Resistance: Hathe Book One (35 page)

Marthe
watched him go, unable to stop a rush of tears. Hormones, she told
herself, and knew it for a lie. Her hands brushed uselessly at her
wet cheeks.

Now,
the end was almost here. Marthe woke one morning, counting dates—a
few days only until the Zenith of the Pillars of Mathe. Everything
was ready, and she knew of nothing that could stop it. The tide of
misery inside her surged to full strength. F-day, the day when all
this will explode about her and after which she might never see her
husband again. A long, slow tear slid down her cheek. One tear
only, escaping the huge dam within.

Hamon
was awake beside her. He saw the treacherous drop and reached out
to gather her in his arms, one stray finger brushing at her damp
cheek. It broke her as nothing else he’d tried, finally shattering
the wall of nerves inside her.

Triumph was the one thing he didn’t feel as he watched the dam
of sorrow in her burst, engulfing her in a paroxysm of weeping such
as he’d never seen. Holding her tightly, he rocked her quietly till
at long last the storm passed and only a soft hiccup came. Her
tear-swollen, blotched face moved him only to tenderness; too
absorbed was he in the release from wretchedness written
there.

“
Hush, little love. Nothing can be so bad. You’re just run
down. Why not have a day in bed?”

Whether it was his voice or his words that soothed her, he
couldn’t say. The tears stopped, but that was all. He could see the
desperation staring from those dark eyes as she whispered: “Promise
me Hamon. Please promise, if you leave you will never forget
me.”

The
sheer hell in her voice tore into him, but he held hard to what
little control he still possessed, denying the urge to plead, shake
her, whatever it took to wring the truth from her.

“
Don’t be silly. I’ll never leave you.” He kept his tone
deliberately light. “Why would I?”

“
Yes, yes, you’re right.” She was on guard again. “But if you
do, you won’t forget, will you? And you will see our
child?”

“
My
first-born? Of course I will. And I can never, never forget you, my
little Hathian witch.” This time he made sure she heard the truth
of his words. It must have worked for she subsided into the haven
of his shoulders, soon falling asleep again, leaving him thoughtful
above her.

So,
whatever was to happen, it would be before the birth of the child.
Less than three months away. So little time left to crack the rigid
surface of these people. He pulled her closer still, anxious to
hold on to every remaining minute.

Duty
battled his need to stay and finally won. Reluctantly, he let her
go, easing gently from the sleeper so as not to wake
her.

It was
not the gentle lover that strode into his offices a short time
later. Today, he couldn’t hide his desperation from his men and saw
the shock of it in their eyes. Hastily, he pulled up his shutters
again, forcing his face into its work mode to reassure his
officers. Then he gave them their orders.

“
Hawarth. Cancel all passes till further notice, except where
the man is known to have native associations. All personnel to be
armed at all times. Jones, any breakthrough yet?”

“
No,
sir. Plenty of vague suspicions, but nothing definite.”

“
Then put this in the definite category. Source confidential.
We can expect the climax within three months, probably
sooner.”

He
might just as well have said her name. They all knew who he meant
anyway, but none of them had dared to blatantly voice it since the
one foolhardy attempt. The tongue-lashing he’d given the fool had
ensured no one else had repeated the question. His private life was
exactly that, and he wasn’t about to let any man of his become a
party to it. Johne and his troops were bad enough.

“
No
idea of the nature of the event yet, sir?” Jones said
neutrally.

“
No,
but I suspect even more strongly that every Hathian is involved.
What about the rest of you?”

“
As
to the nature, sir, no,” said Markham, “but discipline within the
native gangs has stepped up recently, particularly from the elders.
It’s as if they are reining in the younger ones.”

“
Surely they’re not openly ordering them about in front of
us?”

“
No,
nothing so obvious.”

They
all smiled with him, aware as no other Terrans of the almost
continuous web of native communication surrounding them, so subtle
in kind that even these keen watchers had yet scratched no more
than the surface. “Little things. One of the younger workers in the
mines will start to bring up his head in response to an overseer’s
orders, then will stop and out of the corner of your eye you catch
sight of a passing elder. And the younger ones no longer work in
peer groups. There’s always a senior with them.”

“
Do
they ever speak much?” Jones put in, to be interrupted by a
contemptuous snort from Markham.

“
Quite,” said Hamon coldly. “Whatever the mode of
communication, I’d have thought you would have realized by now,
Jones, that speech is but a minor aspect.”

Jones
subsided judiciously. Hamon couldn’t afford stupidity in his men,
and they knew it.

“
Have any of you noticed that the natives seem to be becoming
less tolerant of our agents?” dropped Hector into the
silence.

This
was news to Hamon. “In what way?”

“
All
my agents are reporting it. In the past, even though we knew they
hadn’t succeeded in passing themselves off as Hathians, the natives
did at least put up with them.”

“
What’s changed?” asked Jones.

“
Nothing too obvious, but the natives arrange it so that our
agents are given the poorest food and cop the toughest jobs. We’re
having to pull them in after only a few weeks for
recuperation.”

“
When did this start?”

“
About three or four months ago,” said Hector.

“
About the time of the riot?” Those angry scenes on his
wedding day, aborted so assuredly by the two Hathians; a subject
his men knew not to mention to him. Whether that was a good thing
in his staff, he refused to consider. He would not talk directly to
his men about his wife. Not now, not ever.

“
That would be correct, sir.” replied Hector carefully
now.

