TRIN

 

Dodging between smoke pillars, the Carabinere AiVs flew a close formation towards Pell. Below them on the parched ground Trin glimpsed food barges overturned, their contents spilled and crates of spoiled food left to dehydrate.

Loisa wasn’t the only place in trouble. The Carabinere transceiver band fired off numerous reports. Dockside was overrun and Station Central was lost. Trin listened as Christian repeatedly tried to contact Malocchi.

Trin glared across at the pilot. ‘Tell Montforte that Malocchi has gone already. I know it.’

‘It’s possible he’s right,’ said a voice behind him.

Trin strained to see who had spoken but the bonds around his neck and chest held him tight. He couldn’t see Djeserit though he thought he could hear her crying softly.

‘Ragazza... are you well?’ Trin demanded.

‘Si, Don Pellegrini.’ Djeserit’s voice was barely a whisper.

Panic prickled the length of his body. ‘She needs medic. Untie me so I can see her.’

The pilot shook his head. ‘Can’t trust you, Pellegrini.’

Trin sagged against his seat with frustration. ‘Then tell Christian I said Malocchi’s gone or dead already.’

‘Do it.’ The voice behind him spoke again.

The pilot shrugged and opened the Carabinere frequency. ‘Capitano, Pellegrini thinks he knows something. Says Malocchi will have gone.’

‘The beacon is on, calling us in. Jus Malocchi would never desert. You know the procedure for a crisis. That’s where we will go. THE BEACON IS ON.’

Trin strained against the restraints again. ‘Let me talk to him.’

The pilot glanced over his shoulder for endorsement. After a moment he held the toggle to Trin’s mouth. ‘Speak.’

Trin took a breath. He had been thinking about this since Villa Fedor and it was a relief to be able to say it. He must convince Christian, though—or they would all die. ‘If you were going to invade a world, what would be the first thing you would counterbalance?’ he said.

‘Any opposition force.’

‘Si—and Centrale is the heart of our force. Capitano, we are not equipped to fight a war—expel unwanted ginkos and maintain basic order, perhaps, but not halt a well-organised invasion.’

Silence.

‘Why do you call this an invasion? What do you know?’ said Christian.

‘No more than you, but I know acts of terror. I see our food burned. If I wished to create panic and fear then I would do the same. Now there are reports that Dockside has been overrun by ginkos—these creatures that are hatching from the ground. If that is true then we are captive on our own world and we must retreat.’

Silence again.

The men waited, as he did, for Christian’s answer. He sensed their attention, even approval.

‘Capitano?’ the pilot prompted.

‘We go to Pell headquarters first,’ said Christian. ‘There will be no more discussion.’

Frustrated by Montforte’s stubbornness, Trin strained harder. The cords around his neck and body abruptly loosened. ‘If you are right, then what would you propose?’ asked the voice behind him.

Trin took a moment to think as he slapped the circulation back into his arms. He must be right in what he said or they would follow Montforte. He twisted, trying not to stare anxiously at Djeserit. She huddled in her seat, eyes closed, shrinking as far away as she could from the men alongside her. Her neck gills barely moved at all. ‘If Dockside and Pell are overrun with these creatures then our best option is to retreat to the underground mines,’ Trin said.

The man who’d asked the question held out his hand. He bore the blunt features of the lower familia and had a wide, generous mouth. ‘I am Juno Genarro. What are these creatures you speak of?’

Trin clasped Genarro’s hand. ‘They are hatching out of large globes buried in the ground. I saw them in the viuzzas. Mir—I believe, from my learning, that they are a creature called the Saqr.’

‘What harm can they do us?’

‘I have seen them suck the fluid from a live body. They are primitive—with no ability to reason.’

‘So we shoot them all.’ Genarro laughed. ‘Easy enough, I say.’

‘Their chitin is impervious to most forms of attack.’

‘There are others ways.’

‘You miss the point, Genarro—they are a tool. Unknown to us, someone has brought them here and buried them in our soil. Someone has bombed our cities and set fire to our grain silos. This is planned. Carefully planned.’

Genarro’s eyes lost their cavalier humour. ‘What do you suggest, Don?’

‘Survival. And information. We regroup in safety and find our stragglers—work out a way to gather food. Some of the underground mines run for mesurs. We can cover much ground and send out night-time searches.’

‘The Capitano said you weren’t worth the spit necessary to say your name. Maybe he just had a dry mouth at the time.’

Trin managed a tight smile. Some renewed energy suppressed the shivering fatigue in his muscles. He looked to the others who had stayed silent. ‘Where are your familia?’

They all named areas of lower Pell. Only Juno Genarro had left someone behind in Loisa.

‘I’m not Carabinere—you have your tradition and your training. But I know where I would lead you.’

Genarro nodded slowly. ‘Let us see how things are first.’