Pia and the Skyman E-Book

Sue Parritt

• Herausgeber: Odyssey Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Sannah and the Pilgrim
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Seitenzahl: 426

Beschreibung

The year is 2401, the location a farming settlement on the northwest coast of North Island, Aotearoa. Pia has lived at Kauri Haven since fleeing imprisonment in Australia for seditious activities, through the intervention of Kaire, the man she calls the Skyman. On the first anniversary of her mother Sannah's death, Pia's fragile composure threatens to shatter upon receiving disturbing news from the Brown Zone in apartheid Australia. Five Line Leaders have been incarcerated in the infamous prison complex beneath the central desert. An ingenious plan is undertaken to free the women, but from the moment Pia meets the youngest, Yuki, she feels troubled. Her fears are compounded when Kaire receives unexpected orders, which threaten his survival and that of his Sky friends. Can Pia assist Kaire in his preferred mission, without compromising her position as an authorised refugee?

Leseprobe

Published by Odyssey Books in 2016

Copyright © Sue Parritt 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

www.odysseybooks.com.au

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Author: Sue Parritt

Title: Sannah and the Pilgrim / Sue Parritt

ISBN: 978-1-922200-52-5 (pbk)  ISBN: 978-1-922200-53-2 (ebook) Dewey Number: A823.4

Cover designed by Elijah Toten

To Mark and David with love.

Chapter 1

Long after the familiar face had faded, Pia continued to stare at the screen, her hands suspended above the communication console as though a sudden movement could shatter her fragile composure. Her interior world ran riot, bitter memories racing to the surface, swiftly overshadowing Line Leader Zira’s disturbing message. A stranger’s voice swirled through her head, one minute welcoming, the next evasive, ultimately a direct response for truth, the news of her mother’s fate relayed in a single sentence Pia would never forget: ‘The death penalty was carried out last night before the rescue team could reach her.’ Time unravelled; once more she witnessed Kaire’s quiet collapse against the Sky-ship console, heard her own impassioned reaction. Hands flew up to cover her ears in an attempt to silence spinning screams and the woman’s shouted warning as the Sky-ship careered towards an Aotearoan mountain.

How could she impart this latest appalling news, destroy confidence, today of all days?

It was one year to the day since she’d promised to rise above her own grief and work to secure a future free from oppression for the thousands still suffering back home in apartheid Australia. Safe at Kauri Haven, a farming community established forty years earlier on the northwest coast of Aotearoa, Pia had laboured long and hard not only to fulfil her promise, but also to keep herself occupied and prevent images of her mother Sannah’s last weeks from pushing to the forefront of her mind. Initially she had joined a group of former political prisoners building a ship for the Women’s Line, the clandestine group that worked to undermine the tyrannical Australian government. Sawing timber, hammering nails, varnishing decks—physical activity that along with sweat had brought anger and grief to the surface, slackening the tension pervading her young body.

Two new ships capable of transporting prison escapees from Australia to Aotearoa had now been built, a considerable feat for those previously unskilled in such work. Several Aotearoan shipbuilders had provided expert advice, but most of the credit had to go to the Australians. So far the ships had only been used to bring over the three hundred political prisoners freed when members of the Women’s Line, youth workers and local villagers had sabotaged a train transporting them to new prisons built beneath the desert sands. The former prisoners, predominately White men, had been in hiding for months since being liberated and were relieved to be leaving the country. Democratic Aotearoa offered a new life free from the constraints of apartheid Australia, the government being sympathetic to those fleeing persecution, especially former political prisoners. So far, the Australian government, although aware some prison escapees had made their way to Aotearoa, remained ignorant of the Women’s Line’s existence.

After a nine-month stint shipbuilding, Pia had wanted to return to her homeland, believing she would be more useful working on the inside. Over in the Brown Zone, the Women’s Line was developing a Truth Network, its mission: ‘To banish ignorance and lay the foundation for revolution.’ In villages from the northern tip of the Brown Zone to the Asian Zone border, both women and men were being recruited and trained, a fitting tribute to her mother, Sannah, whose initial attempts at public truth-telling had led to her death.

Kaire had persuaded Pia to stay and channel her energies into organising a Truth Network group at Kauri Haven. For several months now, Pia had provided initial training, using drama, song and dance to teach the group what would have been second nature to their Pacific island ancestors—the oral tradition. If the truth of their people’s history were to be spread covertly, the group had to be competent performers. It wouldn’t be an easy task, this re-moulding of minds saturated with myth and led to believe inherited traits justified their low status in Australian society. Week after week Pia had listened to her mother, an official Storyteller, regurgitate government rhetoric in the village community dome, ensuring the villagers’ continuing compliance. But Pia had been fortunate; from a young age she had also heard the other side of the story. She came from a family long-versed in Truth-tales: her maternal grandmother co-founder of the Women’s Line in 2355; her father a tireless worker for justice and equality throughout his short life. Pia had never known him—he had died just before her birth, from disease deliberately injected by a government medical officer.

Most members of the Kauri Haven Truth Network group were descended from the first settlers and their partners, local Pakeha and Maori women. They could pass as White, which would make travelling around the Brown Zone less problematic. The remainder, three young men of eighteen years and one girl of seventeen, had been among the Brown Zone youth workers that had participated in the train sabotage. Brought to Aotearoa in a small Asian fishing boat soon afterwards, they had volunteered to spread the word throughout the northern Brown Zone islands. Far from the prying eyes of government officials, they could simply blend in with the local population, troopers being fairly lax in remote communities.

