Power Lines Page 4

  She followed the cat back along the swollen streambed to the cavern. The snow had not all melted by any means, and now, suddenly, the air was colder, and the light drizzle that had been falling throughout the day turned to sleet, then snow. Only partially dressed in wet rags, Goat-dung began shivering so hard that she had difficulty walking.

  The cave was warmer, perhaps warmed by the water pooling in its center. But it was not warm enough to combat the temperature dropping as night approached. She needed a fire to keep her from freezing as well as to cook her food.

  Coaxtl took the rabbits in her mouth and hopped lightly onto the ledge, looking down at Goat-dung, who stood knee deep in the pool on the floor. The birds were clutched in her hand.

  Coaxtl had already torn the head off one of the rabbits. Goat-dung looked back up defiantly.

  “Well, I’m sorry, cat, but this water leaves me no place to stand and no place to eat the birds even if I wanted to eat them uncooked with all the feathers on. I know I’m spoiled and selfish, but I’m also cold, and I think if I don’t have a fire I really will die.”

  This time the cat did speak. Youngling—I will not call you Goat-dung if you are in my charge. That is no fit name for a cub. Names are important and having yours, I am charged not to eat you but really, who would want to eat someone named Goat-dung anyway? You must choose another name. I digress . . . Youngling, you seem to have trouble making up your mind what will kill you. Out on the plains you feared the openness. In here you say you are cold and cannot take the water. Probably beyond in the cave it is warmer. You could explore, like any other cub, and leave me in peace to finish the meal I have so graciously provided.

  “Beyond lies the Great Monster,” Goat-dung said, and then realized that she didn’t care. “Very well, I will go alone, but it is dark back there and I may become lost and die, as well.”

  You are inconveniently frail, the cat growled, abandoning the bird to hop down from the ledge with a splash. Follow me. I will not endure this string of constant complaints.

  Goat-dung knew she was disgusting and whining and weak, but at least Coaxtl had not yet cuffed her, even with sheathed claws, much less bitten or clawed her. That was an improvement over the Shepherd and his flock.

  The cat padded rapidly ahead, and for a time Goat-dung could follow by the splashing of the big paws in the pool; but then her own, now bare, feet touched dryness, and the cat’s pads were nothing but a whisper that soon disappeared. “Coaxtl! Where are you?” she called. “I can’t see you.”

  Can you not? Silly cub. I’m right in front of your eyes.

  “Yes, but I can’t see in the dark.”

  Can you not? the cat asked, her voice in Goat-dung’s head genuinely surprised. No fur, a stupid name, no claws, puny teeth that can’t bite through feathers, and half-blind as well. You would have been better off if I’d eaten you, child.

  “I—I suppose so,” Goat-dung said. “I know I’m a terrific bother but if you are going to help me, and you don’t know how stupid and weak I really am, then I thought you wouldn’t know how . . .” She floundered, at a loss for words, realizing she didn’t deserve help, that she should have gratefully accepted any tiny thing the cat offered her, and that all of her talk only proved that what the flock said about her was absolutely right. But really, she had no idea at all what to do with the birds, and the Shepherd had always been very specific about the dangers of eating uncooked meats.

  There’s no help for it then, the cat said. Take hold of my tail, but don’t pull, or I may kill you without thinking about it.

  Goat-dung groped with outstretched hands and felt a brush of air go by her twice before her palm encountered a sturdy furred appendage, less like the flexible tail of a smaller beast and more like a child’s arm in a fur coat. She gently took hold of the end of it, and the cat proceeded at a slower pace.

  How long they walked, she had no idea. They descended, twisted in the corridors, and climbed, only to descend again on the uneven flooring. Several times she bumped into large columns, some coming up from the floor, some hanging low enough to bang her head, and she cried out for the cat to stop. In order to keep from pulling the tail, she had to let go of it.

  Those are the teeth of the cave, the cat explained. They rise up from the bottom or clamp down from the top. Fortunately, the cave bites very, very slowly and we moving creatures are quite fast by comparison, so we never get eaten.

  “Never?”

