Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [105]
The question came through the shortcast from Juno Genarro who was piloting the AiV that hovered on Trin’s right wing. Trin sensed he was asking it for the benefit of the other Carabinere listening in.
Trin did not hesitate—he could not, if he were to take the lead. ‘It is very likely,’ he said gravely.
Are you dead, papa? He did not stop to probe his own feelings—they were too tangled. But he knew where they should go. ‘My tia Marchella has stockpiled her mine with food. Pablo also has many subsidiary tunnels. We can withdraw underground to the south if necessary.’ His voice sounded confident even though his mind was skittering through a thousand possible tragedies.
‘What about the Fleet?’ someone asked. ‘You are Pilot First. We could use the Fleet’s weapons to rid ourselves of these creatures.’
A strangling sensation rose in Trin. He would never admit to these men that he could not command the Fleet, that he was unable to fly the Insignia because its systems were too intuitive for him. ‘If this invasion has been well planned then the Fleet will be gone: destroyed or sequestered. We could scout the Fleet base but it would be time wasted when we have injured who need medic. The Pablo mine will contain much of what we will need.’
Voices crowded the shortcast, trading opinions.
Trin let them debate for a few minutes before he cut across their talk. ‘It will be this way. Juno Genarro will take one craft to Dockside to see if the Fleet survives. I will lead the others to the Pablo mine.’
There were no objections to his decision. Trin felt energised: these men were listening to him.
Genarro immediately altered his direction to Dockside while the three remaining AiVs set their course south, for Pablo.
They flew for several hours across the great red plains, spotting only occasional burned-out ground vehicles among the dust swirls and quivering mirages.
Trin switched to autopilot and made a show for his Carabinere passengers of closing his eyes, though his thoughts rebounded between Djeserit, the fate of his papa, and the extent of his resources. Four AiVs and forty-five men—three injured—did not make an army. Are you dead, papa?
‘Principe?’ Seb Malocchi roused him from his reverie. He gestured below.
Trin glanced out of his window. They had reached the beginning of the iron dunes outside Loisa where rocks jutted like rows of broken red teeth. ‘Si?’
‘Our visual scans are showing a TerV on one of the dunes. They are signalling for our help.’
‘Search the lower frequencies.’
Seb sent his scanner flicking until he located an ‘esque voice.
‘—ed assistance. Repeat. Need assistance.’
Trin toggled the shortcast. ‘This is the Araldis Carabinere. Identify yourself.’
‘Thank fuck,’ the voice said in a muffled aside. ‘It’s the Carabinere.’ Then louder. ‘My name is Latourn. I’ve been sent from Ipo to scout for help. The Saqr have surrounded the town. We got over three thousand ‘esques trapped there. We’ve rigged a laser fence around from the town’s power cells and a team of eighteen IH are holding everything together. How many men do you have? Do you have weapons?’
Interstellar Hire. ‘What are IH doing on Araldis?’ Trin demanded.
‘The Principe hired us. We arrived a bare week ago.’
Trin sensed the men behind him glancing at each other. ‘I know nothing of this,’ he said.
‘Can’t help that, mate,’ said Latourn dryly. ‘Can you help us?’
‘What do you propose?’
‘Our Capo wants a distraction coming from behind them. She reckons we can get most out that way. Needs to be coordinated through her, though. We’ve got combat-com and one GRG. Things are getting desperate, though: food is short. The miners are fixing for a bloodbath, which wouldn’t be so bad—if the town wasn’t full of women and bambini.’
‘She?’
‘Our Capo is Rast Randall. Best IH in the business,’ he added.
Trin took a moment to think. Why had papa hired mercenaries? Had he suspected that danger was imminent? ‘We must collect some resources