Authors: Andrea K Höst
"We could use that," Nash pointed out. "Create accounts. Post and tweet sightings. Very likely there are already false reports,
errors of identity. Add to that to send
Moths running in every direction."
"Good idea." Fisher looked approving. "We
should do that anyway. But camera phones
will highlight the true trail even if we manage to break the cordon. We have a head start, but we've also had a
demonstration of the dragons' capabilities."
"I don't see how that's more dangerous than staying in
Sydney with a hundred and fifty-five hunters and their Blue-sniffing glow
dogs," Noi said.
"We've confirmed the Rovers are used to track. It's a reasonable assumption to believe they
home in some way on the energy Blues create. That gives us three options: gain distance, obscure like with like, or
containment."
Fisher paused, and they all looked at the television, where
Madeleine's face was displayed, circled, on her last class photograph.
"Distance is the option the Moths will have prepared
for, and thus where we will face the greatest opposition. But if they track the energy we produce,
moving as close as possible to the largest energy source around, a place where
a large number of Blues will be gathered, may have the effect of hiding a lamp
by placing it in a room full of chandeliers."
"You mean sitting next to the Spire?"
Noi's
brows
lifted. "Somehow standing around
Hyde Park doesn't strike me as – oh, I get you.
Maddie
came out of the rail tunnels from St
James, so we know we can access the Spire that way. You want to trace her path back, and sit
beneath the Moths' feet while they run around in circles."
"St James even has dead-end tunnels concealed behind
false walls," Fisher said. "It's a gamble, of course. The energy created by a free Blue may be distinctive enough to
distinguish despite proximity to the Spire and
Mothed
Blues. Or they may be guarding the
tunnels."
"And containment would be, what, putting ourselves in a
box? Something sturdier than the
study?"
"Walk-in refrigerators," Fisher said. "Air-tight, insulated, offering an
all-round metal shield. What few escape
stories there's been from still-free Blues in Rover cities have all shared a
shielding factor – those deep in subways, someone hiding in the back of a
container truck. But again a gamble, and
it would be too great a risk to use those at the Wharf restaurants, even if
they're large enough, since the local Blues and Greens will link you to Finger
Wharf. Size is a major factor, more than
a question of how many of us can fit. We'll need sufficient oxygen for at minimum twelve hours, if not
twenty-four. The previous two challenges
don't give us enough information to know if there's a time limit, but it is
clear that the Moths have a territorial, hierarchical culture. The whole challenge appears to be an attempt
to steal a..." He paused. "...to steal a highly desirable Blue
from a clan which hasn't yet claimed her."
"Hot property?" Min offered Madeleine a sympathetic grimace. "I'd ask how it feels to be a penthouse
on The Peak, but your impersonation of a Green says it all."
"There is no guarantee containment will block the
trackers, and we would need to reach a suitable place which isn't occupied by
Moths," Fisher continued. "I
have a possibility in mind outside the area they've been using – that new hotel
which was due to open at
Barangaroo
on the
fifteenth. Like Circular Quay, it's
accessible from the waterfront."
"Well, we're not going anywhere while it's daylight, so
we don't have to decide right away," Noi said, rubbing her forehead. "Driving off the Wharf would be a huge
risk, so we'll strongly consider the boat option first. Pack what you can easily carry and stash
anything we can't take with us into the study. Nash, can you take the binoculars and search for movement while it's
still light, particularly any sign of those navy ships? And also look over our boating prospects?"
When Nash nodded, she went on: "Fisher, if you, Millie
and Min can scare up any images on the public webcams of any of the directions
we might head, that will help with our choices. Pan, when it hits early dusk, not dark, go out and see if you can finger-punch
the lights over the north end of the marina."
"Mindless vandalism is my forte," Pan said, his
spirits recovering with the prospect of action. "Guess we'd better wait till after midnight for the great
escape? Let the Greens get sleepy?"
"After three," Fisher said. He glanced at Madeleine. "After the moon has set."
Would they ever have another moment in the moonlight? "I'll help with the cooking,"
Madeleine said, scarcely feeling real.
