The Baba Yaga (25 page)

As if there had been any doubt. The woman waved them into the back of the lorry, and they climbed in, grateful to get under the shade of the canopy. A long bench, with room for three, ran along each side, but there wasn’t much room once they were all in. Heyes found herself sandwiched between two human guards, while the big Vetch lumbered into the seat beside Larsen and Walker, forcing them to push up close to each other. “If this is an arrest,” Larsen muttered to Walker, “it’s one of the most polite I’ve ever encountered.”

The two other Vetch climbed into the front of the lorry, and they set off. The wheels set red dust flying behind them. Walker put her hand across her mouth. “One of the most effective too,” she said. “
If
this is an arrest.”

T
HE OLD LORRY
hardly moved at a great pace, but it was certainly better than walking. Although there was no clearly discernible road, the land through which they passed became less bumpy, and the journey was steady enough that Heyes fell asleep, head tipped back, snoring gently. The sun slid further down towards the horizon. Walker, looking out, watched the red desert begin to change, turning green and fertile, but she could see no water. “Is there a river here?” she said. “An oasis?” But none of their guards—if guards they were—replied, and her question remained unanswered.

The sky was darkening when they reached the settlement. The lorry slowed to a crawl, and Walker saw a huge wooden fence, and an open gateway, through which they passed. The driver of the lorry sounded the horn, and, as they came to a halt, Walker heard voices cry: “They’re back!” The message seemed to be passed around the whole settlement rapidly; soon people were gathering to catch a glimpse of the visitors. The Vetch sitting in the back opened the hatch, and jumped down, holding out his long arm and great paw for Walker help her down. Heyes woke with a start and a great snort. “What?” she said. “We here?”

“Come on, Mother,” Larsen said, pushing the old woman out in front of her. “Look smart. There’s a whole new congregation for you to minister to.”

Some of the people gathering were carrying lamps, and Walker was able to get a look at the faces of those gathering. She saw many children—human and Vetch—and indeed there were more adult humans and Vetch here too, gathered together and not segregated, talking to each other about the arrivals. She saw them coming out of houses together too—did they even
live
together, sharing quarters?

“I wish Failt was here,” she said to Larsen. “This was what he wanted to see, wasn’t it? ‘Living-in-peace-and-harmony.’”

“All looks too good to be true to me,” said Larsen.

“What do you mean?”

“You saw the files from World. Looked like Eden, didn’t it? All those people living together so happily. But in fact they were drugged to stupidity by the Weird and lived only long enough to be fed to the Harvesters.”

“You think that could be happening here?”

“I think the people we’ve met so far are almost preternaturally calm.”

“Perhaps they’re all terribly well-adjusted,” Walker said flippantly, but she began to look around her through different eyes. She remembered reading and watching the files from World, the first place where humans had encountered the Weird, and the horror and revulsion she felt as she realised how happily the humans were submitting to their terrible fate: to be consumed by the Weird. Could the same be happening here? Larsen was right: they had been greeted calmly, and now people were looking at them with curiosity, but with no fear, or
any
strong emotion. Had these people been assimilated too? Was she deluding herself that peaceful co-existence was possible? And yet the people on World had been in thrall; as if they lacked independent will. Here, there was clear purpose.

“Come this way,” said the leader of the group that had brought them to the settlement. The three women followed her, and Walker took her chance to look around the settlement. In the gathering darkness, she could see that it was well-kept and there was an abundance of life: big wooden houses, long and low, were set within trees and greenery and even flowers. Life on Stella Maris must be hard work, but the setting, at least, was pleasant. The door posts outside the long houses were carved with intricate designs, and this as much as anything made her doubt that the people here were in thrall to the Weird. No art could exist on a place like World, where all that was idiosyncratic had been eradicated from the souls living there, and no spark of creativity came from living and working alongside the Weird.

