Part 18 (1/2)

I slip into place between Dee and Lida. Lida smirks at me and the others send subtle signals of congratulations.

After a few more comments Glissom descends from his podium to inspect the crews. We watch his expression puff with contempt. He finds b.u.t.tons too dull, tunics too crumpled, boots too cracked and trousers just offensively ugly. From the corner of my eye I can see Dee clenching and unclenching her hands, furious that Glissom said her hat isn't on straight when she, in her Dee-like way, is clearly a hundred per cent certain it is. It's a new hat and she was extremely pleased to get issued it in time for the parade. She's guarded it from the cap-tossing inclinations of Ang and Lida.

Glissom tuts. *I see Marina has been quite the wrong sort of role model for you all. Have you no pride in your appearance? You a” why is your cap so big?'

He stops in front of me. I fix my eyes on the front of his tunic as he reaches out to yank my cap off. Inside I'm buzzing like Haze's jar of stab-tails. Don't think, don't feel, don't react, don't stand out . . .

Down fall two black braids. He frowns, then squints. I think it's only then that he recognises me again as the stunt pilot.

*Ha!' We all flinch at his exaltation. *Precisely the sort of thing I've been talking about. Aranoza here is the only girl in this parade who's actually retained a little prettiness. Why would you all want to cut your hair off? It looks plain and unattractive.' With the backs of his fingers he strokes a braid where it falls over my chest.

Don't think, don't feel, don't react, don't slaughter . . .

It's no good. I'm not sure how much longer I can hide my outrage . . .

Then up comes Reef. *Excuse me, sir, perhaps you'd like to step over to the hangar to inspect facilities there . . .'

When Glissom hesitates Reef blinks once. Enough to show the Eyes in the Dark tattoo on his lids. Eyes that see everything, and if they don't like what they see, they report it. Then Reef winks at me.

He wouldn't wink at me, or rescue me from slimy officials if he knew all about me.

Just as Reef and Glissom move away my ears start to buzz. The noise gets louder. Drone, drone, drone. Is that Glissom's voice, or stab-tails I can hear? Or, unbelievably, Crux?

*Incoming!' I shout. *I hear planes!'

Glissom swells with indignation. *Preposterous discipline!'

Reef scans the skies. Can't he hear it? He's connecting, or trying to.

*Can't get connected? Sloppy tech,' Glissom sneers. *Precisely the kind of thing I've beena”'

*You're not in Corona now,' Reef snaps. *Things work differently out here.'

*They don't seem to work at all! This is fuss over nothing! I'll continue the inspection now . . .'

No time for that. There it is. Unmistakable. A drone, a whine, a hideous wail. I cover my ears against the agony of the sound. Moments later others hear it too.

Crux Screamers!

Two Screamers streak out of the clouds.

Furey cups her hands to shout, *Scramble the Storms! Make for the emergency meeting point!' She practically turns her lungs inside out to make herself heard then she runs to scoop up her daughter Tilly and carry her to cover.

Set out on the airstrip and in the hangars, our Storms are sitting targets for the Crux attack. This far from the front line, no one's seen fit to issue us with anti-aircraft weapons, so there's no way we can defend ourselves.

The first missile explodes like thunder. The ground is caught in invisible claws and torn loose from the planet.

What are these dents suddenly studding the parade square? Bullets. What is that red mist dampening the air? Blood. What is this outrageous sensation in my chest?

Pain. I'm shot!

While everyone sprints for planes, kit and trucks I find myself slipping into a separate stream of time where moments are long enough for thoughts and decisions. I see the glint of a second missile being released and watch it fall, oh-so-slowly now. When it finally strikes I can actually count the flecks of shrapnel spiking out in all directions. More bullets spit down. Unlike seeds or spores they burst into death, not life.

Round the Crux planes curve, sweeping in for a second attack. How did they get so close to Sea-Ways? How far behind is the rest of the invading army? Shots fire from a People's Number Five Glissom Gun a” from Reef! One Screamer judders and whips away.

I run for the hangar. Dee is running too . . . straight to where a line of Screamer bullets will soon hit. I try to shout a warning. A missile detonates. The blast knocks her new hat off.

*Leave it!' I call, as she pauses to see where it fell.

She won't. She veers to scoop the hat up and, in stopping, misses the line of bullets. She looks at the puffs of air where the bullets. .h.i.t. Looks at her hat. Looks at me. I know what she's thinking. Her point-to-point brain is joining the dots. She's remembering the fortune-telling in the bath-house last night, when I said she'd be happy with her new hat a” a hat that's just saved her life.

One by one the Storms are powering up. People grab a seat where they can. Yeldon's trying to organise a convoy of trucks while Mossie decides what can be left and what absolutely must be taken. Like me, they're wondering whether Crux ground forces will be following the air a.s.sault. I look for Zoya. There she is, crouching under the wing of our Storm, vigorously signalling me over.

*Come on, Pip, we have to get out of here!'

I'm torn a” save myself, or see what else can be done? *You go a” hurry!'

*Not without you, idiot!'

I dash across open s.p.a.ce, then skid to a stop at the sight of Fenlon, fallen on churned-up ground, clutching a red-soaked leg.

*Leave me! Run!' he gasps. *I'll be fine; I'm too old to die young.'

He's so heavy! I don't know where I find the strength to drag him over to the Storm but I do, then with Zoya's help I heft him into the nav seat where he sags to unconsciousness.

*There's no room for me now if you take the pilot's seat,' Zoya says in a choked voice.

*Don't be stupid. You can fly this plane as well as I can a” get him to the emergency meeting point.'

*What about you? My father said I wasn't toa”'

*I'll be right behind a” go!'

We can hardly hear each other over the crescendo of a new Screamer approach. Zoya scrambles into the Storm's pilot seat. I heave her propeller into action and bang on the fuselage to signal goodbye-and-go-well. She taxis to the start of the runway where Storms are practically nose-to-tail for take-off.

Through all the chaos I hear someone yelling a” Marina Furey. She's driving one of the bigger trucks, loaded with new recruits and techs. *Jump on board!' she's shouting to me. A nearby fuel store is. .h.i.t. Flames gush out. The truck swerves.

*I'll take the next one!'

As for Aled Glissom, he's already in his limousine, b.u.mping across the airfield in search of safety. A bomb-blast shatters the windscreen of the vehicle. It calmly rolls forward and falls nose first into the crater, back wheels still turning. Glissom squirms out of a mangled door, waving for help.

That's when the bullets catch him, just as I foresaw, a line of holes along his city-tailored tunic.

The day darkens. Clouds are lit from beneath by all the fires and explosions. When I look up I can't believe what I'm seeing a” Ang in her airborne Storm has. .h.i.t and crippled one of the Screamers. Its shrill shriek kills my ears. It falters, falls, skims the flagpole and finally collapses down to furrow the ground. That girl deserves a medal!

I'm hypnotised by the turmoil of the crash a” the churned-up roots, Slick-limp weeds and one pink wormling there in the middle of it all. Wormlings . . . Corvil! I dodge the mayhem and head for the dorm, knowing it's stupid to waste time saving a bird, but I can't just leave Eye Bright to its fate. Life is life. I left it nesting in my locker. Frightened, it stabs my hand when I reach for it.

*Come on, you poor thing, we have to get out of here. There's just time to catch the last truck if we're quick . . .'

As I sprint past the bio-vat towers my way is blocked. It's Haze. She's turned into a screamer as painful as the one still zooming over.