Powers That Be (23 page)

“Shh, Dinah, shhh,” Bunny said. It didn’t feel strange to be talking to a dog: she did it all the time. But it did seem odd that the dog seemed to be talking, too. “Diego’s okay, Dinah. I just left him. Look, tell you what, you come with me and we’ll find Clodagh, okay? Don’t run off now when I unsnap you. Maloneys have had enough pain without losing you, too.”

The more of Dinah she untangled, the more the dog calmed, tail wagging cooperatively; but when the dog was at last free, she snatched herself out of Bunny’s grasp and bounded off toward the river.

“Holy cow, sir, where did that volcano come from?” the pilot asked Torkel as the copter sped toward the westerly crash-site coordinates provided by SpaceBase. They were still a good distance away when he pointed to the port side.

Since his comments had crackled through the headsets everyone was wearing, Yana looked, too. The fiery glow, the pall of the ash hanging in the air, was plainly visible. The air was still full of turbulence from the initial eruptions, and the lightweight copter shook and tossed about like a Ping-Pong ball.

Beneath them the ground rolled and fissured while ash and smoke pumped from the newly blown cone, born on one of the low mountains to the west. Visibility was poor with airborne smuts that were beginning to build up on the ground. Yana realized that some of the quaking she had felt back at the clinic must have come from this eruption.

Sandwiched as she was between Giancarlo and Ornery, Yana had a clear view between the pilot and Torkel, riding in copilot position. She wasn’t at all reassured by the panorama. It looked like someone’s terraforming gone wrong, and she thought they would be smarter to make tracks
from
rather than
to
.

As the copter drew nearer to the new volcano, a thin line of people emerged from the grayness beneath them and started waving frantically.

Torkel picked up the copilot’s microphone. “This is Flying Fish. We have you in sight. Please identify yourselves. Is Dr. Whittaker Fiske with you? Over.”

Rather to Yana’s surprise, a response came back immediately. “Flying Fish, this is Team Boom Boom. We see you. We have two severely injured people in our party. That’s a big Mayday. Please transport to SpaceBase pronto. Over.”

The pilot clicked the transmission button on his own microphone. “This is Flying Fish, Boom Boom. Gotcha. We’re setting down one-zero-zero meters due east of you. Over.”

But Torkel clicked on the copilot’s mike again before the stranded team could respond. “Boom Boom, this is Captain Torkel Fiske on the Flying Fish. Is Dr. Whittaker Fiske or any member of his team with you? Over.”

“Negative, Cap’n Fiske. Petaybee blew its top about the time the shuttlecraft was landing. The turbulence from the volcano blew the craft off course and we had to initiate evacuation procedures before we could search for survivors. Sorry, sir. Over.”

“Boom Boom, Flying Fish here. I’m sorry, too, but you’ll have to hang on while we radio SpaceBase for another craft to retrieve you. We need to look for the survivors soonest.”

“I can’t fly into that, sir,” the pilot said, glancing anxiously at Torkel. “It’d clog the jets. Let me pick up the wounded and get ground support.”

“Finding my father is number-one priority,” Torkel told the pilot in a command tone. Yana couldn’t see his face. She wondered briefly if Torkel wanted to save his father because of his importance to the mission, or simply because Dr. Fiske
was
his father.

“Flying Fish, you can’t leave us here. Our wounded are in bad shape and the rest of us are having trouble breathing from the ash. It’s smothering in there, sir. Please, at least pick up the wounded. Boom Boom over.”

The pilot, heedless of Torkel’s commands to fly into the face of the billowing ash clouds, began circling to land. Yana saw Torkel reach for his sidearm, but the pilot had anticipated a problem.

“Sorry, sir,” the pilot said, pointing a pistol at Torkel, “but you and the others will have to get out while we load the wounded. I’ll call for another aircraft and some ground support for you as soon as we’re in the air.”

Ornery started to draw his weapon, but his attention was on the pilot, not on Yana. With a well-placed chop to his wrist she numbed his hand and relieved him of his weapon before either he or Giancarlo could react. She stuck the muzzle of the gun under Giancarlo’s ear with one hand and extracted his sidearm from his holster with the other in a series of rapid movements that would have made her hand-to-hand combat trainer beam with pride. Ornery leaned menacingly toward her, but his numbed hand wasn’t following orders. She shook her head and jabbed Giancarlo meaningfully with the gun.

“This section of the aircraft is secured, pilot,” Yana said into her mouthpiece.