Footsteps in the corridor prompted swift action. Pia keyed a brief message to Kaire as Sami, the burly Tasmanian, entered the room.

‘Refreshments for the hard worker,’ he said brightly, handing her a glass of juice.

She tried to smile her thanks but failed utterly.

‘Would it help to talk?’ Sami asked, gently squeezing her shoulders. ‘We all know what you’re going through today.’

Pia took a few sips before answering. ‘Thanks, Sami, but right now I must push grief aside. Zira’s just communicated. I need to talk to Kaire.’

‘Bad news?’

She nodded. ‘Last night troopers raided all the villages along the southern Brown Zone border.’

Sami looked aghast. ‘Any arrests?’

‘Five.’

‘The troopers aren’t usually that competent.’ Sami removed his arms and stood beside her chair, a frown creasing his broad forehead. ‘Could someone be feeding them information?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘Where are the detainees now?’

‘En route to the desert prisons, Zira thinks.’

Sami’s fist struck the desk, sending the communicator skidding towards the screen. ‘The one place we can’t penetrate,’ he said bitterly, ‘even with Kaire’s superior equipment.’

Pia retrieved the communicator and shoved it in her pocket. ‘No need to take it out on the furniture.’

‘Sorry, I just feel frustrated, stuck over here unable to help.’

She rose quickly and placed a hand on his arm. ‘You are helping, Sami. Look at the hours you put in building the new ships and the work you do servicing and repairing the settlement’s machinery.’

‘Guess you’re right.’ He managed a brief smile. ‘Want me to take over here?’

‘Thanks, it won’t be for long, my shift finishes in an hour.’

‘No problem.’ Sami slipped into the seat she had just vacated.

The well-insulated engineering workshop where Kaire worked was located far from the residential area. Pia entered her code in the wall pad next to the main door but there was no response. A glance at her timepiece confirmed lunch had finished, although Kaire could still be in the main dining area. Apricots, fresh from the orchard, had been available today and Kaire could never resist fruit. From his first days among her people, he had taken great pleasure in food, tasting everything that came his way regardless of its origin or appearance. Making up for lost time, she supposed, thinking of his distant home where the population swallowed Sustenance tablets instead of preparing and eating food, a custom that certainly didn’t appeal to her.

But there was no sign of Kaire in the main dining area either, so Pia made her way to his small brick house adjacent to the settlement’s northern perimeter, where she noticed the front windows were closed and blinds drawn. A knock on the door elicited a swift response from the external audio-box: ‘Kaire is not available today unless the matter is urgent.’ Pia keyed in her personal code plus the code for urgent and waited for the door to open.

Inside she found the living room deserted and thought maybe the door lock had malfunctioned. ‘It’s Pia,’ she called, before crossing to the closed bedroom door. The door opened as she approached. Peering inside, she saw him lying on the bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked anxiously.

He shifted slightly. ‘Yes.’

‘Then why didn’t you answer me before?

‘Silence suits my mood. Conversation would seem frivolous today.’

She recalled the overwhelming grief Kaire had displayed in the months following her mother’s death, difficult to comprehend considering he had only known Sannah for a short time.

‘I haven’t come for a chat,’ she retorted. ‘Have you read the report I sent a few minutes ago?’

‘No, is it urgent?’

‘I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.’

‘Okay, give me the details.’ He sat up and swung his long legs over the side of the bed.

Pia quickly related Zira’s message.

‘How long will it take for the authorities to transfer the women to the desert prisons?’

‘Twenty-four hours at most, but that should give you sufficient time to fly over. Most likely local line leaders are already devising a plan to sabotage the vehicles transporting them. It’s not as though they can travel to the desert by train.’

‘The Sky-ship hasn’t been used in months. I need at least thirty-six hours to run all the pre-flight checks.’

‘Couldn’t you just run the important ones?’

He leapt to his feet and stood facing her, hands on hips, green eyes flashing. ‘No way, we only have one Sky-ship! I don’t want to find myself stuck in the middle of hostile Australia.’

Pia backed away. ‘So what’s the alternative?’

‘I propose we monitor the situation for a few days.’

Brown eyes blazed. ‘A few days! The women will be underground by then.’

‘Forget the desert prisons for now, Pia. With five simultaneous arrests from a small area, I imagine the troopers will be keen to demonstrate what happens to those caught trying to undermine the government. There’s bound to be a public trial before long so we can arrange to …’

‘Fly over and pluck the prisoners from the court chamber during the trial,’ Pia interrupted, her tone sarcastic. ‘A mission bound to fail just like the one to rescue my mother.’ She struggled to suppress tears but Kaire had already noticed her moist eyes and the slight quiver of her lower lip.

‘Go easy on yourself,’ he said softly, moving to her side. ‘You shouldn’t even be working today.’

She tried to wipe away tears with her fingers, and sniffed loudly as he enfolded her in his arms.

‘Let the tears fall, Pia. I have. It’s perfectly normal to grieve, especially on this first anniversary.’

‘I was coping just fine until I heard Zira’s news,’ she cried, raising her head. ‘But now I feel as though I’m reliving everything that happened during those last weeks in Australia. Arrest, interrogation, fire, escape, trial, death. It’s doing my head in, Kaire.’

‘Try to focus on the present, we can’t alter the past.’

‘I’ll try I promise.’

He smiled down at her and loosened his hold. ‘Good, I suggest we go and see Mac now. Apart from KAL needing to know what’s going on over there, he’ll react rationally, which I’m not sure either of us can do today.’

She nodded, waiting while he straightened his clothes and put on the sandals lying beside the bed.

