Hupcka sat beside Bennett and steered the bouncing vehicle. “In four hours we’ll be out of the mountains, Josh. Perhaps six hours after that we’ll reach the ship.”
“I only hope the council militia hasn’t found it before us.”
“They had a patrol scout on the plain yesterday,” Hupcka said. “But they only got as far south as the ruins. I know because we have a man in their ranks.”
They had left the valley far behind and were travelling down a boulder-strewn ravine. Ahead, the first crawler bounced like a child’s toy, a comically frail structure rocking this way and that over the uneven terrain.
Tenebrae slipped down behind the mountains as they travelled, and the stars appeared in the strip of sky high above the gorge. The minor sun shone like a distant orange lantern, providing sufficient light to illuminate the track ahead. The balloon tyres of the crawler came into their own, climbing over boulders and across potholes, the suspension creaking in protest. Bennett held on as the vehicle bucketed along, Hupcka laughing into the headwind like a madman.
They passed from the protection of the mountains and descended on to the purple plain, the first crawler racing ahead. Bennett had not slept for what seemed like ages, and as the vehicle rocked back and forth he took the opportunity to doze.
He was awoken, hours later, when the crawler lurched, tossing him between Hupcka’s bulk and the door. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. It was dawn. The bright ellipse of the gas giant’s upper hemisphere spanned the far horizon, casting its opalescent light across the plain. He must have been asleep for almost six hours. They had climbed from the plain and were skirting the foothills to the west, the purple grass spreading like a sea far below.
Hupcka glanced at him. “I didn’t want to worry you unduly, Josh. But a couple of hours ago we discovered we had company. Look.” He passed Bennett a pair of binoculars and pointed. “Halfway across the plain, at about two o’clock.”
Bennett adjusted the focus. At first all he saw was a dancing blur of purple grass. Then he caught a flash of something. He steadied his hand and centred the speeding object. It was a balloon-tyred vehicle like their own, swarming with green-uniformed militia.
“A council patrol,” Hupcka said. “Perhaps they’re taking your crash-landing story with a pinch of salt, checking further afield for the ship.”
“Where’s Miriam’s crawler?”
“When we saw the council militia we decided to take action. The other crawler moved down to the plain to follow at a safe distance. If the militia looks like getting anywhere near the ship, they’ll attack and provide a decoy.”
“And if the militia see us?”
Hupcka nodded. “It’s a possibility. If they move our way, or start firing, then Miriam and the others will move in.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. This is routine stuff. We’ll get you to the ship in one piece.”
Bennett nodded, fear tight within him. He was, he realised, not cut out for the role of a man of action. He liked the mentally anaesthetising effect of living on the edge of his wits, but when things got out of hand—like the fire-fight yesterday, or the possibility of conflict now—he had to admit that he wished he was elsewhere.
But do I wish I was back on Earth, with Julia, he asked himself? It came as a surprise to realise that he would rather be in the thick of the action.
Hupcka glanced at him. “Once we reach the ship, how long will it take you to lift off?”
“Five, ten minutes. No more.”
Hupcka nodded. “Okay.” He lifted a radio microphone and shouted into it in French. A crackling voice replied. Hupcka shouted again, clearly issuing orders.
“We’re getting close, Josh. I’ve told Miriam to move in and attack the militia.”
Bennett turned in his seat, raised the binoculars and found the rebels’ crawler far below. As he watched, it closed in on the militia crawler and opened fire with a hail of laser charges. Explosions bloomed in the plain around the first vehicle as it took evasive action and swerved from left to right. One green-uniformed militia-man tumbled, loose-limbed, over the side. They returned fire, and the lasers illuminated the dawn with quick flares of electric blue.
“Hold on, Josh! I’m going for it.”
Hupcka turned the wheel of the vehicle and they veered off down the incline, Bennett swaying in his seat. At this distance, without the benefit of binoculars, the militia crawler and the rebel vehicle were reduced to the size of scurrying insects.
Bennett held on as the vehicle bounced and juddered over the uneven terrain. Five minutes later they hit the plain and accelerated. Bennett turned and adjusted the binoculars. The crawlers were far behind, their progress lit by the bright flares of explosing laser charges.
“The ship!” Hupcka called, staring ahead. “Two minutes, Josh! Get ready to board.”
Perhaps half a kilometre away, squatting on the plain where they had left it, was the slick tear-drop shape of the Cobra resplendent in the morning light of Tenebrae. Bennett turned and looked for the enemy crawler. He judged that the two vehicles were a couple of kilometres away, and closing.
They slewed to a halt in the shadow of the Cobra and Bennett jumped out. He took Hupcka’s hand in a fierce grip, words of either encouragement or farewell beyond him.
“I’ll see you in eight months, Josh. Good luck!”
Bennett ran towards the Cobra, slapped the sensor panel on the hatch and dived inside. Seconds later he was on the flight-deck, throwing himself into the command couch and touching the surrounding console to life. He typed in the command for immediate lift-off—he’d worry about the phase commands when he was in orbit. The main consideration was to get into the air and out of the range of the militia lasers.
The Cobra’s take-off system cycled into life, seeming to take an age to process Bennett’s commands. Through the viewscreen he made out two tiny vehicles on the plain, approaching at speed. As he watched, a third vehicle emerged from beneath the ship’s nose: Hupcka. The rebel halted his crawler and stood, lifting a laser rifle to his shoulder and taking careful aim.
The militia crawler accelerated, heading straight for the Cobra. Seconds later the first explosion rocked the ship. A spray of soil erupted from pits gouged in the ground just metres away. He abbreviated the take-off program, dispensing with half a dozen checks. He would be airborne in a matter of minutes, with luck.
Below, Hupcka was firing at the militia. Their crawler swerved on a slalom run across the plain, miraculously avoiding Hupcka’s laser charges. Only two militia-men remained alive and fighting. One of them stood and levelled a laser-cannon at the ship. Seconds before the Cobra lifted, the bolt exploded beneath the nose of the ship, swatting it with mighty force. Bennett yelled and closed his eyes.
The ship lurched, falling, and he could see how it would end in failure, the ship damaged beyond hope of repair. Then the boosters kicked in and fired, catapulting the Cobra forward, and it was all he could do to wrest the controls from the pre-programmed routine and direct the ship across the plain at a grass-cutting height. He swerved to avoid the militia’s vehicle, and the crawler veered and rolled over as the Cobra swept into the sky.
He tried to regain his composure. He slowed his breathing and steadied the ship in a stable hovering attitude. Far below, Miriam James and the other rebels were running towards the last two militia-men. He made out Hupcka, raising a fist in a victory salute, and then he lifted the Cobra away from the plain. He let the program take over, relinquishing control with relief, and set the system for phase-out.