Resistance: Hathe Book One (11 page)

The
day had been no less difficult for Marthe. She soon learnt that
trying to ignore the shocks from the headband didn’t work. All it
did was make her headache worse and she still got no sleep. What
she needed was something to take her mind off it. Cleaning the
apartment yesterday had helped distract her, so she decided to try
that again. There was nothing else for her to do since she’d
already searched the place thoroughly, without finding anything of
interest. If she was going to be immured here for some time, she
may as well arrange things to please herself. Hopefully it would
also thoroughly annoy that cursed Terran Major.

She
started in the bedroom, straightening the sleeper and restoring the
clothes to cleaning and storage. Finished, she stood back, nodding
briskly with satisfaction. As she turned to walk into the other
room, she looked up and was caught again by the painting of her
home, so inexplicably set on the wall of this Terran apartment. A
wave of homesickness hit her, remembering the happier days of her
youth. There was the east tower where she and Bendin had made their
secret headquarters. It was in reality only a dusty old storeroom,
all but forgotten by the rest of the family, but to the twins it
was a magic kingdom. In it, they had planned such campaigns as the
Expedition to the Deepest, Darkest Depths of the Albanok, commonly
known to lesser mortals as the kitchen. There, they planned to find
and bring back the famed Elixir of Life cleverly disguised as a jar
of sweets the cook dished out to any child who had helped
her.

She
chuckled. That particular expedition had been a disastrous failure.
Cook had caught them with their hands in the jar, as guilty as sin,
the pair of them, and they had been allowed only boringly healthy
food for the whole of the following week.

Food
was something she must not think of. Her stomach was already
churning at the memory, and Bendin was dead now, killed with too
many others of her childhood. He had signed up for the fleet
straight after graduation. Anything to get into space, he’d told
her, and it was meant to be only a secondary part of his life. The
Hathian fleet was never more than a part-time force, staffed by
volunteers, and his studies came first; but with less than six
months’ experience as a pilot, he was called up to help man Hathe’s
outer defenses, one of the brave few who must hurl their small
spacecraft against the massive ships of the Terrran invaders.
Hathe’s forces hung on against truly awful odds, fighting
desperately at the edges of their solar system to give their world
what it needed so badly. Time.

Time
was something she was running out of. Somehow, she must escape or
get a message out.

She
had tried yesterday to alert a passing native through the service
door. It was no use. He couldn’t see her, though she could see and
hear him as clearly as if she were walking beside him. Frustrated,
she had screamed and yelled, beating her hands against the force
field and ending only with the burns the Major had noticed. Damn
him, she cursed. He thwarted her at every turn and she had nothing
to fight him with. What did she even know of the man?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. His apartment must have been
carefully screened by the Terrans in the short time before she was
brought here, for it told little of the personal side of its owner,
and she had still been awaiting a report from Central when she was
caught. Even Jaca, who was so violently opposed to him, knew only
rumors. Yet the man seemed to know a great deal about
her.

What a
fool she was. She had been sent here to gather information on
officers such as him. Yet here she was, perfectly placed to do just
that, and she was acting like a witless child trapped in a mythical
nightmare.That was going to change, she vowed. It was time to get
to work.

First,
Jacquel. He was
not
dead. The Terran must be bluffing, or so
she would believe until she saw a corpse. Not that she would ask
to. For all she knew of him, he might just kill the captives to
supply the proof of his words, and she had seen more than enough
dead bodies.

She
ignored her moment of weakness, the memory of that kiss, when
something had flared between the Terran and her. What had Jaca
said? The man used charm as a weapon. That’s all it was—an
experienced, charming rogue using his skills against her. Nothing
more. She would be much better concentrating on how to make the
best use of her situation. She needed to plan a campaign, not moon
over an infantile crush.

Second
the red light was a ruse. She must not believe otherwise. Next:
find out about Major Radcliff—but not in the way he intended, she
amended angrily. That he was so very attractive was but a nuisance,
and one that must be ignored, she told herself sternly,
disregarding the amused voice inside that asked did she seriously
think she could do that so easily.

Yes,
she declared back. He’d made it decidedly clear
that he would enjoy taking her to his bed, and giving that kind of
pleasure to an accursed Terran was not among her plans.

She
lay resting that afternoon, with a wicked grin cheering her
thoughts of the coming evening. She had discovered a way of
enduring her lack of sleep, by passing the time in an open-eyed
doze. When that failed, she lay still, making and discarding plans.
As it turned out, she had plenty of time to prepare. Radcliff was
late in returning.

CHAPTER SIX

After
leaving Ferdo, Hamon fled the Citadel and escaped to the solitary
vastness of the plains. A timeless emptiness where the grasses,
shrubs, and native creatures were intent only on their relentless
and unforgiving battle for survival. Here alone he had the space he
needed—space to think, to find a way out of his dilemma, to
remember Earth as he had last seen it: overcrowded and short of all
but the most basic of foods, and those only in quantities
sufficient for those still on the list of citizens entitled to full
rations. So many essential services disconnected to conserve what
little urgonium the Terrans managed to extract from Hathe, the
preservation of life being the only priority. Not even his own home
was exempt, despite his personal wealth and the power of his
family. Neither could buy what Earth no longer had.

He
remembered, too, his once beautiful mother, charged with control of
the scarce resources left to Earth. He had been shocked at the
change in her, haggard and worn down by the constant need to order
ever harsher restrictions and sick with worrying over how much
longer Earth could survive. They had gambled everything on their
attack and conquest of Hathe. Now, there was nowhere else for
Earth’s teeming millions to go. The other Alliance planets were too
wary, too well armed and had made it brutally clear they would
refuse entry to any Terran migrants. Their only option was Hathe,
and without its vanished technology, it could support no more than
a small fraction of those needing refuge.

