The Engineer ReConditioned Part 19

"This morning."

Bradebus stared at Lumi calculatingly then gulped down the rest of his gla.s.s of whisky. The barman waddled forward and immediately refilled the gla.s.s.

"We want to leave as soon as possible," said Lumi.

Bradebus took a gulp from his gla.s.s and grinned. "Oh, we'll catch up all right. Can't say we'll take him by surprise though, not with fifteen clod-hoppers along."

"The men are ready now," said Brown to Lumi.

Bradebus said, "You know more or less what direction he took?"

"Yes," said Brown.

"You go along then. I'll catch you directly."

"This is important, Bradebus," said Brown.

"It always is," said the tracker, turning his back on them.

The edge of the wilder was marked by a line of black metal posts. On one side of this line were arable fields and lands for livestock, on the other side the deep woodland that was the wilder itself. The bus drew to a halt in a circular parking area, in which the road terminated, and Lumi and the constables disembarked. The men and women were all in field kit and carried an a.s.sortment of weapons. Lumi was in his hiking gear and carried no weapons. Brown was quick to remark on this.

"Sir, I would feel better if you carried this," he said, and handed over a pistol belt. Lumi drew the weapon and inspected it. It was a ten-bore revolver with eight chambers. A weapon you only needed to hit a man with once. Lumi considered rejecting it then changed his mind. Such an act might have been admirable in some circles, but here and now it would have been foolish. He strapped the weapon on and observed the constables unloading more powerful armament.

"What's that?"

"Missile launcher," said Brown. "If he gets to the s.h.i.+p and takes it up ... " Brown did not need to elaborate. "Okay, let's go," he said to his men. And they walked between the black posts into the wood.

This close to the perimeter there were many well-trodden paths. They moved at a slow pace following the main track Cromwell's group had reportedly followed. By evening they had not left that track, and stopped at a well-used camp site.

"We'll wait here for him," said Lumi, and went to set up his tent. Before retiring he ate a meal with the ten men and five women under Brown's command, drank tea, and listened to Brown briefing them. They had known nothing of their mission prior to entering the wilder.

The night sounds kept Lumi awake for some time and in the full dark he heard the arrival of Bradebus announced by the guards. He slid out of his sleeping bag and after pulling on some clothing went out to see the man. The night was lit by the second and third moons; one a pitted and dented thing that was called the Old Man, the other a mirror-bright sphere that had acquired no name. It was simply called the Third Moon.

The tracker was dressed in clothing made from animal skins and wore a long coat of bear fur. He carried a short hunting carbine, a knife nearer the size of a machete, and two pistols holstered at his belt. He was squatted by the remains of the fire when Lumi saw him.

"We didn't expect you until the morning," commented Lumi by way of something to say.

Bradebus nodded. "Morning we go off the track to the north. Should catch up with them a bit. Loop in the track." He poked at the fire with a stick.

"Is that a good idea? They might turn off."

Bradebus studied him estimatingly. "They're out here after something. If it was close I'd have known about it by now. Must be in the deep wilder. They'll stay on the main track." He continued staring at Lumi, waiting.

Lumi nodded and returned to his tent. He was not yet ready to tell the tracker what this was all about.

Morning was yet to make its presence felt when Brown called outside Lumi's tent then went on to rouse his constables. Lumi swore, stuck his head out into the darkness, then checked the luminous dial of his watch. An hour until sunrise. When they set out the foliage above had become distinguishable from the sky, and it was just possible not to walk into the trees when Bradebus led them off the track. They had travelled for an hour more before the birds started singing, and travelled for three more hours before stopping to remove rations from their packs to eat while they walked. Lumi noticed that Bradebus watched this with amus.e.m.e.nt, then wandered on chewing at a piece of jerky that smelt suspect, and was.h.i.+ng this down with gulps from his hip flask. At midday Lumi went up to walk beside him.

"Ready to tell me what it's all about?" asked the tracker, his words only slightly slurred.

"A s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p has landed in the wilder. Cromwell has the pilot. We think he is after weapons."

Bradebus nodded. "Lot of Proctor activity around here lately."

Lumi did not know what to make of that.

Shortly after this they rejoined the the main track and the tracker pointed at the signs of a large groups pa.s.sing that way. "Gained about two hours on them," he said.

Lumi wondered if it would be enough. Another day's march and they would be getting into the deep wilder. They camped part way into the night, when they were all too tired to make good time, and when blade beetles started to be attracted to the lamps they carried. One man required st.i.tches in his upper arm before he could go to his tent.

Lumi woke and did not know why. Had there been a sound? With utmost caution he pulled the revolver from its holster and slid out of his tent into the night.

"Everything all right?" he asked the guard.

