The Transdyne Awakening (13 page)

Adam-son’s vocal resonator vibrated softly. “Be at peace, man of clay.”

Clay remembered an object he had seen at Ahab’s. Ahab had told him that it was a paperweight. It was a substance like permaglass, about the size of a child’s fist. In it was encased a brightly coloured butterfly. Back in the time when people recorded everything on paper, which was made from trees, they used these objects to stop the breeze blowing written material around. He felt as if he were in a state of suspended animation, like that butterfly trapped in the paperweight.

Over the next couple of days most of the tasks were routine and uneventful. He was weary to the bone with the monotony of drops, pickups, empty conversations and the drabness of his surroundings. He could think of little else but Skye and the others on that pickup. He longed to know that it was all over, that they were out of danger and back safe at ‘The Way’.

He became desperate for news, but knew better than to make any electronic contact with the community. That would be deadly dangerous. He could put everyone at risk if any such communication was detected.

Difficult though it was, he waited and when the opportunity arose, he spoke to Ahab.

“Not much happening, boss. D’you mind if I take some time?”

Ahab fixed him with that probing gaze. “A couple of drops here,” he said, tapping one of the viewscreens in front of him. “Routine stuff. I could probably get Archer or one of the others to take the merchandise.

“You okay?”

Clay forced a half smile. “Yeah, just a little tired. Sure it’s all right?”

“I guess we can spare you for a little.”

Ahab got up and went to fix himself a drink.

“I’d offer you one, but you’d probably waste it!” he mocked.

Clay remembered hardly anything about the trip back out to the settlement. The distance on the cockpit readout went on silently changing until he found himself on the approach track.

The moment he arrived he could tell that all was not well. The greetings were polite enough but the tension hung in the air like a pall. He knew the layout by now and went to find John. The door to the office was open. John and Greg were sitting at a desk. Their conversation was quiet.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying. The two men looked up as Clay tapped the heavy door.

One look at John’s expression confirmed that something was terribly wrong. Greg managed a thin smile. Clay waited. He wasn’t going to blurt out all the obvious questions. Instead, he took the invitation to sit. He was sure that they would tell him what had happened when they felt ready. Their concern was mirrored in Clay’s face.

Eventually John said, “They’ve dropped off the scanner. We don’t know what’s gone wrong… don’t even know where they are.”

“We have to do something to find them,” Greg muttered, staring down at his boots. John’s voice was heavy. “Truth is I don’t know what to do.”

Clay had never heard that tone from him in all their talks together.

“If we had a definite location I could organize a team to go and get them. This is different. They’ve just completely dropped out of sight.”

Clay’s thoughts were spinning. These well-meaning people had no strategy for such situations. That much was clear from the long exchange that followed. He racked his brain for a useful course of action, a starting point at least. As they talked on, he tried to think of anyone he knew with the resources to instigate such a seemingly futile manhunt.

John was silent for what seemed an age. Finally he said, “Before we do anything, let’s take this thing to God.”

Greg and he bowed their heads. As they began to pray, Clay found himself endorsing each passionate entreaty for the deliverance of those missing. He even found himself saying “Yeah, amen.”

Afterwards he sat silently for a while. He didn’t know whether it was what John and Greg would have described as divine guidance or just a random idea, but he had a strong impression of where he might start. He stood up. “I’ve been thinking of ways I might be able to help if you’ll let me. I have something in mind, but I’d need you to pick some people to come with me. They’d need a small, fast terraglide so they can get back here quickly.” He outlined his idea to them. John and Greg sat listening intently. When he’d finished there was a long silence. He felt completely helpless. Nothing could come of what he had proposed without their total agreement. These men had taken him into their confidence. They had gifted him with their acceptance and trust. He wanted badly to help, but they had to work together. This was trust of a different order. Unless they could operate as a coordinated team, any attempt at location would be futile.