He
could prevent the impending catastrophe. All that stood against him
was one small woman, as unattainable as she was desirable. How
could he consider putting in jeopardy the survival of an entire
planet, just for her? It was unthinkable!

Then
he returned home and was met by her welcoming smile and her
luscious curves. All his memories of Earth couldn’t stop his
response to the sight of her. He had to fight far too hard for his
liking to kill his threatening smile and replace it with a frown of
suspicion.

She
misread it for weariness. Deliberately so, he had no
doubt.

“
Major, I thought you would never be back. You look so tired.
Come, a cleansing and change from that uncomfortable uniform and
you’ll feel much better.” Gently but firmly, she took his arm and
led him through to the dressing room. She reached out to take his
jacket, but that was too much. He stepped back in refusal. “What?
Modesty? How unexpected. Never mind, I’ll fetch you a drink instead
and leave you to change in peace. Your robe is laid out on the
sleeper.” She gave him another innocently sweet smile and left him
to bathe in private.

What’s she up to?
Hamon stared after Marthe as he
slowly removed his uniform and stepped into the cleanser, to relax
in the clouds of the fine jet spray tingling against his skin. Then
had a sudden thought.

“
No!” He burst into the room, ignoring the water dripping on
the floor. But there was his uniform, exactly as he had left it. So
she was not aiming to search that. To make sure, he sealed it in
storage, along with a couple of telltale scraps in the pockets,
before returning to the cleanser. Yet he could not banish his
suspicions, and it was not long before he turned in irritation to
the drying air currents and emerged. He flung on the long, dark
green robe she’d left for him and stalked into the lounge. No one
could be so cheerful after two days and nights of no food and no
sleep. Could they?

But
she was, coming forward with that damned welcoming smile on her
face and beckoning him to a seat near her own.

“
How
was your day? Nothing too troublesome, I hope?”

“
No,
fine.” He stretched out his legs, surveying her uneasily beneath
lowered lids.

The
woman wasn’t to be put off so easily. “Mine was rather
enjoyable—almost fun, in fact. This apartment was pleasant enough,
but I think you might find my changes an improvement.”

He
looked round in surprise and, yes, he had to concede the success of
her day’s work. Not that he was about to capitulate fully. “Why did
you move the melkin plant?”

“
It
wasn’t getting enough light. They need bright sunlight to
flower.”

“
So
that’s why it never did before.” Unconsciously, his guard eased a
fraction. “I put it down to the effects of irradiation. I found it
near your house, you see.”

She
seemed determined to ignore any provocation. “Maybe, but see how it
goes in the light. As for the rest, they should be happy enough
where they are, though I have to say they seem a much richer green
than is normally the case for Hathian plants. What’s your
secret?”

“
Loving care and attention … and a room air mixture with a
higher CO2 content than is normal for Hathe. You may have noticed a
slight odor when you were first brought in?”

A lift
of her brow. “It wasn’t the room I was noticing then. You have
quite a reputation to live down to.”

“
And
don’t I?”

She
laughed gently. His callousness of the past days appeared to have
had little effect on her. Surprisingly, it didn’t at this moment
bother him. In fact, he was rapidly forgetting all his hard won
resolutions. Not that he went so far as to offer her dinner, but
then she didn’t ask for any, too busy discovering what she could of
him. He would allow it for now. It was harmless enough, and he was
curious about her reasons. Gradually, she drew him out to talk of
himself and his family and, despite his innate caution, he found
himself telling her who his parents were.

She
tried to hide it, but he was starting to know her well enough to
see the shock in her face.

“
You
may well be surprised. What is the son of Administrator Freya
MacDiarmid and Ambassador Garth Radcliff doing as part of this
miserable outfit? Well, for starters, I was one of the few Terrans
who chose to or had the means to travel. I happened to be here at
the start of the expedition and was the nearest thing available to
an expert on Hathe, so the military asked me to come on board. My
mother wasn’t happy about it, but knows me too well to argue. As
for my father, it’s years since we’ve been on speaking terms. I
doubt he was too bothered over any possible danger to his
misbegotten offspring.” He grimaced. “My parents’ marriage was
politically advantageous to both but not convivial, I
gather.”

“
I
am sorry. How sad, to be estranged from your own
father.”

“
Don’t be. It’s merely one of life’s incompatibilities. We’re
too alike. But you should understand. Didn’t you say you were at
odds with your own father?” he countered, unable to resist catching
her out.

“
Only latterly,” was her quick reply. She cast her eyes down
as if in great sorrow. “We were very close once, especially after
Mother’s death when Bendin and I were twelve, and now Bendin’s gone
too.” He saw the sadness in her eyes when she spoke of her brother,
but it wasn’t enough to stop the flash of gratification he felt.
Nor did he bother to hide it, needing to see her reaction. Her
retort was instant. “He died trying to defend us from a certain
pack of primitive savages, who yet managed to win, defying any
belief in the existence of natural justice in the
universe!”

Hamon
immediately wiped his face clear. Not such a good move. The
surprising rapport that had sprung up between them was far too
fragile to be threatened by his bad memories.

Marthe, too, had regretted her rash words as soon as spoken,
remembering her own goals of this night, and listened without
comment to his apology.

“
Sorry, I didn’t mean to gloat. I had a humiliating encounter
with your brother once. It still rankles.”

“
You
met Bendin? But how? When?”

“
It
was during my visit here, just before the takeover.” He told her of
the delegations’ mission. “Your Council just laughed,” he added
bitterly.