The Orphaned Worlds (70 page)

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Authors: Michael Cobley

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BOOK: The Orphaned Worlds
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Greg gave a mental shrug and tried to settle into a comfortable position while keeping the canister strapped to his back. Twenty minutes later, and about three-quarters of an hour from the vicinity of Giant’s Shoulder, he heard Varstrand calling to him from the cockpit.

‘For you,’ said the pilot, holding out his headset. ‘Someone urgently asking for Mr Cameron …’

Puzzled, Greg lurched up to the cockpit, accepted the frail-looking headset and put it on.

‘Greg Cameron here – who’s this?’

‘Finally! – I was getting a wee bit worried there, chief!’

‘Rory?!’ he cried out in relief. There was a commotion back along the gondola as the others heard him.

‘Naw, it’s William Wallace calling up for a blini home delivery – aye, it’s me! Look, I’m here wi’ Chel but he’s not doing too good. Are you in that dirij that’s heading west?’

‘Aye, where are you?’

‘About three mile north of ye, on a hilltop, ye canna miss it …’

Vashutkin crouched down next to Greg, his face serious.

‘How did he escape the droids? – ask him …’

‘That Vashutkin?’ said Rory.

‘Aye,’ Greg said, turning the headphone outward for all to hear. ‘So how did you get away?’

‘Pure chance. Two of they big combat machines were carrying us away from some robot camp when they both started shaking and fell over. I got free then dealt wi’ Chel’s bonds, and that was us. We got tae this hill then found there’s droid patrols to the south and west – we could head north but Chel’s not looking so great. So, are yiz coming to get us, then?’

‘Yeah, Rory, just hold on.’ Greg looked at Varstrand. ‘Head north and watch out for a hill.’

‘I know the one, I think,’ the Finn said, changing direction.

But Vashutkin shook his head and Greg covered the headset stalk-mic.

‘I don’t believe they could escape,’ Vashutkin said. ‘In fact, I don’t even believe it’s him. Sorry.’

I CONCUR

Greg agonised over these similar judgements, all too aware of the doubt in the eyes of the others.

‘And what if you’re wrong?’ he said.

Vashutkin got up and leaned on the backs of the seats on either side of the aisle. ‘You will lose two good friends,’ he said. ‘If you are wrong, perhaps we die or they capture us and kill us, or turn us into slaves. And all of this is for nothing.’

‘I’ve got to know,’ Greg said. ‘If there’s a chance …’

‘We are getting near the hill,’ said Varstrand.

‘Can you hover over the top, about a hundred feet up?’ he said.

‘Maybe could go higher. It is breezy tonight.’

‘Okay, do that.’ He uncovered the microphone. ‘Rory, we’re nearly there …’

‘We can hear ye! – and so can them droids. Ye’ll have to come in low …’

‘Can’t do that, Rory. We’ll send down ropes with body slings,’ he said, making encouraging gestures to the others.

‘No, listen, Greg, ye gotta come down …’

The gondola cabin was a whirl of activity as Alexei and Maclean, going with Varstrand’s directions, dug lengths of rope out of a locker along with a body sling. At the same time, Bessonov and Vashutkin were opening the hatch, securing it as Alexei lashed one end of the rescue rope to a hull stanchion, then gave the okay. A turbulent gusting added to the noise of the dirigible’s engines and Greg had to yell into the headset mic.

‘Okay, that’s the rope going down now. Ye see it?’

‘See something – it’s too high, come lower …’

‘Is it long enough to reach the ground?’ Greg yelled to Alexei. ‘It should be, but difficult to see,’ Alexei came back. ‘It’s shadowy and bushy down there …’

SOMETHING IS BENEATH US

‘Come lower, Greg, come lower,’ said Rory’s voice.

Varstrand shook his head. ‘Too dangerous.’

‘Rory, we can’t …’

Suddenly the gondola jolted and the rope hanging out of the hatch snapped taut.

‘Rory, was that you?’ Greg yelled. ‘Have you got the body sling?’

‘Lower, Greg, come lower …’

WE MUST LEAVE
THINGS ARE GATHERING BENEATH US

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