Major Prathachulthorn’s South Asian features were darkly serious as he spoke again. “It’s the same thing as during the space battle, and when they somehow knew to gas every secret base we’d set up on land. Somehow they always find out where we are.”
“Do you have any idea how they’re doing it?” one of the council members asked.
Vaguely, Megan recognized that it was the female Marine officer, Lieutenant Lydia McCue, who answered. The young woman shook her head. “We have all of our technicians working on the problem, of course. But until we have some idea how they’re doing it, we don’t want to waste any more men trying to sneak ashore.”
Megan Oneagle closed her eyes. “I think we are in no condition, now, to discuss matters any further. I declare this meeting adjourned.”
When she retired to her tiny room, Megan thought she would cry. Instead, though, she merely sat on the edge of her bed, in complete darkness, allowing her eyes to look in the direction she knew her hands lay.
After a while, she felt she could almost see them, fingerslike blobs resting tiredly on her knees. She imagined they,were stained — a deep, sanguinary red.
29
Robert
Deep underground there was no way to sense the natural passage of time. Still, when Robert jerked awake in his chair, he knew exactly when it was.
Late. Too damn late. Athaclena was due back hours ago.
If he weren’t still little more than an invalid he would have overcome the objections of Micah and Dr. Soo and gone topside himself, looking for the long overdue raiding party. As it was, the two chim scientists had nearly had to use force to stop him.
Traces of Robert’s fever still returned now and then. He wiped his forehead and suppressed some momentary shivers. No, he thought. I am in control!
He stood up and picked his way carefully toward the sounds of muttered argument, where he found a pair of chims working over the pearly light of a salvaged level-seventeen computer. Robert sat on a packing crate behind them and listened for a while. When he made a suggestion they tried it, and it worked. Soon he had almost managed to push aside his worries as he immersed himself in work, helping the chims sketch out military tactics programming for a machine that had never been designed for anything more hostile than chess.
Somebody came by with a pitcher of juice. He drank. Someone handed him a sandwich. He ate.
An indeterminate time later a shout echoed through the underground chamber. Feet thumped hurriedly over low wooden bridges. Robert’s eyes had grown accustomed to the bright screen, so it was out of a dark gloom that he saw chims hurrying past, seizing assorted, odd-lot weapons as they rushedup the passage leading to the surface.
He stood and grabbed at the nearest running brown form. “What’s happening?”
He might as well have tried to halt a bull. The chim tore free without even glancing his way and vanished up the ragged tunnel. The next one he waved down actually looked at him and halted restlessly. “It’s th’ expedition,” the nervous chen explained. “They’ve come back. … At least I hear some of ’em have.”
Robert let the fellow go. He began casting around the chamber for a weapon of his own. If the raiding party had been followed back here…
There wasn’t anything handy, of course. He realized bitterly that a rifle would hardly do him any good with his right arm immobilized. The chims probably wouldn’t let him fight anyway. They’d more likely carry him bodily out of harm’s way, deeper into the caves.
For a while there was silence. A few elderly chims waited with him for the sound of gunfire.
Instead, there came voices, gradually growing louder. The shouts sounded more excited than fearful.
Something seemed to stroke him, just above the ears. He hadn’t had much practice since the accident, but now Robert’s simple empathy sense felt a familiar trace blow into the chamber. He began to hope.
A babbling crowd of figures turned the bend — ragged, filthy neo-chimpanzees carrying slung weapons, some sporting bandages. The instant he saw Athaclena, a knot seemed to let go inside of Robert.
Just as quickly, though, another worry took its place. The Tymbrimi girl had been using the gheer transformation, clearly. He felt the rough edges of her exhaustion, and her face was gaunt.
Moreover, Robert could tell that she was still hard at work. Her corona stood puffed out, sparkling without light. The chims hardly seemed to notice as stay-at-homes eagerly pumped the jubilant raiders for news. But Robert realized that Athaclena was concentrating hard to craft that mood. It was too tenuous, too tentative to sustain itself without her.
“Robert!” Her eyes widened. “Should you be out of bed? Your fever only broke yesterday.”
“I’m fine. But—”
“Good. I am happy to see you ambulatory, at last.”
Robert watched as two heavily bandaged forms were rushed past on stretchers toward their makeshift hospital. He sensed Athaclena’s effort to divert attention away from the bleeding, perhaps dying, soldiers until they were out of sight. Only the presence of the chims made Robert keep his voice low and even. “I want to talk with you, Athaclena.”
She met his eyes, and for a brief instant Robert thought he kenned a faint form, turning and whirling above the floating tendrils of her corona. It was a harried glyph.
The returning warriors were busy with food and drink, bragging to their eager peers. Only Benjamin, a hand-sewn lieutenant’s patch on his arm, stood soberly beside Athaclena. She nodded. “Very well, Robert. Let us go someplace private.”
“Let me guess,” he said, levelly. “You got your asses kicked.”
Chim Benjamin winced, but he did not disagree. He tapped a spot on an outstretched map.
“We hit them here, in Yenching Gap,” he said. “It was our fourth raid, so we thought we knew what to expect.”
“Your fourth.” Robert turned to Athaclena. “How long has this been going on?”
She had been picking daintily at a pocket pastry filled with something pungently aromatic. She wrinkled her nose. “We have been practicing for about a week, Robert. But this was the first time we tried to do any real harm.”
“And?”
Benjamin seemed immune to Athaclena’s mood-tailoring. Perhaps it was intentional, for she would need at least one aide whose judgment was unaffected. Or maybe he was just too bright. He rolled his eyes. “We’re the ones who got hurt.” He went on to explain. “We split into five groups. Mizz Athaclena insisted. It’s what saved us.”
“What was your target?”
“A small patrol. Two light hover-tanks and a couple of open landcars.”
Robert pondered the site on the map, where one of the few roads entered the first rank of mountains. From what others had told him, the enemy were seldom seen above the Sind. They seemed content to control space, the Archipelago, and the narrow strip of settlement along the coast around Port Helenia.
“Good. I am happy to see you ambulatory, at last.”
Robert watched as two heavily bandaged forms were rushed past on stretchers toward their makeshift hospital. He sensed Athaclena’s effort to divert attention away from the bleeding, perhaps dying, soldiers until they were out of sight. Only the presence of the chims made Robert keep his voice low and even. “I want to talk with you, Athaclena.”
She met his eyes, and for a brief instant Robert thought he kenned a faint form, turning and whirling above the floating tendrils of her corona. It was a harried glyph.
The returning warriors were busy with food and drink, bragging to their eager peers. Only Benjamin, a hand-sewn lieutenant’s patch on his arm, stood soberly beside Athaclena. She nodded. “Very well, Robert. Let us go someplace private.”