The woman glanced at him then looked back out into the darkness. "The tracker went out there a moment ago. Don't know what he's up to," she said.

"Which direction?"

The woman pointed.

"I'll just go and take a look."

Lumi walked out into the wood as the woman muttered something about 's.h.i.+tting in the trees'. Yes, that could be the reason the old man had gone out, but Lumi found he entertained suspicions about the old man. Might he be in the employ of Cromwell? Might he be leading them astray? Ahead of him he heard the rustle of leaves. He moved towards it, saw a flicker of blue light, moved towards that. As he drew closer the light grew brighter. There was an area of blue light, a huge shape moving about in it. A hand caught him by the shoulder and a hand closed over his mouth.

"Shush now," said Bradebus, and took his hand away.

"Proctor," said Lumi as the huge shape became recogniseable.

"Oh yes, lots of them here. Lots of them."

There was something strange in his voice. Lumi watched Bradebus in confusion as the old man turned away and headed back towards the camp. Then the scientist glanced back at the light as it faded, before following the old man in. Had Bradebus come out here because he had heard a Proctor? Or had there been a more sinister reason? Lumi s.h.i.+vered in the night.

The next day of travel was marked only by the advent of their seeing a Proctor striding through the woodland far to one side. Otherwise it was exhausting and uneventful. Lumi quickly ate the food prepared for him and drank his tea before crawling into his tent and the comfort of his sleeping bag. In the dark before dawn they set out into more rugged country where deciduous trees gave way to conifers and patches of stone revealed sky above and a glimpse of distant mountains. There was a track of sorts that Bradebus led them from without a word of explanation. Lumi felt too tired to question, or to rea.s.sure Brown, but did have the energy to follow when Brown hurried to catch up with the tracker and demand an explanation.

"You'll see," said Bradebus, and hurried them on. Soon he brought them to the edge of the pines and a flat area of stone. Beyond the stone was nothing but purpled by distance mountains and sky. He waved them forward and walked to the edge. Lumi stood at his shoulder and looked down into the forest a thousand metres below. It was an awesome sight. Bradebus pointed.

"There," he said.

There it was, lying on the sh.o.r.es of a lake, a silver cylinder amongst trees that only reached up to half its diameter.

"One would think a vantage point like this would be watched," said Brown, glancing around.

"It is," said Bradebus. "Cromwell's people have been watching us for some time now." He turned to Brown. "I said we would come as no surprise to him."

Brown snorted in annoyance and walked away.

"How many people does Cromwell have with him would you say?" asked Lumi.

"Ten came with him, including the one from the s.h.i.+p - she has strange shoes - and about here I would reckon another ten."

"We will have to be very careful then."

"They won't be as well armed, nor very well trained."

They came across the first of them an hour later.

Keela squatted down in front of the woman and handed her a bowl of soup. It was accepted graciously and the woman sipped at it while Keela tested the chain attaching her to the tree.

"He'll torture you," said Keela.

"Yes, I imagine he will."

"Why don't you just let him in? If there are no weapons as you say ... "

"I am not amenable to coercion."

"I don't understand," said Keela, settling down on the pine needles. "Why are you here?"

The woman looked up from her soup and observed Keela with disconcerting eyes. "It is strange, is it not, that you ask me this now?"

"Well?"

"I am an amba.s.sador from the human federation. I have come here to seek the wisdom if not the a.s.sistance of the Owner."

"Why?"

"He is ten thousand years old. From who else would I seek wisdom?"

"He doesn't exist," said Keela.

The woman smiled and continued to sip her soup. Chagrined, Keela rose to her feet and stomped away.

"Anything?" Cromwell asked her.

"She just doesn't make sense."

"Then we'll have to force her to make sense."

Cromwell gazed speculatively at the glowing point of his cigarette.

They heard the crack of the shot simultaneous with the smack of the bullet against flesh. A constable staggered to one side, fell from the narrow path, and tumbled down the heather-tufted slope. Lumi had a glimpse of jetting blood, a raw exposure of flesh the size of a cooking apple.

"Down!" came the belated cry. Constables ran for cover behind the boulders at the base of the cliff as another shot range out and smashed splinters from rock. Lumi found himself behind a boulder with Bradebus and watched him take aim with his hunting carbine. He looked into the woodland below and could see nothing. The carbine went off with a satisfying explosion.

"Got the b.u.g.g.e.r."

Immediately Bradebus was up and running down the slope. It all happened too quickly for Lumi. He followed after with the dazed constables and swearing Brown.

The man lay dead behind a splintered pine tree. Bradebus had shot him through the tree. The mangled bullet and wood splinters had made quite a mess. Lumi looked at the tracker questioningly. The man held out a handful of bullets. Lumi picked one up and inspected it: pointed steel tip, large caseless charge, enough to shoot a man through a tree, but of no use otherwise. There were no animals large enough to justify such bullets. How was it that they had come into this lowly tracker's possession?