The pilot gave her a thumbs-up and said to Torkel, “I’ll take your sidearm, too, sir. And just in case you gentlemen want to claim this is mutiny or anything, I’m sure superior-officer types like yourselves are aware that, by chain of command, I am the pilot of this craft. I am therefore the temporary CO. Thanks to you, ma’am.”

He set the copter down and the stranded people surged toward it. He lifted a foot and kicked Torkel’s door open. “Out you go, Cap’n. You there, Corporal, open your own damn door and disembark. You too, Colonel. Under the circumstances, we’ll belay the ladies first shit.”

When the others had jumped out of the copter and the pilot turned to watch her go, Yana saw that he was a warrant officer, a green-eyed, lean-jawed man with curly black hair, broad prominent cheekbones, and the slight tilt to his eyes she had begun to identify with people from Petaybee. His nametag said
O’SHAY.

14

The track-cat lumbered down the riverbank and into the trees, surely and slowly—much too slowly to suit Diego. What if someone caught them and tried to take them back? What would happen to them then? Would they send Dad off-planet? Would they split them up? Would he be charged with the theft of the track-cat?

Hours seemed to pass as the vehicle rolled, slowly but staunchly, up small hillocks and forded freshets of water and melting snow running toward the river.

The track-cat was open to the air, too, so it was a good thing the day was exceptionally warm or they all might have frozen. Diego’s dad lay inert against Steve, who clung tightly to his clothes to keep him from bouncing out of the vehicle.

The slushy, icy terrain was tough going even for the track-cat. Diego nursed it up a hill and down over the other side, only to lodge with one edge of the track in a ditch.

“Try rocking it,” Steve hollered. “Forward, reverse, forward, reverse! Let it dig its own way out.”

But the tracks could not bite or budge. Diego put it in neutral and climbed down to see exactly what the problem was. That was when he heard the noise from the other side of the trees and realized they weren’t the only ones in trouble.

He pointed to show Steve where he was going and, leaving the vehicle running, trudged through the slush until he was clear of the trees.

The snowy road that the snocles had been so blithely using had become separated from the bank by a foot of open, steaming water. A soldier waved his parka to keep oncoming traffic from adding to the twenty or thirty vehicles already slewed crazily over what remained of the iced river. Beneath snocles and the feet of the drivers, huge steaming cracks yawned and pieces of ice broke off and floated in the blue-black water.

As Diego watched, the ice broke and a snocle shifted, unbalancing its ice raft so that it and one of the men both slid slowly into the river.

Groaning at this new emergency, Diego raced back to the track-cat just as Steve slid out from under Francisco and fastened the safety harness around the flaccid body.

“What the devil’s going on over there?” Steve demanded as he sprinted toward Diego.

“The ice is breaking, and there’s people stranded on it,” Diego told him, panting and pointing urgently toward the river. “They need a lot of help and fast. We’ve got to let the village know right now.”

But Steve had to see for himself and swept past Diego to crash through the brush and look at the river. Diego followed uncertainly, torn between the crisis on the river and his father’s helpless body left alone in the snocle.

On the fracturing ice, maybe a half-dozen people now lay on their bellies, hands and feet linked, forming a human chain to fish for the man who had fallen into the river. He still had a perilous hold on the ice floe, which bobbed about, having tipped free of the snocle.

Steve stood poised on the bank for just a moment before he took a grip on Diego’s shoulder. “Get your father to the village on the double, Diego, and send back help. I’ll lend a hand here.”

“But, the track-cat’s stuck,” Diego reminded him.

“Deal with it,” Steve commanded in the same kind of gruff tone Diego had heard him use to talk to shipboard staff. Diego glared at him, resentfully. Steve, seeing his face, added, “That’s our expedition team down there. See? The big fellow with the red bandanna? That’s Sandoz Rowdybush. And I think the guy on the ice is Chas Collar. Your dad and I have worked with them for ten years. I’m not about to desert them.”

“No, but you’ll desert Dad.”

Steve took a deep breath. “He’s got you, too. Go back to the cat. If you can’t get it moving, stick with your father till I can come for you. If you make it to the village, tell them this river is having a serious meltdown problem and we’ll need all the help they can muster.”

