The Drift Wars (28 page)

—   —   —

Peter
was hit by a blast of light as the cargoship’s twenty-story
impulsor stack swung into view. He threw the throttle forward,
flying in its wake. His ship was engulfed in white tachyon exhaust.

The
small ship was getting tossed around, so Peter jerked the stick to
compensate. He stayed in the middle of the turbulent exhaust, where
his own engine would be undetectable.

Once
their speed matched the cargoship’s, Peter dove, breaking free of
the light storm and into the quiet shadow below. He cut the engine
and the ship seemed motionless as it flew alongside the other. They
were close enough, he hoped, that the gateway’s sensors would
register the two ships as one.

The
shield approached slowly, growing razor-thin as they passed through.
Peter craned his neck and looked back. From the inside looking out,
the shield was translucent; the stars shone like reflections on a
shimmering green sea.

—   —   —

Once
inside the Great Barrier, the cargoship turned, steering toward its
final destination. Peter let his own ship glide until he was certain
they were out of scanner range of both the cargoship and the shield;
then he reversed the throttle just enough to stop.

“We’re
in,” he said over the comm.

“Congratulations,”
Linda replied. “You want to get me out of this suit now?”

“I
want to wait a few minutes, to be sure we weren’t noticed.”

“Why
am I not surprised?”

—   —   —

Peter
spent a quarter of an hour tracking all the ships nearby until he
was certain that none were headed his way. At the same time, he
sifted through the incoming radio transmissions, gathering the names
and coordinates of the occupied planets: Anteries. Sakazu.
Carallaries. And, finally, Genesia. He had never realized how close
they were to each other.

No
other ships approached, so he removed Linda from her suit. Dark bile
had collected on her chin; she wiped it away as soon as her arms
were free.

“Just
to be clear,” she said firmly, “I’m never doing that again.”

“I
promise,” he said, sliding her from the suit to the mattress.

“So
what does it look like out there?”

“Like
space,” Peter said, “but crowded.”

“I
want to see,” she said.

Peter
found her blanket and helped her to the cockpit. Her arms were thin,
her skin tight to the bone.

Outside
the window the lights of a thousand ships moved through the system.
“Oh, Peter,” she gasped.

“This
is only the very edge,” he said.

“So
many ships.”

“And
planets,” Peter added. “Hundreds of them.”

Linda
furrowed her brow. “That’s a lot more than I remember,” she
said.

“Yeah,”
Peter replied. “Me too.”

The
Nav Computer had nothing to offer about the interior of the Livable
Territories, so they studied the flight patterns of the other ships.
The only thing out there was civilian craft—if the United Forces
were preparing to repel a Riel invasion, they were doing it
somewhere else.

Linda
flew the ship in a small circle while Peter triangulated on
Genesia’s radio transmissions; it seemed like the safest bet. It
took an hour to fix the planet’s coordinates, after which Linda
felt weak and had to lie down, leaving Peter at the controls.

At
the core of the Livable Territories, a dozen suns were tightly
clustered. Each was surrounded with planets that revolved on several
axes or, in one case, were strung along the same orbit like a pearl
necklace. It was as if humanity had designed the heavenly bodies for
its own convenience.

Peter
expected to continue on to a more remote location, but it turned out
that Genesia was inside one of the busiest systems. He trailed some
larger ships as they passed the planet, then he circled back,
approaching in the shadow of a smooth white moon the way
transportships approached Riel-controlled planets. He couldn’t
hope to avoid detection but saw no reason to be obvious.

He
circled the planet to find a landing site as Linda sifted through
the terrestrial radio signals. She was looking for Peter’s
hometown, but the closest she found was Bentings Naval Base, from
where he had left Genesia all those years ago.

Peter
remembered Bentings surrounded by farmland, but as they approached
he saw it was buried in the middle of a city. In fact, the whole
planet was just one endless metropolis.

—   —   —

They
decided to land near the base, in what appeared to be a large city
park with a small forest inside. Peter would have preferred
somewhere more remote, but there weren’t many choices.

