Iron Truth (Primaterre Book 1) Page 13

  The doctor's clinic was hardly worthy of its name, but it was much cleaner than when Sumner had been in charge. In a corner, fluorescent lights flickered over a basin where dark-stained bandages had been left to dry. It repulsed Voirrey to have to reuse bandages and medical equipment, but that was the new normal. If the shining hospitals of their time still existed, they certainly weren't on Cato.

  The clinic's door was pushed open, letting in a rush of air heavy with the smell of smoke and grease.

  "What do you want, Voirrey?"

  Only the irritable tone was the same as ever. Cato will run in your veins, Rivka had said, and maybe there was some truth to that. When Joy had first met Duncan, he had covered his burgeoning bald spot with wisps of slicked-back hair. Now, but for dark stubble, his head and face were bare, and once-doughy jowls had sharpened into jutting jawbones. He'd lost his contact lenses early on, and with no replacements readily available, he regarded the world with a permanent sneering squint.

  That sneering squint fell on her, and she smiled, giving him a little wave.

  "Joy." He sounded genuinely pleased, and to her surprise, welcomed her with an embrace. Stubble scratched her cheek and the stench of the undercity, infusing his clothing, was nearly too much to take. Still, it was nice to be welcomed back.

  "I thought for certain we'd seen the last of you," he murmured, mouth pressed against her hair. A little too close for comfort; close enough to make Joy squirm. "Reckoned the drifters would've made blankets out of your skin by now."

  "All right, thanks." She wriggled out of the hug. "Like I need more terrifying scenarios to worry about. You don't think my nightmares are bad enough already?"

  "You actually manage to sleep?" Duncan grimaced. "Voirrey and I wish we were that lucky."

  "He has a point," Voirrey said. "I am rather busy, Joy, so if you would be so kind to tell us about this 'super secret' plan, I'd appreciate it."

  ◆◆◆

  Duncan held Joy's arm in a tight grip, straining to read the blurry list. "Hmm. I suppose I might be able to scrounge up most of these components. Might have to build some of them from scratch."

  "I'll need a pen and something to write on, too," said Joy.

  "You're seriously considering this?" Voirrey shook her head in disbelief. "One of my patients came to Cato with her children after the Primaterre incinerated her planet. Millions of people murdered or displaced across the galaxy, and you think we can trust the soldiers complicit in such atrocity? If Joy gives these men what they want, they will take it and then they will kill her, or worse."

  "You didn't see them, Voirrey," Joy pleaded. "Their weapons, their armour - I've never seen anything like it. If the Primaterre have such things, and the civilisation required to support such advancements, wouldn't you rather live there than here?"

  "You would live with murderers because they offer a comfortable lifestyle?"

  "There's murderers here too, Voirrey. You see the dead and the dying; you know what the people here are capable of. And come on, what do we really know about the Primaterre? In terms of reliable fact?"

  Not much, as it turned out. Earth served as the Primaterre Protectorate's nave, and its territory (which included Mars) spanned more than a dozen systems. By military might, the Primaterre conquered and annexed worlds, and by all accounts, they did so with extreme prejudice - and in the name of purity.

  "I heard they're afraid of demons," Duncan said.

  "Demons? That's ridiculous." Joy had heard the same rumour, but rumour had to be all it was. It was hard to believe that the soldiers she'd met would believe in ghost stories. No matter how much she wanted to believe in the supernatural, she accepted that such superstition belonged in the past, not the future.

  "Religious fanatics often are ridiculous, Joy." Voirrey had lit a cigarette and ash drifted from it as she spoke. "I have some experience with that sort of people, and trust me, you do not want to become involved with them."

  "What kind of experience?"

  Voirrey shook her head, lips pursing hard around the cigarette. A personal experience, then.

  "Maybe there's a different way. Voirrey's patient isn't the only person on Cato holding a grudge against the Primaterre. Joy knows where they're based. That alone is worth plenty to the right buyer, and if she could gather more intel -"

  "Betray the soldiers?" Joy shot Duncan a horrified look. "I can't do that!"

  "Even if it means saving your brother?"

