Chapter 2

Kroon was used to confined spaces. The room was nothing compared to the nooks and alcoves he could barely remember from the tunnels of Cityplex. Then there was the Good Hope and the suffocating closeness of twenty or so other guys jammed into the subterranean bunkhouses. At least he could see out across the horse pastures of Bluefields and upwards to the snow capped mountains with slopes dressed in green pine trees. However, he was neither interested in the view out the window nor the relative spaciousness of his surroundings.

His guts spasmed at unexpected moments causing him to double over in pain. His head felt like it was being pressed in a vice and he couldn't keep his hands still. His mouth felt like the desert sands despite how much fresh juice he poured down his throat. Matthew Kohn had explained the juice was loaded with electrolytes, but it just made him piss more.

With shaking hands he reached for the jar of rocket fuel the Arks called 'poiteen' and took another drag. The shot was like a bolt of electricity and his whole body snapped at the sensation.

The bitch called Gina came through the door without knocking and he tried to pretend she was not there. He hated her and her incessantly babbling. At times he'd felt like putting his hands around her neck and throttling the life out of her. Once he'd tried to push her way when she got too close and his open palm had cracked her over the face. In an instant, she'd spun and straight punched him to the jaw, snapping his head back and slamming him against the wall. Her eyes had flashed and seemed to drill straight through his head. She'd said, 'don't ever fucking touch me again - unless I ask, you got that, buddy?' Kroon's anger had quickly turned to fear and the sight of her eyes didn't leave him for ages afterwards.

"How's it going?" she asked in that annoyingly, breezy way she had. She came across as an airhead, but Kroon knew beneath the act was a ball of fury - he'd seen it. Kroon tried to ignore her, but, he knew it was useless. "Y'know, you're getting a bit of colour back. I reckon tomorrow we might let you outside for a spell. What do you say - you'd like that, huh?"

'Shut up, ' Kroon thought to himself. 'For the love of beauty, shut the fuck up.'

"Y'know, Kohn's been talking to heaps of people who know about withdrawal and shit like that. He said you might become paranoid and delusional. You paranoid and delusional, Kroon?"

He imagined himself smashing the girl's head into the wall. He wanted to see her cut and bleeding. He thought of slamming her through the window and seeing the sharp glass gouge her body.

"And violent. Kohn warned me you could get violent..."

'Die, bitch, just, die!'

"So I said to him, if you caught me unawares and managed to knock me out..."

'Ah, such a beautiful thought.'

"Not that that would happen, but suppose it did. See, Sian's on the other side of that door and if you hurt me she'd unzip you from your neck to your nuts. Y'seen her knife play?"

'I'd kill that bitch, too.'

"Then if you get past her, well, y'see, I'm the Fladomirova of the Bakhunins - that's, like, their warlord - and they'd be plenty pissed if you harmed me. They're the biggest Ark band and most of them are badassed and they'd hunt you down like a dog. Then there're all the Duruttis, cos Sian is Roger and Sean Beth's daughter and I'm like a sister to her. Roger would break you in half and Sean Beth? Well, I've seen her do kung fu and shit and she birthed me so she's as much of a mum to me as Rada."

'Shut up' Kroon pleaded in his mind.

"So, get some rest, huh, and stop thinking about stuff." She put her cool hand on his cheek, but Kroon shook it away.

Away to the north, Heather Sion piloted the airship Varyag towards the tower at Cityplex. Aboard, George sat pretending he wasn't 3000 metres up in the air. Armin de la Perrierre sat beside Heather in the front of the control car.

"You took her into Bluefields in strong northerlies?" Armin, exclaimed.

"No problem," she smiled at him.

This time, Heather was better prepared to navigate the Varyag over long distances. Roger had given her a sextant and tables and she'd used them to steer the airship to the outskirts of Havana to drop off Rada and John. Then she'd navigated to Novgorod to uplift Armin. She felt much more confident in both ship handling and navigation.

"This is much more seat-of-the-pants flying than the Normandie," he said. "There's no flight control computer and automatic navigation. Y'know, I wish the Normandie had been like this."

"Maybe, but the Normandie was way bigger and besides, you wouldn't have any time to chat up all those vulnerable women passengers," Heather looked sideways at him.

"Huh, did I? I can't remember."

"Sure. You say Inkubis scrambled all your memories, but it seems to me you can be pretty damned selective sometimes."

"Still, this is way more exciting than I thought. I miss being up in an airship. Floeg's are okay, but, you travel too fast to properly take stuff in. Then there's the incessant droning from the damned prop and rotary wing."

"Are we close, yet?" George complained.

"Another hour or so," Heather told him, "Not enjoying the flight?"

"I prefer my feet on the ground," he said. "Sailing above the clouds is not natural."

