EarthRise (37 page)

But the incoming interceptor
didn’t
turn . . . and the Kan felt his heart start to pump a little bit faster as he directed a message to his left pincer. It never arrived.

Lacking the confidence to use his weapons in a selective manner Tra fired all of them at once. All manner of offensive electronics came on, missiles lanced out from beneath stubby wings, and nose-mounted energy cannons burped coherent light.

The totality of the onslaught, plus the Kan’s failure to act quickly, produced catastrophic results. The Sauron fighter exploded. A new sun appeared, was snuffed from existence, and took its place at the center of its own solar system.

Tra’s fighter had already passed through the debris field, and emerged from the other side, by the time the truth dawned on him. He’d gone one-on-one with a Kan and won! A war whoop formed itself in the back of the fighter pilot’s throat, but died as Tra eyed his screens. The Kan had destroyed the other two ships, turned back toward Hak-Bin’s shuttle, and were hot on his trail.

Now, with two Saurons in pursuit and two waiting up ahead, Tra knew his fate. He was going to die. The only question was how many Kan would die with him. More confident now, and determined to make his death count, the Ra ‘Na bored in.

Ing-Ort, the senior of the two pilots left to guard the shuttle, was disappointed by his brother’s untimely death, but not entirely surprised. The planetary attack had been a one-way affair—and pilots like Gon-Por had grown somewhat complacent. He had warned them against such a possibility, but they knew better, or thought they did, and the results were plain to see. Slowly, almost casually, Ing-Ort brought his onboard electronic countermeasure equipment on-line, released his safeties, and applied power.

Tra was still a good distance away when the pursuing ships peeled off to either side, and suddenly he knew why. They had been herding him! Withholding their fire lest they inadvertently hit the shuttle!

Ing-Ort fired a pair of missiles, made an adjustment, and fired two more.

Tra saw the first set of tracks appear on his heads-up display, turned to avoid them, and placed himself right in front of missiles three and four. That’s when the Ra ‘Na realized that the opposing pilot had intentionally launched the first missiles at less than maximum speed—a possibility that never even occurred to him. It was a lesson learned,
and
a lesson lost, as the second pair of missiles struck their target and Tra was killed.

Seconds later, aboard the shuttle Tra had tried so hard to destroy, the Fon named Ath-Dee delivered the good news. He saw no reason to mention the loss of a fighter escort and therefore neglected to do so. “The rebel fighters were destroyed eminence—and full power has been restored. We should arrive aboard the
Ib Se Ma
eighteen units from now.”

Hak-Bin looked up, said, “Of course,” and returned to his screen.

Ott-Mar felt relieved—and Tog gave a prayer of thanks. The deaths were unfortunate, but all too predictable, and the result of Rul’s folly.

Meanwhile, in a last desperate attempt to hit the shuttle and kill its passengers, the
Nu Mor Ga
opened fire. But Sauron-controlled vessels responded in kind, other ships joined in, and the shuttle was able to escape.

Dro Rul, watching the battle from afar, bowed his head in prayer. The ship shuddered as its defensive screens neutralized most of the incoming fire but passed a little of the energy along. It seemed liberty had a price—and the price was very, very high.

ANACORTES, WASHINGTON

It was late evening, almost nighttime, as the small outboard pushed the boat in toward land. There was some chop as the wind blew waves in from the Strait of Juan De Fuca. The whitecaps hit the
Sunshine
’s metal hull, threw a smattering of spray up over the bow, and reluctantly gave way as the boat cut them in two.

Darby, worried lest the sound of the 20 hp motor give them away, gestured at the figure huddled in the stern. Though frequently contentious, and more than a little annoying, Chu was the only Crip that Darby had brought along. Though missing an arm, the young woman was otherwise intact and capable of returning on her own should that become necessary. “Back off the power a bit . . . the last thing I need is a reception committee.”

“Yes, Admiral, whatever you say, Admiral,” Chu responded sarcastically, but too low for the ex-petty officer to hear. The
Shine
moved sluggishly through the water as the twosome rounded Cap Sante and made their way toward the west. Thanks to orbital photos supplied by the Ra ‘Na resistance movement, Darby knew the catalyst factory was located in what had been Volunteer Park, at Fourteenth Street and H Avenue.

But knowing where the facility was, and knowing what kind of conditions prevailed, were two different things. What about security? How many Kan had been stationed there? Where were the slaves quartered? How would the catalyst be stored?

