The Kimota Anthology (45 page)

A few hundred people had gathered in the square, milling around looking lost and confused. Such a small number of people for such a large area.  She tried the Consensus bands but got little response from those around her – most of them had actually reverted and had their implants removed.  They’d become Neanderthals.

“Captain Pulice!” someone shouted from the distance.  She turned to the voice, seeing Bracespear elbowing his thin angular frame through the knot of people.  Pollin was a few steps behind him.  The two men were effectively her employers, the pair of them ran a sort of underground railway out to worlds beyond the Consensus.  Initially, people had found it amusing, a place for misfits to hide out, grubbing in the soil and building things without the benefit of nanotek.    Over the last few years the Consensus had become openly hostile, not able to comprehend why people would want to mutilate themselves by having their implants removed, and then sentencing themselves to eternity and an early and permanent death on a barren rock.

The Consensus had changed its opinion, rather than letting them go it was detaining Neanderthals, sending them on mass for ‘re-education’.  After all, it was for their own good.  Novie had made a good living the last few years smuggling people out to Haven.  Only now, it was illegal.  Bracespear stuck out his hand in greeting, Novie ignored it - acutely aware of the sensing inputs which went straight to the Consensus info piles.

“It’s good to see you again Captain,” he said quietly, lowering his hand.

“I wish it was likewise – I only called you to say I’m quitting – I’m not doing anymore runs…” Bracespear and Pollin exchanged worried glances.

“But Captain,” Pollin started, his face ashen.  “We need you and your ship, virtually every transport is full, and still the refugees keep coming…” He swept his arm around the square.

Novie’s eyes followed the sweep incredulously. 

“All of these are looking to leave?”

“There isn’t long left, and nobody here wants to be made a part of the Consensus’s Unity, we need to get them out!” 

Bracespear was pleading.  She hated that and moved close to him in a threatening manner.

“Listen, they might not want to take part but I do,” she emphasised this, jabbing a thumb towards her chest.  “I’m going to be with my family – find another ship.  Goodbye.”  She turned walking away.

“We need you!”  Pollin called.

“Tough!”

She was gone, stalking towards the Li-Ho displacer in the far corner.  There was no operator and it took her several minutes to dial the displacement station near to her parent’s villa on the moon.  She encoded the sequence and stepped into the spherical chamber.  She felt dizzy and suddenly she was much lighter, bouncing forwards onto the platform surrounding the pod.  It was early evening, and the dome was fading in a mock sunset.  Beyond it, the stars of lunar were just becoming visible through the trees, hanging above the view a crescent earth was appearing.  She stood for a moment, relishing the sight and finding the weather warm she decided to walk rather than take a cab.

An ancient path wound its way from the village, passing as it did, a few metres from a squat crystal dome housing one of the old lunar memorials. She had played on it as a child and on a whim took the slight detour to look at it now.   The dome was unchanging, ten metres across and three high, the mossy dark peat of the forest floor changing abruptly into the grey dust of the unchanged moon.  She stood for while looking at the faded beetle-like shape.  It was frankly incredulous to think it could ever have formed a part of a spacecraft.  She reached out and touched the slightly cold surface of the dome, then turned cutting through the undergrowth towards her parent’s house.

The trees gave way suddenly to lawn and beyond that the wide sprawl of the family home.  She crossed the trim grass, arriving finally at the patio around the pool.  The place seemed a little quiet, but the house recognised her, turning up the lights and ensuring the doors were open.  Novie crossed the threshold into the split-level living room and stopped.

Her family were waiting for her, in the corner a small collection of bags. She stared at them confused, opening a family Consensus band – the house carrier was there, echoing sadness but it was as if the people standing in front of her were gone.

They were Neanderthals.

Her sister handed her a drink, which she took numbly, sipping the harsh liquid in the tumbler.  She was sitting on one couch, her parents were on the other facing her, looking apologetic.

“We took the decision some months ago,” her mother said finally.  Novie forced some more of the drink down her throat, listening carefully, using some wetware enhancements she normally used for negotiations to maintain her composure.

“And you didn’t think of telling me?”

“We didn’t think it would help you if you knew…” her father replied.  “We had hoped to get a normal flight to Haven, but then they stopped them.  There’s only the underground left now – so we thought we’d wait until you got back with the ship…”

The ship although hers was technically family property.

Morally, she would have to help them.

“You want me to take you don’t you?”  She looked into their open, simple faces.

“You are the family pilot, Novie,” her grandfather said from a chair towards the back of the room.  “It is a duty we need you to discharge.  If you wish to join them, then so be it… we, however, choose not to…”

Duty.  Novie winced at his use of the word.  He knew exactly how to get what he wanted and when it came to her, he always had.  She downed the drink and summoned up a newsrep from the Consensus – events were accelerating.  There had already been a pitched battle between pro Unity ships and a fleeing transport.

“We’d better go then,” she said.

She called ahead to get the ship ready.

The main square had filled up in the few hours since she had left.  She stepped from the hollowed shell of the LiHo displacement equipment and waited for her family to appear.  Her grandfather materialising last, stumbled forward looking displeased.  He waved away offers of assistance and took a long hard look around the plaza.  The few hundred had swelled to thousands, and the chimes from surrounding displacers and the tram terminals suggested more arriving by the minute.

Her small group forced its way towards the tram terminal in the far corner.  The assembled people seemed to be leaderless, without purpose, just hoping that there was a ship here that would take them away from it all.  A small but angry mob had gathered near the tram terminal, at the front of which Pollin and Brakespear were remonstrating with the crowd.  She caught odd words drifting over the background noise, one of them, she couldn’t tell which, was attempting to placate them.  The other was having a quiet hushed conversation with a hulking defence-drone which was hovering close to the tram port.  She pushed herself sideways, aiming for the tram terminal, trying to avoid the pair of them – but felt a restraining hand on her shoulder.

