship?” Bennett shrugged. “Going on what I heard last night, they wouldn’t take any chances. I can’t imagine they’d sit back and quietly accept that we crash-landed. They’ll be scouring the area for the Cobra right now.”

“And the terrorists?” Mackendrick said. “De Channay seemed pretty reluctant to fill us in on that front.”

Bennett said, “I’d like to know what they’re trying to keep from us.”

They stared at each other in silence.

“All we can be certain of,” Mackendrick said, “is that they want to keep us here, and that they want to keep the rest of the Expansion out.”

“What about Quineau?” Ten Lee asked. “They said they sent him to make contact, but last night you thought that they sent someone called Klien to stop him?”

“They’re lying,” Bennett replied. “They obviously want us to think they sent Quineau, that they want to be found.”

Ten Lee smiled to herself. “I’m sure my Rimpoche didn’t send me all the way out here to play detective,” she said. “But now that I am here, I admit I’m intrigued.”

“You’re becoming too involved in this illusion, Ten,” Bennett warned.

Ten Lee gave him a pleasant scowl.

“So we sit tight and see what happens,” Mackendrick said.

Bennett nodded. “As you said earlier, there’s little else we can do. At least,” he added, “the coffee substitute is drinkable.”

After lunch Miriam James collected them for their journey to the coastal settlement. “We’ll be travelling in a convoy of crawlers,” she said as they left the lodge and climbed the hillside to the track.

Tenebrae hung overhead, gales swirling the bands of its gaseous fleece. The day was humid, an electric charge in the air filling the valley with an atmosphere of pre-storm expectancy.

Three balloon-tyred crawlers were waiting on the track above the lodge, the first and last vehicle swarming with green-uniformed guards. De Channay was standing beside the middle crawler.

Ten Lee climbed on to the flat-bed with Miriam James and another armed guard, while Bennett and Mackendrick occupied the front seat next to De Channay.

“We’re going to the settlement of New Marseilles on the coast,” he said. “A journey of some twenty kilometres.”

De Channay started the motor and the crawler purred into life and accelerated down the rough track. Instead of descending into the valley, they took a turning through a high pass. On the crest of the rise, Bennett stared at the revealed scene. The mountainside fell away steeply, the incline striped with cultivated terraces. Ahead and far below, between an embrasure of headlands, the sea shimmered like silver lame made liquid. The first balloon-tyred vehicle bounced ahead of them, the half dozen guards staring up the mountainside, rifles at the ready.

“Three years after the crash-landing,” De Channay was saying, “our forefathers moved to the valley. The land was fertile and sheltered from the frequent storms. Over a period of years, as we expanded and developed our manufacturing industries, we settled the coast. Now New Marseilles is Homefall’s largest centre of population, home to some ten thousand citizens.”

“Are you anywhere near building further starships?” Mackendrick asked.

De Channay glanced at him, shaking his head. “Sadly, no. Perhaps in twenty, thirty years…”

“And yet you repaired a shuttle twenty years ago?”

De Channay nodded, staring ahead. “Unfortunately, we don’t possess the mining capabilities to extract the necessary materials to produce more ships.”

“About the power structure of Homefall,” Mackendrick said. “You said you were an elected Council of Elders?”

“I used the term ‘elected’, I must admit, only loosely. We are not a democracy as such. The population doesn’t have a free vote in anything other than the equivalent of local council affairs. The Council of Elders is a self-elected body of members of the Church of Phobos and Deimos—”

“A meritocracy?” Mackendrick suggested. Bennett detected a certain irony in his tone.

De Channay pursed his lips. “More of a theocracy. The power structure is based on the system of rank that maintained among the church officials who crewed the liner before the crash-landing. It was only ever meant to be a temporary affair, until such time as the colony found its footing, but as things turned out it proved successful and we’ve never seen any reason to change to another form of government.”

“Convenient for the self-elected members,” Mackendrick commented.

De Channay shifted uncomfortably. “The population is happy with the system,” he said. “They’ve had no complaints.”

Bennett refrained from mentioning the terrorists.

So, whatever it was that Homefall did not want known to the Expansion at large, the duplicity was sustained by the system of self-electing its ruling members. The Council of Elders of the Church of Phobos and Deimos, quite apart from running the affairs of the colony, was also in a position to ensure that the colony remained isolated.

No wonder, Bennett thought, that they had overreacted when we arrived on Homefall.

They edged around the flank of the mountain on a track barely wide enough to take the crawlers. Bennett glanced down to his left, saw the vertiginous drop, then looked away and kept his eyes fixed ahead.

