Penumbra

17

The muffled crump of an explosion shattered Bennett’s thoughts. He looked back along the road. The third crawler was a twisted mass of metal and rubber engulfed in roaring flames. He saw militia-men running, human torches cavorting in pain, and looked away.

Miriam James kicked him. “Get up! Back to the crawler. It won’t be long before they send out a patrol.”

“What about Ten? She’s injured!”

“We have medics where we’re going,” James said. “She’ll be well looked after.”

Bennett stood, lifting Ten Lee. She was no weight at all as he carried her at a run to the crawler and eased her on to the flat-bed. He climbed up after her, holding her head in his lap as the crawler started up and tore off down the track, Mackendrick in front with James. Other green-uniformed guards had started the first vehicle and it accelerated ahead, away from the scene of death and conflagration.

Ten minutes later they slowed. Bennett peered ahead. The first truck was turning off the track, seemingly into the very face of the mountain itself. Their crawler followed and plunged into darkness. They were passing through a tunnel bored into the mountainside. Bennett closed his eyes and sat back in the padded seat, holding Ten’s head. Her small hand found his fingers and squeezed.

They seemed to travel through the pitch black of the mountain’s heart for long, uncomfortable hours. Bennett nodded off, but came awake often when the crawler jolted over uneven rock. He lost all sense of duration. Ten Lee’s fingers were still clutching his, and from time to time he heard her soft moans of pain.

Ahead, at last, he made out a source of faint light. They emerged from the mountain, into the pale opal glow of the setting gas giant. They trundled along another narrow track, the land falling away precipitously to the right. All around, rearing craggy rock filled Bennett with a sense of lifeless hostility. They seemed to be moving ever higher, climbing through an endless series of sweeping tracks carved laboriously from the side of sheer cliff faces. Bennett closed his eyes and considered the terrible irony of surviving the fire-fight only to die when the transporter plunged into a ravine.

They came to yet another bend in the track, but beyond this Bennett made out the purple sweep of a small vale dotted with habitat domes and A-frames. The crawler slowed, skirting a road that hugged the face of the mountain.

Beneath a great sheltering overhang Bennett saw a ragged collection of old vehicles, antique transporters and automobiles. Other vehicles were drawing up beneath the crag, armed men and women jumping down and embracing each other.

The crawler passed into the shadow of the rock, slowed and came to a halt. Wearily, Bennett lifted Ten Lee from the flat-bed and, carrying her in his arms with Mackendrick beside him, walked out of the shadow of the overhang towards a group of men and women climbing the incline of the valley to meet them.

“Mack,” he said. “What the hell’s going on? Who are all these people?”

Before Mackendrick could reply, a tall, bearded man stepped forward with outstretched arms. He embraced Mackendrick, touched Bennett on the shoulder and called for assistance for Ten Lee.

“Welcome to Sanctuary,” he said. “Hupcka. Hans Hupcka. Please, come this way.”

Bennett followed Hupcka down the sloping sward of purple grass, Ten Lee in his arms. Something in her eyes as she stared up at him, her lips pursed to fight the pain, reminded Bennett of a child’s trusting gaze.

“Where are we, Josh?” she said in a small voice.

“Wish I knew, Ten. They must be terrorists.”

But what Bennett could not work out was the nature of Mackendrick’s involvement with them.

They came to a large A-frame and Bennett climbed the steps into a spartanly furnished lounge. Mackendrick and Hupcka crossed the room and stepped out on to a veranda overlooking the slope of the plain, the two men deep in conversation. Bennett laid Ten Lee on a foam-form and within seconds a medic was in attendance, peeling away the makeshift bandage of her flight-suit legging and cleaning the wound. Bennett knelt beside her, holding her hand and smiling encouragement rather than view the bloody gash.

“You’re lucky, girl,” the medic said. “The bullet went straight through. An inch to the right and it would’ve hit a major artery. We’ll have this fixed up in no time.”

He gave her an injection in the thigh and stitched the gaping hole. Bennett had expected the medic to use a plasti-skin sealant, but they were not on Earth, now. An antiseptic needle and thread was about as good as they could expect.

Ten Lee squeezed Bennett’s hand. “I heard what Mack said back there, Joshua. Why did he lie to us?”

