Chapter 17

EDGAR'S STORM

But the king covered his face, and the king cried with a loud voice, O my son Absalom, O Absalom, my son, my son!

And Joab came into the house to the king, and said, Thou hast shamed this day the faces of all thy servants, which this day have saved thy life. In that thou lovest thine enemies, and hatest thy friends.

2 Samuel 19:4-6

Hendrick Sills winced as he glared at Cassandra's view of the coming storm. It was a nightmare swirl of reds and blacks, pressure zones and cold fronts, sweeping down from the north. Within a few hours it would be hammering the island, the worst storm in a decade.

The onboard barometer had yet to drop far, but fat raindrops were splashing against the windscreen. The dirigible was anchored down tight, and he was making a final check of all compartments. Make sure that all equipment is secure, triple-check the mooring lines, and then scoot to shelter.

Toshiro Tanaka scrabbled briskly up the chrome ladder connecting the command deck with the cargo hold. He saluted, half-seriously. "We're secure, sir," Toshiro said. Good kid. They were all good kids, really. Pity Zack had landed on them so hard, but it was for their own good.

"All right," Hendrick said. "I'm getting back to camp before that storm hits. You probably don't want to stay aboard-it won't be fun if the wind picks up."

"Aye, aye."

Hendrick left Toshiro there in the control room, and climbed down the ladder to the main level. He paused at the door, trying to remember if there was something, anything that he had left undone. It felt as if there was something. But he couldn't put a name to it.

Oh, well...

He climbed down the gangplank. The great reptilian bulk of Robor loomed above him. Clouds were gathering, but it still didn't look like a nightmare of a storm. You could never tell about these things. Better to trust Cassandra.

He hopped into his skeeter and revved it, spinning up into the darkening sky. He dove at the mountains, whipping through the passes, hitting each beacon in turn. Despite his odd feeling about the storm warning, the air was choppy. He didn't want to have an accident.

There were no guards at the main supply depot. None were needed.

Technically, there were no guard duties anywhere in the camp.

But on the other hand...

Twenty years ago, Cadmann Weyland had taken dogs, and supplies, and a skeeter, and begun his own encampment up on the Bluff. On two other occasions, colonists had emulated him, starting branches up in the eastern mountains without formal permission. All three incidents had followed disagreements, arguments, harsh words at Camelot. The Star Born were certainly upset, and there was precedent for, well, freelance requisitioning.

So in the evenings, it was not uncommon to find Earth-Born busying themselves at special duties around the livestock, the landing pads, the central supply depot...

Tonight Carolyn McAndrews had drawn the short straw.

She counted cartons of Concord grapes shipped in from the eastern drops.

She heard something behind her, and turned. The warehouse was shadowed, and she touched a button on her belt, turning the lights up. "Zack? That you?"

The administrator had been in a couple of hours earlier, for a sour exchange of opinions. Zack had been irritable, stubborn, and unreasonable, wanting tomorrow's ledger results yesterday. "Zack?" she called out. "You know, you're not going to get things faster by bugging me every couple of minutes, you know?"

No reply.

She walked down the narrow corridor. She could swear that she had heard something back there. The camp was relatively quiet, folks settling in for the evening. She could hear rain beginning to patter against the roof, and the wind was picking up. Good weather for putting your feet up in front of a fire, and-

A shadow detached itself from the others along the corridor, a small female shadow, and Carolyn felt sudden, swift joy. "Ruth! What brings you out here?"

Ruth smiled hesitantly. There was something different about the girl. Carolyn had noticed it in the past week. She walked a little differently, combed her hair a little more carefully. Rachael had noticed it too, she was certain, but there had been no conversation about it. Carolyn was pretty sure she knew what the telltale signs meant, and it was hard to repress a grin.

Welcome to the other side, sweetheart. Who was he? Was he nice to you?

"Hello, Ruth. What do you need? The avocados have turned ripe-"

"I'm sorry," Ruth said. Her face had changed. The smile had been a mask. There was sorrow and fear there-and something else. Excitement.

Carolyn had only a moment to think: Ruth?

Then light exploded behind her eyes. Pain, so abrupt it barely had time to register before she fell over onto her side, unconscious.

Trish dropped the grendel gun to her side. She stepped out of concealment and stared at Carolyn with eyes that were cool and unconcerned. An hour of sleep, and she would be as good as new. The capacitor darts had been very carefully adjusted.

Ruth stood with her hands clasped very tightly together. She looked white as a ghost.

"You did fine, honey," she said. "Just fine."

She gave a low whistle. Little Chaka and Derik emerged from the shadows. Chaka bent to roll Carolyn out of her contorted position and push her purse under her head. He looked at Ruth and might have spoken, but set to work instead.

Little was said in the next few minutes, although much was done.

Hendrick was twisting through one of the last mountain passes when he caught a glimpse of something traveling north, in from the main encampment. Two skeeters, locked for heavy cargo, carrying a pallet of some kind. It looked heavy.

They were lost in shadows before he could see anything else.

Hendrick triggered the radio. "Hello. This is Skeeter Eleven. Skeeter..." He checked their IDs on the dashboard display. They were Skeeters VIII and XII. Eight was registered to the kids at Surf's Up, the other to the main encampment. He felt mild curiosity. "You guys better get settled in. Looks like a bad one."

Aaron Tragon's voice came back. "Thanks for the warning. We'll be down in twenty minutes. See you when this mess is over."

"Roger and out."

Hendrick headed in toward camp.

Carlos Martinez wandered into the main communications center. Edgar Sikes was the only one on duty, and that bothered Carlos. The boy had grown more introverted since his father's death. He tended to hang out at Surf's Up more, and talk to the First a little less, perhaps. But the big change was that he had become an absolute workhorse. Burying himself in his job, as if it were his only salvation. And since most of the communications center could be handled by one energetic operator, he spend an inordinate amount of time alone.

Carlos stood in the doorway, watching the screens as they displayed images from the various satellites. Geographic's skeletal framework hovered just above the blue mist of Avalon's upper atmosphere. From another angle, Tau Ceti was just sinking below the horizon.

Another image was of gathering storm clouds, swirling just off the subcontinent. It was almost hurricane dimensions, possibly the storm of the decade.

So far, only a few droplets.

"Edgar?" he said quietly. "Muchacho, aren't you pushing yourself a little hard?"

Edgar almost jumped, he spun around so hard. "Carlos! Give a guy a heart attack, why don't you."

Carlos chuckled. Edgar was definitely working too hard. But why so jumpy? On the other hand, with a storm that large coming in, nervousness was easy to understand.