Star of Hope Page 4

  ‘We have to get them back,’ she said to Huxton, but he lay unconscious on the sand. First she had to get help for him.

  Sorlie

  ‘Go on son, you must do it.’ Pa sat in his tent, seemingly oblivious to the stench that had been building in there over the past few days. I held my cuff up to my nose to block it out but couldn’t block from the mind the cause of the stench.

  ‘No way Pa – you’re The Prince. You do it.’

  Pa swept his hand down his body, striking out with one of his plastic legs.

  ‘It needs to be you.’

  I craned my neck round the tent door at the gathering crowd and remembered the oldie movie-caster that featured a girl, super strong and sexy, as the only one able to save her tribe. She was the emblem of the revolution. She had a salute and sarcastic bow everyone copied. They listened to her but that was stupid fiction. This was real life. No one really believed a kid could lead a revolution. Pa had me dress in the uniform of the Blue Pearl. The serge material made from the recyk fibre produced here in Steadie and woven by the souterrain community. It scratched and stifled me with its formality. I now craved the hateful black prison garb like a comfort blanket.

  The speech Pa instructed me to perform was to be transmitted to native reservations and covert communities across Esperaneo Major and Lesser Esperaneo, using Vanora’s unique comms. It had been a while since anyone had mentioned Vanora around here but it seemed that she still had her uses. I imagined her in her northern lair. The last time I’d seen her in Freedom she’d been majestic, but showing signs of unravelling. Through her neglect she’d allowed Pa’s Blue Pearl to infiltrate that lair with ease and now she was just another deposed leader. An oldie thrown on the recyk midden. Somehow that thought troubled me.

  And yet, as I walked towards the podium, it was Vanora’s reaction to my speech I worried about most. I looked at the specials and oldies here at Steadie. Betty stationed herself in the front row of the crowd beaming encouragement to me. I searched for Harkin and found her hidden in the shadow of Con until he placed his huge paw on her shoulder and moved her forward. Drones flew overhead, capturing images of me from all angles and beaming them onto the sides of some of the containers and tarps hung up as makeshift screens. My face leapt out at me. I looked at my feet, I didn’t want to see and yet I couldn’t help it, there was no escape. There he was; boy, seventeen years old. Small for his age. He looked Privileged but he knew that was an illusion, there in that stance was a hint of native he knew he carried in his genes. That boy, me, Sorlie Mayben, was the answer; that’s what Pa told me. A visible leader the native population needed to believe in, to give them the strength to fight. Something to replace the hardship of living. They needed the one thing they had never had before – hope.

  But unlike Pa, I knew now that it was too hard for them to fight the State when every day was a fight for survival.

  ‘Get out there and make them believe,’ he had said.

  I took another look at the boy, the unlikely warrior who straightened his spine to make himself appear taller, and he looked right at me as I stared into the drone’s cold lens before me. I gulped back the fear and spied something in the corner of my eye. Projected back at me I saw Reinya move up to my shoulder. Her fiery hair shone bright on the screen against my dullness. Her eyes were red-rimmed. I turned to face her in real-time. She smiled a sad smile and even though her smile reached her eyes it didn’t quite wash away her pain. She took my hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Let’s do this thegether. Boy un girl.’

  Hand in hand we walked to stage front.

  ‘Citizens of Esperaneo,’ I began. ‘The end of your suffering is near. It is in your hands.’ Jupe sake, it sounded like a movie-caster script. ‘In the past year we have released the political prisoners from Black Rock. These men, both Priviledged and native, have joined the cause for freedom. And what have the Military been doing? Very little. They spend their time harassing poor natives.’ I saw the specials and Steadie natives take notice, they knew I was talking about them. ‘All citizens of Esperaneo are sick of suffering, sick of scraping food from this damaged earth, sick of hunger and disease.’ A few were nodding, the others looked bored. ‘The Prince has a plan and we are about to execute that plan, but we need your help. We need you to keep strong, to envisage your future, free of the shackles imposed by a brutal regime. We need you to be ready and willing to build our new society. To resist the Military. We need you to believe.’