  That gave her pause. Whatever it takes, she'd promised; whatever it takes to save Finn. She'd endured all of Cato's horrors and indignities with that in mind, but the soldiers - they reminded her of him. Finn, too, had worn a uniform and carried a gun, but that didn't make him a murderer. His job was to protect and defend, and was it so crazy to think that maybe the Primaterre soldiers were cut from the same ballistic cloth?

  Duncan must've sensed what she was thinking, because he held his hands up and sighed.

  "Fine, so you don't like that idea. But given the components they want, it's obvious that they're trying to locate something."

  "Is it?"

  "Whoever their tech is, he's not stupid. Using as non-specific language as possible and asking for components that separately do nothing much? Clever. But I'm not stupid either. I recognise a scanning array when I see one. Yeah, they're here to find something, all right. And whatever it is, if we were to find it first..."

  "Now you want to steal from them?"

  "Said the scavenger."

  She made a face, and he shrugged.

  "Look, Joy, I'm working on a project of my own, but it can't hurt to have a backup plan. I can get you these items, sure, but you keep your eyes and ears open, okay? Just in case."

  "Just in case," she agreed.

  Voirrey made a disgusted sound. "I don't know why you insist on these crazy schemes. What are you even doing in the undercity, Duncan? Now Joy, she had little choice but to leave Nexus, but you could find good work up here. There is no need to crawl around in the muck. Business is brisk; by the time a trader comes, I will have sufficient funds to pay our way off-world."

  "And you think the mayor will let his new doctor just leave?" Duncan shook his head grimly. "Honest work won't get us off this rock."

  11. Cassimer

  Night rolled in like a bank of fog. Beyond the perimeter of their base, where no spotlights reached, lay inky darkness.

  Leaning against gilded cast-iron railings on the bank rooftop, Cassimer watched the night as he had watched the pale sunset.

  A fuzzy yellow glow in the shape of a man moved about a klick out - Lucklaw, on first patrol. Further out, Cassimer's HUD indicated one of their drones, heading due north.

  The connection was strong enough for his primer to collect data from the drone. Footage too, though the desert at night didn't make for interesting viewing. Not that it mattered. Every dune and ridge in a hundred mile radius were etched with perfect clarity in his mind. Choke points, escape routes, potential threats - every piece laid in place.

  Except for the pieces obscured by dust. As soon as they'd returned to base, they'd begun sweeping for tunnels, and they had found many. The ground beneath their feet was an ant colony of subway tunnels, sewers, and paths running through the buried city. Hopewell had descended a chimney and found herself inside a hospital. Mostly intact, and via culverts, connected to a sprawling complex of subterranean ruins.

  Six hours until dawn. He'd give the team another five before it was time to get to work. He'd take Rhys down below to search the ruins for components for the array, and Hopewell and Florey - back on his feet after three days of recovery - could continue their work sealing and securing tunnels.

  Until then, the night was his own. The stims he was on made the stars sharp enough that he could almost forget the void between. Clear sky above, silence all around, and the remnants of a golden past below. Perfect purity suddenly seemed within grasp, shining the light of reason on his mind. The fear at the base of his spine was the fear o
f failure, and clarity told him that to overcome it, all he had to do was complete his mission. The grief that pulled and tugged at his chest couldn't be so easily conquered, but again, clarity told him that with time it would wither and turn to ash. All he had to do was endure; accepting but unyielding.

  Difficult, but the silence and the stars helped. A passing cloud of dust obscured the sky, but his HUD lit up with the positions of planets and constellations. A momentary peace -

  "Commander."

  Or maybe not. He nodded curtly at Rhys. The medical officer wore his visor open, and a cigarette dangled from the corner of his lips.

  "That seems inadvisable."

  "The cigarette or my open disregard for potential biohazards?" Rhys produced a lighter from a belt pouch. "When a man gets to my age and has access to the finest medical advancements in Protectorate space, he tends to not let little things like carcinogens and toxins bother him too much."

  "Over-reliance on pharmaceuticals is a nasty habit."