"Spread out now, and move with caution. Lambert, you stay back," said Brown. Lambert was the one who carried the missile launcher. Before they moved off Brown went to confirm the fallen man was dead. Lumi went with him. Half his head was gone, somewhere on the slope above.

They moved cautiously. Shots soon rang out again. The sound of bullets cracking through tree branches. A curtailed scream. Lumi saw the tracker running, his knife drawn and b.l.o.o.d.y. He was grinning. He looked like he was having fun. Two constables stayed back after that exchange, one to tend to the leg wound of the other. Nearby lay the corpses of two anonymous men and a woman, their blood draining into the pine needles. The second exchange was more intense, then abruptly ceased when Cromwell's people withdrew.

"What the f.u.c.k!" said Brown.

Lumi saw he was looking to one side. Two Proctors were striding through the trees towards the s.h.i.+p. There was another out to the other side of them.

"How many, I wonder?" said Bradebus in a whimsical voice.

This is very important, thought Lumi. As far as he knew the Proctors only enforced those few of the Owner's laws. There were two thousand of them, one for every million human beings on this, the Owner's world. Seeing them together was an event rare enough to be recorded. The last time Proctors had been seen together had been forty-three years before, just two of them, and the observer of this rare occurrence had said they seemed almost embarra.s.sed about the matter and had quickly parted. Three Proctors here, in this small area of trees, how many more were there in the vicinity?

The s.h.i.+p and the lake became visible through the trees. Brown scanned the area through compact binoculars.

"They're dug in around the s.h.i.+p behind log barricades. The camp is clear. Can't tell how many of them there are. There's a woman chained to a tree between us and them." He scanned to one side, then with his expression dumb-founded he handed the binoculars to Lumi and pointed. Lumi brought the lenses to his eyes.

Proctors.

They were on the lake sh.o.r.e, moving through the trees. As he watched, one walked up out of the water of the lake as if it had just walked across the bottom, which might well have been the case. What were they here for? They seemed to be doing little more than waiting and watching; leaning on their staffs and gazing into the distance like old-Earth Masai. The parallel was perhaps not the best. Are we their cattle? Lumi wondered. Just then Cromwell's people opened fire and Brown slammed him down to eat pine needles. The constables fired back with their automatic weapons until Brown yelled at them to stop.

"The woman! You'll hit the woman!"

Lumi looked out to her. She was sat in a position of meditation, not trying to bury herself as would be expected. All the firing ceased.

"Surrender and we won't kill her!" came Cromwell's shout.

"He doesn't want to kill her anyway, she hasn't let him in her s.h.i.+p," said Bradebus.

How do you know that? Lumi had no time to ask the question. The tracker fired twice. There was a yell of surprise. He turned to Brown.

"You don't have to shoot low to get them. That Cromwell isn't the best tactician. Just shoot at the hull of the s.h.i.+p above them and the ricochets will do the rest."

Brown looked where indicated and grinned, then his grin faded.

"The woman," he said.

"I would say that problem is about to be solved," said the tracker.

The Proctor came striding in from the side and positioned itself between the woman and Cromwell's people. It drove its staff into the ground then reached down to take hold of the chain. It was a thick chain. The Proctor snapped it like a cord of plasticene. Cromwell stood up then. He was yelling something as he depressed the trigger of his weapon and emptied its clip. The Proctor's field flared blue about it and no shots reached the woman as it led her away with a huge leathery hand on her shoulder. It kept itself between her and Cromwell all the time. Cromwell should have remembered the outfall from his factory. It seemed he was not thinking straight, because after he had emptied one clip he remained standing while he fumbled for another. The woman was out of the way. The constables remembered many crimes, many slights, dead friends. How many bullets. .h.i.t him at once is moot. It would have been difficult to count the holes in what remained.

"Cease firing!" Brown shouted, once Cromwell had disappeared out of sight. From Cromwell's people entrenched below the s.h.i.+p there was no more firing once the constables lowered their weapons. The sounds of argument could be heard, then a weapon was tossed out in front of the stacked logs and a man rose slowly to his feet with his hands in the air. Someone was yelling at him and he was ignoring that yelling. He stepped out from cover with his hands up.

"Brave fellow," said Bradebus as he watched the man walk across the no-man's land between. Twenty feet from the constables the man halted.

"I surrender myself," said the man. He looked scared but determined.

"Come behind here and lay face down on the ground," said Brown. When the man had done this Brown searched him and cuffed him. "How many of the others will give themselves up?" he asked.

"Most of them," the man replied. "Cromwell was all that kept us."