KAL, acronym for the Kauri-Australian Line, had been established the previous year to formalise Kauri Haven Council’s support for the Women’s Line’s work in Australia. For years, the council, of which Mac was presently chairman, had endorsed missions to transport political prison escapees to Aotearoa as well as supplying information useful to the Women’s Line, obtained through infiltration of Australian government databases. The decision to officially acknowledge those involved had been prompted by Kaire’s offer of the Sky-ship’s superior technology to assist future assignments, soon after his and Pia’s arrival. Ever since, the craft’s computer had proven invaluable, both for obtaining information and providing a secure communication link with Women’s Line leaders, whose equipment was suspected of having been compromised.

The chairman’s office door was open, Mac having noticed Kaire and Pia walking across the grassed area in front of the main building and presumed they were heading his way. Mac, a White Australian of fifty whose youthful appearance belied the appalling treatment he had suffered at the hands of prison troopers decades earlier, always welcomed the opportunity for conversation with the young man from a distant space station and the girl he had rescued from certain imprisonment in Brown Zone Australia.

‘Come in,’ he called, swivelling around in the chair, but his smile faded when he noticed their sombre demeanour.

‘We have disturbing news from the Brown Zone,’ Pia announced tersely as she entered the office, closely followed by Kaire.

‘Take a seat.’ Mac gestured towards the chairs arranged in front of his desk, before pressing a floor button to lock the door behind them.

Throughout their short but helpful exposition, Mac listened carefully without question or comment, and only when certain both had finished speaking he asked, ‘So apart from alerting KAL, how do you think we should respond?’

‘The council should also be informed,’ Pia answered quickly.

‘I agree, but what I meant was, have you any suggestions for immediate action?’

Pia and Kaire exchanged glances, neither prepared to propose what would be a dangerous mission.

‘We would prefer to leave complex decisions to others at present,’ Kaire replied.

Mac was about to ask why, when he remembered Kaire’s request for a day of quiet contemplation to mark the first anniversary of Sannah’s death. ‘How about I convene an urgent council meeting?’

Kaire nodded. ‘Most appropriate.’

‘Fine by me,’ Pia added.

Mac turned to his screen and issued an urgent communication.

Within an hour, council members were taking their places at a large oval table in the conference room situated further down the corridor from Mac’s office. The current council, gender balanced as required by long-established protocol, comprised ten mainly long-term settlers. Three of them, including Mac, had fled Australia two decades before following a purge of White Zone activist groups working to erode government power. The assistance of supporters not then known to the Australian Security Department had enabled all three to escape from separate prisons and make their way to Aotearoa. Eventually, after undergoing stringent medicals and the prerequisite quarantine period, they had arrived at Kauri Haven.

As older members of the council, Meras and Dove, the former White Zone political prisoners, represented the interests of elderly settlers, while Dona and Tuva, the adult daughter and son of former Brown Zone activists, dealt with youth matters. The five remaining councillors had been born at Kauri Haven, but regardless of birth country, all members were in agreement that efforts to assist others in undermining the brutal Australian government must be given priority over mundane issues.

Discussion centred on ways to secure the release of the five women, all Line members. Once they were transferred to the high-security Brown Zone prison complex beneath the northwest desert, gaining access from ground level would be almost impossible given there was only one well-guarded entrance. However, recent information had advised that tunnels from lower levels led to a uranium mine, recently recommissioned to provide useful employment for long-term prisoners.

‘Why don’t we use Kaire’s scanner to see if there are any mineshafts outside the prison complex?’ Tuva suggested after lengthy debate had failed to achieve any conclusion. ‘I believe it has a range of two thousand kilometres.’

‘Not a good idea,’ Dona countered, disagreeing as usual with her brother. ‘Scanning would have to take place in Australia, and given the current situation we shouldn’t expose either Kaire or the Sky-ship to danger.’

Meras leaned forward. ‘I suggest we postpone any action until the five women are brought to trial, presumably at the Border Court dome or possibly in their home villages.’

The others agreed but felt the least KAL could do was to try to discover what had precipitated the arrests.

Mac glanced around the table. ‘We may have not reached unity but I sense there is a way forward, so I propose a first step. If we’re to find out why the women are being held, we need to gain access to prison records. The best and probably the only way to accomplish this is to get someone from outside into the prison. I was thinking a mining or engineering expert would be suitable. It would have to be someone who hasn’t been used before to prevent any likelihood of exposure. Any ideas?’

Dona looked across the table at Mac. ‘Why don’t we go a step further and create a situation where the five women have to be brought to the surface? Then we’d stand a better chance of getting them out.’

‘What have you in mind?’ Mac asked.

‘How about a highly infectious disease that would require isolation in the prison hospital?’

Mac frowned. ‘And how do you propose to infect the women?’

‘There wouldn’t be any need for genuine infection. A medical specialist could forward a report to the prison administrator detailing the women’s recent exposure to a new strain of, say, respiratory disease. It’s well known the Brown Zone authorities are fearful of such diseases as they reduce workers’ productivity.’

Mac leaned forward. ‘Do we know anyone over there with suitable status who would be willing to take this risk?’

No one spoke and Mac was about to veto the whole idea when Meras thumped the table with his fist. ‘Why don’t we speak to Sami? I believe his partner Kela is a doctor of some standing in the White Zone.’

‘That’s correct,’ said Mac, ‘but she hasn’t made any attempt to join him here so we can’t be sure of her allegiances.’

‘Sami often talks about her,’ Dona advised. ‘My guess is they’re in contact.’