  "Said the pot to the kettle." Rhys laughed, puffs of smoke escaping his mouth. "When did you last sleep?"

  "The anaesthetist put me under for my reconstructive shoulder surgery." The invasion of privacy irked, but protocol demanded that medical information be provided upon inquiry - and purity demanded truthfulness.

  "Thought as much. I can tell when a body is running on stims instead of a proper night's sleep."

  "The stims provide the exact same physical benefits as sleep. There is no difference."

  "There's dreams."

  "A dreaming mind is neither aware nor vigilant. A dreaming mind is nothing but an invitation to demons."

  "That's not doctrine, and you know it. If anything, flooding your system with stims is impure. I would've thought an orthodox man like yourself would avoid pharmaceuticals as much as possible." Rhys dropped his cigarette and rubbed out the embers with his heel. "But then, maybe it's another kind of demon you're afraid of facing."

  "Rhys." A little sharper than he'd intended, but it had the desired effect.

  "All right, all right. I can take a hint." So Rhys claimed, but he also took a seat, which as far as Cassimer was concerned proved the opposite. "Nice night. Mind if I keep you company?"

  "Can you be quiet?"

  He could, to a satisfactory degree, and they sat together in silence as Cato's night brightened to misty dawn. When the sun painted the horizon milky white, the rest of the team joined them on the roof.

  Lucklaw, yawning, set about work on the array. They'd anchored it to the roof, but it wouldn't be secure until they got its force field back up and running. That, and watching the base, would be Lucklaw's task for the day.

  Cassimer went over their rudimentary map of the subterranean tunnels with Florey, but Hopewell couldn't seem to stand still and listen. She paced about the edge of the roof, looking towards the horizon. Undisciplined behaviour, but Cassimer understood the urge. His own muscles screamed to be used; his every nerve tense and alert. A common enough occupational problem, exacerbated by augments specifically designed to provide more energy, strength and perception, and fed by stims until the need to do something, anything, became a hunger.

  "Relax, Hopewell. Nobody's coming."

  "Apologies, Commander. Had to check. It's just, I wish they'd show up, you know? If those farmers want a fight, I'm more than ready."

  "Given the amount of mines I placed, the farmers would be mist before you even got a chance," Lucklaw said. Their new comms specialist was proud as a lion over his lateral and semi-official promotion - a little too soon, considering neither mines nor array had yet to be put to the test.

  "Oh, you'll let a few of them slip through for me, won't you?" Hopewell laughed.

  It was decided that Florey and Hopewell would seal the eastern tunnels, while Cassimer and Rhys would trawl through the western end of the network. That's where the hospital was, and their best chance of finding something useful. Also - although he didn't say this, and it hadn't factored into his decision - the ruined city was a rare opportunity to touch the past.

  On the surface, only Cassimer's imagination helped him picture what Stairhaven had once been, when smiles were as bright as the copper cupola; when couples walked hand in hand underneath a sky shot through with passing ships; when the black expanse of space held only promise. Perhaps in the ruins, amongst the relics of civilisation, he'd be able to do more than imagine. Perhaps some mote of light still glimmered down there, untouched by war and corruption.

  "Commander, we've got incoming." Hopewell, rifle raised, stood at the western edge of the roof.

  "How many?" He prepped a dose of stims to wash any lingering clouds from his mind.

  "Just the one." There was a touch of amusement in her voice. "It's your errand girl."

  Cassimer hefted his Hyrrokkin and panned its scope across dust until a flash of copper caught his eye. On the ashen plains, Joy glowed like sunrise after the longest night.

  ◆◆◆

  She'd stopped almost exactly three kilometres outside the ruined city, in the shadows of a fulgurite grove. A sturdy canvas backpack nestled against her legs and she'd interlocked her hands behind her head. The wind tugged at a navy scarf covering the lower half of her face. She looked every bit as fragile as the crystalline branches, but unlike them, Joy was entirely out of place.

  Though, he reminded himself, she had saved them from the storm, and she had made the trek to their base. That counted for something, hinted at strength deeper than the eye could see.

  The wind whipped the scarf from her face and he could see that she was smiling.

