The Abyss of Time

Chapter Forty

     When Miller rejoined Zanele, a man with a tablet computer was directing her and Lucy to tent forty seven, pointing it out with a golden finger. "Okay, Zan?" he said.

     "Fine," she replied with a slightly forced smile. She was looking a little wobbly as the heat sapped her strength. Rivulets of sweat were dripping down her golden face. "Ready to meet our new housemates?"

     "Samuel Miller," said Kathleen Miranda, coming forward to join them. "It's good to see you."

     "You too Kathy," Miller replied. He turned to his wife, who was watching the new arrival suspiciously. "Zan, why don't you and Lucy go ahead. Say hi for me to whoever we're shacking up with."

     "You're not coming with us?"

     "It's not like we've got suitcases of belongings to unpack, and Kathy and I have a lot to talk about."

     "Don't be too long." She leaned close to him, lifting her oxygen mask. Miller gave her a peck of a kiss and then Zanele and Lucy headed off into the camp, looking at the numbers pinned to each tent to find the one they'd been assigned to.

     "I don't know what to say," said Miller when he and Kathy were alone. "Twelve of the men you sent to get us died. I've never felt so guilty, so useless. Part of me wishes you'd just bombed the camp. Taken us out along with the cyborgs with no risk to either lander crew."

     "If we could have guaranteed that the cyborgs would have been killed, we might have done that," the Manager admitted. She started walking towards the McCormick and Miller fell in beside her. "If they'd survived, though," she continued, "we'd have lost twenty people instead of sixteen, and some of you might have survived, to be converted. A rescue mission was the best choice. The least risk to the colony."

     "You're right, I know, but the cost... I don't know how I'm going to live with this."

     "To beat cyborgs requires a bucket of blood. Isn't that what you said in the war?"

     "But we didn't beat them this time. All we did was get away."

     "Against cyborgs, even that is a victory. Right?"

     "Right," Miller admitted, his voice flat and lifeless. Then he looked across at her, though. "That rescue. You had it planned for some time, didn't you?"

     "In case we somehow learned your location, yes. When we picked up Rolf Gaus's transmission we put it into effect immediately. We thought we might have a chance to take out the cyborgs at the same time but that turned out to be overly optimistic."

     "It was a good attempt. You win wars by being willing to take chances and sometimes the chances don't work out. Being over cautious is a sure recipe for defeat. We learned that lesson hard, back in the war."

     Kathleen nodded soberly and said nothing more as they walked.

     Kathleen Miranda led Miller to the Beagle class lander, the McCormick, where the guards on duty stood aside to let them enter. Once through the airlock, Miller gasped with relief and pulled off his oxygen mask to let the cool air dry his face. "God but that feels good." He opened the front of his robes and flapped then to move the deliciously cool, dry air across his body while Kathleen watched with amusement.

     A narrow passage of plasteen panels had been erected to connect the inner airlock door with the stairs leading to the upper decks. Behind the walls, Miller had no doubt that the ship had been stripped to the bare skeleton to provide the equipment and materials needed to create the colony's defensive perimeter. The colony's ruling council had wanted it hidden from sight, though. They were used to smart, clean surroundings with carpeted floors and shiny wood panelling. They were administrators. Their natural habitat was the office and the committee room. They wanted no part of the grime and squalor of frontier living.