‘I see no harm in sounding him out.’ Mac looked down at the message-board on which he’d been making notes throughout the meeting. ‘With your agreement I’ll postpone writing a minute until we reconvene in, say, two hours?’

Heads nodded around the table.

‘Thank you, I’ll go and speak to Sami now.’ Mac pressed the side of his message-board with his thumb.

Councillors rose at once and filed out of the room, the usual post-meeting conversation abandoned.

Chapter 2

Kaire and Sami sat side by side facing a console divided into panels of varying size. Sami felt cramped in the small seat he’d installed at Kaire’s request as there hadn’t been much space between pilot seat and capsule wall, the Sky-ship originally designed for solo voyages. A convex window wrapped around the capsule nose giving a spectacular view of the night sky. Enthralled, Sami gazed at winking stars and a clear outline of Earth’s moon. This was his first flight, and having no knowledge of space other than that gained from school history discs he had assumed the Sky-ship would travel at immense speed in order to overcome the force of gravity and leave Earth’s atmosphere. So when Kaire announced they would not be venturing into space, Sami had struggled to hide his disappointment. Kaire had gone on to explain that a sub-orbital space flight would use far too much fuel and was also unnecessary, Australia being only a short distance away. After a brief ascent, the craft would fly at optimum altitude for a few minutes and then descend directly over the central desert, landing in an area remote from mines or any other form of human activity. The remaining journey to the rendezvous with Kela would be by the land transporter stored in the rear module.

Sami longed to see his partner again. It had been five years since their comfortable life in a southern White Zone village had been terminated by his arrest and imprisonment for crimes against the government. For nearly four years, Sami had had no contact with Kela and could only speculate on whether she’d been implicated in his crimes or had managed to convince the authorities she had known nothing about them. Only since his arrival at Kauri Haven nine months earlier had Sami been given the opportunity to communicate with Kela through the Sky-ship’s secure link and learned that her innocence had been believed. She was now a senior medical researcher.

As an engineer, Sami had been allocated on arrival to the engineering workshop where he was introduced to Kaire and asked to work with him on the vehicle referred to as a land transporter, which lay in pieces on the floor. For some time Kaire had been struggling to repair damage to the engine sustained months before in Australia and welcomed the assistance of an experienced engineer, his own skills in that area being limited. The two men worked well together and had soon effected repairs plus improved the thrusters’ performance. After a few weeks, they had begun to meet after work, initially sharing meals in the communal dining room where they discovered a mutual liking for the wine produced from grapes grown at Kauri Haven. Meals at Kaire’s home had followed, the younger man keen to demonstrate his newly acquired cooking skills. Over interesting, if unusual combinations of ingredients, Sami learned of Kaire’s extraordinary heritage as a descendant of scientists that had colonised an abandoned space station known as Skyz59 in the 2220s. Ever since, the inhabitants had made it their mission to search for another less-spoiled planet capable of supporting human life. Kaire had been one of hundreds of pilots that departed at regular intervals in small spacecraft to undertake galactic exploration. The explanation for Kaire’s presence at Kauri Haven had proven even more fascinating, triggering Sami’s admiration for his host’s resolve to make a pilgrimage to Earth and subsequent decision to assist the Women’s Line. As a result, Sami had felt his own history of seditious activities, imprisonment and liberation from a train transporting prisoners to high-security desert prisons would seem tame by comparison, but Kaire had relished the tale.

After a few months, their conversation had turned to more intimate subjects and Sami had revealed his longing to communicate with Kela, prompting Kaire’s offer to try to locate her using the Sky-ship computer. This had been accomplished with relative ease, the technology far superior to anything Sami had ever seen before, but wisely Kaire had insisted he speak first to make certain Kela wished to resume contact. Sami smiled as he recalled the day Kaire had interrupted work on the land transporter and taken him into the Sky-ship for that first communication.

Kaire looked up from the console and noticed a smattering of stars. ‘Night sky, so beautiful, so enticing,’ he said wistfully. ‘Sometimes I long to leave Earth and its myriad problems, spend my life as I intended exploring galaxies untouched by humankind.’

‘There’s no reason why you can’t leave, surely?’ Sami replied, grateful for conversation to help pass the time until reunion.

‘No reason at all, but to leave now would seem like desertion, the abandonment of hope.’

‘Did you promise Pia you’d stay?’

Kaire shook his head. ‘No, but before I go, there are tasks I must undertake in memory of her mother.’

His former lover, Sami thought, recalling a late night conversation. ‘And after that, will you resume space exploration?’

‘That depends on my commander. He may insist I return my ship to Sky so a more reliable pilot can make use of it.’

‘You don’t strike me as unreliable.’

‘I’ve broken the rules, Sami. I should have left Earth months ago. Commander Breta has been very understanding, but for how much longer, who knows?’

‘Just don’t up and leave me in the middle of the desert, mate.’

‘You have my word.’ Kaire turned his attention to the console. ‘Prepare for landing,’ he advised the computer. ‘Commence deceleration.’

Sami waited until Kaire had raised his head again before asking, ‘How long will it take to reach the rendezvous?’

‘A few hours.’

Sami sighed loudly.

‘Anyone would think you were in a hurry to see Kela,’ Kaire remarked, digging Sami in the ribs with his elbow.

‘Thank the moon the council agreed to my accompanying you. For a while there I thought they’d refuse.’

‘Me too, but my portrayal of love enduring despite long separation managed to sway even cynical Mac.’

‘Thanks, mate,’ Sami replied, his voice wavering.

Kaire nodded and turned to address the communication screen. ‘Sky 323 to Kauri 378.’