The
ship wasn’t streamlined for planetary entry and the Nav System
rejected any course to the surface. Peter knew nothing about landing
a ship except that there was a strong danger of burning up if you
descended too fast. So he aimed the ship away from the planet and
backed into the atmosphere with a heavy burn of the tachyon drive.
It wasn’t subtle—the engines scorched the air, creating a thick
column of smoke—but no ships came to investigate.

At
a thousand feet he cut the engines for fear of burning down the
forest. With only the stabilizers to slow their decent, they plunged
through the trees and smashed to the ground. The rear hull crumpled,
cushioning the impact. The ship teetered for a moment, then flopped
down to its landing gear.

The
computer screamed at Peter in a language he didn’t understand, but
nothing was on fire. He switched it off and went to check on Linda.

—   —   —

The
two of them stood in the doorway, gazing out at the trees. Peter was
in a black thermal bodysuit—the underlayer of his combat suit—and
Linda wore an oversize camouflage coat like a dress. The air here
was crisp and wet, alive. After so many years of filtered air, it
was intoxicating. Peter drew deeply though his nose, taking in the
smell.

“You
first,” he said, waving her outside.

“Help
me,” Linda replied. Peter stepped out and lifted her down. She
tested the ground with her feet, checking that it was really there.
“It’s marvelous,” she said, threading her arm through his for
support.

They
walked through the woods, treading over soft pine needles. They came
across a gravel path and followed it to a field of manicured grass.
Next they trudged up an embankment that overlooked a blue lake.
Finally, Linda dropped onto a bench, panting. Peter joined her,
surprised to find himself also out of breath.

The
late-afternoon sun was warm and the park’s colors were bright and
rich. It was a little overwhelming—back on the base, everything
that wasn’t steel was colored to match.

Peter
threw his arm over Linda and she curled into him. They looked up at
the moon high overhead, half faded against the pale sky. But it
wasn’t the moon. It was too big, and patched in blue and gray. It
was a planet. And there was another one nearby, smaller or more
distant. Peter knew this wasn’t right, but he didn’t care. He
was happier now than he’d been his whole life. Or, at least, what
he could claim as his own.

Linda
suddenly turned away, coughing sharply into her towel.

“So
what’s next?” she asked, mopping her chin.

“One
of us should scout around,” Peter said.

“And
that should be you,” Linda said. “I’m happy right here.” She
stretched out her arms, embracing the sun.

Peter
smiled, her joy feeding his own. He didn’t want to leave her, but
she was in no condition to travel. He had to find help.

“I’ll
show you around later,” he said, getting to his feet.

“I’d
like that,” she said. Peter waited awkwardly, wanting to say more,
then turned down the path. “Peter,” she called after him. He
looked back.

Linda
sat framed by the green grass and the blue lake, the sun
highlighting her hair. “This is really lovely,” she said. “Thank
you for bringing me.”

Peter
nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and continued on. The sound
of her cough faded behind him.

—   —   —

Once
he was out of Linda’s sight, he started jogging, then running. At
the end of the path was a high brick wall over which the city rose
like endless smokestacks in a gray haze. Peter slowed to a walk and
passed through a gate.

Everything
outside the park was paved. The trees that lined the sidewalks were
plastic, planted in green cement. The air was burned, and the
relentless din of cars’ horns and engines filled his ears. Peter
searched for anything familiar.

Two
small women shoved past him. They looked like miniature humans, no
taller than Peter’s waist. The older lectured the younger in a
thick accent that he didn’t recognize. The younger looked back,
ogling Peter. She tapped her companion’s shoulder and pointed.
Peter escaped into the street, dodging traffic.

—   —   —

The
street was ten lanes in each direction. Peter worked through the
slow-moving traffic. A tiny car screeched to a halt in front of him,
and the driver gaped at him in horror. Peter ran faster.

More
cars stopped and more little people got out to look at him. At the
far side of the street he ducked into an alley where impossibly tall
buildings blocked out the sun. Small shops lined both sides of the
alley, but he saw nothing that could help Linda. He looked into a
window; the man inside was startled by the sight of him and ducked
behind a counter.

