Seeds of Earth (47 page)

'Come on! - we've got to get out of the . . .'

The rest of his sentence was lost as a second missile hit a few yards to the left of the first. Another explosion, a bright flash and an outburst of flame and pulverised stone. Alarms were yammering all around the square and panicking, shouting people were fleeing up side streets. Then Theo stopped in his tracks as a horrifying realisation came to him.

'The top floor,' he said to Donny. 'Isn't that where the president's offices are?'

Donny nodded grimly, then without hesitation they began running towards the burning building.

46

GREG

It was getting aggravating - these K5 people just wouldn't respond.

'So, Lieutenant, I'm curious - what part has your organisation been playing in the hunt for the murderers calling themselves the Free Darien Faction?'

Lieutenant Laing was a tall man with a lantern jaw, dressed like his three subordinates in dark green uniforms lacking any insignia. Seated across from Greg in the zeplin gondola, his features were as impassive as they had been when he had arrested Greg back at Giant's Shoulder. However, Greg was sure there was a doleful look in his eyes that wasn't there when they left the site an hour ago.

'Sorry, Doctor Cameron, that is privileged information.'

'Ah, privileged - what a happy state that must be. Well, I imagine that the true answer is "none" because you're too busy prying into the lives of ordinary folk, rooting through their bins and opening their mail. I can't help wondering what you were up to at the moment when the bullets were flying at the dig back there and people, myself included, were ducking and fleeing for their lives. Compiling lists of subversive library readers, maybe? Or were you secretly recording dissident joke-tellers or perhaps even photographing the cludgie wall graffiti in every bar and dive in Hammergard? Or even arresting elderly women for no reason other than to put pressure on a relative - now
that
is despicable.'

'Your mother is helping us with our inquiries into the disappearance of Ambassador Horst, Doctor Cameron,' Laing said in a level, deliberate voice.

'Aye, I'm sure she is.' Greg's anger seethed, and part of it was directed at Uncle Theo for having snatched Horst away and brought him to Giant's Shoulder. Part of it, also, was self-reproach for not having been cautious enough . .. but who could possibly imagine that the Sentinel of the well would grab someone and spirit them off to God knows where?

So now Uncle Theo was a hunted man, his mother was under lock and key and he was on his way to join her. And the plain fact was that while he was scared for them, he was most immediately worried for his own skin - these four men, his escort, seemed to display a striking similarity of bearing, all sitting in the same stiff posture, each face impassive and without a hint of boredom or wandering attention. In fact, not one of them betrayed any kind of personal trait or mannerism, he realised with growing unease. He pondered on the idea of trying to engage one of them in conversation, but before he could do so Laing's comm beeped from an inner pocket. The K5 lieutenant answered it, listened without expression, then said, 'Understood,' and put the comm away.

'There is a security alert taking place in the city,' he told Greg. 'All flights are either grounded or diverted. We have been ordered to divert to another destination.'

'Which is where, Lieutenant?'

'Privileged information may not be passed to unauthorised persons, Doctor Cameron,' Laing said, getting to his feet. 'I am going to inform the pilot of our change of course. Please do not leave your seat or my men will put you back in it.'

Greg said nothing but sat back, folded his arms, and gazed over at the three K5 men, thinking for one bizarre moment how much they reminded him of the three robot dogs in
The Dancing Engineer,
a book he'd read many times as a child. What were they called again? . . . ah yes, Crusher, Digger and Grinder, that was it...

Laing returned to his seat and strapped in as the zeplin began to bank into a descent. Greg could only speculate about their location and battled against feelings of desperation that threatened to swamp his mind. Suppressing thoughts of what might happen to him at the hands of these K5 interrogators, he tried to focus on imagining what Uncle Theo would do in this situation, or even his brother Ian.

Ten minutes later, while the zeplin was being winched down to wherever it was landing, he did not feel any more filled with resolve and a daring boldness than he had before. But then reason told him that since the odds were against him it would be better to be stoic yet prepared, so he kept his mind stoic while his digestion and his legs gave themselves over to quivering terror.