Not quite mollified but having no other option, Diego sloshed back to the track-cat. Sure the guys on the ice needed help, but what if help from SpaceBase came and found Diego’s stuck track-cat? Then Dad would never get the help Diego was now convinced was his only hope. There were plenty of
other
guys out on the ice already—why did Steve think they needed him more than Dad did? Angrily, Diego kicked at the brush surrounding the track-cat—which gave him an idea on how to free the vehicle. He tore into the vehicle’s locker, strewing a number of items on the floor until he found a hatchet, which he used to lob off enough branches to cushion the treads and give them some traction. Then he cleaned the mud out of the tracks as well as he could, all the while muttering to himself, as much to keep his own spirits up as to vent his frustration and anger.

Just about the time he had the cat ready to go, he had reached the conclusion that Steve had really had no other option but to go rescue his friends. On the other hand, there was no way Diego was going to wait tamely here. Not when he risked being found by the company corps, who might resent his appropriation of their vehicle. More importantly, they would take Dad back to the clinic, where
nothing
was being done for him, and Diego knew with a certainty he couldn’t have explained even to himself that he
had
to get his dad to the village, and away from the company. The people in Kilcoole understood what had happened to his dad, and they could cure him. He
knew
they could. They had to.

He didn’t realize how tense he had been until he broke the track-cat free of the mud. Hoping his spontaneous shout of relief had been inaudible among the shouts and cries coming from the river, he immediately changed directions, driving across the gully and back into the woods. Now he steered away from the riverbank, keeping to the trees, avoiding anyone who might be struggling ashore and also avoiding surveillance by airborne rescue parties.

Half an hour later, with the light beginning to wane, he was far enough from the river that, when the ice finally completely gave way, all he heard was a dull roar, like a far-off crowd cheering some sporting event. And he heard that only because the engine of the track-cat, which had been left running day and night since the vehicle had been commissioned, had run out of fuel.

He stopped and listened to the distant roar, tasted smoke and ash on the air mingling with the released ozone smell of open water, felt the ground trembling beneath the track-cat as if it, too, would break open at any time. Birds screeched through the trees as if crying warnings.

His father’s inert body looked uncomfortable in the harness that was keeping it upright on the seat beside him. Diego tenderly rearranged the passive limbs into less grotesque positions. He didn’t think his father could have been hurt by the rough journey, but he really hated to see his dad, once so athletic and fit, collapsed like a disconnected android.

With no more fuel, the vehicle was useless. Diego let out a deep sigh. Despite his detours, he couldn’t be that far from the village at this point. He glanced around, sniffing and finally noticing the odd smells in the air: acrid, oily, definitely nonregulation. Usually by now the air started to chill off, but it was still as warm as it had been all day. Strapped as he was in the seat, Dad wouldn’t be in any real danger from chilling for at least another half hour, Diego estimated. He reached for the coat he had removed during his exertions to get the track-cat moving again and tucked it around his father, patting it in place, remembering his father doing the same service for him when he was smaller. Maybe he shouldn’t leave his father here. There
were
wild animals on Petaybee, wild animals strong enough to break into the track-cat, maybe. Would they be more afraid of the machine smell than they would be hungry? Suddenly Diego wasn’t sure he could take the risk. Not with his father so helpless.

But he couldn’t just sit here, halfway to nowhere. Fretting more than ever, he turned to rummage through the track-cat’s locker, hoping there might be something useful in it. There was nothing: nothing to use to build a fire, no emergency rations, not even a canteen of water, but then the cat had been used around the SpaceBase, where such supplies had always been at hand. It wasn’t as if the motor pool had anticipated the cat being stolen for a cross-country escape. Totally demoralized, Diego flopped down on the driver’s seat, wondering
how
he was going to cope now. If Steve did keep his promise to come after him, he wouldn’t
be
there anymore. Would Steve be able to come looking for them? What could he do? He’d only wanted to
help
his father!

As if to seal his depression, the first keening howl sounded through the evening.

Bunny didn’t have to alert the village: the dogs’ wailing did it for her. People poured out of their houses to see what was wrong. She didn’t have to tell them the river had broken up. Anyone born on Petaybee and raised with Kilcoole’s long winters could smell breakup in the air, could feel the change in the pressure, and if that wasn’t enough, the ice melting from the roofs and the slush seeping through the soft soles of their boots made it all too evident.

Bunny ran up to Lavelle’s door first. Liam opened it. “Liam, the river’s breaking early and people in snocles are trapped.”

“The planet take them, then.” Liam shrugged angrily and started to shut the door in her face.

“Seamus is out there helping, and Dinah’s got loose and ran off toward the river. Please, Liam, if you won’t help, at least spread the word!” When he reached for his parka on the hook by the door, she caught his hand, grinning. “You don’t need it. Come
on
.”

