Resistance: Hathe Book One (14 page)

A
shadow, barely discernible from the other shadows of the night,
tapped her shoulder and beckoned her to follow. They passed by the
prison’s banks of concealed surveillance monitors, with only a
moment’s work needed to ensure that nothing unusual registered on
the Terrans’ screens. Soon, very soon, they had walked out the
gates of the fortress and were strolling down the curfewed streets.
The protective shields surrounding them deflected all signs of
their passing. Only human eyes could penetrate their shields, and
so secure was Earth in its assumed supremacy that they were
unlikely to meet any of those at night.

Her
guide led her down a narrow street to a squat collection of houses,
in a door, through a typically small, drab room, and down the lift
concealed behind a rough chest of drawers. Emerging, Marthe
breathed a happy sigh of relief. They had entered a great,
underground hall, filled with ‘her people’ as she best thought of
them. Technicians monitored rows of panels on every side of the
room. All around her, Hathian voices discussed problems,
transmitted orders, quipped with work mates with not a trace of the
defeated subservience of the so-called peasants of Hathe so
familiar to their Terran overlords.

She
was in the control room of the desert sector, the most crucial part
of the underground’s resistance campaign. On the far wall, she
could see a group checking the mass of incoming and outgoing
messages: where to, who to, who was not receiving. Elsewhere,
others were locked into the multitude of Terran monitors that
constantly watched over the Hathians, altering one here, one there,
to prevent discovery of the illicit operations of the resistance.
Marthe stopped to take it all in, a huge grin lifting the corners
of her mouth. It was true, all true. In the dark stretches of the
past nights, she had begun to doubt, to think that she really was
alone, her people gone.

But
here they were.

Suddenly a tall figure detached itself from the crowd and,
with a cry of joy, hurried forward to clutch Marthe in a shuddering
hug. Her sister?

“
Marthe! I thought I’d never see you again.”

The
warm voice confirmed it. “Laren. What are you doing here? I thought
you were still on maternity leave. Where are the twins, and
Jorven?”

“
The
twins are fine. They’re over a year old now, remember, and with
three very doting grandparents, they are not likely to come to much
harm. As for Jorven, turn around.”

Marthe
did so, to see her silent guide throw back his hood and the face of
her brother-in-law laughing back at her.

“
You
never said anything!”

“
And
have you shout your surprise to the world,” he teased. “Who else
should have come? You’re on family leave, not official
duty.”

“
I
hope someone tells Father that,” snorted Laren, linking arms with
Marthe and her husband. “Hurry up, you two, or we’ll miss our
shuttle.”

They
walked quickly to the far side of the hall, down a sloping corridor
and into the upper level of an enormous chamber that lay directly
below the first. Through the protective window Marthe could see two
short-haul vessels, one with its blunt nose already beginning to
tilt in readiness for flight.

“
Five minutes to departure. Last embarkation call. All
passengers please move forward immediately to docking
procedure.”

“
Come on,” cried Jorven. They broke into a run, hurrying to
catch the departing chute, whisking them down to the flight deck,
through the barricade, a halt to check their IDs, then along
another corridor and a dash into the ship just as the harassed
crewman was about to close the door.

“
Names!”

“
Asn
Castre, an Castre, an Dufon.”

“
Take your seats then. First three on the left. We are almost
ready to leave. In future I suggest you make better arrangements to
be here on time.” He sealed the door, before walking off, muttering
about death and glory special agents and did they think they were
the only ones who had it tough in this war.

“
Welcome home, the returning heroine,” laughed Laren, buckling
in and settling back for the anti-grav phase.

“
I
know. Isn’t it marvelous?” Marthe flung off her cloak and settled
back with a grin.

A
rumbling below warned the passengers. The ship began to lift,
rising up to where, far above, a dark, gaping hole appeared as the
cavern roof slid back to reveal the velvety blackness of the night
sky. Tonight, there was only one light to compete with the tiara of
the stars: the pale glow of the lesser of Hathe’s two moons—Mathe,
the insignificant, the secret, so often overlooked by the unknowing
and the unwise.

In a
room in the Citadel, a Terran technician registered yet another
minor shake hitting the township.

“
Hope nothing’s building,” he said. “These ground tremors are
hitting us every day now.” He checked his screens, but there was no
sign of damage. Everything in the town appeared normal.

“
Marthe,” called Laren, leaning over to chat. She was stopped
by her husband’s warning shush. Marthe was lost to
sleep.

Gently, Laren eased off her sister’s harness, curving Marthe
onto her side and tucking back a stray wisp of hair, just like her
own little daughter’s—but not the black cavities beneath the eyes
or the finely drawn bones standing out tautly from the
face.

“
It
takes more than one night to recover from four days without food or
sleep,” Jorven cautioned. “Leave her be for now. She will probably
have to face a grilling from our beloved statesmen when we get
home, and she’s had to endure more than enough grilling
already.”

“
I
didn’t know,” gasped Laren, horrified. This was her baby sister.
“To think … the rumors that have been circulating, that she had
fallen for a Terran! Just look at the marks on her hands,” she
added, noticing for the first time the healing welts on Marthe’s
palms.

Her
husband’s face reflected what she felt. “If I ever get my hands on
that thug, Radcliff… Mathe knows what has been happening while we
were out of contact. If only she didn’t have to go
back.”

“
Back? No! Surely once the Council sees her? Yes, I know there
have been atrocities, but when your own sister’s involved, it’s
different.”

“
I
wouldn’t get your hopes up, love. There is too much at stake. For
all we know, it may not have been so bad.”

“
You
think so?” she demanded accusingly.

He
looked down at the still, now peaceful body beside her. His face
said it all. No, he did not think so.