They came to a house that was larger, and higher, than the others they had passed, and the woman who had been acting as their guide said, “This is our main gathering place. It holds as many of us as wish to attend, and we have asked representatives from all the long-houses to come and hear you. Are you willing to speak?”

Now they were talking the kind of language that Walker understood: she could not count the number of committees she had attended during her career, and how often she had presented—and won—her case before them. She nodded, keen to explain her mission, and their guide led them into the building, and through into a big hall lined with seats, but otherwise empty.

“I thought we were here to speak to some committee?” Larsen said.

The woman nodded. “Wait,” she said. “They’re coming.”

They waited a while. At last, a group of people began to file in, maybe as many as forty or fifty, and started to take their seats in rows at the front of the room. Soon Walker found herself facing them.

“May I speak now?” she said, and some of the people gestured at her to begin. So slowly, carefully, and with all her years of experience, Walker explained her mission: her belief that there was a Weird portal on Stella Maris, and that this was what allowed them to live so peacefully together. She explained how she wanted to explore the portal and learn whether peaceful co-existence could spread further. She explained that she believed that this was better than the war which was otherwise inevitably going to happen. “I want peace,” she said. “It looks to me like you have peace. I want to understand how you’ve achieved it.”

Walker finished her speech and looked at the faces lined up in front of her. Nothing. No reaction. Suddenly, she felt extremely tired. “All I want to know,” she said, “Is whether the Weird are here on Stella Maris. Is there a Weird portal here?”

The group seemed to discuss something without words and then come to a decision. One of them, sitting on the far right, said, “Yes.”

Thank God
, thought Walker. Beside her, Larsen sighed with relief. “And will you tell me where it is?”

Again, that odd silent discussion. Were there telepaths here? Or was something else going on? Someone else in the group said, “No.”

Walker was about to reply, and with some asperity, but before she could open her mouth, Larsen stepped forwards, and began speaking, very quickly. “Look, I don’t know how much news you get out here in the boondocks—I’m going to assume not much—but the universe is busy changing. For one thing, humans and Vetch are no longer at war.” There was some muttering at this news, and a few nods and looks exchanged between members of both species. Walker, who had been ready to pull Larsen back, decided to let the other woman speak for a while. She might have more success. “But it’s a qualified peace,” said Larsen. “We’re all friends now, yes, but only because each empire thinks there’s a greater threat out there. They’re both—they’re gearing up for war with the Weird, but I think they don’t really understand what that entails. Anyway, they’re coming out fighting. They’re building bigger weapons, superweapons, and they’re moving troops, and the killing has already started. There’s been a great deal of death, already. We’re here,” Larsen spread out her hands in a gesture of openness, of friendship, “because we want to prevent more death. We want to find out how to live in peace. And harmony.”

This time the discussion wasn’t silent. There was much muttering around the group, which rose and fell and rose again, until eventually everyone was speaking. Then, suddenly, they all fell quiet. One of the Vetch sitting among the group stood up and said, “We must discuss this further, and privately. Please—make yourselves comfortable.”

The committee—or whatever it was—filed out, leaving the three women sitting alone in the great hall. “Interesting,” said Heyes.

“Interesting?” said Walker.

“Their decision-making process.”

“They have one?” said Larsen. “They seemed to be making it up as they went along.”

“No, there seemed to be some pretty clear processes at work there. I’d guess each of those people had the authority to speak on behalf of one of the long-houses. So some discussion must have happened already, before this gathering. I wonder if they do that for every decision, or whether less significant decisions are left to happen at grass-roots level. As I say, interesting. Needs more observation.”

“God,” said Larsen, “I’m hungry.”

They sat and waited. Larsen stood up and paced around the room. Eventually, one of the side doors opened, but it was not the committee returning, only someone wheeling in a wooden trolley laden with food. That, at least, was cheerful, and they made a good supper of bread and cheese, fruits and vegetables. There was a clear wine too, which Walker didn’t taste, but which Heyes and Larsen eventually agreed was ‘saucy.’ After about an hour, the committee returned and took their seats again. Walker approached them, and one of the Vetch, a female, rose from her chair, looming over her at an impressive seven-and-a-half feet tall. “We have discussed all that you have said. We have come to our decision.”

