Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [83]
‘Mad damn scramble to find his son now—apparently he was out in one of the border towns doing penance for something. Talk about timing. Anyway, no one’ll be leaving here for a while anyway. We’re bunkered down until help comes—’
‘What about all the others out on the plains? There were so many behind us. On foot,’ Mira interrupted. She did not mention her knowledge of Trin. She did not want any reason to prolong a discussion with this woman.
Rast’s expression became even more unpleasant. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, pilot. I’m not much for planets. I came here to do a job that’s gone arse-over and I plan to get my crew out. At the moment that means holding this shit-hole until we get some AiVs to get out of here.’
‘You’re going to fly the whole town out in AiVs?’
‘Let’s just say I plan to get us some help.’
Rast’s hood began to ping loudly enough for Mira, on the other side of the room, to hear. ‘Want to watch the show?’ Rast slid the film along the table.
Mira drew closer to Cass. The screen showed what looked like flares being set off indiscriminately on the outskirts of Ipo. Except they weren’t flares—they were Saqr, incinerating as they stumbled upon the laser fence.
‘Your idea, I suppose.’ Cass seemed older and suddenly weary.
Rast gave a mock half-bow where she sat. ‘Just working with what I’ve got, Mulravey. My speciality, you could call it. We collected all the laser levels and sights in the town, any damn thing that could excite a proton, and set them up around the perimeter.’
‘But how can you keep it running?’ asked Mira.
Rast tapped her temple. ‘Did you learn anything practical at your Studium, Baronessa? Or was it all manners and good taste? This town’s electricity runs off francium and fluorine gas, not hydrogen.’
Mira raised her eyebrows. She had no real knowledge of chemistry. What surprised her was that this uncouth, uneducated woman did.
‘Apparently they keep things stabilised with zirconium and something like it. . . hafnium, I think. We can run the barrier all night by a reversal process but it means diverting all the town’s power there. Ever had a candlelit dinner, Baronessa? Not bad if you can stand the smell of ligs.’
‘How long can you maintain it?’ asked Cass.
‘Indefinitely. Food is the main problem, along with folk’s mental states. In my experience, people hate to be trapped.’ Rast worked her jaw a few times, changing options on the combat hood. The deskfilm flickered through viewpoints along the fence in synch with her movements. ‘This is a primordial species we’re dealing with. They eat and shit and fight. Maybe they’ll get bored and go elsewhere.’
‘Why do you want to use my barge?’ asked Cass.
‘Your barge? Oh, you mean the one with the Cip crest on the side.’ Rast showed a glimpse of pale teeth.
Cass held a steady, guiltless gaze. ‘Cips don’t rule here any more, Rast. You said yourself that Franco is dead. I’d say the vehicle belongs to me now.’
Cips don’t rule here any more. Mira felt sick. The Principe is dead. How could they sit there discussing it so . . . casually?
‘We’re rotating guards inside the fence perimeter. Your barge can fit a lot of bodies in it. It would help me to get them out there and back,’ said Rast.
‘First I want to know more about what’s going on.’
Rast visibly controlled her aggravation. She glanced to the window where dawn had turned to blazing light. More sound leaked from the hood. She rolled up the film and stood, sealing her protecsuit. She was a head and a half taller than Mira, and muscular. A quick predator type that you didn’t usually see on Araldis. Araldis was two distinct things: court and custom, dust and mining. Not pseudo-military efficiency.
‘You’d better come with me, then. We’ll talk again, Mulravey, later: after the first wave. When you’ve had a chance to squeeze out your milk brain.’ Rast’s insult hung in the air after she left.
‘Who is she? Who has agreed that she should make the decisions?’ demanded Mira hotly.
Cass dragged herself out of the chair wearily and handed Vito back