“I don’t know. He must have had his reasons.”

“But why didn’t he tell us that he knew Quineau?”

Mackendrick came from the veranda and sat next to Ten Lee on the foam-form. He looked at Bennett. “I couldn’t tell you anything. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what the situation was here. For all I knew the elders might’ve taken us into custody and tortured us for information. I couldn’t risk that happening.”

“They might have tortured you,” Bennett said.

“Of course, but that was a risk I had to take.”

Ten Lee tried to sit up. “What’s happening?”

The medic finished applying fresh bandage and Bennett eased Ten Lee into a sitting position. Others came up the steps and into the A-frame, Miriam James and four other green-uniformed guards. They were joined by two men and a woman in civilian dress, ragged and soiled versions of the simple fashions worn by the farmers Bennett had seen earlier. There was a hushed sense of anticipation about the group as they quietly settled themselves around the room, their eyes taking in Mackendrick, Bennett and Ten Lee.

Hans Hupcka pulled up a three-legged stool and sat before the gathering. He was a big man, perhaps in his late twenties, his beard and broad lintel brow giving him an imposing air of authority.

“We’ve waited a long time for your arrival,” he said, nodding at each of them in turn. He spoke English with the precision of someone to whom it was an acquired language. “We often despaired that you’d ever arrive. For fifteen years we’ve planned for this day. We planted sleepers in the militia; for a time we even had a man on the council itself, until he was discovered. In the interim, waiting for help from outside, we have waged a war with the regime known innocently as the Council of Elders.” Hupcka indicated James and the other men and women. “This is my own council. They might call us terrorists, but we prefer to call ourselves rebels.”

Bennett leaned forward. “We’ve been hearing a lot about someone called Quineau,” he said. “The elders said that he left Homefall to get word of the colony to the Expansion. But the council sent Klien to eliminate him.” He looked at Mackendrick. “I presume Quineau reached Earth, where he contacted you?” Bennett considered the many questions he wanted to ask, not the least of which was why Quineau had sought out Mackendrick.

What Hupcka said next cleared up that mystery. “Quineau didn’t head specifically for Earth—anywhere in the inhabited Expansion would have done. He went with the intention of locating the representatives of one of the big shipping lines or exploration companies—Patel or Redwood; we were not aware of the Mackendrick Foundation at the time—who might view the fact that Homefall was Earth-norm and inhabitable as a reason to open up lines of trade and communications. He obviously achieved this, though not quite as fast as we hoped.”

“It’s fortunate that Quineau reached the cone of Expansion at all,” Mackendrick added, “and pure luck that he came to my attention. His ship was poorly equipped, in a bad state of repair. It was a miracle he achieved transfer to and from the void in one piece.”

Hupcka smiled. “He departed in somewhat hurried and dangerous circumstances,” he said.

“How did you find Quineau, Mr Mackendrick?” Miriam James asked.

“I didn’t,” Mackendrick answered. “One of my exploration vessels came across a small scout ship becalmed in regular space just inside the limit of the Expansion. They took the ship on board and found someone in the suspension unit. We learned that his name was Pierre Quineau. The ship had suffered massive systems failure in trans-c flight through the void; only an automatic eject program had brought it back into regular space. One of the systems failures meant that Quineau had been in suspension for over a year as the ship floated in space. When my men found him and gave medical assistance, he was irreparably brain-damaged.”

Hupcka shook his head. “But was he able to tell you about the expedition to the interior?”

“I was on Earth at the time of the discovery, and I wasn’t immediately notified of his rescue. I had many other matters to attend to. My engineers and computer specialists had been working to find out where the scout ship had originated as the systems failures had all but destroyed the record of its flight-path. The information they did find suggested that the ship had phased into the void at some location far out on the Rim, which they couldn’t believe. Ships didn’t explore that far afield, and as there were no colonies out there…

“This is when I was told of the mysterious star traveller. I was intrigued enough to travel to the colony world of Madrigal, where he was undergoing psychiatric treatment at a foundation medical centre. I found a man…” Mackendrick paused and looked around the group of staring faces. “He could only be described as not being in his right mind. At the time of our first meeting he was extremely violent and had to be forcefully restrained. I tried to talk to him, but his rantings made little sense. No one had ever survived more than a year in suspension and the psychiatrists diagnosed his symptoms as those produced by chronic suspension trauma.”

