Звезда Пандоры

Mark draped the coat over his arm. “Everyone ready?”

“Are we taking Panda?” Barry asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re in charge of her,” Liz said sternly. “She’s not to be let off the lead.”

Barry grinned, and hauled the dog along out of the front door. Liz checked that Sandy’s windbreaker was on properly, and ushered the girl out after her brother.

“Barry has got coursework, you know,” Liz said. “And the nursery is short-staffed enough without me taking afternoons off.”

“If you want him to get on with the work, then he doesn’t have to come,” Mark said. “But you know I have to do this.”

She sighed and looked around the hall with what could have been a nostalgic expression. “Yes, I know.”

“We’re protecting our way of life, Liz. We have to show the navy they can’t push people around like this.”

Liz gave him a fond smile, a finger stroking down the line of his cheek. “I never realized I married someone with so many principles.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I think it’s admirable.”

“So should we take the kids?” he asked, suddenly uncertain. “I mean, these are our views, and we’re forcing them to take part. I keep thinking about children who are vegetarians or religious, just because that’s what their parents are. I always hate that.”

“This is different, darling. Going on a blockade protest is not a lifelong vogue for them. Besides, they’ll love it, you know they will.”

“Yeah.” He tried not to grin, and failed miserably. “I know.”

The Ables’ pickup was parked next to Liz’s small four-by-four on the patch of compacted limestone where the old temporary house used to stand. Although the building was long gone, Mark had never quite got around to programming the bots to clear the stone away.

The kids were already in the backseat, arguing. Panda was barking happily as she tried to clamber up with them.

“Straps on,” Liz said as she got in the front.

Mark led the dog firmly around to the back and shoved her into the covered cab before climbing up into the driver’s seat. “All ready?”

“Yeah!” the kids chorused.

“Let’s go.”

They drove out along the Ulon Valley into Highmarsh, then turned onto the highway, heading north, away from Randtown. After a few kilometers the valleys began to narrow, and the four-lane highway was climbing up the side of the mountains where it ran along a broad ridge cut into the rock. Thirty kilometers out of town they passed through the first tunnel. There was no traffic at all coming the other way. When the road straightened out, Mark could occasionally see a vehicle of some kind up ahead of them.

It was early summer, so the multitude of streams running down the side of the mountains hadn’t dried up yet, though the flow was noticeably reduced from the spring deluge. The Dau’sings were rising high on either side of them as the highway wound its way northward. Often they’d have a sheer fall of several hundred meters at the edge of the road, with only a thick stone wall as protection. On the lower slopes, boltgrass was turning from its usual wiry yellow to a richer honey color as it approached its week-long spore season.

Fifty kilometers out of town, they passed by one of the abandoned JCB monster roadbuilders that Simon Rand had used to carve his highway through the mountains. It was sitting on a wide patch of broken ground that one of its cousins had hacked into the side of the slope beside the road. Decades of fierce southern continent winters had reduced its metal parts to melted-looking chunks of rust, while the composite bodywork was bleached and cracked. The huge solid metal tracks had sagged on their runner wheels, allowing its belly to settle on the ground where it had bent and buckled. Souvenir hunters had picked most of the smaller components away, while the glass of its insect-eye cab at the front had been smashed.

Both kids got excited at the sight, and Mark had to promise to bring them back sometime for a better look.

Eight kilometers beyond the roadbuilder, on the high shoulder of MtZuelea, the highway was clogged with stationary vehicles. Napo Langsal waved them down. He owned one of the dive tour boats in Randtown. Mark had never seen him anywhere other than in the town or on his boat; he wasn’t even sure Napo owned a car.

“Hi, guys,” Napo said. “Colleen’s about to head back to town, so if you could slot this in where her truck was parked we’d be grateful.”

“No problem,” Mark said. “We brought some lunch, but the kids will need to get home by tonight.”

“I think there’s some vehicles coming out about seven o’clock, they’re going to take the night shift.”