He left them to consider his proposal. He could understand the weight of responsibility resting on John’s shoulders. He realized that John would always want to do what was right, but he also knew that time was passing. He was mindful that each lapsed hour could be crucial.

If something was to be done, then it was important that they move quickly.

He waited quietly. Berta came and joined him at the dining bench, a drawn look occupying her usually smiling features. She said nothing. She drank her coffee and topped Clay’s up. He felt a great respect for her, this nurturing presence at the heart of the community. Soon enough John and Greg came in and sat down opposite Clay. John looked across at him with a grave expression. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Joey strode up to where they were sitting.

“I want to go, John,” he said resolutely. John and Greg exchanged a glance. After a moment, John nodded. Joey turned to Clay. “We’ve worked together before, eh? We can get this done,” he said.

It took Whitney a long time to buzz him in. When he finally did, it was obvious that he was still in some pain. He moved a little stiffly and immediately went back to the couch where Clay had left him the last time he had been there.

Clay put a fresh container of biomeds and painkillers down beside him. “Thanks,” Whitney said, holding out his hand for a comp.

“No charge for those,” Clay told him. “Thought you may be able to help me with something, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Whitney gave a half smile. “Well, I’m not dead yet! The injured parts just take a little longer to wake up than the rest of me.”

He propped himself on his right elbow and listened.

Clay went on. “Your main occupation has been finding people who don’t want to be found. I’ve got some people I need locating very quickly and quietly. It’s worth a lot to me. Thought I’d ask if you might be interested.” Whitney grimaced. “Let’s put it this way, my friend. I haven’t had an assignment since I saw you last. For all I know I could be on the un-wanted file myself, so ask away.”

Clay knew the risk involved in revealing too many details, but he gave Whitney the overall picture. “Think you might be able to find them?” Whitney was staring at a spot on the wall above Clay and he didn’t shift his gaze for a long while. “Can you come back?” he asked.

“Sure, but it is kind of urgent. How long do you need?”

“Can’t say. Depends on who’s heard what. Some of my contacts keep a pretty keen eye on things.” He gave a wry smile. “They can tell you who took a leak on the street last night, even if it was right over on the other side of the Citizone. Anyhow, I can ask.”

If anyone could discreetly find the missing ones, Clay knew it was Whitney.

“I’ll need visuals.”

Clay reached inside his tunic and handed Whitney a tiny disc. Whitney clicked it into a side slot on his viewscreen.

The images that came up were pinpoint sharp and could be rotated for multi-plane surveillance.

Back at his own place, Clay felt like a stranger. The interior of his den now looked unfamiliar to him. He wanted a strong drink and reached for the container. Thinking better of it, he replaced the jar on the shelf. ‘Better keep a clear head’, he thought. The waiting was the hardest part, the thing he hated the most. It wasn’t like hanging around for an assignment from Ahab. People he had come to care about were probably in real danger and he detested just sitting still while precious time ebbed away.

What else could he do? He made himself lie on the somacot, undoing his boots and kicking them away. He knew he had better at least try to get some rest. He left the Nevermind pills on the side as well. Slowly the exhaustion took over and he sank into fitful sleep. His worst anxieties realized themselves in his troubled dreaming.

Waking with a start, he sat bolt upright. How long he had slept? He was clammy with sweat and his mouth was dry. Throwing his legs over the side of the berth, he looked at the time readout. Pulling on his boots, he went to the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. His heart was pounding now and he hit the street running. The terraglide lifted quietly up and sideways onto the mainway. He covered the citiblocks over to Whitney’s as fast as he could. As soon as he had buzzed him in Whitney said, “Picked up a little noise from someone on the ground. Might not be what you want to hear, though.”

“So what have you got?” Clay asked edgily.

Whitney flicked on the viewscreen. “Traffic.”

He pointed at the rotating image of Skye’s face.

“This one I’ve got a lead on. If the others are still with her, they might not be in good shape.” Clay just went on staring at the viewscreen.