After a slight delay, Pia’s face materialised. ‘378 connected.’

‘Descent in progress, suspend communication until advised.’

‘Understood. Connection closing.’

Her image dissolved but Kaire held it in his mind, savouring not for the first time the vision of dark curls framing a friendly face, soulful brown eyes, and lips that puckered when she concentrated. A moment or two passed before he registered that the exterior view had altered and all he could see now were desert sands turned ghostly grey by the night vision camera. A slight bump and the Sky-ship had landed and was taxiing towards an immense sand dune.

‘Apply reverse thrust,’ he advised. Red sand spewed like a blizzard, covering wings and fuselage. ‘Initiate cessation.’ Moments later the craft shuddered and was still. Kaire double-checked the location coordinates to make certain the Sky-ship had landed as planned in the southern part of the desert, far to the west from the rail tracks and paths that linked Brown Zone villages.

Over the past few centuries, the central arid region had crept steadily seaward, swallowing pasture and cultivated land until, at the beginning of the twenty-fifth century, only a narrow green rim remained arable and habitable. Huddled around the edge of their vast continent, Australians could only hope climate change would stabilise before they were pushed into the ocean.

After shutting down all computerised equipment, Kaire directed Sami to follow him into the rear module where the land transporter— a cylindrical vehicle topped with two dome-shaped ‘bubbles’ one behind the other—was stored. Before engaging the thrusters, a smaller version of those that powered the Sky-ship, Kaire programmed the navigation panel and gave the command to open the rear door.

‘Prepare for exit,’ he advised Sami as the transporter began to move slowly towards the opening.

Despite the safety harness, Sami felt impelled to clutch the sides of the seat.

The din intensified and the transporter blasted away from the Sky-ship, sand billowing in its wake like scarlet waves.

Near the eastern perimeter of the desert, a small egg-shaped car with wide wheels stood behind Kaire’s much larger vehicle. Thanks to Sami’s engineering skills, the land transporter had performed well on the journey from Sky-ship to rendezvous. Prior to the engine rebuild, Kaire had been reluctant to use the vehicle except on short journeys, fearing a recurrence of the thruster problems experienced as he and Pia had sped across open grassland in their escape from the Brown Zone one year earlier.

Inside the transporter, Kaire checked the console timepiece before retrieving a small parcel from a storage compartment. Tucking the parcel under one arm, he lifted the front bubble and climbed out onto hard-packed sand littered with small rocks. Sami and Kela stood beside the car, arms around each other’s waists, lips locked.

‘Time’s up I’m afraid,’ Kaire called.

Reluctantly the pair moved apart. ‘Separated for five years and you give us ten minutes!’ Sami retorted.

Kaire hurried over. ‘My apologies, but it’s too risky to hang about, we could be within security beam range here.’

Kela, a tall, slim woman of twenty-seven with the blonde hair and blue eyes of her Swedish ancestors, gestured towards the parcel. ‘Is that for the added diversion Sami mentioned?’

Kaire nodded. ‘We thought it advisable to have more than the five women brought to the surface.’

‘Can I take a look?’

‘Of course.’ He opened the box and held it towards her.

‘It looks just like one of my vaccine phials.’

‘Your diagrams were perfect,’ Sami told her proudly.

Kela swivelled around and flashed Sami a brilliant smile before turning back to Kaire. ‘So what do you want me to do with it?’

‘Insert the liquid with a syringe into various exterior walls as close to ground level as possible.’

‘Prison medical dome or the main building?’

‘Both if you can.’ Kaire closed the lid and handed over the box. ‘How long will your vaccines take to work?’

‘Seven to ten days, it depends on the body mass of the recipient.’

Sami hurried to Kela’s side. ‘Does that mean you have to remain within the prison complex all that time?’

‘Yes, but that won’t be problem, I have a perfectly legitimate reason for being there. I must be available in case there’s an adverse reaction.’

‘Which of course there will be,’ Kaire added.

‘Provided my calculations are correct.’

Sami frowned. ‘Shit, I didn’t realise there was any doubt.’

‘This is the first trial on humans. I can’t guarantee the results.’

‘So the recipients will be at risk?’ Sami persisted, his frown deepening.

Kela sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Let’s presume all goes as planned,’ said Kaire, anxious to depart. ‘What’s the anticipated timeframe, Kela?’

‘At the first indication of a problem, I’ll have the prisoners brought to the medical dome, which will give me the opportunity to view their files. If there’s no improvement after a week they’ll be transferred to the isolation dome. Apparently, I have limited jurisdiction there, so I’ll head home.’

Sami clutched her arm. ‘Can’t you find some excuse to stay in the Brown Zone? We’ll be returning for the women in a few weeks if all goes well. Come back with us.’

Kela shook her head. ‘I must be seen to return home.’

‘But won’t there be trouble from your superiors when you report the vaccine trial went wrong? You could be hauled off to prison for incompetence!’ Sami’s voice resounded like thunder through the still night air.

‘Unlikely, my report will state the phials were contaminated.’

‘But if they don’t …’

Kaire raised his hand. ‘Enough Sami, just be patient. Kela has promised she’ll join you before too long.’

Sami bit his lip and looked down at his feet.

‘We must leave now,’ Kaire said firmly. Turning around, he headed towards the transporter, leaving Sami and Kela to say farewell in private.