  Not in my lifetime anyway, or that of my mother or my mother’s mother or in her memory.

  “Then you know that the cave is a Great Monster, too?”

  The cave and all caves are Home, the cat said simply. And Home has what one needs. If we keep looking, we will find what you need here, too.

  And much later, Coaxtl sat down and said, Ah. When the cat sat down, Goat-dung was forced to drop the tail, but that didn’t matter then, because the cave was filled with a light of its own, and a warmth as well, that seemed to emanate from fissures in the wall.

  Goat-dung recoiled and the cat turned and glared at her with eyes bright and hot as fires, shining like the jewels the Shepherd adorned himself with on his birthday. Coaxtl looked extremely fierce then, but all she said was, If you’re not going to cook those birds after all this, then give them to me and I will eat them.

  “No, I will eat them, once I cook them,” Goat-dung said, clasping the geese to her and turning slightly so the cat couldn’t swipe them away with one big paw.

  Despite her fears, despite her sure knowledge that she was in the belly of the Great Monster, Goat-dung felt less afraid than she had before. Here it was warm and light with a soft glow. A small circle of rock in the center of the floor kindled briefly into a true flame. Maybe it would open beneath her feet and devour her. Perhaps it was a trap, but it reminded her of the cookfires and that she was truly very hungry indeed, and tired, as well. She walked to it, sat down, and began plucking the geese, while Coaxtl fell asleep beside the fire, her breath rumbling contentedly.

  Goat-dung gutted and roasted the bird on the rocks beside the fire. Looking down into it, she could see no coals, no bottom to the hole in fact, and that frightened her; but the rock was very warm by the fire, and the bird cooked slowly, so she ate the outer bits a little at a time. Then she crawled over to the cat and fell asleep, dreaming the sweetest dreams she could remember having: of her mother and of her father’s voice and another cave.

  She dreamed on and on, almost fearing to wake, until the soft furry support beside her was withdrawn and she slipped back against the cave floor with a thump. When she sat up, she realized that Coaxtl, too, was sitting up, listening to the voices that seemed to emanate from the walls of the cave.

  4

  Mud is a great leveler and, although the military had put down plastic boardwalks so people could get around the muddy streets of Kilcoole, mud did provide a disguise of sorts. One mud-spattered person looked like any other, local or imported. As plastered with this camouflage as everyone else, Yana and Sean had no trouble reaching Adak’s snocle shed. His precious vehicles were now in the loft, and one battered antique 4x4 was parked outside.

  “It’s not an official one,” Yana said, peering at the sides for any SpaceBase markings.

  “It’s Adak’s, all right. I hate to think when they last made those, or what Adak traded to get a hold of one, but somehow he keeps it running,” Sean said, and, his hand on her back again, he propelled her quickly toward the mechanic’s crawl-through set in the main door. He paused only briefly, listening. The only voice within earshot was Adak’s, so they pushed through and into the smell, now redolent with oil and fuel and mud.

  Adak turned from his comm station to see who his visitors were and his face lit up.

  “Yessir, I got the message. Only official communications. Right ye be! Over.” He lifted the earpiece and rubbed exaggeratedly. “My, that man does go on. Sláinte, Sean, Yana. Good to see you; what can I do to help?” He glanced down at the comm unit and sniffed ex
pressively.

  “Thanks, Adak” Sean said, grinning as he recognized the man’s tacit willingness to disobey the orders he had just been given.

  “We need to get in touch with Johnny Greene and Rick O’Shay.”

  “They’re airborne,” Adak said. “Special missions.”

  Sean and Yana exchanged glances.

  “What frequency are they on?” Yana asked.

  Adak grinned more broadly. “Happen I just got word of ’em.” He settled the earpiece again and held his finger over the keyboard. “Who’ll I get ya first? Johnny or Rick?”

  “I’d say Rick,” Sean replied.

  Yana and Sean took turns explaining to Rick what was going down, what they wanted him to do, and how they thought he could accomplish it. Rick had already heard enough rumors to know almost as much as they did—and he was willing to help.