There was a bump as the gondola nudged up against its mooring platform. Laing's subordinates went to open the hatch, tip out a set of folding steps then one by one hurry down them. As Greg followed, with Laing at his back, he saw that they were moored on the ground, an expanse of perfect lawn which stretched out to a whitepainted wall with several odd, conical objects spaced along the top.

When Greg reached the foot of the steps, two of Laing's men, Crusher and Digger, seized him by the arms and marched him towards the tail of the zeplin with Grinder behind him, hand grasping his jacket collar. Beyond the tapering stern of the gas-filled envelope, an imposing three-storey house came into view, flanked by smaller buildings, bushes, gardens, trees, and several strange vehicles with stubby wings and painted in green and grey camouflage . . . and in the next instant, with dread rising in a chorus, he saw the group striding towards them, long strides made by tall Sendrukans in uniforms and carrying long weapons with multiple barrels

'No . . .
no,
you can't do this! Laing . . .' He started to struggle but his captors only tightened their grips. '... you cannot hand me over to these people .. .'

'I am under orders to render assistance to the lawful representatives of the Sendrukan Hegemony,' Laing said. 'Said representatives have requested temporary extradition so that questions may be put to you, which is permissible under emergency powers . . .'

'Emergency . . . are you out of your mind?'

'Thank you for aiding our inquiries, Lieutenant Laing,' said another Sendrukan, who had appeared from behind those in uniform. 'I am Assister Sejik, securitymaster to the High Monitor.'

Like the soldiers he towered over the humans, but unlike them he wore pale, flowing garments and in one hand carried a slender, golden stave bearing a line of black characters and tipped with a small silver figurine.

'I am glad to be of help, Assister.'

'Under the agreed terms we shall return Doctor Cameron to your custody in six hours,' said Sejik. 'Would you care to wait?'

'I am instructed to return after the allotted period, Assister Sejik.'

'That is acceptable.'

Laing's men suddenly released Greg but, before he could react, one of the uniformed Sendrukans grabbed both his arms, staring stonily down at him while a second produced a silver object which was pressed against his neck. Abruptly, all feeling in the rest of his body vanished and his head lolled forward.'The terror that gripped him was swamped by a surge of numbness. Sights and sounds were blurred, vague shapes passing by, deep voices booming to one another, strange, distant sensations of motion, a muffled swaying, a slow heavy tread . . .

Awareness came back in a rush, like a drowsy halfsleep dispelled by fearful realisation. Greg found that his hands were bound behind him and he was sitting at a square, cloth-covered table on which several glassy, gourd-like vessels were grouped around a crystalline pitcher with six or seven spouts. The table and chairs were on the Sendrukan scale and he felt like a child seated in an adult's place. The table covering was a detailed depiction of humanoid creatures, Sendrukans, he presumed, engaged in a variety of warlike activities.

Similar framed tapestries adorned the leaf-patterned walls, along with some far more modernistic pieces - or so they seemed to his eyes. Long, openwork curtails hung before tall windows, and gauzy, embroidered banners were draped low over the table and in the corners of the room. The impression was one of cultured opulence without excess, while the artworks spoke of violence.

'Doctor Cameron, it is most pleasing to meet you again.'

A deep voice, rich and expressive, spoke and High Monitor Kuros stepped into view from behind Greg's chair. He was dressed in shades and layers of grey, patterned and semi-opaque, and wearing his tall, black helical headgear. The features, so Humanlike, were composed, the large dark eyes fixed on Greg as Kuros took a seat near the table's corner, his long, graceful fingers toying with a small blue vial.

'I cannot say the same, High Monitor,' Greg said. 'Handing me over into your custody clearly runs contrary to the basic tenets of liberty. I implore you to return me to the keeping of Darien's civil authorities . . .'

'But we need you here, Doctor Cameron,' Kuros said. 'We have many questions and we are sure that you have the answers.'

'But under our constitution I have personal rights,' said Greg. 'You have given many speeches that mention the importance of freedom and liberty - surely you understand . . .'