All through the night Kela drove at high speed along the eastern flank of the desert, a plume of red dust fanning out behind the car. By the time she turned onto the super-path leading to the prison complex, pale fingers of dawn were creeping over windswept dunes. Prior to the construction of these top-security jails, no paths had crossed this remote and desolate landscape, although it was rumoured a train track had once run from a northern city to a central town, cutting the desert in two like a wire slicing cheese. Sand storms had long since covered all traces of rails, cement sleepers and track ballast. The new super-path failed to live up to its name, being narrow with no guiding path-side lights or rest areas to recharge vehicles and give drivers a short respite from the tedium of travel through such a monotonous landscape.

After an hour’s drive, the car’s inbuilt navigation system indicated a further ninety kilometres to the prison, so Kela pulled over and got out to stretch her legs. Hot wind blew stinging grains of sand over the bare skin below her calf-length white robe and despite protective eyewear she blinked in the harsh sunlight. A few body stretches will have to do, she thought, there’s no point in risking heat stress.

Back in the air-conditioned car, glaring morning light subdued by tinted windows, she set cruise speed to maximum and turned her thoughts from Sami to the forthcoming meeting with the prison administrator. It had been relatively easy to organise a visit to the complex, but she would need her wits about her when dealing with a senior security officer. She pondered his experience with medical matters and whether he would insist on accompanying her to the medical dome. In spite of the cool environment, perspiration beaded her forehead as distance diminished and she experienced a strong desire to turn around. Only the promise of a future with Sami kept her heading north.

As the car approached the prison complex gates, a camera emerged from an opening box fitted to the top rail, swivelling on the end of a stalk like a single cactus flower blowing in a desert wind. Kela waited for the flash, making sure to look straight ahead. Subsequently, an electronic voice emanating from the car’s communicator granted her permission to enter the complex, indicating her identity had been verified. The gates swung inwards and she drove at low speed up a gravel path to an area marked with numerous parallel lines of white rocks, as though the inmates were expecting a rush of visitors. She parked close to a set of glass doors, behind which a trooper could be seen sitting staring at a monitor.

The doors slid open as she approached and the trooper, almost reluctantly it seemed to Kela, raised his head and slowly got to his feet.

‘Greetings, Professor,’ he said, ushering her inside. ‘Please follow me.’

She returned the greeting, pondering the absence of other staff; several stools were visible behind a counter at the rear of the foyer. The young trooper led her to the right of the counter and down a long corridor, at the end of which a red light band pulsed around a door panel. To the left of the door, beneath a sound-grill, a light strip illuminated the words ‘Administrator Jurt’.

‘Professor Kela to see you, sir,’ the trooper advised, bending slightly to address the sound-grill.

‘Welcome, please enter,’ a deep male voice replied.

The door panel opened as Kela turned to the trooper standing behind her. ‘Thank you for escorting me.’

‘My pleasure.’ He smiled and stomped back down the corridor, his boots ringing on the polished concrete floor.

The long narrow chamber Kela entered was sparsely furnished with a white work-module at the far end and several cream-coloured chairs positioned around a small table close to the right-hand wall. The walls were pale and devoid of decoration, the lighting dim, and the man who rose to greet her seemed out place in such an insipid environment with his florid complexion and flaming red hair.

‘Greetings, Professor Kela,’ he said, walking towards her, his left hand extended.

‘Greetings, Administrator Jurt,’ she replied, placing her bag on the floor before taking the proffered hand.

‘I trust your journey from the train terminus wasn’t too onerous,’ he said, a half-smile playing around his generous red mouth. ‘That so-called super-path is appalling.’

‘I’ve seen worse, sir.’

‘Please, call me Jurt, we can dispense with formality within this chamber.’ He gestured towards the chairs.

She smiled. ‘And please call me Kela.’ She bent to pick up her bag.

‘Allow me.’ Stepping forward he grasped the strap with tapering white fingers, then deposited the bag beside the nearest chair.

Sinking into the low chair, Kela was surprised to find it more comfortable than it appeared. Beside her, Administrator Jurt leaned forward and, lifting a small jug from a tray on the table, carefully filled two tumblers. ‘Orange and ginger,’ he remarked, handing over a tumbler. ‘Most refreshing.’

‘Thank you, Jurt.’

Sipping the juice, she listened carefully as he commented on the file she had submitted a week earlier outlining her research project and the need to trial the new drug as soon as possible. Jurt had accepted without question her choice of the desert prison complex for the trial despite the presence of a juvenile detention centre within a short distance of her workplace. When permission for the trial had been granted without the usual delay, she’d wondered if he felt isolated out here with only troopers and a few administrative staff for company and relished the thought of someone new. She was well aware family or partner quarters were not available for prison staff in remote areas, regardless of rank.

She finished her drink, noted his attention was now focused on her breasts and deduced he had contemplated a brief affair. If he had read her personal file, he would have known her age, which by her reckoning was at least twenty years less than his. Dismissing speculation, she began to address the question of the new drug’s side effects, stressing the odds, albeit slight, of lasting health problems.

Jurt considered this for several minutes, pale blue eyes half-closed, long fingers bunched into a fist beneath his jutting chin. ‘I appreciate your candour,’ he said finally, opening his eyes and looking directly into her face. ‘It’s rare to find a researcher prepared to admit there could be a risk.’ Smiling, he uncurled his fingers and smoothed the dark blue tunic over fleshy thighs. ‘However, I don’t foresee any post-test recriminations. My prisoners have forfeited any right to, shall we say, humane treatment.’

Kela nodded. ‘I do have one request, Jurt.’

‘And that is?’

‘I realise the majority of your prisoners are males but it would be helpful if I had access to some females. It’s important my research is gender balanced.’