  “Hell, all I’m doing right now is figuring out what roads are passable. A lot of equipment might need to be moved,” he said, his voice taking on a gloomy tone. “Johnny’s up and doing the same thing to the west. We’ve both had to swear allegiance and die-for-it oaths to Intergal, but shit, we crossed everything we could while taking it.” The customary lilt was back in Rick’s voice. “Lemme get Johnny in on this where there aren’t any ears to hear us.”

  “They’ve been monitoring you, then?” Yana asked, not too surprised.

  “Not on this frequency, and I did a little twiddling with the bug they put in the cabin so you don’t have to worry. Soon’s Adak came on, I disconnected a wire. Shouldn’t leave it loose much longer. But I’ll leave word with Adak when Johnny and I’ve done what’s needful. Might even get in one trip tonight if I can finagle it.”

  “You’re top of the finaglers at SpaceBase,” Adak said approvingly. “Code it?”

  “Better. When I come on, ask me the mud level on the road to Tanana Bay. If I say it’s ankle deep, that means Yana and Sean can meet me where Uncle Seamus collects water. If I say it’s knee high, I’m having trouble. I’ll get back to you soon’s I can. Over and out.”

  “Hell,” Adak said, rubbing his ear thoughtfully, “it’s more than ankle deep and knee high everywhere. And I don’t mean just the mud.”

  “Keep yourself out of trouble if you can, Adak. We need you at the comm unit,” Sean said.

  Adak laughed. “Those new guys don’t know doodly about this here comm unit. It don’t take kindly to rough hands and always goes all static and wheeing.” He grinned. “Only old Adak knows its ways.”

  “We’ll stop in at Clodagh’s now, if you should need us,” Sean said, guiding Yana toward the back exit.

  The less-frequented paths actually showed some sturdy grass growth as they made their way behind houses and detoured back into the forest to avoid the new Intergal housing. One of the cats met them halfway to Clodagh’s, and the tone of its greeting suggested that it was pleased to see them.

  “No trouble?” Yana asked, not quite sure she was interpreting the creature accurately.

  Sean grinned, but he kept looking at the ground as they went from mud to snow to the new grass. “No, no trouble. Except . . .” He frowned. “We might just have the longest growing season ever and we’ve got to plan, also, to take advantage of that! It could prove crucial.”

  Yana felt a shiver up her spine and agreed with him wholeheartedly at the word “crucial,” knowing that Sean and the others were concerned about what would happen if Intergal cut the planet off from outside supply lines entirely. Though Petaybee was largely self-sufficient, the growing season usually was too short to provide enough fruits and vegetables and other plant-derived products. A longer growing season would mean less reliance on outside sources—and yes, that certainly could be crucial.

  Evening was closing in as they approached Clodagh’s house. They could hear banging and pounding and the sound of boards being shifted, and Yana grinned: someone was doing some of the much-needed repairs of a structure that had been held together by ice in the winter but needed nails and mortar now that the weather was warmer. All over the village people were engaged in similar pursuits. Yana peered around the corner of the house where all the banging was, to tell Clodagh they were there, but as Sean opened the door, she saw that Clodagh was inside. From the look of the interior, the big woman had also been thinking along the same lines as Sean.

  The kitchen was even more filled than usual with good smells, but these did not emanate from the pot that normally sat simmering on her stove. Instead, the earthy odors came from tiers of warming trays raised above the stove and stacked with stones. On the trays were tiny clay pots holding shoots of greenery, and it was from these the smells came. The kitchen table was also covered with little pots and soil and bundles of dried flowers and piles of seeds.

  “Sláinte, Sean, Yana,” she said, looking up from where she sat spread-legged on the floor, her skirts hiked up above her moon-shaped pale white knees and colorful hand-knit stockings. Between her knees and her feet and all around her were more pots, more seed packets, and trays of potting compost. Inspecting with critical sniffs all the interesting items laid out to be worked on were various members of the orange-marmalade cat battalion. Two had curled up to sleep in one potting tray not quite large enough for their bulk: they spilled over like immense orange alien plant-forms. “Did you two think of any songs?”