  There was some polite applause. This was no good. Then I heard a murmur in the crowd.

  ‘Privileged.’

  I scanned the faces to see who had spoken. Most looked embarrassed. My throat turned to ash. I stared straight at the drone and tried to still my heart. It was time to admit the truth. I took a step away from Reinya.

  ‘Look at me.’ I thumped my breast. ‘I look Privileged, but I am part native, part Privileged.’ That got their attention. ‘My native genes may be hidden but they are in me.’ It was as if my words had ripped the breath from the crowd.

  ‘Now look to yourselves.’ I spread my arms wide to sweep the width of Steadie and include the watchers of the transmission. ‘You have been told all your lives natives are inferior.’ I thumped my chest again. ‘When I learned I was part native, I believed I was inferior.’ I took a breath.

  ‘We are not inferior.’

  ‘We may be poor, we may be starving, we may be uneducated, but we are not inferior. Together we have power, together we have hope. And together we must believe in our future.’

  I paused and as if we had rehearsed it, Reinya took up the call and stepped up beside me. She made a fist and shook it at the drone.

  ‘Citizens, freedom is within our grasp.’ She pointed at me. ‘We know many Privileged can no longer stand by and witness your torture.’ She took my hand and we held them aloft.

  ‘Together,’ I shouted, ‘Native and Privileged. We will be free.’

  ‘Together we’ll be free,’ Reinya echoed.

  My blood was bouncing through my veins. Maybe I’d watched too many scripts because I expected cheers. Instead we received a respectful clap from specials. The natives looked tired. They nodded and smiled. Some chatted with enthusiasm but I feared the hope they needed had to come from another direction. I saw in the image the triumphant smile slip from my face and I wondered again at Vanora. What I didn’t realise then was that it shouldn’t have been Vanora I was worried about.

  There had been no more raids in the last part of the quarter, yet a niggly pinge tweaked my gut with the thought that a brute in armour was out there somewhere thirsting for my blood. Reinya and I had been summoned to the canteen tent after the crowds dispersed and we dutifully assembled in time to see Pa’s great entrance. Harkin walked at his side as he teetered on new blades, her hand held up tentatively at his back, ready enough to catch if he fell but discreet enough for him not to notice.

  Her hair was wet as if from a wash, but this was mid-week and washing was restricted to the weekend here at Steadie. She must have been out in the morning mizzle helping the specials. Pa waited for us to take our places. Con leaned his butt on a table so I joined him for a seat. Reinya skulked in the shadows behind the serving counter. It was as if the effort of being brave had sapped her of all energy. If this tent had corners I’m sure she would have preferred to be there. For the first time she reminded me of Scud. She had been magnificent at the crowd share but despite that, since Kooki’s cremation, she kept out of everyone’s way. I saw her straighten when Pa walked in then her thumb went to her mouth and she nibbled the nail. Around us the tent flapped with the growing storm, an occasional gust whacked the sides. When the patter of rain rose to full pelt no one looked up – this tent was well weathered.

  As Pa passed my spot he stopped. ‘You were right to tell them of your native genes,’ he said. I looked around. Betty smiled, Harkin nodded. It was as if every
one had known all along.

  At last Pa got to his chair: The Prince on his throne. He beckoned to Con and I and searched the space with his eyes.

  ‘Reinya, come out wherever you are,’ he hailed. She crept from the shadows but still stood a couple of steps away from me. He beckoned to us both.

  ‘Your mission is called The Star of Hope.’ I heard Reinya gasp.

  ‘Yes Reinya – your baby’s name. He would have been our future, this mission will be our future. It is a fitting legacy for him.’

  A track of tears trickled down Reinya’s face but a small smile twitched at her mouth.

  ‘When do we start?’ she whispered.