“
The
same time as the younger peasants started these petty civil
disturbances,” said Hamon. “These annoying incidents that have
managed to keep the Commander’s guards fully occupied in patrolling
the streets. Though at least they’ve forced him to bring in manned
night patrols. Relying on surveillance vids alone is asking for
trouble in the present climate.” His fingers drummed pensively on
the desk as he stared into the distance. Then he suddenly turned
back, his decision made. “Jones, I want you to keep our own troops
free, no matter what orders you get from above.”

“
And
what will I tell the Commander, sir?”

“
Leave that to me,” Hamon said with a grim smile, “and always
ensure you have one cohort on full alert. To respond to my signal
only. Any other thoughts on what we face and when? I want your gut
feeling, not a carefully analyzed assessment.”

“
No
idea of what, sir, but it’ll be soon. A matter of weeks at most. My
agents tell me you can almost smell the tension in the natives,”
said the astute Hector.

“
Still no cracks in their armor?”

“
Not
a thing. The stars know what these people are made of, but I admit
I’m coming to favor your idea of a huge hoax, incredible as it may
seem.”

“
And
you others?”

“
It’s impossible, surely,” denied Jones.

“
I’m
not so sure,” countered a worried Markham.

“
I
know what you mean. There are too many coincidences. And this
peasant population is too subtle for so-called ignorant yokels,”
said Hawarth.

“
My
point exactly,” said Hamon. “Now, does anyone know how I can put
all this to the Commander? And make him believe me?”

Their
black smiles were all the answer he needed.

He
carried the memory with him as, yet again, he sought an interview
with Colonel Johne. Maybe this time he could persuade the man that
the risk was real, not part of some grandiose plan of his own to
supplant him, as Johne had claimed the last time they’d argued. The
stars above knew he already had almost as much power around this
place as any one man needed!

Though
not quite, he conceded ruefully after a few, short minutes in the
Commander’s office. That dim-witted, self-seeking specimen alone
could provide the official sanction Hamon needed to make the
complacent Terrans face up to the reality of the threat facing
them.

The
Colonel merely looked down his thick, red nose at his junior
officer—rejoicing yet again, Hamon knew, in his petty superiority
over a member of a family as powerful as Hamon’s rather than
listening to his arguments. Johne had fallen into the patronizing
tone he reserved for their private talks.

“
You
claim, Major, that these backward illiterates are mounting a
full-scale, secret resistance force to overthrow us, yet you have
not one verifiable piece of evidence that they possess the scale of
technology needed for such an attack.”

“
Only my wife’s words regarding the degree of advancement of
her people over ours.”

“
So
your partner likes to think herself your equal. After a few years
with a woman, you’ll learn to disregard such quirks. They will have
their little games!”

“
Sir, our own communications unit confirms that her father was
a leading scientist of the Alliance. Surely that would make her
well placed to know what she’s talking about.” Despite the plea in
his words, Hamon couldn’t bring himself to allow any hint of
supplication in his voice. He was far too angry.

“
Dr
an Castre. Yes, I’ve heard of him. A thoroughly slippery customer,
our envoys tell me, and likely the daughter is as bad. I know she
bears your first child with all that entails, but a healthy degree
of reserve never goes amiss in a relationship.”

The
Colonel eyed him with what Hamon supposed was a kindly warning. He
could feel his anger rising, but dared not give way to it; too
important was the outcome of this meeting. His silence was
misread.

“
Glad to see you agree. She’s a pretty little thing, I grant
you, but best not to let her intrude beyond the bedroom door. I
sometimes think your previous arrangements were preferable; at
least they gave you a more rounded view of things.”

“
Perhaps, sir, but not in as much depth. My
wife
is
fully as discreet as her compatriots, but she does slip up
occasionally. Some of what she says gives me cause for serious
concern.”

“
Hah. There we do agree. Your words give me cause for serious
concern, Major. Concern for your fitness to do your duty. Has it
occurred to you that the lady may be acting on her own,
single-handedly using you to disrupt our entire organization? I am
not totally unaware of your meddling.” The Colonel’s voice was now
as cold as Hamon’s.

Radcliff stiffened and glared back. “Not single-handed,
surely. You forget des Trurain.”

“
By
the stars, Radcliff, you must be suffering battle fatigue. That
lightweight gigolo hasn’t a serious thought in his head; and his
antics do help to raise staff morale, unlike your gloomy
whisperings.”

“
What about the reports, sir? All of my staff agree with me.
Something’s building.”

“
Because you’ve infected them with your own pessimism. Your
reports are nothing but vague opinions. Bring me concrete proof of
a threat, then I might consider action.”

“
That’s your final word on the subject, sir?”

“
Yes, Major, it is.”

“
Then, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

“
Certainly. And I warn you, Major, I do not want to hear of
any more morale damaging rumors floating about the
place.”

Hamon
could only nod. He made it through the door without further adding
to Johne’s triumph, but only just. He held on to his self-control
by the merest thread, but once safely back with his own officers,
he couldn’t keep his failure from them. All they had to do was look
at his face. He slammed his fist against the desk.

“
Proof! Concrete proof, he says.”

“
The
reports?”

“‘
Vague opinions’, were his exact words. What does the man
want, a full scale revolution?”

“
Perhaps. In the meantime, would an example of advanced
Hathian technology help?”

Hamon
whirled round to see Ferdo grinning at him from the doorway. “What
exactly do you mean?”

“
I’ve got it. Proof. Remember those patches of unknown
material we found on Marthe and the others? The so-called wound
dressings?”

“
Yes.

“
We’ve managed to pick up a type of transmission from Marthe’s
one. Nothing we can make sense of yet, and only on a couple of
occasions.”