Deac Smith needed answers to those questions and needed them badly if he and his forces were to launch an attack on the facility. That’s why he had approached the Crips—in hopes they could obtain the information he needed.

Darby, who was, to the best of her knowledge, all that remained of the United States Navy, felt she had no choice but to agree. Especially now that Franklin had cut his ties to the Saurons—and irrevocably committed himself to the role of president.

The bow smacked a wave, the
Shine
bucked, and Darby pointed toward the city. Lights had appeared,
Sauron
lights, marking the factory’s location for anyone who cared to see. And why not? The aliens were in charge—and had yet to take the resistance seriously. Chu nodded, angled the bow in toward the land, and applied a touch more power. The waves were hitting the starboard side of the boat by then—and threatening to spill over the top.

The ex-petty officer stared into the gloom. Had the Kan posted sentries all along the shoreline? Was she entering a trap? Or were they farther back? Wrapped around the factory? There was only one way to find out. Darby gestured again. “All right, this is far enough. Bring the bow into the waves. I’ll meet you in ten hours. In the event that I fail to show up, come back in two hours. If I still fail to show up get the hell out of here. Understood?”

Chu had heard it before. She nodded and did her best to steady the boat as Darby moved to port. Then, the ex-petty officer sat on the boat’s side, adjusted her face mask, and fell backward into the water.

Chu threw the motor into reverse and took a cupful of water in over the stern as she backed away. It was hard to tell where Darby was, and the last thing Chu wanted to do was cut her with the prop. Then, sure that she was clear, Chu motored away. There were piers, plenty of them, each with a nice dark cave below.

The water was cold, even with the wet suit, and the desire to escape it propelled Darby toward shore. The ex-petty officer kicked with her fins, took occasional bearings on the Sauron lights, and closed with the shore. Then, while still fifty feet off from the shoreline, Darby paused to check for sentries. In spite of the fact that it was difficult to see, what with the up-and-down motion of the waves and the water droplets that dotted the surface of her mask, it appeared as if the shoreline was deserted.

Careful to make as little noise as possible, Darby completed her swim. Given the debris and charred wood that littered the waterfront, it appeared that the Saurons had strafed the shoreline during the initial days of the attack.

Darby paralleled the shore for a time, located the place where the remains of an old dock tilted down into the water, and made her way in. A wave slammed Darby into a half-submerged beam and attempted to suck her out. She kicked with her fins and sought some sort of handhold. The wood was slick and didn’t offer much purchase. Then, having been pummeled for a second time, the resistance fighter managed to hook her fingers over a two-by-four cross-cleat, pulled herself up, and was free of the water.

Then, having removed the mesh-style pack, Darby traded her fins for a pair of canvas slip-ons, removed the .38 Magnum from the waterproof bag, and stuck it into the nylon shoulder holster already in place under her left arm. Darby knew the pistol wouldn’t offer much protection against a file of Kan, but she might be able to kill one or two, and there would be some satisfaction in that.

Moving carefully the ex-petty officer made her way up the ramplike surface, slipped between two half-burned buildings, and found herself on a street littered with all sorts of debris. A lamppost had fallen from one side of the thoroughfare to the other, a UPS truck had crashed into the side of a building, and dog-ravaged bones lay scattered about. Careful to keep to the heaviest shadows, and pausing frequently to listen, Darby worked her way toward the west. Lights appeared and disappeared as the resistance fighter made her way past what remained of once-proud houses.

Then, after a block or two, Darby came across a badly bent street sign and risked a quick hit from her penlight in order to read it. The sign said “H Avenue,” which, according to the briefing materials, should take her south toward the factory.

Now, moving with the utmost care, the ex-sailor eased her way along H Avenue, following it toward the lights. She hadn’t gone far, no more than a block, when the sound of voices acted to freeze her in place. The first belonged to a woman. “That’s mine! I found it.”

Now, as Darby came closer, she saw what looked like a Dumpster backlit by a fire.

“So?” a male voice demanded. “It ain’t no good. Not without electricity.”

“I don’t care,” the first voice responded. “I want to hold it. Give it here.”

Darby placed a hand on the .38 and continued to ease forward. None of it was the way she expected it to be. Where were the Kan? How could feral slaves gather around a fire without being discovered? And why would they do so?