  ‘Soon,’ Pa said. ‘Hold out your wrist, Sorlie, and receive the plans onto your communicator.’ When it was done he held up four fingers. ‘Four steps. You will do them in sequence. The most important is the last and for that you must make sure you reach the source by day four of the first quarter. There is much to achieve before that. Cover your tracks. We will not go over all plans. You will receive instructions for each task in turn. You will not receive the next instruction until the task you are on is complete. You will know nothing of the future for your own good. If you fall into enemy hands you will be innocent.’ He frowned. ‘If the Military torture you, you will only know what has passed. But be assured that this mission, if successful, will save the natives and make their lives worth living. Ishbel will meet you for the final part of the plan.’

  ‘Ishbel? But what happens at the final part?’ I asked. ‘You said it was the most important. If we are captured...’ My mouth was dusty at the thought.

  ‘Make sure you don’t get caught, but if you do I would hope at least one of you will be able to continue. Or escape. But I can tell you this. If your comms are destroyed or taken from you, you must make your way to Sector V in mid Esperaneo. Someone will help you there. If this information falls into the wrong hands it is meaningless to the Military.’ He paused. ‘And there is another arm to this mission. One of you will get through. We must not fail.’

  ‘What is The Star of Hope?’ To hear the name spoken sparked a tingle in my belly.

  Pa arched his eyebrow at my persistence. ‘Were you not listening, Sorlie? You will find out in time. Now prepare to go.’

  We turned to leave. ‘Sorlie.’ Pa called me back to his side. ‘Trust in your strength. You can do this.’ He took my hand in his. ‘Your mother would have been proud of you.’

  Ishbel

  Someone had betrayed them again. If she didn’t find help soon for Huxton he would bleed to death. She peeled her sodden rucksack from her back and dug out the first aid kit. She tore off a strip and applied congealant but it wouldn’t hold for ever, what she needed was a graft patch to stop the blood completely.

  She stayed on the bank and studied the place where her men had been led away. She was sure the Military had not picked up the external intelligence about them from Vanora’s frequency. Vanora had the best brains in the world working for her and her frequency was even more secure than the Military’s own systems.

  She checked on Huxton again. She really should leave him and rescue the other men before they talked, that’s what her training told her to do. The prisoners would be questioned. She should have eliminated them when they were taken but that was Vanora’s way, not hers. She might be Vanora’s daughter but she was sick of all the killing and hardship doled out to natives. It was time to do things right. The landing party knew little of the mission; all they knew was that they were headed to Northern Esperaneo Major but didn’t know why. If anything had happened to Ishbel they knew how to get out. They were to make their way to the emergency drop point and send a signal to Freedom. That was all. They didn’t even know where Freedom was. They’d arrived there in a submarine and had travelled from Freedom to here in the dark. They weren’t sailors so could only guess the direction of travel. Their brains were so mashed up from years of incarceration and DNA dilution, she doubted they could even describe the landscape and layout if they tried. They had been kept in discreet smaller bases for training. No, they didn’t know much. Vanora had seen to that. Ishbel guessed she should get to the drop point before the Military got there first, but she had a rendezvous to reach. Her men would have to tough it out. They knew what they were getting into and they had their pills if things became too bad. They might try to send an encryption to Freedom but she had to take a chance that they wouldn’t succeed.

  The Prince had promised them a peaceful and bloodless solution. Ishbel now doubted that was possible but it might be less brutal than Vanora’s way.

  ‘Come on, we need to find you some help.’ Huxton was the colour of chalk. She gave him a vit-pill and a sip of puri water.

  ‘Can you walk?’

  He nodded. Despite the freezing wind howling off the water she stripped off her jacket and shirt then replaced the jacket against her bare skin. She used the shirt to try to stop the bleeding. As gently as she could she lifted him to his feet. She was taller than he and because he’d been one of the Black Rock prisoners, he was still pretty emaciated. She lifted him with ease. When she looked into his vulnerable face, despite his silver hair she could see he was quite young, twenty five years, maybe, same age as Dawdle. Only a few years older than she was. She could tell by the beads of sweat that studded his forehead that he was in pain, and he was quiet. Too quiet.

