Fakhud drew a strained breath as he reached the top of the stairs. «Is that what the police said?»
«Yes.»
«They lied. I oppose many issues on this planet, but I am not a monster. I would not use weapons like that. Do you know why?»
«Tell me.»
«Because we have children, too. If the Legion started a terror campaign of that nature, others would begin similar campaigns against us.»
«They already are. All of you are fighting each other. All you maniacs.»
«Yes. But not like that, not yet. So far we confine ourselves to sabotage and assassinations of key opponents. Allah grant that it does not move beyond that. If it does, we shall all suffer; this whole world will drown in pain.»
«Why? Why do you do this?»
«To defend ourselves. To defend our way of life. Just as you would do if anything threatened this farm. We have the right to do that, to resist Govcentral's imperialism.»
«Just go,» she said. Tears of frustration were swelling behind her eyes. «Go, and don't come back.»
The pick-up was loaded with boxes of apples for one of its regular runs to the station in Knightsville. At the same time, several of the male pickers went in and out of the house, all of them wearing wide-brimmed sunhats which obscured their faces. Fakhud, dressed in Lenny's clothes, emerged and went over to the van. He lay in a coffin-sized gap between the boxes, while more were stacked over him.
Blake drove away as the sun was less than an hour from the mountains. Amanda tried not to show any concern, keeping the rest of the farm's activities normal. The pickers remained out in the orchard, working until dusk. Their evening meal was prepared on the large solar accumulator grill in the barn. Everyone had their shower then sat around in the farmyard until the food was cooked.
Amanda stood beside the gate to eat her chicken wing. From there she would be able to see the van's headlights as it returned along the track. If Blake had kept to his schedule, he should have been back forty minutes ago.
Guy climbed up the low wall and sat on top, his skinny legs dangling over the other side. «I didn't like today,» he said solemnly.
She leant forward against the wall, and put her arm round his shoulder. «Me neither.»
«Was that fat woman really a police officer?»
«Yes, I'm afraid so.»
«She didn't like anybody. Are all police officers like that?»
«No. You don't have to be a police officer to hate other kinds of people. Everybody on Nyvan does it.»
«Everybody?»
«Well, too many of us, anyway.»
«Why?»
«There's a lot of reasons. But mainly because Govcentral is forcing different kinds of people to live next to each other. They do it because they think it's fair, that people should be treated equally. Which they should be, I'm not complaining about that. The problem is, the immigrants aren't used to other cultures.»
«But they all get on together on Earth.»
«They get on together in different arcologies; they might be on the same planet, but they're all segregated. And the people who come here to Nyvan, especially now, are the poor ones. They don't have much education so they're very set in their ways, very stubborn, and not very tolerant.»
«What do you mean, now? Haven't poor people always come here? I remember Father telling me Grandpa didn't have any money when he arrived.»
«That's true, but Grandpa wanted to come. He was a pioneer who wanted to build a fresh world for himself. Most of the people of that time were. That's changed now.» She pointed up at the night sky. «See those stars up there? Their planets aren't like Nyvan. The new colony worlds have ethnic streaming policies; they're all sponsored by different Govcentral states, so the only people you get emigrating to them are the ones from the same arcology. As they're all the same to start with, they don't quarrel so much.»
«Then why are people still coming here?»
«Because Earth is so overcrowded, and we're close to it, only seventeen light-years away. That makes travelling here one of the cheapest starflights possible. So Govcentral sends us all the people who can't afford to pay the passage to another planet, all the unemployed and petty criminals, people who never really wanted to come here in the first place.»
«Can't we stop them from doing that?» he asked indignantly. «This is our planet. Won't Govcentral wreck it?»
«We can't stop Earth dumping people on us because Govcentral is our government, too. Although a lot of people think it shouldn't be. That's another big part of the problem. Nobody here can agree on anything any more.»
«Can't we go to an ethnic streaming world? A Nyvan-ethnic one, like it was before?»
Amanda was glad of the night, it meant her son couldn't see the tears forming in her eyes. That one innocent child's question reducing her every accomplishment to nothing. Three generations of labour, sacrifice, and pride had bequeathed him this farm. And for what? She couldn't even call it an island of sanctuary from the madness which raged all around. Today had extinguished that illusion.
«There aren't any Nyvan-ethnic worlds, Guy,» she said slowly. «Only us. We're just going to have to stay and make the best of it.»
«Oh. All right.» He studied the gleaming constellations. «Which one is Earth?»
«I don't know. I never thought it was very important to find out.» She gave the darkened hills one last look. There was no sign of the pick-up van returning. The bleak depression inside her was threatening to become outright despair. Not even Blake would be so stupid as to go with Fakhud, surely? Though the alternative was even worse, that Sergeant Derry had caught them.
Please let it be a puncture, or a shorted power cell, she prayed. Somewhere in the soft night air she thought she heard a mocking laugh. It was probably just an echo inside her own skull.
Amanda woke before dawn, puzzled at the silence. It was a subliminal warning of wrongness, nothing she could actually name. She also missed Blake's weight at her side. When she went into his room, he wasn't there either. His bed hadn't been used.
The wood-burning range stove in the kitchen was almost out. Amanda had to fight against the instinct to load it immediately. Instead, she pulled her house coat tight and hurried out into the farmyard. The pick-up van hadn't returned.
She closed her eyes and cursed. Blake had gone for good. No use trying to kid herself about that any more. He believed a politician's promise, that their way is better than ours. Fool, stupid country boy fool.
Now she would have to find a replacement, which wouldn't be easy in these times. For all her exasperation with him, he'd been a good worker. It was a rare quality in today's young men.
She walked towards the long barn as the sun began to rise over the horizon. A heavy dew had given the joycevine leaves a mantle of grey sparkles. The grill was still sending out small wisps of smoke from last night's fats, mingling with the thin strands of mist layering the air.
Jane or one of the others would have to drive her into Knightsville to recover the pick-up. Assuming Blake had left it at the station.
It was when she reached the end of the barn that Amanda realized what had been bothering her since she awoke. Silence. Total silence. The pickers had gone.
Amanda ran into the centre of the small paddock where their vehicles had been parked. «No!» She turned a complete circle, trying hopelessly to spot the collection of cars and trucks they'd arrived in.
But they must have left hours ago. Their departure hadn't even left any tyre tracks in the dew.
«You can't!» she yelled at the narrow brown track which wound away from the farm. «You can't leave. I haven't even paid you.» It wouldn't matter to them, she knew; money versus Sergeant Derry focusing her interest and attention on their group.
Amanda sank to her knees amid the damp fur of the grass-analogue. She started sobbing as the dark fear rose to claim her thoughts. Fear of the future. Fear for Guy.