Then
a small woman came out of a doorway. She had dark hair and a
low-cut, strapless dress that was black against her smooth, tan
skin. She walked right up to Peter, chasing him back a step.

“You
look like you could use a stiff one, friend,” she said, raising a
clear bottle. Slivers of ice slid down the side.

“I
need to find a hospital,” Peter said. “Or a doctor.”

The
woman stared for a moment, blankly, then said, “Come on in. We’ll
get you sorted.” She winked at him and sauntered back inside.

Peter
checked both ways—the alleyway was empty—then followed, ducking
though the small door.

—   —   —

The
room was just tall enough for Peter to stand. A short bar was set
against one wall and a few dozen tables were scattered about.
Everything was lit, but there was no source of light. It was as if
the air itself glowed. The woman was nowhere to be seen.

“What
are you drinking, friend?” a man asked from behind the bar. He was
middle-aged and wore a paisley felt vest over a white plastic shirt.
He craned his neck up at Peter, giving him a welcome smile.

“I
need to find a hospital,” Peter said.

“A
what?”

“A
hospital,” Peter repeated. “The woman outside said you might be
able to help me.”

The
bartender frowned.

“Or
a doctor,” Peter said. “A medic?”

The
man remained still as a picture for several seconds and then
brightened. “Perhaps you’ll start with some food?” he asked,
gesturing at a machine in the corner. It was a miniature of those in
the Purple Area of the base. “We print a fine selection of meats
here, with vegetables as good as fresh.”

“That’s
not what the man wants, George.”

Peter
turned. Three small men stood behind him, dressed in gaudy felts and
plastics. The one talking had plastic glasses so large they covered
his face.

“He
asked for a medic,” said the second man, who wore a wig of solid
rubber.

“How’s
the war, soldier?” said the third, taking a drag from a
toothpick-thin cigarette. “Kill the nasty Riel today?”

“What
kind of amusement is this anyway, George?” the man in the glasses
asked the bartender.

“No
idea, friend,” the bartender replied.

“Stupid
projection,” the smoker said, flicking his cigarette at the
bartender. It flew through him and struck the wall. The bartender
didn’t seem to notice. Peter saw for the first time the shimmering
translucency of the man’s skin.
He
was a projection
.

“Like
talking to a wall,” the wigged man said, waving a hand at Peter.
It connected, slapping against Peter’s leg. The man jerked back,
shocked.

“Hang
on,” he said. “It’s real.”

“Real
like what?” asked the smoker. “A robot?”

The
man in glasses reached out tentatively, pinching the skin on Peter’s
arm. “Flesh and blood.”

“Hey,”
Peter said, raising his fist. The man in the wig backed away.

“Scared?”
chided the man with glasses, shoving his friend at Peter.

“So
you’re what?” the smoker asked, lighting another cigarette from
a glowing plug.

“I’m
a sergeant,” Peter said. The small men only looked confused. “A
marine,” he added.

“A
reproduction?” he asked, incredulous. “For real?”

“I
heard they were big, but…”

“A
drink for the sergeant, George,” the man in glasses told the
holographic bartender.

“Do
you drink?” the smoker asked Peter.

“I
can’t,” Peter said. “I’ve got to find a—”

“A
medic,” the man in glasses cut in. “We heard it. So why are you
here?”

“I
have to go,” Peter said, starting for the door. Then he stopped.
“I need to tell you something important,” he said.

“Go
on, then,” said the man in the wig.

“The
base was destroyed,” Peter said. “Wiped out.”

The
men stared blankly.

“There’s
nothing left to stop the Riel from invading the Livable
Territories,” Peter continued.

The
men only stared. Peter took their reaction for fear, but then they
burst out laughing.

“Don’t
you get it?” Peter shouted. “We lost the war. The Riel are
coming!”

“You
sure he’s real?” asked the smoker. He reached out, but Peter
slapped his hand away. There was a crunch. The smoker collapsed,
clutching his wrist and screaming.