"First check the apartments for gloves, hats, anything
which looks useful for a boating trip in this weather. Right. Let's get started."
Fisher rose with the rest, but only to sit on the coffee
table in front of Madeleine, brows drawn together in concentration. Madeleine, half out of her seat, dropped back
down, and looked at him uncertainly.
"I wish I could make you promises," Fisher
said. "But I don't want to downplay
the danger we're in. I'd like you to
make a promise to me, however."
"What is it?"
"Fight. Always
fight. No matter how impossible the
odds, no matter who you've lost, how you've been hurt. If there doesn't seem to be a way out, look
for one. If you seem to have come to an
end, start afresh. Never, ever give
up."
She stared at him, startled by the anger, the complex swell
of emotion in his voice.
"You don't think your plan has a chance?"
Fisher looked away. "The Cores will almost certainly participate. Those of the higher ranked clans are sure to
be stronger than the Moths we've previously encountered. And tomorrow is just one day of two years. It's what comes after which frightens me most
of all."
He still wouldn't look at her, was watching Noi heading
upstairs.
"It makes it easier for me," he added, voice muted,
"to know that you won't falter. Can
you promise to try?"
Madeleine promised.
ooOoo
"What are you writing?"
"Thank you note for the owners of the house," Noi
said, frowning as she read it over. "Miss Manners totally needs to add a chapter on squatting during an
apocalypse. I wish we didn't have to
leave your painting behind,
Maddie
."
"I'll come back for it."
"That's the spirit. A big improvement over yesterday afternoon."
"I'm trying to keep focused on how glad I was to survive
St James," Madeleine said. "I
was convinced the dust would kill me, and I concentrated everything I had on
getting out, and painting the picture I'd been waiting months to start. I got to do that, by going on step by step,
not giving up. And then I met you, and
we got through Bondi, and the seven of us have really..."
She gazed out the patio doors, to the moon being swallowed by
the sea.
"I've spent years thinking I was so self-sufficient,
that I had all I needed. My art is
always going to be the most important thing for me, but this place has
been...good for me. I'm really proud of
the portrait of Tyler, and I think the one of you and Emily might be the best
thing I've ever done. They have
something my usual work lacks. And–" She smiled. "And I want to paint Fisher. When that Spire's no longer in Sydney, and I
can do something so indulgent as hit the nearest art supplies store, I
will
paint him."
"Preferably nude."
"Maybe." Madeleine refused to be embarrassed. "We better get downstairs. Two years of this still seems a near-impossibility, so I'm focusing on
the current step."
Noi nodded, folded her note in half, and stuck it in the
middle of the children's drawings on the fridge. "I'll miss this place," she said, then
tugged a scavenged beanie over her riot of curls, and picked up her backpack.
They turned out the last of the lights, and rode the elevator
down to the garage, stepping into chill, pitchy dark. The open service door was a grey square of
illumination, and cubes of windshield glass crunched underfoot as they edged
their way toward the three shadows which interrupted the thin light.
"Won't be long," Pan murmured. "They're aiming for the slip closest to
the near entrance."
"I'll head down to check," Min said. "If I don't come back, they're
ready. Or I've fallen in."
"We'll listen for the splash, Minnow." As soon as the younger boy had gone, Pan took
and let out several long breaths. "I'm so wired. Makes me want
to shriek, and jump about."
"Tempting." Noi shifted the spare bag of food she was carrying. "When all this is over, I think some
full-throated yelling while running down the middle of the nearest street will
be in order."
"Works for me."
"You'll join in, won't you Millie?
Maddie
?"
"Through Hyde Park," Emily said, firmly, and after
a moment they agreed to that, then Noi led Emily out and down the Wharf to the
northern gate of the marina.
"I can't believe, with all the millions of dollars of
high-powered luxury boating stretched before us, this is the plan we've come up
with," Pan said. "There's
something inherently deflating about the words 'utility dinghy'."
"Rowing four kilometres in the dark," Madeleine
said. "Racing dawn. Smuggling ourselves right beneath the noses
of the Moths."
