Deauchamps gestured. “Please, if you would look at the situation from our point of view,” she said, with a reasonableness that Bennett found almost convincing. “Our patrol came across armed strangers who we knew were not of our community. What was the likelihood of these strangers having arrived from off-world, after we’ve endured almost a hundred years of seclusion? The patrol did what it had been trained to do: detain these armed strangers who they assumed, wrongly in the circumstances, could only be terrorists. It was not long before the mistake was realised.” She looked at Bennett. “I can only apologise on behalf of the guard who attacked you.”
She paused, then went on. “We don’t know the reason for your arrival on Homefall, of course—we assume you are an exploration team—but we’ll aid your stay here however we can. There’s just one precaution we must take. We’re concerned for the safety of your ship. The terrorists will take the first opportunity to attack and disable it as their cause wouldn’t be helped if we established trading links with the rest of the Expansion. If you could tell me of its present whereabouts, I’ll immediately despatch a patrol to ensure its safety.”
Bennett glanced at Mackendrick.
“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary,” the old man said. “We were caught in a storm on entry and came down in the mountains to the north. Our ship was irreparably disabled. We managed to salvage supplies and the transporter, but little else.”
Deauchamps considered his words, nodding with concerned understanding. “I’ll tell the council,” she said. “We’ll be convening a meeting this afternoon. My fellow elders would like to question you about your mission, and your long-term plans. I hope you don’t consider this an imposition. We’ve been isolated for so long, and suddenly to have visitors from our homeworld…
“You must be hungry. You’ll find a meal prepared in the dining room. In one hour I’ll send someone to escort you to the council chambers. Until then…” She inclined her head in farewell and left the room.
“I can see why they elected Madame Deauchamps to make the overtures,” Mackendrick declared. “One smooth operator. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve swallowed her little speech whole.”
“She gave the game away by asking about the ship,” Bennett said. “You could almost smell her need to get her hands on it.”
“I want to know more about the so-called terrorists,” Mackendrick said, “In all likelihood, these are the people we should be dealing with. The friends of our enemies, et cetera. If something is rotten in this society, then they’ll know all about it.”
“She didn’t ask if we’d been contacted by Quineau.”
“Probably didn’t want to sound too inquisitive. They’ll no doubt get round to it at the meeting later.”
Mackendrick led the way along the corridor to a comfortably appointed lounge overlooking the stepped terraces. A table was laid with a colourful array of food: great cobs of white bread, various cheeses, sliced meats and native fruits. There were even pots of what turned out to be a passable imitation of coffee.
Bennett helped himself to a plate of bread and cheese and a mug of the coffee substitute. He moved to a window seat with a view of the steeply descending valley, spectacular in its breadth and depth. Only from very close to the window could the valley bottom be seen, the sparkling filament of a silver river twisting its way through a series of green fields.
The few people tending the nearby terraces were dressed simply, the women in pastel-coloured one-piece frocks, the men in lightweight trousers and smocks. The garments were obviously of man-made, manufactured material, and other aspects of Homefall—the wind turbines and crawlers—suggested a well-developed manufacturing industry somewhere. Bennett guessed that this valley was not the extent of the colony.
He finished his breakfast and tried the door leading outside. To his surprise, it was open. He had expected it to be locked, the three of them to be under benign but strict house arrest. He stepped outside. There were no guards in sight. It occurred to him with sudden alarm that the casualness with which they were being treated was a result of the colonists having already located, and disabled, the Cobra.
The door opened and Mackendrick joined him, taking a deep breath and staring down into the valley.
Bennett said, “A worst case scenario, Mack. The colonists find the ship and destroy it, blaming it on the terrorists. What do we do then?” He considered the irony: just four months ago, on Earth, he had been dreaming of life on a colony world.
“What do you suggest, Josh? That we should make a run for it? Take the transporter, or sneak out on foot at night?” He shook his head. “How far do you think we’d get? If they haven’t found the ship, then we’d be leading them straight to it. It’ll be far safer if we lie low, let time pass, find out what’s going on here and then make a break for it.”
Bennett nodded. “Put like that it does make sense. It’s just that the thought of being stranded here…”
Mackendrick smiled. “I suppose there are worse places to spend the last year of my life.” He looked at Bennett. “But don’t worry, Josh. I’ve arranged for a back-up ship to set off here in a year, if you haven’t arrived back by then.”
Bennett nodded, at once relieved at the thought that there would be another way off the planet, and disturbed by the reminder of Mackendrick’s illness.
Five minutes later the small figure of a young woman made her way up a winding footpath, raising a hand in greeting as she reached the garden. “Miriam James,” she said. “If you’re ready, I’ll show you to the council chambers.”
Mackendrick moved back inside to tell Ten Lee.
Bennett watched the woman as she strolled to the edge of the terrace. Miriam James was small and tanned, with cropped black hair. Unlike the other colonists he had seen today, she was dressed in green combat fatigues and carried a rifle. He wondered if she had been part of the patrol that had fired on the others last night. On the lapel of her combat jacket was a small silver crucifix, with a tiny circle beneath each crossbar.
“Why the armed guard, Miriam?” he asked now. “Are we under arrest?”
She turned to him, smiling. She seemed an unlikely combatant. “Of course not.” She patted her rifle. “This is for your own protection. The terrorists have been known to strike at the heart of the settlement. If they decide that you might have information valuable to them…” She nodded up the incline to the terrace that overlooked the building. “That’s why you’ve been under armed protection all night.”
Bennett looked up and saw two green-uniformed guards standing on the road and watching the building.
“Just who or what are the terrorists?” he enquired.
She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. She shook her head. “Later,” she said. “The Council of Elders will answer all your questions.”
Mackendrick and Ten Lee stepped from the building. Miriam James led the way from the terrace and down a tortuously winding footpath between serried fruit brushes and terraces of a wheat analogue.
The council chamber was a dome so big that the hillside had been excavated to accommodate its diameter. It was surrounded by a plinth of timber steps, and as Bennett followed the others around the walkway, he recognised the dome as the old astrodome cannibalised from the liner. The lower metre of its curving flank was banded with the red, white and blue tricolour. Above the entrance hatch was a large silver crucifix with a circle beneath each crossbar.
They stepped into the chamber, fitted out with rising tiers of timber seats for the assembly of the council. In the middle of the floor a hexagon of benches had been arranged informally. Six colonists, three men and three women—Bennett recognised Sabine Deauchamps among them—were already seated and awaiting their arrival.
Miriam stood guard at the entrance.
Deauchamps stood in greeting. “Welcome to the Council of Homefall,” she said. “I trust you ate well? If I might introduce my fellow elders…”
As their title suggested, Bennett estimated that all six men and women were over fifty, some as old as eighty. They regarded their visitors with hospitable smiles and nods. They seemed, he thought, about as threatening as the activities committee of an old people’s home.
He reminded himself that appearances were often deceptive.
A small, portly red-faced man stepped forward and shook them by the hand. “Welcome to Homefall, messieurs, madame. I’m Edward De Channay, elected chairman of the council. Please, be seated.”
It was the voice, rich and cultured, of the man Bennett had last night termed the patriarch. He had expected someone tall and silver-haired, not dumpy and balding.
He sat down on one of the benches between Ten Lee and Mackendrick.