‘Of course. I can easily arrange for some females to be brought to the surface.’

Kela smiled. ‘A mixture of Asian and Brown-skins would also be most useful.’

Jurt scratched his head. ‘No problem with Asians but I’ve only got five female Brown-skins at present.’

‘Five will do.’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘Good, then I suggest we adjourn to my private quarters for a meal. You must be hungry after your long journey.’

‘Yes I am, the food on the train was appalling.’

‘It usually is, but I can assure you this prison administrator eats well.’

Kela smiled and bent to pick up her bag.

‘You can collect that later.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll escort you to your chamber after the meal.’

‘Thank you.’ She followed him to the door, which opened silently as they approached.

Late that afternoon before the prison population awoke to another night of labour, Kela made her way to the medical dome, situated a short walk from the main building. Just before reaching the entrance, she deliberately tripped, sending her communicator flying from her hand. It landed on a ridge of sand blown against the wall near the door. After regaining her balance, she stepped off the path and made a show of searching for it. With her back to the path, she quickly unfastened her bag, extracted Kaire’s phial and filled a syringe. Bending down, she injected the contents into the mortar between the bottom two rows of concrete blocks. In her practiced hands, the syringe took only seconds to refill, so she shifted a few metres to the right and repeated the procedure. Then she reached out, collected communicator and bag, straightened up and walked back to the entrance.

After keying in the code supplied by Administrator Jurt, the door panel opened and Kela stepped into a cool chamber with beds lining the curved windowless wall. Only one bed appeared to be occupied, while in the centre of the chamber, a solitary medical worker slumped in a chair in front of a screen.

‘Greetings,’ Kela said in an officious tone.

A head jerked upright, hands grasped the chair arms, and the young man struggled to his feet. ‘Er, greetings,’ he answered and, taking note of her doctor’s robe, quickly raised his right hand level with his shoulder.

‘Professor Kela,’ she announced, ‘and you are?’

‘Medical Worker Yohan.’

‘Well, Medical Officer Yohan, no doubt you’ve been briefed on the drug trial so I won’t bore you with the details.’

He nodded and gestured towards a door panel between two beds at the rear of the chamber. ‘The doctor’s chamber is through there, Professor.’

‘Thank you, Yohan.’ She swept past him in a cloud of lightweight cotton, a supercilious smile on her lips.

Towards midnight, an assorted group of fifteen prisoners were brought to the surface and given a thorough examination at the medical dome before being injected. After a brief rest, they were returned below ground with a warning to report any unusual rashes or other health issues occurring over the next few nights. While Kela waited for the expected side effects, she kept herself busy in the doctor’s chamber, studying the prisoners’ files. At night’s end, she dined with Jurt in his private quarters, acknowledging his overtures with coy remarks and the occasional touch of her hand, but on returning to the guest chamber decided to seal the door panel, at least for this first day. No knock on the door roused her from sleep, so she presumed Jurt was content to proceed slowly.

After seven nights, three young Whites, two males, one female; two middle-aged Asians, one male, one female; and the five Brown-skin women recently arrested in the border villages had been admitted to the medical dome. The remaining five participants in the drug trail remained unaffected, Kela having injected them with saline solution only. Throughout the week, she kept Administrator Jurt informed as each patient presented. None were seriously ill, so he didn’t feel it necessary to visit the medical dome until the seventh night when an urgent message flashed on his communicator.

Kela was bending over a patient when the entrance door panel opened and Jurt strode into the chamber, startling Medical Worker Anue, engrossed in administrative work at the computer.

‘Greetings, Administrator Jurt,’ she called, rising quickly and walking towards him.

Jurt grunted a response as he kicked off his lightweight boots. Anue stepped to one side, bowing her head as he passed.

Kela met him halfway across the chamber. ‘Greetings, Administrator Jurt. I do apologise for interrupting your meeting but I felt it imperative you see the new patients before the day medical worker begins his shift.’

‘No need to apologise, Professor, I appreciate the need for caution.’ Jurt turned to a nearby shelf and grabbed a pair of disposable footwear.

Kela stood aside while he pulled the tight socks over broad feet and thick ankles. ‘I had thought the adverse reaction was confined to females,’ she continued once he had straightened up, ‘but the latest three are male, one White, two Asian.’

He frowned. ‘Same symptoms?’

‘Similar, although blistering is confined to the abdomen this time. Come and take a look.’ She led him over to an older Asian, who lay on his back, a sheet covering the lower half of his body. His abdomen was covered with red blisters.

Jurt moved closer to the bed, took a quick look and stepped back a pace. ‘Any pain?’

‘A little, sir,’ the man answered in a submissive tone without turning his head.

‘When were you first aware of these blisters?’

‘Two nights ago, sir.’

‘So why did it take you forty-eight hours to report it?’

‘I thought it was something I’d eaten, sir.’

Jurt nodded and turned to Kela. ‘Show me the next one.’

She took him to a bed opposite where a young White man lay propped on several pillows, his forehead wet with perspiration and bright patches shading pallid cheeks.

‘This one has a fever as well,’ Kela advised. ‘He was brought in an hour ago. Apparently he collapsed in the tunnel leading to the mine.’

Jurt glanced at the man’s abdomen from a safe distance. ‘Were you on the way to or from the mine?’ he asked the patient.

‘To, sir.’

‘Then we can eliminate dehydration,’ Jurt remarked to Kela.

‘Certainly. And there’s no sign of toxic ingestion.’

Jurt signalled Kela to move away from the bed. ‘How are the women responding to treatment?’ he asked in a low tone.