Walker nodded, confident in the knowledge that she would soon be on the way to the Weird portal.

“We are not interested in wars beyond our world. We are afraid that you might bring these wars to us. We believe it is best if you leave Stella Maris.”

Walker could hardly believe what she was hearing. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, you’ve not understood—”

“We have understood.”

“Then you’ve not listened. The war’s coming to you whether you like it or not.” She stared at the row of impassive faces in front of her. She couldn’t have come this far, gone through so much, to be stopped by these...
idiots
. “You might not be interested in anything that happens beyond this world, but the rest of the universe is going to be taking an interest in you.” She could feel her frustration growing; her voice becoming angrier. “Don’t you see what’s happening? Everywhere but here, the Weird are set on destroying whatever they meet—humans and Vetch alike. And now the humans and Vetch are set on destroying the Weird first. Your portal,” she said, “is not going to save you! Quite the opposite. It will make these people fear you all the more. And
that
will make them hate you. They will come to
destroy
you. Do I have to tell them where you are to make you understand—?”

“Delia,” hissed Larsen, “for the love of God, shut up!”

And then an old woman—a very old woman, leaning on a stick—stepped forward from the group, and she banged her stick against the ground three times.

The whole room went quiet.

“Listen to me,” said the old woman, into the silence. “We have listened to you, and heard what you have to say, and we have discussed, and we have come to our decision. You may remain here and rest for the night. But then you must leave Stella Maris. You are not wanted here.”

This message delivered, the committee began to file out of the hall. Eventually, only Walker, Larsen and Heyes remained. The priest looked around the room a few times, sniffed, and then headed for the door. “Threats,” she said, “can only ever get you so far.”

T
HE WOMAN WHO
had been their guide since they arrived came to find them. She led them from the big hall upstairs to a small chamber where mattresses had been put down on the floor. There was water for drinking and washing, and some more food. “I hope you will be comfortable,” she said. “Please remain here in this room and do not wander about. We will come for you in the morning.”

When she left, Walker tried the door. It opened but, when she looked out along the corridor, she saw the shadow of a large Vetch against the wall ahead.

“Watched?” said Larsen, when Walker came back into the chamber.

“I think so,” said Walker. She went over to one of the mattresses and lay down. She felt exhausted and sick. Larsen came over and made her drink water. “Why wouldn’t they listen?” Walker said. “It’s like they want to commit suicide.”

Larsen shook her head. “No more now, Delia. Go to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Walker closed her eyes, and fell swiftly into a dead sleep. Before dawn, they were woken, given food and water for the journey, and then, as the first pale light of the day began to inch across the sky, they were taken to the edge of the settlement. Their guide was still with them. “The day’s coming,” she said, “and it will be hot. Don’t delay. Get back to your ship as quickly as you can. Your journey isn’t long, but the heat of the sun can be cruel.” Her eyes fell on Larsen, then Heyes, and finally on Walker. “Not all of you are suited for a journey like this.”

“Well,” said Larsen, as they set out, “at least once we’re back at the ship I can put my feet up for a while.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” said Walker. “We won’t be stopping at the
Baba Yaga
for long. Only long enough to see if we can pinpoint the portal. We know it’s here. I’m sure we can find it.”

Larsen frowned and glanced back over her shoulder. “You know, I don’t think the people of Stella Maris will like that very much. They sounded pretty serious when it came to their portal.”

“They can try stopping me,” said Walker.

“They might just do that.”

“Tell me, Kay—did you see any weapons back there? No? I didn’t, either. I’m willing to bet you the ship that there’s more firepower on the
Baba Yaga
than in the whole of that Girl Guide camp back there.”

“It’s not your ship,” began Larsen, but Heyes was already speaking over her.