It was her grandfather.

“We have to help them,” he said simply.  Novie opened her mouth to reply, but instead found herself looking out over the small sea of faces.

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

He was right.

The Forest’s bridge was only designed to hold two people, but with her family camped in there and in the approach corridor, it was impossible to move.  The ship was half way through its pre-flight diagnostics, but kept stopping to complain about the mass they were taking on.  Novie was concerned about it too but was trying to hide it.  The last thing she needed on this flight was to overstress the engines and kill the people she was meant to be saving.

Each person who entered the vessel took them a few kilogrammes closer.  She caught herself trying to link to her father who was overseeing the loading.

~How close are we getting?

She linked instead to the ship.  An image of the cargo bay and loading dock formed in her head.

~it's going to be close 

A mass distribution graphic occupied a chunk of her consciousness.  In real-life she nibbled her lip distractedly.

~Are your flight checks complete?

~almost… we can finish the rest underway… but there are still people turning up. [consternation] I don't want us to leave anyone but we are getting very heavy

Novie accessed the mass diagram again. The semi-sentient part of the system tried to estimate their probability of successful FTL transfer – it had dropped below 99.5%, and whatever happened next they were in violation of flight regulations.  As she pondered it dropped another point.

~It’s your choice.  Where do you want to call it?

~I'm feeling lucky.  [wry humour] but not too lucky – if you’re willing to run the risk I can take us down to 90%.  That’s another dozen people, after that, its anybody’s guess.

~[smiles] 90% then.

“Novie!”  It was her father’s voice calling.  “We’ve got trouble…”

~What is it?

The ship responded for her, showing the loading bay, where, a crowd of people were blocking the ramps.  They were not refugees; these were representatives of the Consensus.

Novie swore and snapped out of her link with the ship.

“I’m coming Father.”

She ran for the exit, dodging the sleeping rolls on the floor.  

~Ship, start turning out some sort of weapons… we may need them.

~They'll be waiting for you, I've already started making them –security procedures are in force [seccam overlay with graphics]

Novie was off the bridge running for the liftwell.

~But we can’t get refugees aboard with the measures in place, can we…

~no.

The cargo bays were packed with people trying to get as comfortable as possible on the flooring panels.  What meagre possessions Novie had allowed on board were piled in untidy heaps, already the life support systems were straining to deal with the increased demand, and, flicking up an internal graphic unconsciously she could see the ship manufacturing almost a dozen more air-units.  The jump problems aside, it would be a miracle to get this many people safely to Haven.  She reached the far side and the gaping hold doors.  The flat approach of the loading bay was busy. People, obviously refugees, were crammed into a terrified huddle near the entrance.  A solid knot standing in the middle area were obviously the Consensus representatives.  Her father was standing before them on the edge of the ship’s influence.

She skidded to a halt, surveying the scene – taking in as much information as the ship could download to her about the exchange she had just missed.  The Consensus people were moving as a cohesive unit, with one goal; that of preventing the ship’s departure.  As she walked towards them she checked the external proximity scans – there were ships moving on their location, none were close – yet.  She could have just ripped away from the dock, running for it, but that would kill the refugees at the rear of the loading bay.  As for the Consensus representative, she was starting to have serious doubts about their humanity anyway – they were almost certainly just using the bodies for convenience. Based on the way in which they had spoken to her father, most of their processing was being done elsewhere.

The vacuum hatch of the nearest nanofarm dilated, revealing a pair of guns.  She stopped next to it, her eyes not leaving the scene ahead as she took the weapons. 

~Make a few more, we may need them…

With a hiss the hatch folded back into place and the operating light came back on.  She walked towards the protected lip of the hold.  Her father stood legs slightly apart, arms behind his back staring defiantly at the group.

Novie pressed the gun into one of his hands, leaning close to him.

“I’m going to talk to them,” she whispered, and stepped forward, the gun hung at her side. She linked herself into it’s targeting block; designating a number of the group before her as targets – if she required it, the gun would aim, target and shoot for itself now.

She stopped at the edge of the ship’s influence, opening a Consensus channel.

~this could be dangerous

The ship remarked, overlaying her communications lines.

~Just monitor everything that comes into me, I want it filtered first…

~understood

Real-life faded to a mere blur as she entered the Consensus, sounds around her from the ship and the people in it slowed dramatically as her processing speeds first doubled then quadrupled, then…  She stepped towards the group from the Consensus.  In here, with the real structure of the loading bay just a shadow, the ranks of those sent to stop her stretched away in all directions.  It was almost as if the lights had been turned off and she was in darkness illuminated by a solitary spot lamp.  Dimly, she was aware of the pressure of the minds before her, as if every person in local space was trying to stop her doing this.

~they're trying direct control…

~I noticed, you’re blocking it then…

She eyed the immense crowd.

~I've turned down the bandwith into your head, you'll notice a slight drop in interface quality but it’s preferable to having your brains turned to jelly.  Bear in mind that they are more than capable of doing that too…

She smiled sweetly at those in the front of the group.

“Come to say goodbye?” she asked sweetly.

Only one spoke, but the nuances shocked her, it was one voice speaking for literally billions, all seemingly pissed off with her.  She was suddenly glad of the ship around her – knowing that this would be affecting it in the same way.

“Don’t do this Novie, you know it’s wrong…  these people are ill, they need our help…” Using her real world eyes and links she saw the small group of refugees on the far side of the dock.  It was too late for those who had not reached the ship, but she would be damned if she would give up on those inside – she counted nearly a hundred – it would make the jump interesting if nothing else.