“Did he recover?” Hupcka asked.

Mackendrick shook his head. “I saw him three more times during the week I was on Madrigal, and he showed no signs of recovery.”

Miriam James said, “What did he tell you, Mr Mackendrick?”

“You must understand that he was barely coherent at the time. He ranted for hours in a mixture of French and English. He couldn’t even tell me the name of his planet. All he said was that he came from a world on the Rim, and that he’d been on an expedition, a long trek with two other men. He said that they’d walked into mountainous country and descended into a deep underground chamber. There he claimed that they’d discovered an alien race. He told me that the Ancients, as he called them, had incredible healing powers.” Mackendrick smiled. “Of course, I was far from convinced. I took his story for the rantings of a madman.”

“But didn’t he have the softscreen?” James asked.

Mackendrick nodded. “He told me about the screen. He’d told no one else, he said, because he could trust no one. Secreted aboard the scout ship was a softscreen recording of the exploration he undertook with his colleagues, Klien and Carstairs. I had my engineers search the ship. I was still on Madrigal when they found the screen. I watched it with Quineau in his hospital room.

“It showed the first week of the expedition, the long trek through high mountainous terrain, much of it through snow blizzards. They reached the entrance of the underground chamber and descended, but then the quality of the recording deteriorated drastically. There was very little light down there, and only shadows could be made out. The recording actually ends before Quineau and the others make contact with the aliens, if of course he was telling the truth. I left for Earth, taking the softscreen with me. I wanted to get it analysed, the underground shots computer-enhanced.”

Mackendrick stopped there, staring at his hands. He looked up, at Hupcka and the other rebels, and shook his head.

“When I reached Earth, I was contacted by the police authorities on Madrigal. Pierre Quineau had escaped from the grounds of the hospital while taking exercise, and had been found murdered in a public park a kilometre away. A woman had witnessed the shooting, and I requested a copy of the police computer-visual of her description of the killer. To my amazement it bore more than a marked resemblance to Quineau’s fellow explorer I’d seen on the softscreen recording, Klien. I began to wonder if there might be a grain of truth in Quineau’s story.”

Miriam James said, “You told me that the softscreen was stolen.”

Mackendrick nodded. “Shortly after I arrived on Earth, a thief broke into my house in Calcutta and stole it.”

Hupcka said, “So Klien killed Quineau, came to Earth and took the softscreen.”

Mackendrick was shaking his head. “That wasn’t possible. Quineau was killed on the twenty-fifth of May, and the softscreen was taken from my safe just two days later. It takes three days by starship to reach Earth from Madrigal. There was no way Klien could have murdered Quineau, boarded a ship and stolen the screen in Calcutta. Hard though it is to believe, the theft was just a terrible coincidence.”

“And it’s never been discovered?” James asked.

“I hired private detectives to hunt both Quineau’s killer and the softscreen, with no luck.” He paused. “So I decided to set about exploring the Rim for Quineau’s planet. I sent out uncrewed exploration ships to the sector of the Rim adjacent to where his ship was discovered, but of course the area we were searching was vast. It was no wonder it took us more than twelve years to locate Homefall.” He looked around the staring faces. “The rest you know.”

Hupcka smiled, almost regretfully. “We had hoped that Quineau would get through to the inhabited sector and alert Earth to the fact of our existence.” He looked from Bennett to Mackendrick. “I didn’t know Quineau, but he was a friend of my brother. Just over fourteen years ago he returned from the expedition to the interior alone, without Carstairs or Klien. The story was that Carstairs had died on the way back; we suspect that Klien killed him, though what exactly happened has never come to light.

“Quineau told Jan, my brother, an engineer working on the reconstruction of the scout ships, that he had to get off the planet, alert Earth to the fact of Homefall and what he’d discovered in the mountains. At that time on Homefall, the council was divided as to whether to re-contact the Expansion. Some wanted to, while a more conservative element was violently opposed to the idea. They had founded a viable community on Homefall, away from the perceived sins of the Expansion, and they didn’t want their Eden invaded. The pro-contact faction had held sway for some time, hence the rebuilding of the scout ships, but the anti-contact faction was gaining power. There was talk that the ships were to be destroyed. Quineau convinced Jan and others to help him flee the planet aboard one of the ships. It was pre-programmed with the flight-path to take it in the approximate direction of the Expansion. My brother planned to take the second scout ship and follow Quineau. He’d manufactured a device… I suppose you would call it a homing device, a small receiver designed to pick up a signal, and implanted it in the softscreen recording Quineau was to take with him. Quineau left Homefall aboard the scout ship one night a few weeks after returning from the interior.”