  "Joy. Do you have the components?"

  "In the backpack. Should I hand it to you? Or throw it over? I... oh." She paused, biting her lip. "I forgot to remove my gun. Sorry. Should I do that now?"

  "All right," he said, ignoring Hopewell's soft chuckle over their private channel. "Slowly."

  She bent to unbuckle the straps of the holster. Copper hair tumbled forward in glossy waves. Her hair, like her skin, was remarkably clean. She'd made an effort, even though the dust and wind already worked to undo it. Her hands - trembling with cold, fear or both - were smooth, but mottled with bruises and scrapes.

  The old gun, holster and all, fell into the dust. She kicked it out of her reach.

  "Is that okay? I'm sorry. I want to do this right, but I've never been in this sort of situation before. It's the sort of thing you see in the movies but never really expect to actually end up doing."

  "Good enough," he told her, as Hopewell stepped up to check the bag for unpleasant surprises.

  "Clear, Commander. Looks like the stuff Lucklaw wanted, but I can't be sure."

  "Take it back - but keep it outside base - and have Lucklaw check the contents. And give me that gun."

  Hopewell passed him the old gun. It was in even better condition than he'd thought, practically near mint. Cleaned and lubricated, too, which was a pleasure to see. Joy took better care of her weapon than some recruits. Unexpected from hands as soft as hers.

  "You going to be all right by yourself, Commander?"

  "I think I can handle one civilian," he said, amused at the absurdity of the question. "Besides, Florey's got my back."

  His back, and Joy's torso, painted ruby red by Florey's rifle.

  "Oh, Cassimer - I nearly forgot. I brought you something," Joy said. "It's in my jacket pocket. Can I take it out?"

  "Stay where you are. Hands behind your head."

  He closed the distance between them. She looked up at him, honey-brown eyes wide with fear. He wanted to tell her that she needn't be afraid, but that would be a lie. She should be - of him, of Florey, of the settlers and farmers, and of whatever dwelled in the tunnels she travelled. The glimmer of trust in her eyes was a light that made him angry and fearful in equal measure. It was beautiful, like nothing he'd ever seen, and it would certainly get her killed if she wasn't careful.

  "Left inside pocket," she said.

  He turned the fraying l
apel of the jacket and pulled out a notebook made from thick, grey paper.

  Rough sketches in poor quality ink covered most of the pages. At the back were notes, written in a neat hand.

  "It's the layout of Nexus. You asked me about it before, and I didn't give you a very good answer. There's also a map of the underground railway stations, but it's fairly incomplete, because I've only visited a handful. And I made some notes about the general situation in Nexus. Who's in charge and who to watch out for - though I suspect your definition of who to watch out for will differ from mine."

  "It's very detailed," he said, unsure of how to take the gesture. Intel was only as trustworthy as its source, and Joy was far too strange to trust.

  "Can you go back to the map of Nexus?"

  He obliged.

  "You see that square that's a little smaller than the others? Near the mayor's house? Oh - I'm just going to point, okay?" One shivering finger landed on a spot in the northern half of the map. "That's Voirrey's clinic. She's a doctor, and my friend. I'm telling you this so that if you do decide to invade Nexus or something, maybe you could please not hurt her. She's a good person."

  "You think we're here to invade?"

  "I don't think anything. I just want to go home." She paused, and for a horrible moment, he thought she was going to cry. Then she took a deep breath and blinked her dewy eyelashes dry. "But I hear things. About the Primaterre and its armies; how you've turned whole planets to ash. Maybe it's just stories and maybe it's true - either way, there's nothing I can do to stop you. Except ask nicely. So please, if you can, don't hurt Voirrey or Duncan. I'd have put him on the map too, except I don't know where he stays these days."

  Voirrey and Duncan. The names earned instant animosity. Whoever these people were, they had seen fit to let Joy wander Cato alone. She deserved better, that much was obvious. Anyone with the spine to stand in front of a Primaterre commander and speak as she did, deserved equally brave company.

  "We're not here for war." It seemed safe enough to reveal. Even if she passed the information on, it could only help cool local nerves.