Perhaps one hour later, still clinging to the high track like tiny insects, the first balloon-tyred vehicle came to a halt. De Channay braked, muttering with impatience. One of the guards on the first vehicle jumped down and examined the battery beneath the hood. A minute later he stood and waved his arms over his head to De Channay.

Something in the posture of the guard and the attentiveness of the others on the back of the vehicle filled Bennett with a sense of foreboding. He was aware of movement behind him. He glanced back and saw Miriam James on the flat-bed. As he watched, she lifted her rifle.

De Channay sighed and made to climb from his seat. Oddly, Bennett wanted to say something to stop the elder, delay him from whatever was about to happen. He said nothing, and watched with appalled fascination as De Channay climbed from the crawler and walked towards the stalled vehicle.

He was halfway between the crawlers when the firing began.

Miriam James fired the shot that hit De Channay between the shoulder blades. Bennett ducked, the blue light of the laser blinding him. He heard James grunt with satisfaction, and when his eyes adjusted he saw the elder’s body fall in slow motion. A silence stretched and no one moved, as if the players of the drama were too stunned or disbelieving to take in the consequences of what had happened—and then all hell broke loose.

The guards on the first truck sprinted towards Bennett’s crawler and, using it as cover, began firing at the third balloon-tyred vehicle. Fire was returned, lasers and conventional projectile shots which narrowly missed the crawler. Bennett was aware of fire from above; he saw dark shapes in the mountain appear and disappear as they fired down on the third crawler.

He tried to make sense of what was happening. Obviously some of the guards were in on the ambush; the figures on the mountainside were terrorists; and the guards in the third crawler? They were evidently militia loyal to the elders.

Miriam James screamed, “Out! Climb down!” her face transformed into something ugly, an adrenalin-charged mask of terror and delight.

She almost dragged Mackendrick from the crawler. Bennett dived after him and followed as they staggered across the track and behind the cover of a rock. The air sang with the sound of the fire-fight—the burn of laser charges and the ricocheting whine of bullets. Bennett looked around for Ten Lee. A guard was pushing her from the back of the crawler. She landed nimbly, crouched to gain her bearings, and then launched herself across the track towards the cover of the rock.

The bullet hit her with a spectacular force, all the more dramatic for being unseen. One second she was sprinting from the crawler, the next she was sprawling across the track. She hit the ground hard and lay very still, a small red shape on the sandy ground, bullets chipping spurts of dust all around her.

Bennett screamed and ran from the cover of the rock, ignoring shouts from Mackendrick and Miriam James exhorting him to get back. He reached Ten Lee and scooped her up, aware only of the pumping of his heart, the rattle of bullets against the nearby vehicle. He hugged her to him like a child and staggered back to the rock, James dragging him to safety amid the din of the fire-fight.

He scanned Ten Lee in panic, trying to assess the extent of her injuries and fearing the worst. Her torso was fine—no blood!—and her head… no blood there either. Then he saw the stain spreading through the fabric of her flight-suit. She had been hit in the upper leg. He felt a wave of relief, followed by panic at the amount of blood she was losing. The material of the legging had been ripped by the bullet. He tore it the rest of the way and used it as a tourniquet to staunch the flow of blood. It seemed, though he was no expert, to be only a flesh wound. Ten Lee was staring up at him, childish disbelief in her big eyes. Bennett stroked her cheek. “You’ll be fine, Ten. Stay calm. Chant a mantra or something.”

He looked up, praying for an end to this hell.

The guards from the third truck were being picked off by the terrorists high above. Their bodies littered the track, blood soaking into the dust. Still the survivors exchanged fire, bobbing up from behind the truck to loose off more laser fire.

Miriam James jumped up to fire at the third truck, and then slid down behind the rock again. Her eyes found Mackendrick. She said something to him, and at first Bennett failed to register the words. They seemed divorced from the fact of the battle raging around them.

“So Quineau got through?” she said.

Bennett heard the words, but had difficulty understanding their significance. Only slowly did he begin to comprehend what James was talking about.

“We met,” Mackendrick replied, glancing at Bennett. “He told me.”

James grabbed Mackendrick’s arm. The old man winced at the force of the gesture. “But did he give you the softscreen? Have you got it with you?” There was something close to desperation in her voice.

“He gave me the softscreen. But’—and here Mackendrick looked up at Bennett again, as if apologising for his deception—‘it was stolen from me.”

“Jesus! You haven’t got it? Christ!” She hit the rock with the palm of her hand, tears streaming down her face.

Bennett looked at Mackendrick. “Mack…” He shook his head. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Josh, I couldn’t. Please believe me. I’ll tell you later, explain everything, okay?”

Bennett closed his eyes. He wanted to believe Mackendrick, but at the same time could not quell the sour feeling of betrayal rising in his throat like bile.