“It seems she was the prize. Flesh like that they can move for a stack of credits. The others, these fellows… dunno…”

Whitney’s voice tailed off and he made a rocking motion with his right hand.

“What’s next?” Clay asked hesitantly.

“Depends on whether you’ve got a crew for the job.” Whitney smiled faintly. “I’ve got an idea where they could be. Nothing certain. Anyhow, even a recce is dangerous. You’d have to go in hard just to find out if they were really there for sure.”

“There are some people standing by, but they’re not .. well, let’s just say that they don’t have your sort of background,” Clay told him.

He thought about the men from The Way. Joey was the probably their best asset. Big Phillip looked as if he could take care of business on a one-to-one. He knew the rest of these people had backbone, but it would take a professional’s skills to do anything effective.

“So… what have you got in mind?” Whitney stretched himself stiffly on the couch.

Clay took a long moment before he ventured, “How would you feel about heading it up?”

Whitney sighed. Once again Clay felt as if time was standing still.

“Well I’m going stir-crazy stuck in here. I hate doing nothing.”

“What about the hurt?”

“You keep me pumped with p.k.s?”

“Sure,” Clay said.

Whitney flashed a smile.

“Well, if you can do that I might be up for the action. After all, it’s what I do.”

As quickly as he could, Clay got the waiting volunteers back to Whitney’s place. Before they had left ‘The Way’, there had been a heated exchange between John and the other senior members of the community. John had insisted on coming. They had pressed upon him the importance of his role and insisted that he stay behind. Big Phillip had stood eye to eye with him and spelled out the reality.

“Look, we really don’t know exactly what we’ll have to face. If we don’t come back, the community will survive our loss. If you weren’t to return then that would be much more serious for the future here. You have to stay.” It had taken a while but eventually John had relented.

Whitney stayed seated, casting an eye over the five men in front of him. Phillip and Joey had been joined by Greg, Falkner and Andrew.

“You got any idea what you’re going up against?” he asked. There was no response. He shot a glance at Clay and then looked back at the volunteers. “If we do this, then we do it my way. No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’. Got that? If you can’t give me an assurance of absolute obedience, we won’t take it any further. You take a minute to think about whether you’re in or out.”

Time was slipping by but it would have been foolish to go ahead unprepared. Whitney spent some time outlining what was required on their part. In between giving instructions, he sent Clay out to check a location. “It should be clear, but make sure, eh? I don’t want eyes on us,” he said.

Clay killed the power and sat for a while in the semidarkness. Between the passing clouds, the weak moonlight lent the outlook a pallid glow.

The area was a stink hole. He knew the Citizone well, but even he had never had cause to come here. He pressed the controls and lowered the cockpit sidescreen. A slight breeze, hurrying the clouds, carried the smell of the streets to him. Nothing stirred. It was one of those zones where things had been left to fall apart. There were still some faded, oldtime location indicators mounted on the corners of the collapsing structures.

Among the towering buildings across the wide avenue, large permanent block letters were still visible above a blanked off entrance.

Some had fallen forward, but he could still make out that it had once read ‘Railway’. He didn’t know exactly what Whitney had in mind, but this was the place, just as he had described it. He gave it a few more minutes before he reported back.

It seemed like an age until Whitney finally gave the go ahead and they left. Clay pulled the terraglide into a gap between the buildings. In the shadows and invisible from the street, someone would have to practically walk into the thing before they knew it was there.

Whitney handed round a jar containing the dark black gel he had already applied to his own face. His manner was curt and businesslike and the briefing session comprehensive. He gave instructions on the various devices he handed out. There would be no time for questions once they were under way. His own field kit bristled with weaponry and gadgets. He apportioned ropes, various permasteel devices and high-tech pulse weapons to the little band of reluctant warriors. As he dealt with the minor queries they raised, he washed down two of Clay’s painkillers with a draught from his field canteen.