Borsky made a face, handed the implement to his friend, and watched Ellis pretend to dry her long, scraggly hair. Her face had been attractive once, but that was before the effects of malnutrition, too much sun, and the cocaine had their way with her. Still, something about the dryer, and the way it connected Ellis to the past, seemed to restore a little of her former beauty. “You remember how it was?” she asked dreamily. “Back before the bugs? We had it good,
real
good, but didn’t know it. I used to worry about how I looked . . . Can you fucking believe that? Damn, I was stupid.”

Borsky was about to say something soothing when he heard the crunch of broken glass and spun to his left. The piece of rebar wasn’t much, just a space age club, but it was all he had. “I know you’re there . . . step out into the light.”

Darby obeyed. The .38 lay against the side of her right thigh. Borsky saw the ex-petty officer’s horribly disfigured face and took a step backward. “Who the hell are you?”

“A member of the resistance,” Darby answered truthfully. “The name’s Darby.”

“So, it’s true then,” Ellis said, the dryer still aimed at her temple. “The resistance movement actually exists.”

“Oh, it’s true all right,” Darby admitted, “and we need your help. What can you tell me about the factory? What happened to it?”

Borsky shrugged. “Nothing.” He hooked a thumb back over his shoulder. “It’s back where the lights are.”

“Right,” Darby said disbelievingly, “and I’m the tooth fairy. If the factory is
there
. . . how come you’re
here
?”

Borsky looked at Ellis. “She doesn’t know.”

Ellis lowered the dryer. “No, I guess she doesn’t. Look, honey,” Ellis said, shifting her gaze to Darby, “are you familiar with Hell Hill?”

Darby nodded. “Sure, I used to trade stuff with a woman who called herself Sister Andromeda.”

Borsky spit into the fire. The spittle made a hissing sound. “The bitch . . . this is
her
fault.”

“Maybe,” Ellis allowed, “but that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is that things are different here. The Kan guard the factory—but the slaves are free to come and go.”

“We ain’t free,” Borsky said bitterly, “not by a long shot.”

“He’s right about that,” Ellis admitted. “I didn’t mean ‘free’ as in
really free
, I meant ‘free’ as in able to leave the factory when our shift is over.”

“But we’ll be back in the morning,” Borsky added. “The bugs made sure of that.”

Darby, who didn’t relish the notion of hanging around the fire any longer than absolutely necessary, allowed her impatience to show. “No offense, but I don’t have a lot of time. Please get to the point.”

“Here’s the point,” Ellis replied, pulling a sleeve up. “They used to keep us inside the fence but discovered they didn’t have to. Not so long as we get our daily dose of cocaine.”

Darby peered at the dirty skin, saw the badly ulcerated sores, and suddenly understood. The bugs had a new way to force compliance. “I’m sorry.”

Ellis nodded. “Thanks. So are we. What would you like to know?”

“Sister Andromeda . . . Where can I find her?”

“Same place as always,” Borsky replied, “sitting around talking to the people stupid enough to listen to her bullshit.”

Ellis got to her feet. The dryer clattered against the pavement. “You’d better keep a low profile. There’s some who would turn you in for an extra hit of coke. Stay here, and I’ll bring her back.”

Darby raised an eyebrow. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Tell you what,” the woman replied, “how ’bout I leave Borsky on deposit?”

Ellis thought her joke was funny, cackled gleefully, and was soon lost in the surrounding murk.

“No need to worry about Ellis,” Borsky put in. “She’ll keep her word, now if it was me, well, that might be different.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Darby said dryly, as she stepped back out of the light. “Stay where you are . . . I’ll be watching.”

Borsky shrugged, added wood to the fire, and held his hands toward the warmth. “Whatever turns you on. It ain’t like I have anyplace to go.”

The next ten minutes took what seemed like an eternity to drag by. Borsky continued to crouch there, the firelight illuminating his face, while Darby lurked in the shadows. Her nerves were stretched wire tight. It was dangerous there—and the primal part of her knew it. “Run!” it shouted, “Hide!” but the petty officer refused to listen. Right or wrong, like it or not, Andromeda qualified as one of the resistance movement’s leaders.
If
she could make contact,
if
they could talk, the cult leader could theoretically provide a wealth of information regarding the factory and the situation in general. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, a rock clattered across the pavement. Borsky looked up from the fire. “It’s Ellis—she’s coming in.”