Part 15

The Summit

Jaime Delterro rested his booted heels on the dashboard of the brand-new carrier and wished he was in the second group. Mostly, this was because he was stuck with Fuggle as the carrier captain and ever since that business with Fuggle’s sister last year, relations between them had been a little strained. It wasn’t even as if he had done anything to the sister, she had come onto him. It was completely unfair that whenever he was in Fuggle’s group it was him who had to change the lubricant and get a face full of muck, or fill in the potholes when they disrupted the sensors too much for the carrier to go on. It wasn’t that he was afraid of hard work, not at all, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that Fuggle would love to get him killed.

He sighed, crossed his legs the other way, and earned a glare from Mikey, the driver.

‘Oy, don’t fuckin’ sleep. You’re s’posed to be the fuckin’ lookout.’

Jaime sighed again and addressed himself to the green gloom on either side of the road.

‘D’you think it ever stops raining? I hate the fucking mountains.’

When he was given the assignment, the captain had stressed what an honor it was. He had been chosen to be part of the honor guard because he was one of the best, because his shoes shone brightest and his jacket cleanest and he was one of the toughest fighters in his unit. But it was all very well being honored if he couldn’t tell anyone about it.

‘Just guarding some diplomatic thing,’ he’d told his mother when he’d gone home on his half day’s leave. The barracks were only two streets from the house, he’d said in his interview that he’d grown up with the army in his ears. ‘It’s nothing special.’ ‘Ha!’ his grandmother had snorted from her seat by the heating element, ‘talking shops!’

‘Mother,’ his mother had admonished. She’d rubbed his arm sympathetically. ‘They’ll recognize you in time, you just have to keep trying. Keep doing your best and it will come, don’t worry.’

She’d said that because she was worried, he could tell. She’d given up so much to get him into that school, she’d always said so, especially after his father died. Joining Desailly’s guard was a chance to make something of himself, but only if they noticed him. She hadn’t scrimped and saved for him to remain a private forever.

‘Yes, Ma,’ he’d said. ‘I know, Ma.’

She would have been proud that he was in the lead carrier, if he had been allowed to tell her. Desailly’s state car was directly behind him, followed by the Chi!me Ambassador and her surrounding Chi!me security. He’d seen them for the first time at Biterra when they’d left the shuttle. They were thin, and supercilious, but he would give a week’s pay for a day with one of their blasters. The one he had now was pretty good, better than that Espada crap, but it was nothing to the latest models. They were something else. He’d seen the Ambassador as well, standing on the platform at Biterra while everyone bustled around her, like it was nothing to do with her at all.

‘Do not, I repeat, do not discuss the orders with the Ambassador or any of the Chi!me party, do you understand me? If they ask you a direct question, all you know is you are a guard for the President and your orders are to protect him. Anything else you think you know, you do not say. Am I making myself clear?’ Fuggle, eyeballing him as usual. He hadn’t asked why they couldn’t talk about the mission to the Chi!me, you weren’t supposed to wonder about your orders. Probably, he thought, they wanted to deny everything, in case it all went wrong. They were like that, the blue people. Tricky.

It was probably a mistake to have Mikey as the lead driver. Snail’s arse, they called him, because even snails could overtake him. He supposed they had to go careful with the new kit, pretend to be a ceremonial procession, but it was boring. Old Tagger, now, or Pedro, they would have been halfway to Ultima before Mikey had got them out of Biterra, but they were in the second group, half a day behind.

It was getting dark already, here in the mountain country where the clouds sat down on the hillsides like they were tired and you could never see the sun for the rain. They would have to get the camp set up when they arrived and he knew what that would be like, blundering around in the wet gloom and bashing into each other. Getting a dressing-down from fucking Fuggle for ‘showing their caliber as guardsmen.’

The second group would stay in the village they’d passed a little while before, sleep dry in the villagers’ huts and be entertained by the villagers’ daughters. He’d spotted a couple of likely ones as they’d glided through, he’d bet they’d have been up for it, if he’d been in the second group. He never had any luck.

***

They’d spent the night in Place of the Trees, a day’s march away, and when they started out on the last morning, Acacio made sure he was behind Ladyani. There was no one who could move like Ladyani; who could be quite so swift and yet so stealthy. On long marches, when he could, Acacio liked to study him, place his feet in his footsteps as if that way he could learn it. Of course, he had not had so long to practice.