She didn’t wait to see if he followed but ran straight to her Aunt Moira’s. Moira and her three oldest sons, Nanuk, Tutiak, and Tim, were already hitching up Charlie’s dogs while Maureen and ‘Naluk, the oldest girls, carried blankets and other provisions to the sleds. “Auntie Moira, the river’s breaking up—”

“I know, Bunka. Don’t just stand there! Help us! Seamus is out there on that river.”

“He’s okay for now, Auntie. The soldiers pulled him out. But they all need help.”

Tutiak growled at her. “What do you think we’re trying to do?”

“No need to be rude to your cousin, Tutiak,” Moira said, slapping at him. “He’s sorry, Bunka. We’re taking Charlie’s dogs to go help now. Okay with you?”

“Fine,” Bunny said. “I have to go tell Clodagh.”

“Hmph,” Tim grunted. “As if anyone ever needed to tell Clodagh anything.”

Bunny paused at Aisling and Sinead’s, first noticing that the dogs were missing from the yard, then that the long daylight was finally waning. The door opened on her first rap to reveal Aisling wearing her waterproof breakup boots, with her arms full of blankets.

“Breakup’s come early, Aisling, and—”

“I know.”

“How?”

“Alice B heard from the other dogs. Sinead and the dogs are on the way.”

“It’s getting too slushy for dogs even. We’re going to need the curlies.”

“Have you asked Adak to call Sean?”

Bunny felt something inside her wrench suddenly. “No! I—Aisling, the soldiers kept Yana. I think Sean’s in trouble.”

“Warn Clodagh,” Aisling said. “I’ll tell anybody else who hasn’t figured it out yet and meet you there.”

With a wave, Bunny ran on through the dusk to Clodagh’s house. Clodagh was holding a lamp when she opened the door. None of the cats were in sight; then one appeared, taking immediate advantage of the open door to brush past Bunny and jump up on the table, where it began mewing piteously.

“Marduk says Yana hasn’t been home to feed him,” Clodagh translated.

Breathless, Bunny collapsed in a sprawl on Clodagh’s bed. “She was goin’ to try to reason with Captain Fiske for us, but it mustn’t have worked. Clodagh, the river’s breaking—”

Clodagh nodded with some satisfaction. “Of course it is. The river ice has been SpaceBase’s quickest connecting route to us. The planet’s protecting us—and itself.”

“Seamus almost drowned trying to help one of the soldiers,” Bunny said, without asking how Clodagh knew what the planet knew, or was trying to do. She just did, that was all. She always did.

“That Seamus,” Clodagh said, shaking her head. “Of course he would try to help. Is he okay?”

“He’s out on the ice with the others. They’re all still stranded. And not only that, Clodagh, but when I stopped by Lavelle’s to untangle Dinah from her harness, Dinah—well, it was like she
talked
to me. She was all upset about some boy. And that has to be Diego, but
he
should be safe at the SpaceBase. What are we going to do, Clodagh? Everything’s coming to pieces.” This last came out of Bunny almost like the howl of one of the dogs. That made her realize that she was very tired and keyed up to the highest possible pitch. She would give anything to be able to sleep for a week—if only someplace felt safe enough to sleep in! Even Clodagh seemed different somehow, her eyes glittering and her customary expressions underlain with agitation and a hard anger that had nothing to do with Bunny. Clodagh, Bunny felt, was actually glad about the river and wouldn’t have minded if everyone—well, not Seamus, but everyone else—had drowned. Bunny suddenly realized that she, too, wouldn’t mind if they all drowned, if all of SpaceBase suddenly sank into the planet and disappeared and the company moon vanished from the sky. They were bound and determined to ruin Petaybee. Everything Bunny cared about and counted on was changing, coming apart the way the ice, usually as much to be depended upon as the ground this time of year, had broken away beneath her.

Even Clodagh’s house no longer felt like the haven of comfort and reassurance it had been for Bunny ever since her parents had died and she realized she could no longer live among her cousins.

“Bunka,” Clodagh said, touching her shoulder.

“Why couldn’t they leave us alone, Clodagh? Why couldn’t they leave Petaybee alone? Did they have to ruin everything?”

“They’ve ruined nothing yet, Bunka. Oh, they set a few charges about here and there, and sent soldiers out to the mountains. But until they stop and pay attention, they’re not likely to learn anything about Petaybee worth the knowin’. And meantime, the planet has means to protect itself.”