‘No change in seven, three show slight improvement.’

‘Inform the day medical worker the new cases are allergic reactions to food,’ he said quietly. ‘We don’t want to alarm staff unnecessarily.’

Kela nodded.

‘And come to my chamber when you’ve finished here, we need to discuss this matter in private.’

‘Of course, Administrator.’

They crossed the chamber to the entrance, Anue hurrying over with Jurt’s boots as the door panel opened.

‘Thank you, Medical Worker Anue,’ said Jurt, removing the socks and dropping them on the floor before taking the boots.

‘Goodnight to you, sir,’ Anue answered with a slight nod of the head.

Jurt pulled on his boots and walked away briskly. As the door panel closed behind him, Anue scowled, picked up the soiled socks and, holding them at arm’s length, deposited them in the nearby bin.

Chapter 3

The temporary removal of ten prisoners from the workforce marked the first in a series of problems that would beset Administrator Jurt during the next few months, but sick prisoners were far from his mind the following morning as he relaxed in his private quarters after several hours spent in the delightful company of Professor Kela. When his communicator began to flash and hum, it took him a few moments to register the unwelcome intrusion. Grabbing the machine from the bedside table, he blocked the visual display with the tip of his index finger before pressing the answer panel.

‘What is it?’ he demanded curtly. ‘Don’t you know it’s the middle of the day?’

‘I apologise for waking you, sir,’ said Trooper Gord, a senior member of the prison maintenance team, ‘but we have a structural problem in the administration building.’

Jurt sighed. ‘I’ll meet you in the foyer in ten minutes.’

‘Very good, sir.’

The communicator slipped from Jurt’s hand as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Hurrying to the adjoining bath chamber, he splashed cold water over face and neck, more to dislodge the image of voluptuous breasts than refresh his skin. Back in the sleeping chamber, he retrieved the tunic tossed on the floor earlier and slipped it over his head before pulling on his boots.

Once they were outside Trooper Gord related his findings in his usual brusque manner. ‘Damage appears to be confined to the administrative building, sir, both inner and outer walls. This small pile of dust alerted me and then I noticed a crack in the lower rows of block work.’ He pointed to the evidence. ‘After scanning the area to determine the depth of the fracture, I entered the building and examined the internal walls on the ground floor. Result—four cracks in the synthetic skin covering the concrete. To double-check the scanner readings, I descended the stairs and inspected the exterior walls of the store chambers located directly beneath the ground floor. Apart from a few minor ceiling cracks, I found no sign of structural damage and judging by age and discolouration, concluded these were unconnected with the ones above.’

‘Thank you, Gord, a most comprehensive report.’ Jurt peered at the damaged wall, grateful Gord had alerted him first. This was a serious situation, details of which must be communicated on a need-to-know basis only. ‘We could do with expert advice,’ he said, turning back to Gord. ‘The only problem is it could take at least three nights for a senior engineer to be sent from down south. Have we anyone here with highly developed engineering skills?’

Gord considered the question. ‘There’s Judd 37, sir. Mining engineer before he got mixed up in subversion. He’s been most helpful dealing with minor problems in the tunnels.’

‘Bring him to the surface and get him to undertake a preliminary inspection. We need to determine whether our own workforce can make repairs.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Inform his supervisor the maintenance team needs Judd’s expertise for a short time. Let’s find out what we’re dealing with before making it public.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘Report to me directly the inspection is completed.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Gord looked down and scattered the pile of dust with his boot before following Jurt back to the administration building.

In the middle of the path leading from main entrance to medical dome, Trooper Gord stood under a portable sun-shield watching Prisoner Judd 37 press a scanner against yet another crack. It had been a long morning and apart from needing a cold drink and sleep, Gord felt extremely uncomfortable in his sweat-dampened tunic and heavy boots. He hadn’t dared leave the prisoner alone in case Administrator Jurt appeared. After checking the reading on the scanner, Judd stood up and stretched cramped limbs. Pulling a dirty rag from his tunic pocket, he wiped perspiration from head and neck.

‘Finished?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘About time too, I’m frying in this bloody heat.’ Collapsing the sun-shield, Gord tucked it under his arm and headed up the path towards the entrance.

‘If you don’t mind, sir,’ Judd called after him, ‘I’d like to take a look at the medical dome before I compile my report.’

Gord stopped abruptly and pounded the path with the sun-shield’s metal tip. ‘Whatever for? It’s at least a hundred metres from here.’

‘Yes, sir, but its entrance runs parallel with admin’s rear wall where we saw that large crack. If there’s no sign of damage, we can rule out seismic disturbance.’

The sun-shield fell to the ground. ‘That’s all we need, the fucking ground shifting under our feet!’

‘Just a theory, sir.’ Judd ran to pick up the sun-shield.

‘Okay, get moving.’

Outside the medical dome, Gord stood in a patch of shade, having refused Judd’s offer to re-erect the sun-shield. Nearby Judd ran the scanner up and down the concrete blocks, his long limbs moving rhythmically, bare feet creating sand patterns at the base of the wall. He was almost out of sight when the door panel opened and Kela emerged, bumping into Gord as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight.

‘I’m sorry, trooper,’ she said, stepping aside quickly. ‘Are you sick?’

Gord shook his head. ‘Just a routine building inspection, Doctor. Much more accurate to do it in daylight.’

She nodded. ‘Will you be inspecting inside as well? I’ve just settled some new patients and would prefer they weren’t disturbed for a while.’

‘We can come back this evening, Doctor, if that would suit?’

Kela smiled. ‘Thank you, evening will be fine.’