It was five years since he had come, a sixteen-year-old revolutionary, to ViaVera; a little over three since he had been admitted to Ladyani’s squad. He’d known he had done well at his training, but he had still been astounded. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he’d said. ‘I’m never that lucky.’ Ladyani had grinned at him. ‘What are you, a girl? “I can’t believe it”? You sound like a village tart with a ring on her finger. You’re not lucky, you’re good. Believe it.’ He’d followed Ladyani then to the battle with the soldiers down on the Ultima road, when they’d taken out six carriers, and to countless others since. He’d taken tribute from the villages, dispensed justice, pretended he didn’t know how many people he’d killed.

He knew the rhythm of their expeditions; the silent departure from the early morning camp, the stern concentration to start with until it came back to them so well that they could do it without thinking about it. While they were still in the hills they would sing, quietly, as they marched, swap dirty stories up and down the line. Ladyani’s were always the filthiest. When they got near to their destination they would always quieten down again and if it was as much from nerves as caution they would never admit it.

This march was different, and only partly because la dona was with them. Since his arrival he had encountered her only at a distance, addressing the crowd in the square or toying with her food at the top table. Seeing her marching beside Ladyani’s woman, chatting lightly to Ladyani or one of the Jeba was certainly peculiar, but it wasn’t entirely it. Was it just because of la dona that Ladyani was laughing, calling a joke back up to the lads at the end of the line? Was it only her presence that made the path seem less muddy, the hills less steep, even the soaking rain less wet?

Acacio didn’t know much about politics. He knew they were going to a meeting with the government but on the details he was sketchy. He only knew that the blue people had given them a way to win and that they were being carried to the meeting place on the great cloud of their success. He couldn’t predict what was going to happen. He couldn’t imagine the meeting, or how the Chi!me could have lined up so many powerful enemies to die, but it didn’t matter. They were together, they were legion. They were ViaVera, the great armed snake slithering out of the mountains, and there was no yesterday and no tomorrow, only the endless present and their victory.

***

Jaime woke to find Mikey shaking him. He thought for one confused moment that it was morning already, but then the fact that it was still dark penetrated the fog of sleep.

‘What the fuck…?’

‘Come and have a look. They’re here.’

The cairn field was a large, flat expanse of stubby ferns, bounded on all sides by scrub and on the north-west by a thin band of trees. The road from the south ran along its eastern edge on its way between Cairn Fields village and Place of the Trees. The gate was in the south-east corner. The government party had pitched their tents at the south end; one for Desailly and his personal bodyguards and another for the guards. The journalists had set up next to them and spent most of the evening muttering identical reports back to their stations while pretending to be the only ones there.

The Chi!me had their own tent in the middle of the field where the pavilion was to be set up for the meeting. Jaime had watched them earlier drawing the exclusion lines across north and south, marking where the guards were not supposed to cross. They had taken a lot of trouble over it, considering, but that was the Chi!me for you. As he had predicted, erecting the tents was chaotic, irritating and damp. He had been relieved when it was finally all done and he could wrap himself in his bedding and sleep.

He unstuck the side of the bed and crawled out. Mikey had gone back to the tent flap. Tereno and Saik were up as well, standing silently by the entrance.

‘What is it?’ He didn’t know why he whispered.

‘Can’t you see the lights?’ Tereno muttered back. ‘It’s them, they’re here.’

Jaime peered. Over the darkened field the rain was still falling, but at the far end, he could make out a line of sparks, moving from left to right across his vision. There was no noise, no voices, nothing but the hiss of the rain as they crept into the field, moving so lightly it could all have been illusion, as if there were no real people over there at all.

‘It’s them,’ Tereno repeated.

Jaime fixed his eyes on the bobbing lights. When he was a child, his grandmother used to tell him stories about spirits when his mother was working late. There was one about the lantern ghosts, who would appear to lonely travelers as lights flickering in the darkest night and would lead them off the road to their deaths. The lights gathered themselves into a circle and his palm ached for the comforting feel of his blaster. They seemed sinister, beyond his ability to express.

‘Creepy,’ he said.

***

In the morning, the Chi!me security guards put the pavilion up. Strictly speaking they were UP troops, brought in for the occasion by Du’Fairosay, but since they were all Chi!me, Quila was sure no one would appreciate the distinction. She had tried to chat to them in the tube to Biterra, but they had not been very forthcoming. She supposed they were right to keep in their place, she had only been making conversation out of nerves.