Hupcka paused there. He considered his words, then continued.

“The following day, my brother was arrested as he tried to board the second ship. Over a dozen other sympathisers were also arrested. They had copies of the softscreen recording made by Quineau, and these were taken and destroyed. Fortunately they did not find the receiver—Jan gave it to me shortly before his arrest, told me to bury it where it wouldn’t be discovered. Jan and the others were interrogated and tortured. They were never seen alive again and their bodies were never discovered.”

Hupcka fell silent. He looked up at last.

“Two days later Klien was despatched in the second ship to track down and kill Quineau. The conservative element of the Council of Elders gained ascendancy and routed the liberal forces. The rumour was that Quineau, Klien and Carstairs had discovered something in the mountains, something that the conservative elders didn’t want the Expansion, or the people of Homefall, to know about. They began rounding up everyone associated with Quineau and his sympathisers, and I managed to escape with a few others. We formed the resistance movement with friends and sympathisers of the men and women killed by the Council of Elders. We knew nothing of what Quineau and the others had discovered, just rumours that they’d come upon evidence that the Ancients, once thought to be extinct, actually still existed. We organised expeditions to the interior, trying to trace the route Quineau had taken to the underground caverns, but without a copy of the softscreen to guide the way, we had no luck. The land to the west is hostile and inhospitable—we lost many men and women in the search. For the past decade the elders have waged a ruthless war against us, and we have fought back as best we can, while continuing the search.”

Hupcka looked up and smiled at Mackendrick. “You can have no idea the joy we felt on hearing that people from Earth had landed on Homefall.” He gestured. “We are devastated that Klien achieved his aim of killing Quineau. That the softscreen should be lost… what a terrible irony.” He smiled sadly. “Your crash-landing here is the final cruel twist of fate. We had hoped that you might be able to return to Earth, with the receiver, and locate the stolen screen.”

Bennett felt something kick within him, a surge of excitement and at the same time fear. He looked across at Mackendrick.

“Perhaps you had better tell them, Josh,” Mackendrick said.

Hupcka looked up, alert. “Tell us what?”

Beside Bennett, Ten Lee gave a small laugh of delight.

“We didn’t crash-land,” Bennett said. “We told the council that so they wouldn’t go looking for the ship. It’s actually in full working order on the plain three hundred kilometres south of here.”

Hupcka stared, his expression shocked. “So perhaps we can defeat the council at last,” he said. “First, we’ve got to get you to the ship. Miriam, gather six of the fittest men and women. Ready two ground effect vehicles and report back to me in one hour.”

When James jumped up and hurried from the room, Hupcka turned to the other freedom fighters and issued orders in rapid French.

Bennett said to Mackendrick, “Ten’s in no fit state to travel, Mack. And with respect, I wouldn’t put you through another four months of suspension.”

Ten Lee touched his hand. “Can you pilot the ship alone?”

“I’ll just take twice as long with the checks,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to Earth and do my best to trace the softscreen.”

Ten Lee squeezed his fingers. “I want to see the Ancients,” she said, determination in the set of her features.

Bennett looked up suddenly at Mackendrick. “Good God. You knew you were dying… Quineau told you that the Ancients had healing powers.”

Mackendrick gave a sad smile. “I hope you understand why I put you all at so much risk,” he said. “When I first heard Quineau’s story I was intrigued, and then I was diagnosed five years ago, and I knew I had to come here. It’s a long shot, Josh. Perhaps Quineau’s story really was nothing more than the ravings of a lunatic. But I want to find out for myself.”

Bennett thought of Ella, and how modern medicine had been unable to heal her, then he cursed himself for trawling up memories and emotions he should have worked through long ago. Hell, for the past day or so he had been so consumed by the rush of incidents that he had hardly had time for self-pity.