  “Quite a few,” Sean said, fondly leering at Yana.

  “Nothing we could repeat in polite company though,” Yana said. “How about you?”

  “I got a couple. Mostly though, I thought I ought to make these plants ready to send out to the other villages, and see if while we’re sendin’ folk around, they could collect starts from other places.”

  “I was just commenting that we’ll have a longer than usual growing season,” Sean said.

  “Prob’ly,” Clodagh said. “Unless Petaybee has other ideas.”

  Bunny poked her head in the door. “Sláinte, Uncle Sean. Sláinte, Yana and Clodagh. For cat’s sakes, Clodagh, don’t most people garden outside?”

  “Only some of this is for my garden, Bunka. The rest will be presents. But right now, help me clean this up or there won’t be room for anybody to stand when the rest of the village gets here.”

  “Okay. C’mon, Diego,” the girl said. Diego stepped shyly inside. In one hand was a piece of wood, in the other a knife. He closed and pocketed the knife and set the billet down by the door.

  “It’s very considerate of you to bring your own firewood, lad, but I’m not usin’ so much these days as to need it.”

  “That’s going to be his guitar,” Bunny said.

  “Oh, really?” Clodagh asked, widening her eyes in mild query.

  “Only part of it,” Diego said. At sixteen, he was a shy dark boy with beautiful eyes and an unruly lock of black hair that kept falling over them. When he had first come to Petaybee, he’d suffered from the skin blemishes common to young adolescents, but the planet’s dry air had cleared them up. His voice had already changed to a most satisfactory baritone, and he was rapidly becoming gorgeous. “This wood—Uncle Seamus said it was well-seasoned cedar—probably will be good for the neck. I haven’t found anything for the body, but . . .”

  “The planet will come up with something, don’t you worry,” Clodagh told him, beaming up at him with that wide sunny smile that, along with the cascade of wavy black hair now tied back with a thong, was her other greatest beauty. “Come now, give me a hand.”

  From the doorway came another familiar voice. “I can take some of those outside for you now, Clodagh, if you’re ready.”

  Yana turned to see the eminent Dr. Whittaker Fiske, major company stockholder and board member, sticking a hammer back in the heavy webbed belt he wore strapped over dark gray fatigue pants. Clodagh’s bone-knit medicine and the modern ministrations available to company elite had, in the last six weeks, largely healed his broken arm and injured leg: now he merely wore a light bandage for support and walked with the slightest of limps. He wore a navy bl
ue rib-knit sweater and a matching light stocking cap rather rakishly perched over one ear and stood with his hands on his hips, grinning widely and looking immensely pleased with himself.

  “Dr. Fiske!” Yana exclaimed. “How’d you get here?”

  “Walked,” he said. “Great therapy, walking. I used to walk the hills around Trondheim all the time when I was stationed back on Earth. Takes years off you.”

  Sean cast a sidelong glance at Fiske, though his own smile didn’t leave his face. He knew the doctor well enough to know he was on the side of Petaybee, but Whit Fiske was, nevertheless, an outsider in the employ of the opposition. If Clodagh had no problem with him, Yana hardly thought anyone else would object, but there was tension in the air that hadn’t been present before.

  “Dr. Fiske,” Yana said, taking his arm, “I had no idea you were so handy.”

  “We world builders are versatile men,” he said.

  “There was a little matter I wanted to discuss with you privately,” she said.

  “After the meeting then,” he told her, rather to her surprise. He patted her hand and disengaged her arm. “Clodagh asked me particularly to stay. If I am going to represent the company interest in utilizing Petaybee’s assets to the fullest while maintaining the integrity of the planet and the autonomy of the inhabitants, then I need to be working with the locals on every aspect of the operation.”

  “Well, if Clodagh feels that it’s a good idea and you don’t think it’s a conflict of interests . . .” Yana said. “In that case, can you help secure enough fuel to get a plane to the southern pole?”

  “I think I could do that, yes,” he said, with a wink over his shoulder as he went to give Clodagh a hand to get to her feet.