The pavilion was dyed deep purple, with a rich peaked canopy and open sides, for transparency. The light underneath the canopy clashed oddly with her skin. It had been so difficult to find a color which was not claimed already by one side or the other and she had read that for Terrans, purple meant prosperity. It was only lucky that it was no longer raining; she was not sure the dye would not run. She looked round for Du’Fairosay to share the joke with, but his expression was so forbidding she decided against it. He was right, it was time to be serious.

Over on the south side of the field, the flap of Desailly’s tent was pushed open. There was a faint confusion of movement inside, then Desailly stepped out. He was wearing a white uniform in a style she didn’t recognize, with red trimmings on the shoulders. He walked, slow and measured, with his guards to the exclusion line, then crossed it with his aide Agana and two bodyguards.

From the other side came ViaVera, in procession. In front was a thick set man with a tuft of red-grey hair and a blue bandana, leading their two bodyguards. Beside him was Terise, looking more relaxed than she had in Airdrossa, and on her other side a small, thin girl in a green dress. A thin girl with dark hair and Mara’s face.

She couldn’t ask the question; she couldn’t let it put her off. The UP guards escorted both parties to their seats. They all seemed calm, she thought, and that was a good sign. She even thought, though she could not be sure, that between the thin girl and Desailly there was a momentary bow. She would be happier if she knew who she was. Du’Fairosay sat, still unsmiling, behind her, she could feel his gaze boring into her back. It was time. Ambassador Ar’Quila of the Chi!me, United Planets envoy to Benan Ty, got to her feet and with a deep breath, did what she had been sent to do.

‘I would like to welcome you all on this historic day. This is a day that will be remembered long after we are gone, the day when the old hatreds were put aside, the old differences bridged and a new future was built together, working in co-operation for the good of all. I am proud to be here, proud to have a part in the making of history. I am sure you are too, and I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for the work and the trust that you have given so far to this peace process. ‘I know that you have all had difficulties with your own sides, convincing them that it was worth doing. All I can say to you is that that work was worthwhile and it will bring great benefits, to both sides. I won’t pretend it will be easy. I know there are issues between you which cannot be resolved in a moment. But I truly believe that everything, however difficult, can be resolved by honest and open negotiation between people of goodwill. And that is what we have here today.

‘Now, I am sure before we get down to details both sides would like to make a short statement of what they hope to gain from these talks. I would ask you to listen to each other without interruption, you will have plenty of chances to respond and to question. I think also we will stay seated; it gives a more informal atmosphere. Mr. Desailly, on behalf of the President, perhaps you would like to go first?’

She sat down, smiling. Desailly had been staring down at the table as if he hadn’t heard anything she said, but as she stopped he got slowly to his feet.

***

Jaime Delterro, at the south side barrier, saw the Ambassador put out a hand as if to try to stop him, then drop her arm as if she realized there was nothing she could politely do.

On the other side of the table, the thin girl stood up. She moved around the table to face him.

Desailly reached into his coat and pulled out a blaster.

***

The Ambassador shouted something. Acacio, at the north barrier, could not hear what it was. She gestured at the Chi!me guards, but they did not move. Ladyani’s woman made a half-movement out of her seat towards Issa, stopped before she had even straightened.

***

It was all absolutely still, a graven tableau with only the breeze blowing Issa’s dress to show they were not all frozen into stone. Somewhere off in the trees, birds were singing, loud in the sudden quiet.

‘I have waited for this for so long,’ Desailly said to Issa in caressing tones, ‘that I find I no longer care what the consequences may be. Whatever comes, I want you to know it will have been worth it.’

Issa looked up at him, her head cocked to one side. Behind her shoulder, at the edge of the field, a flicker of movement spread among the scrub. She smiled.

‘Both of us, Mr. Policeman? Not this time.’

Desailly’s gaze slipped beyond her. Down the field, men were running through the security line, towards the pavilion. There was an abrupt pink blossom. Agana shouted out, ‘Sir! Get down!’ and Desailly sprawled beneath him on the ground as the first blaster bolt whistled over them.

***

Terise pushed the table over. Ladyani, leaping forward over it, grabbed Issa and pulled her back through the legs. Acacio joined the attack group as they charged through the barrier. Behind the shelter of the table, Ladyani and Terise were screaming at them. ‘Give me a weapon, give me a weapon!’ Desailly was still on the ground, wriggling back into the shelter of his table with his aide shielding him from further blasts.

Someone in the press handed Acacio another blaster and he threw it into Ladyani’s outstretched hands. ‘Alright! Now, you bastard…’ He poked his head over the edge of the table and dropped back abruptly as a blast from the other side of the field whistled past his ear. Desailly disappeared into cover. ‘We’ve got CAS coming in!’ Terise shouted to him. Acacio reached the pavilion.