He looked ahead, to the void-flight to Earth, the search for the softscreen. Soon he would be consumed again, with little time to consider himself, and the thought was like a balm.

Two hours later he said goodbye to Mackendrick and hugged Ten Lee. “I’ll see you in… Good God, eight months seems like such a long time.”

Ten Lee smiled. “For you it will pass in an instant.”

Bennett strode up the incline towards the overhang where Hans Hupcka, Miriam James and half a dozen others, all armed, waited in two balloon-tyred vehicles. Hupcka passed him a silver oval device the size of a cigar case: the receiver. Briefly he instructed Bennett in its use.

They set off minutes later. Mackendrick and Ten Lee were small figures on the veranda of the A-frame, and Bennett raised his arm in a farewell salute. They headed out of the valley on a different route from the one they’d used to get here, going around the mountain to avoid the long road above the inhabited valley. This track would bring them out on the purple plain well south of the deserted timber settlement and the remains of the sunken starship.

Hupcka sat beside Bennett and steered the bouncing vehicle. “In four hours we’ll be out of the mountains, Josh. Perhaps six hours after that we’ll reach the ship.”

“I only hope the council militia hasn’t found it before us.”

“They had a patrol scout on the plain yesterday,” Hupcka said. “But they only got as far south as the ruins. I know because we have a man in their ranks.”

They had left the valley far behind and were travelling down a boulder-strewn ravine. Ahead, the first crawler bounced like a child’s toy, a comically frail structure rocking this way and that over the uneven terrain.

Tenebrae slipped down behind the mountains as they travelled, and the stars appeared in the strip of sky high above the gorge. The minor sun shone like a distant orange lantern, providing sufficient light to illuminate the track ahead. The balloon tyres of the crawler came into their own, climbing over boulders and across potholes, the suspension creaking in protest. Bennett held on as the vehicle bucketed along, Hupcka laughing into the headwind like a madman.

They passed from the protection of the mountains and descended on to the purple plain, the first crawler racing ahead. Bennett had not slept for what seemed like ages, and as the vehicle rocked back and forth he took the opportunity to doze.

He was awoken, hours later, when the crawler lurched, tossing him between Hupcka’s bulk and the door. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. It was dawn. The bright ellipse of the gas giant’s upper hemisphere spanned the far horizon, casting its opalescent light across the plain. He must have been asleep for almost six hours. They had climbed from the plain and were skirting the foothills to the west, the purple grass spreading like a sea far below.

Hupcka glanced at him. “I didn’t want to worry you unduly, Josh. But a couple of hours ago we discovered we had company. Look.” He passed Bennett a pair of binoculars and pointed. “Halfway across the plain, at about two o’clock.”

Bennett adjusted the focus. At first all he saw was a dancing blur of purple grass. Then he caught a flash of something. He steadied his hand and centred the speeding object. It was a balloon-tyred vehicle like their own, swarming with green-uniformed militia.

“A council patrol,” Hupcka said. “Perhaps they’re taking your crash-landing story with a pinch of salt, checking further afield for the ship.”

“Where’s Miriam’s crawler?”

“When we saw the council militia we decided to take action. The other crawler moved down to the plain to follow at a safe distance. If the militia looks like getting anywhere near the ship, they’ll attack and provide a decoy.”

“And if the militia see us?”

Hupcka nodded. “It’s a possibility. If they move our way, or start firing, then Miriam and the others will move in.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. This is routine stuff. We’ll get you to the ship in one piece.”

Bennett nodded, fear tight within him. He was, he realised, not cut out for the role of a man of action. He liked the mentally anaesthetising effect of living on the edge of his wits, but when things got out of hand—like the fire-fight yesterday, or the possibility of conflict now—he had to admit that he wished he was elsewhere.

But do I wish I was back on Earth, with Julia, he asked himself? It came as a surprise to realise that he would rather be in the thick of the action.

Hupcka glanced at him. “Once we reach the ship, how long will it take you to lift off?”

“Five, ten minutes. No more.”

Hupcka nodded. “Okay.” He lifted a radio microphone and shouted into it in French. A crackling voice replied. Hupcka shouted again, clearly issuing orders.