"What is?" Armin shrugged. "Jumping on a dumb animal?"

"Horses are not dumb," George retorted. "They're smarter than us, sometimes."

"Smarter than some, perhaps."

"Hey, I see the first of the plexes. The tower's about 100 clicks east, I recall," Heather told them.

"Ah, I know it well." Armin smiled.

"Just don't fucking crash it this time, de la Perriere," George grumbled.

"Why would I do that, George? Heather, do you know what he's talking about?"

"Don't know, Armin." Heather grinned and looked away.

Like Armin, Jurgen Schecter had been an Inkubis clone until disconnected by his controllers following the failure of his mission to destroy Ark unity. He'd partnered to Rasida, Sian's older sister, and despite the revelation of his duplicity, the relationship had survived. Like Rasida, he was now a Black Guard senior - his unique abilities were something Suetonius couldn't ignore.

The two arrived at Bluefields having contrived a furlough together. Suetonius had made it a rule not to have partners serve in the same units so while Rasida commanded the training group at Mountain Camp, Schecter's brigade was stationed on the frontier with Cityplex - opposite Newbury town. Such enforced absences had heightened the passion and longing for each other and they'd spent many days sleeping under the stars on their long journey south to Bluefields.

Sean Beth and Roger told them of their mission to the Eastern Islands and they were immediately up for it. Bakhunin pilots had brought two floegs down for them from Novgorod, and had chosen a couple of prime thoroughbred mares to take back with them. Rasida and Schecter wouldn't wait for Kroon to recover and decided to fly one without Gina and Sian. The two girls could follow when they were ready and could take Kroon with them if he was game.

Roger decided they may need an armed force of experienced Durrutti warriors in case of trouble, so he sent for Mikele and Reged's two sons, Thane and Nor, together with their partners - Faith, John's sister, and Megan Sion, mother of Heather - respectively. Both well-respected 'seconds' they had no trouble gathering about 30 cavalry each - only accepting the most capable. Each warrior - man and woman - brought their own autorifles and ammunition together with their gas operated needle guns. Of course all wore the black Ark allsuit, grey bandoliers and some sported the Black Guard's 'badge', the black/red scarf around their necks.

Transport and logistics for operations in the Eastern Islands was Roger's obvious headache. There was simply no way to reach the Gulf of Memphis across the swamps and, in any case, how were they to transport themselves and their horses to the Eastern Islands? By air, was the obvious answer, but they would need time to build up a base in the islands because of the limited carrying capacity of floegs and airships. Part of Rasida and Schecter's mission was to find a suitable place to build a camp.

Roger, and all at Bluefields, were determined to shut down these mines, no matter what it took or how many such places there were. It was an affront to Ark dignity to allow these mines to exist in the Preserve - now matter how 'technical' that argument was.

At Cityplex's airship tower, Heather brought in the Varyag and moored. De la Perriere and George immediately went in search of a Board 'station' to properly have their official credentials scanned. For years it was known that Cityplex was governed by a sophisticated computer system that presented specifically tailored holo-politicians for the public to vote on. The success or failure of these computer generated politicians enabled the system to correctly judge the people's will. One advantage the system had was the ability to access the Board from thousands of 'stations' throughout Cityplex. These stations provided a holo-suite for citizens to 'talk' directly to their chosen Board member. Of course, in theory, a Board member could 'talk' to up to four million citizens simultaneously.

George and de la Perriere found the nearest station and requested an interview with the Director of Foreign Relations. It was immediately granted, and a rather dour functionary with cropped, greying hair and blue suit resolved itself from the holo-multicube.

"Armin de la Perriere of the Bakhunins, senior of the Bakhunin Armed Militia, and George, senior of the Black Guard. It is a pleasure to meet you," the voice droned in a monotone. Of course the Director knew both of them - 'he' needed no briefing from an official, because he could instantaneously access the Board's memory fillets. The Board was obsessed with 'proper' protocol and chanted what it imagined was the correct titles in the social hierarchy of the Arks. No matter the Arks acknowledged no hierarchy - a concept the Board's processors could never get their circuits around. "What do we owe the pleasure?"

"Are you aware of any Cityplex commercial operations in the Eastern Islands?" George asked.

In a fraction of a second, the Director replied, "the Board is not aware of any commercial activity, although there may be some free trawling to the north of the Floral line in the Gulf of Memphis."

George thought for a minute. He noted the Director emphasized the Floral Line and he wondered whether he'd been alerted. "A Bakhunin airship rescued a survivor of a mine explosion 5 days ago. This mine was clearly below the Floral Line in Ark Preserve. Do you have any knowledge of coal mines in the vicinity of Good Hope Mountain?" George asked.