‘The bastards,’ Ladyani gave a breathless laugh ‘don’t they know it’s only us who can cheat?’

A blast took Acacio straight in the chest and he collapsed over the table leg.

Terise shouted again. ‘Lad, we need to find some cover, they’re coming in!’

‘I see them. Alright, get back! Get back! Issa…’ He grabbed her shoulder.

‘Not this time,’ she repeated. ‘Alright, let’s go.’

***

‘Sir,’ Agana yelled, ‘we need to get back to our lines, we’re too exposed here. I’ll cover you.’

‘I can still get them,’ Desailly shouted back.

‘Yes sir, but not today. Come on!’

‘I can’t. Just one shot, that’s all I need, just one shot…’

‘Sir, come on! Please!’

‘Just…’

Jaime, running up the field with the second group, saw the next president and his aide apparently wrestling. He saw the ViaVera fighters moving, saw one of them stop to take aim. He didn’t think about it, in the end there was not time. He flung himself across their line of fire.

‘Alright, come on,’ Desailly said. Agana stooped over the trooper who had taken the bolt. ‘Are you…’

‘Sorry, Ma,’ the trooper whispered. His eyes fixed.

Agana grabbed his blaster. ‘Yes sir,’ he said.

***

Quila hardly realized when she began screaming. Weaponless, she stood still at the middle of the line of tables, while the others were overturned and bolts sailed past her nose. Du’Fairosay and the guards were nowhere to be seen, she could only hope they had gone for reinforcements. She was all alone in madness and all she could do was shout as loud as she could, ‘stop, please, please stop!’

Nobody listened. On each side the fighting continued, both sides killing and dying right in front of her. A guerrilla fell at her feet, blood streaming from a hole in his chest; a presidential guard flung himself in front of another bolt, landed with half his head blown away. Every thud of every body was one more judgement on her failure, one more statement that she had not done what she had been entrusted to do. Everyone would be so disappointed in her. She had to make them stop. It didn’t matter what happened to her if she couldn’t. But they couldn’t hear her! She had to be higher. Desperately, she hauled herself onto the central table.

‘Stop it,’ she cried. ‘Stop it right now, I mean it! Stop it!’ A bolt, she never knew from which side, winged by, ruffling her hair, and struck one of the struts holding the cover of the pavilion. She watched, unable to prevent it, as she was enveloped in a falling tide of purple cloth.

She was surrounded by dark seas, drowning in dye. She fought her way up through the folds, pushing and tearing at the oceans of fabric until they at last gave way to light. Everyone else seemed to have escaped the pavilion; she was alone in her calyx of purple, in the middle of a field covered with knots of fighters. For all her experience she had never seen a battle before, she had no idea how she could work out who was winning. And it should not be happening at all. She pulled herself to her feet. She didn’t know what she could do, how she could make them listen, but she had to try.

***

Terise, from the position hastily constructed from the wreckage of the north barrier, shot her third guard and looked round for Ladyani. ‘Lad, we should retreat. Marius’s boys are fucking exposed and we’re getting nothing this way.’

Ladyani’s grinning face was covered in other people’s blood. He considered, watching the clump that was Marius’s group firing from a patch of scrub to the east of the pavilion.

‘Desailly’s back behind their lines. Alright, I agree. You tell Marius to get back to the trees; I’ll take Issa.’

‘Done.’ They had had no communicators on them; it would have looked suspicious. Bent double against stray bolts, Terise set off over the field.

***

Quila, struggling out of the tent, drew breath to shout and saw Terise sprinting towards her.

‘Terise!’ she called. ‘You have to stop them. You have to tell them!’

At last, at last something would go right. Du’Fairosay had disapproved of her talking to Terise, but now she was proved correct. Terise would do it, she would stop the fighting and it would all be alright, even now at the last. ‘Terise…’

Terise frowned. Quila thought she looked puzzled, and then a little annoyed. She raised her blaster.

‘Oh no, no, not you as well! Terise, please …’

The blaster flowered towards her. She froze, braced for it and the bolt flew past her shoulder.

‘What…?’

Something hit her, hard, in the small of her back. She saw Terise start to run, all askew as if on a broken screen. She couldn’t read her expression. She tried to ask her again to stop them, but the words wouldn’t come. She watched Terise looking down at her as she fell, turning, backwards into the dark.