'I do, Doctor Cameron, but unfortunately you do not understand what we mean by freedom and liberty. These are qualities conferred upon Sendrukan society by the power of the Hegemony - they do not exist by themselves in the universe so they must be created by the pinnacle of Sendrukan culture, the Hegemony and its laws. Our freedoms and liberties are not permitted to contradict the purpose and stability of the Hegemony, since that would diminish its glory and harm its ability to provide guidance to less mature civilisations. Instead, they serve the Hegemony's purpose, as must you now.'

Greg stared at him. 'But when our government finds out Kuros shook his head. 'As of roughly forty minutes ago, the colony's governing executive ceased to function due to the deaths of President Sundstrom and his cabinet in a rocket attack on the Assembly buildings. Of course, my government and our Brolturan allies are ready to offer any assistance in this crisis.' He leaned forward a little. 'But now I need you to concentrate on my voice and listen very carefully.'

Then the Hegemony envoy said several strange words, a phrase in Sendrukan perhaps, enunciated clearly and precisely . . .

An odd sensation passed through Greg, a disorientating shiver that felt like sounds and tastes and smells, or was it... a shiver that passed through his surroundings, adding something familiar to it all, the furniture, the hangings, the smiling Sendrukan seated before him. And for some reason he felt like smiling too - even though reason told him that he was still in danger.

'Now, Doctor Cameron, what do you know about the involvement of your uncle, Major Karlsson, in yesterday's disappearance of Ambassador Horst?'

'Oh, Uncle Theo brought the ambassador to Giant's Shoulder in the evening but when I heard that the Brolturans were coming we all went down to hide in the well chamber ...'

'Stop,' said Kuros, his posture and unwavering stare betraying a more intense regard. 'Tell me about this well chamber.'

And to Greg's horror, he told the Sendrukan all about the well chamber, the traps, the Sentinel, the Uvovo and their part in its history, Horst's abduction, everything he knew. Greg had no control over the flow of words which came out in an almost happy jabber, as if he were talking about soccer scores with a close friend over a pint. Likewise, the muscles of mouth and throat were being directed by something else, something in his mind ...

Am I going crazy"!
he wondered.
Have they made me mad...

At last Kuros was satisfied, told him to stop and in mid-sentence Greg fell silent. Kuros smiled thoughtfully then held up the small blue vial he had brought to the table - it contained what looked like a fine powder.

'Your talkativeness has, of course, been artificially induced. While you were semi-conscious earlier, we instilled an instrumentation into your body, engineered particles fine enough to become a vapour which you breathed in, allowing them to quickly find their way to the ridges and grooves of your brain. They are keyed to my voice and, having meshed with your synaptic pathways, are capable of many things including the divulging of anything that you know.' Kuros smiled at the blue vial, tipping the contents to and fro. 'We have encountered a few races with the ability to resist the vapour -

Humans are not one of them, which makes you very useful.'

He uttered another phrase in Sendrukan and Greg caught the sense of it for just a second, a lyrical expression, a line of poetry perhaps. Then a barrier went down and his fear and hate connected with the muscles in his face and his throat and chest, a rushing slam of rage that came out as a wordless cry.

'Thank you, Doctor Cameron, you have been most helpful. I look forward to the weeks ahead,' High Monitor Kuros said as he stood, towering over the Human.

'You said I... was going back with Laing ...'

'That was only part of the opening formalities, Doctor Cameron, which must always be observed. No, it will be announced publicly that we find you innocent of all charges, then you will say that you have agreed to lead a joint Human-Sendrukan team dedicated to investigating new, exciting finds at Giant's Shoulder. A gesture of solidarity between our two great civilisations, a strengthening of our precious alliance.'

Greg, head bowed, said nothing. Kuros, though, muttered to himself for a moment or two before addressing Greg again.

'Doctor Cameron, my inner companion, General Gratach, wishes to speak to you.'

Greg glanced up to see a change come over Kuros's features as the Sendrukan reached down and roughly grasped Greg's jaw, forcing him to look up. Fury and contempt burned in those eyes.

'I am Gratach, Human - when I capture your uncle, this Major Kalsun, he will not receive such soft treatment.