Marthe
remained blissfully oblivious to their anxiety. She basked in a
dream world where hunger was banished and nothing could beset her.
Nearing the end of the flight, she passed from deep sleep to a
light doze and slowly became aware of her surroundings. Clean air,
the softness of the cushioning beneath her and, best of all, the
hum of genuine, relaxed Harmish voices. A touch of nausea warned of
the changing flight path of their ship as they approached their
destination. Shaking off the vestiges of sleep, she pulled herself
up, fastening the landing harness and peering out the window at the
rapidly nearing mass of Mathe, the lesser, often forgotten second
moon of Hathe. The Terrans thought the name similarity merely a
stupid inconvenience. The Hathians knew better.

“
What a quick trip.” She yawned and stretched. “I could have
slept for hours. Do you think Father will have a meal ready when we
get home? I’m famished,” she declared and was surprised by the rush
of pity in Laren’s eyes. What had she said now? She subsided,
sitting in pensive silence until the docking doors
opened.

The
moment of disquiet was lost in the chaos and bustle of arrival,
caught in a pushing, ever hurrying mass of people eagerly seeking
loved ones they had been parted from for too long.

“
I’d
forgotten how physical civilization is,” she cried, fighting
through the crowd with the other two and grabbing for a place in
the ever present queue. But there were occasional advantages to
being the daughter of a Councilor, and she was glad to see one such
manifest itself in the form of an official, bowing her small party
to a side room. There to greet them was the genial but lined face
of Dr Sylvan an Castre.

“
Father! I should have known you would be here. Thank you. The
queues are longer than on Hathe.”

“
We
couldn’t leave our heroine to the mercies of the mob,” he said,
hugging her close then standing back gravely, “and my fellow
Councilors are at the end of that line you were in.” She couldn’t
hide her dismay, not from her father. “Don’t worry, I’ve arranged a
detour. They can wait a few hours longer. First, we have a special
celebration feast waiting. Bortch with jerbels.”

Marthe
gave a hoot of laughter. “Father, I hate jerbels.”

“
Oh,
well, never mind.” The worry in his face belied the heartiness of
his voice. “Here’s the transporter.”

They
all stepped into the square, open-topped run-around and the doctor
punched in the coordinates of the an Castre quarters. He reached
out a hand to help Marthe into her seat.

“
Careful, you must be tired out.”

“
Nonsense, I’ve done nothing but sleep for the last
twenty-four hours,” she retorted, “but I am famished. No jerbels,
though, thank you very much.” A chuckle of laughter threatened,
then was quashed as she caught the glances among her family. It was
as if there was a ‘Care–Fragile’ sticker plastered on her forehead.
What she was to do about it was beyond her, and she could only nod
in reply to her father’s questions as they passed through the
subterranean corridors.

It was
with relief that she saw the doorway to the an Castre quarters, and
scrambled out before they had fully stopped. She slammed the door
open and stalked inside to savor the familiar spaces for one lone
minute: above, the high-domed ceiling and in front the great
window, looking out over the starkly silvered slopes of the dead
moon. There were other lights shining back at her, oval sparks set
amongst the crags and crevices telling of the windows of other
homes. A rocky warren of humanity, the entire mountain was riddled
with the quarters of the Hathians’ secret base.

“
It’s good to be home again,” she breathed, turning to her
family as they entered.

“
We
are mighty glad to have you here,” replied Laren. “But you must be
eager to change out of those dreadful robes.”

“
Strangely, no.” Marthe smiled, remembering the thin,
beautiful shift of her imprisonment. Nonetheless, she followed
Laren and was soon relaxing in the warm vapor jets of the cleanser,
washing away the prison dirt of the last day. She emerged and began
to leaf through the wardrobe she kept on hand here.

“
Your stomach! What have they done to you?”

Marthe
glanced down at the remaining scabs, thin lines running across her
abdomen and breast. “I’d forgotten about those. My own fault,
believe it or not. I tried to run through a force field and this
was the result. I looked quite a mess when it first happened, but
Major Radcliff had a pot of excellent salve. I must remember to ask
him what it was when I get back.”

“
Don’t say that. Don’t even mention that man. Surely Father
can stop it? You can’t return!”

“
Of
course I must. I’m only on furlough.”

“
But
Marthe. Oh, my poor darling.”

It was
too much. Marthe eyed her sister in growing wrath. For once, she
refused to pander to her sister’s need for harmony. “Stop this
nonsense, Laren. It’s just another assignment, no more terrible
than many I’ve been on before. I should think you’d have enough
sense by now not to carry on as if I were the only agent ever to be
placed in danger.”

“
There’s a difference between working among our own people and
being caught alone among Terrans. Those days when you were out of
touch!”

She
tried to hide it, but Marthe was trained to read faces and couldn’t
miss that fleeting look on her sister’s face. Like a bitter stab to
her heart, and her mouth twisted. “When the stories started going
round? A Hathian from an old, respected family, lost to all sense
of duty and consorting in a disgraceful manner with a Terran?
That’s what you were supposed to think. How could you, of all
people, fall for it. My big sister, one person I can count on to
remain calm and sensible when all about me is idiocy. Or maybe you
too believed the stories?”

“
No,
never.”

Laren
looked so distressed, Marthe had to apologise despite herself. “I’m
sorry. It’s just… I didn’t expect my family to be part of this
stupid nonsense I’ve fallen into. I have survived fine so far and
Major Radcliff isn’t quite the monster you imagine. Have you never
considered that there might be two sides to this whole bloody
mess?”

Ignoring the shocked look that greeted this, she twitched her
gown into place and swept out.

“
Father, where’s this feast you promised me? I intend to do my
best to become the size of this room before I go back.”