  Ishbel debated on booting up her communicator to check their position. She knew the Military would be scanning the area for unusual waves so she pulled an ancient parchment from her pocket.

  ‘What’s that?’ Huxton asked.

  ‘A proper paper map.’

  ‘I’ve never seen one before.’

  It was shiny and waterproof but cracked in many places where the folds were. With the small light and compass in her comms she worked out their position. The coastline had changed through years of erosion but this beach was still recognisable as the cove Sven showed her from his chart. She pointed to where they were on the map.

  ‘Maps like this are old-fashioned but they never run out of power and can’t be detected by Military.’

  She ran her finger along the wiggly lines close together and the widening contours. Hidden between some crags was a natural bowl with a stream running off a nearby mountain.

  ‘I bet there’s a community here,’ she stabbed at a stream junction. ‘It’s a perfect spot. It’s pretty close by, do you think you can manage it?’

  He nodded but remained quiet.

  She calculated it should take them half an hour to reach the spot. But Huxton was slow and it was after at least an hour’s walking when Ishbel detected a change in the air. She stopped then and lifted her head to the elements. The clouds were clearing in the south and they were sheltered now from the coastal gusts. She sniffed the air. Forest. Not the usual lung forests, planted solely to protect the earth, heavily guarded and regulated. No, these forest smells were more like the forests of her home in the Northern Territories.

  ‘Come on, we’re nearly there.’ She half-dragged Huxton forward, praying to her ancestors that she was right. They soon stumbled upon a small indigenous forest which had signs of coppicing, well cultivated and well-tended. She was right.

  ‘There must be a community near,’ she encouraged Huxton but he was staggering like a mash-head.

  An old pine left growing too long looked ready to topple. She sat Huxton by it and scouted round. A massive root, its timber long gone, and left to rot was just the right size for her to manage. She dragged it to the tree.

  ‘Crawl under here and wait.’ He looked relieved and ready to sleep for a hundred years in the land of trolls.

  Ishbel crept into the forest. She closed her eyes and let her instincts move her forward. It wasn’t long before her instincts were screaming at her. Sixth sense told her to draw her stun and shrink her body into the smallest space she could find. On a tr
ee to her right she detected movement. A boy, a sentry posted. He hadn’t seen her. She could stun him but he would be sure to fall and hurt himself. She heard voices – baby whispers, unconcerned with danger. She heard an infant whimper and a soft lullaby that soon stopped the baby’s cry. She smelled something strange and guessed it was food by the way her belly rumbled in response. She held her hand against it, afraid the noises would alert the camp.

  As she crept nearer she wondered how she would announce her arrival without being killed first. Should she whistle? She felt in her pocket. The clicker was there, a crude u-shaped metal clip, no bigger than her thumb. When depressed the metal sent out a loud click that proved a very effective communication tool. This was her signalling device to alert the rebels. First used over a century and a half ago by the French Resistance, it still worked. But this community was not rebel, it was too early, too close to the coast. Would they recognise this ancient signal for what it was?

  The decision was taken from her. A rope grabbed her ankle, hoisted her skyward. Air whipped from her lungs, she cried out. She lost the stun. Her stomach somersaulted as the rope bounced then settled, spinning her round in slow gentle circles. When she opened her eyes she met the stares of a small group of children, dirty, ragged and hungry for blood.

  Sorlie

  Harkin never told me why but it was decided that Con would use his boat to take Pa with Scud back to Black Rock. I suspected that smell still lingering about Pa was part of the reason. No one said and I wasn’t going to ask. Betty had prepared painkillers but it wasn’t enough to wipe the agony off his face. Pa said he had been at Steadie long enough. The frequent raids were a danger, his bar badge was showing constant amber levels of radiation. His body needed a break. Scud would travel with him. Not as his native but as his aide. Scud had cooled his jets since his go at me and was glad of the chance to get away after he’d failed to persuade Con to take him earlier. That was his excuse anyway and he was sticking to it. Together they would set up the command centre and the learning hub.