“We’re getting close, Josh. I’ve told Miriam to move in and attack the militia.”

Bennett turned in his seat, raised the binoculars and found the rebels’ crawler far below. As he watched, it closed in on the militia crawler and opened fire with a hail of laser charges. Explosions bloomed in the plain around the first vehicle as it took evasive action and swerved from left to right. One green-uniformed militia-man tumbled, loose-limbed, over the side. They returned fire, and the lasers illuminated the dawn with quick flares of electric blue.

“Hold on, Josh! I’m going for it.”

Hupcka turned the wheel of the vehicle and they veered off down the incline, Bennett swaying in his seat. At this distance, without the benefit of binoculars, the militia crawler and the rebel vehicle were reduced to the size of scurrying insects.

Bennett held on as the vehicle bounced and juddered over the uneven terrain. Five minutes later they hit the plain and accelerated. Bennett turned and adjusted the binoculars. The crawlers were far behind, their progress lit by the bright flares of explosing laser charges.

“The ship!” Hupcka called, staring ahead. “Two minutes, Josh! Get ready to board.”

Perhaps half a kilometre away, squatting on the plain where they had left it, was the slick tear-drop shape of the Cobra resplendent in the morning light of Tenebrae. Bennett turned and looked for the enemy crawler. He judged that the two vehicles were a couple of kilometres away, and closing.

They slewed to a halt in the shadow of the Cobra and Bennett jumped out. He took Hupcka’s hand in a fierce grip, words of either encouragement or farewell beyond him.

“I’ll see you in eight months, Josh. Good luck!”

Bennett ran towards the Cobra, slapped the sensor panel on the hatch and dived inside. Seconds later he was on the flight-deck, throwing himself into the command couch and touching the surrounding console to life. He typed in the command for immediate lift-off—he’d worry about the phase commands when he was in orbit. The main consideration was to get into the air and out of the range of the militia lasers.

The Cobra’s take-off system cycled into life, seeming to take an age to process Bennett’s commands. Through the viewscreen he made out two tiny vehicles on the plain, approaching at speed. As he watched, a third vehicle emerged from beneath the ship’s nose: Hupcka. The rebel halted his crawler and stood, lifting a laser rifle to his shoulder and taking careful aim.

The militia crawler accelerated, heading straight for the Cobra. Seconds later the first explosion rocked the ship. A spray of soil erupted from pits gouged in the ground just metres away. He abbreviated the take-off program, dispensing with half a dozen checks. He would be airborne in a matter of minutes, with luck.

Below, Hupcka was firing at the militia. Their crawler swerved on a slalom run across the plain, miraculously avoiding Hupcka’s laser charges. Only two militia-men remained alive and fighting. One of them stood and levelled a laser-cannon at the ship. Seconds before the Cobra lifted, the bolt exploded beneath the nose of the ship, swatting it with mighty force. Bennett yelled and closed his eyes.

The ship lurched, falling, and he could see how it would end in failure, the ship damaged beyond hope of repair. Then the boosters kicked in and fired, catapulting the Cobra forward, and it was all he could do to wrest the controls from the pre-programmed routine and direct the ship across the plain at a grass-cutting height. He swerved to avoid the militia’s vehicle, and the crawler veered and rolled over as the Cobra swept into the sky.

He tried to regain his composure. He slowed his breathing and steadied the ship in a stable hovering attitude. Far below, Miriam James and the other rebels were running towards the last two militia-men. He made out Hupcka, raising a fist in a victory salute, and then he lifted the Cobra away from the plain. He let the program take over, relinquishing control with relief, and set the system for phase-out.

Five minutes later the roar of the engines ceased suddenly, and the milky light of the upper atmosphere was replaced with the grey marble effect of the void. Bennett sat and stared at the streaming stars, amazed at the fact of his escape in the quiet aftermath of the attack. He set the computer to revive him from suspension in a little under two months, so that he could make the necessary systems checks. Approximately two months after that, he would be on Earth.

He sat for a long time in the command couch, letting the shakes leave his body, his thoughts quieten. He had never really gained from looking ahead before now; the future had always promised nothing more than the same old events, reordered. But now he had a goal, and people were relying on him to succeed, and he looked ahead to the search for the softscreen in Calcutta with confidence and hope.