"Stop trying to make it sound awesome. Utility Dinghy. Utility Dinghy."
"Let's go." Lifting her allotted share of the food, Madeleine stepped out of the
garage, and waited while Pan pulled the service door gently shut behind
them. They crossed to the corner of the
main building and peered down the Wharf, all shadows and moonlit edges, and
then the soft glow of lampposts beyond the area where Pan had punched out the
lights. No sign of movement. They slid around the corner, keeping close to
the high patio fences which hid the view into the lower apartments, and moved as
quietly as they could, straining their eyes to spot the gate to the marina.
"I think it's here," Pan said, barely audible.
Finger Wharf didn't have safety railings, the edge a
shin-high wooden board punctuated by the occasional pylon. The marina gate was transparent, opening onto
a ramp leading down to the floating dock, which had no rim at all. Even though they'd given their eyes plenty of
time to adjust, Madeleine still didn't dare do more than inch forward,
searching with her free hand. They'd
timed their departure to use the last of the moonlight to get around the dock
without torches, and she was able to make out shapes, but couldn't force
herself to move any faster.
"It's here."
The words were accompanied by the faintest metallic noise, as
Pan turned the key left by their advance boat-seekers, then pulled it
free. The ramp at least had railings,
and Madeleine followed it down until there was nothing left to guide her, and
she stood clutching the end, trying to adjust to the faint bob of the dock.
"Directly left,
Maddie
,"
breathed the night. "It's only a
metre or so, so take one step forward, then kneel and pass me your
bags."
Nash whispered similar instructions to Pan from the next slip
over. Obedient to
Noi's
command, Madeleine stepped, knelt, and held out the food bag, then her
overstuffed backpack, and by the time that was done she was more sure of what
was in front of her, could just make out Noi, Fisher and Min. Then it was a matter of lowering herself,
guided firmly by Noi, until she was sitting in the back of a small boat, shivering
more from nerves than the chill lifting from the water.
"Put this on."
A bulky shape with confusing straps. Madeleine fumbled it over her head, and found
parts which clicked together. By the
time this was done, the moon was no more than a fading memory.
"All clear," Noi said, a fraction louder.
"Lift off."
There was a gurgle of water to accompany Nash's response, and
then another as Noi pushed the boat away from the dock, and Fisher and Min used
their oars to prod them out the rest of the way.
Rowing lessons had been the highlight of the wait for
moonset. Boats made of couch cushions,
and brooms for oars, with Nash patiently drilling them with the motions despite
the spurts of giggles born of a long night's tension. Madeleine felt little urge to laugh now, as
they eased clear of the slip and began to turn, with water making
blooping
noises off the oars, and a faint creak from the
oarlocks. Unlikely to be heard no matter
how well sound carried over water, but she still stared back over her shoulder
at the long bulk of the Wharf, searching for movement. There would be no outrunning anything in a
dinghy, but sailing at night with a crew of total amateurs would have been
suicidal, and any engine a trumpet call in the hushed city, so no-one had been
able to argue against using the small boats. Nash had been confident that the trip could be made well before dawn,
even with inexperienced rowers, and there was little chance of them being
spotted so long as they kept away from the shore.
As they picked up speed, passing the North Building, Madeleine
began to relax. There was nothing but
parkland on their left, and a long gap to the navy base on the far side of the
Wharf. The Bay had few sources of light,
and they were leaving those behind, scudding along beneath a cloak of stars,
invisible.
"Destination: North Pole," Noi muttered, and
squeezed Madeleine's hand.
Webcams had ruled out other choices. Circular Quay seemed to be a hive of Moth
activity, while a beach cam had provided glimpses of smaller craft moving near
Watson's Bay, making it clear that a speedboat dash past the headlands and out
of the Harbour would not merely be a matter of avoiding two very large,
weapon-festooned ships. Finally,
representing the uninfected portion of Australia, some isolation-suited
reporters had settled down with long-range cameras to watch Greens stationed at
roadblocks, broadcasting through the night and incidentally making it even
harder for free Blues to sneak out of the city. So the Musketeers were gambling on refrigerating themselves.