Beowulf's Children

"Everything battened down on the coast? The waves could get pretty rough."

"We're okay. We can pull up into the foothills if there's any problem."

Carlos nodded. "Do we have a live feed from Surf's Up?"

"Well, yes, but they control it. The Star Born have their secrets, Tio Carlos. They'll let us know if they see a problem."

Carlos nodded, and ordinarily would have let it drop, but something was nagging for his attention. What, then? "How about Robor? That's on our line, not Surf's Up."

Edgar switched in an image from one of the coastal security lines. Rain was falling out at the beach. Robor looked secure, and in the night vision its dark, dragonesque bulk swayed ponderously in the increasing wind. Everything looked secure. The side door opened, and a man hurried down the gangplank. Hendrick Sills. Carlos shrugged. "Well, amigo, if you're happy here, I guess we're happy to let you. When did you get in?"

"About five this morning."

"Long day." Ah, that smell was what was twitching at his mind.

"I like the work," Edgar said.

"Goes better with coffee, doesn't it?"

"You should know, Tio Carlos."

Carlos nodded. "I'll see you later."

Carlos left the bungalow. Outside he looked up at the sky. The sky was drizzling, but not as badly as it had been at the beach. He adjusted his collar.

Hendrick must be more immune to rain than he was, Carlos thought. Hendrick hadn't turned his collar up as he came down the gangplank, out of shelter of Robor.

He walked back toward his studio, mind already drifting toward the work to be done. He wondered where Edgar got his coffee. Even if he was in hiking shape, and that would be nice, Edgar had still been too busy-

A skeeter's low roar bent down on his head. He stopped, looking up at the sky, and let the rain patter against his open eyes. He blinked.

He looked back down, at the buildings around him, their shadows melding with...

Shadows. Robor's shadow was darker than the surrounding night, and it stretched on the ground as if Tau Ceti had yet to disappear below the horizon.

But Tau Ceti had set. It didn't make sense.

The skeeter had landed. Carlos wanted to ask the pilot about the weather out on the coast. He was two-thirds of the way to the landing pad when he met Hendrick Sills coming the other way.

He blinked. There was no way in hell...

"Hendrick," he hailed, raising an arm. "When did you leave the beach?"

"Twenty minutes ago?" Hendrick wiped water out of his eyes. "Why?"

Sunset. There was still light. Hence, the shadow. But it was a darker video image, hence Edgar had tampered with it.

"Was it raining out there yet?"

"Not much. A few drops."

On the screen, it was pouring.

Alarm bells were cascading in Carlos's head. "Something's wrong," he said. "Was there anything unusual about the beach? Or Robor?"

"Nothing. Battened down nicely." He thought. "I saw a couple of skeeters heading toward the beach. Carrying heavy cargo. Thought that was a little odd, considering the storm coming in."

"Bad one," Carlos said cautiously.

"Supposed to be."

As if on cue, the rain died to a light patter.

"Let's go over to supply central, see what was so damned important."

Carolyn McAndrews had made it to her hands and knees. She was shaking her head like a big, sick dog. "Mierda," Carlos said. "Hit the alarm."

Carolyn said, "Ruth mm. Moss. Sorry," dropped her head, and tried to vomit.

The rain was picking up as Carlos ran across the camp. The alarm buzzers sounded, and colonists were pouring out of their houses. "Someone robbed Supply!" he yelled as he raced back to communications. "Get over there. Help Carolyn!"

His mind buzzed. Who? Why? Jesus... what was going on?

He made it into Communication in another twenty seconds. Edgar saw his face and turned his chair from the screen, his lips pursing in an unhappy whistle.

Carlos grabbed the pudgy boy by his shirt and lifted him up out of the chair, pivoting and slamming him into the wall. "What in the hell have you done?!"

Edgar's lips worked without producing any sound. Carlos hit him, quite hard, with his right fist, in the center of his fat little mouth.

Edgar licked his lips. He waited, politely it seemed, to see if Carlos would hit him again. Carlos held back, somehow. Edgar said, "Something killed my dad, and Linda too. You Earth Born have been trying to track it down with computer games. It can't reach you from the mainland, whatever it is, so it's all very, very safe, but you must have ice on your minds to think you can-"

"We're trying!"

"Do you think you know computers better than I do, Tio Carlos?"

"Don't call me Uncle. No, I don't."

"Joe Sikes and Linda Weyland are still dead. Whatever killed them is still ru

"Jesus." Carlos wiped water out of his face, and hit the communication board. "Cassandra."

"Yes, Carlos."

"Patch me to Cadma

"There is interference on that frequency."

"Speculate."

"Artificial origin. It seems that someone has deliberately scrambled that frequency."

"Cabron!" he shouted.

Blood bubbled from Edgar's nose, but in his eyes was a quiet challenge. Edgar had pulled it off. The mad genius had faked a fucking storm, right down to the rainswept image of Robor. Supplies had been stolen, and the communications link with Cadma

"Dios mio," he said. "They're stealing Robor to go back to the mainland, aren't they? Aren't they, you little shit!" Edgar didn't answer. Something had to get through the boy's armor. "You've taken back the mainland for Aaron Tragon!"

That stung, maybe. "Oooh, no," he said, and stopped.

Zack and Harry Siep appeared in the doorway. "What's going on?" Zack asked, staring at Edgar.

"He'll tell you," Carlos said. "Tell them all about it, bizquerno, or I'll break every soft bone in your head. I'm going for Cadma

Carlos jumped into Skeeter III and pushed the button-and nothing happened.

He jumped out and tried Skeeter I. Nothing. They had sabotaged the skeeters. He threw his head back and screamed frustration to the clouds.

Wait. Hendrick had just come in. It was likely that the saboteurs hadn't had time to damage his machine. He tapped his collar. "Hendrick. What was your skeeter number?"

There was a moment's pause as Cassandra routed the call, and then Carlos heard: "Number eleven. What's going on here?"

"We've got big troubles, that's what. Get a posse together. I'll be back in touch in ten minutes."

Carlos raced across the skeeter garage, and found XI. He punched the button, uttering a short prayer of gratitude when it coughed to life. He taxied it across the garage and revved, gathered speed along thirty feet of paved runway, and took off.

He wiped his forehead, only it wasn't rainwater now, it was sweat.

Where was the radio blockade? "Hello. Cadma

Nothing. No reply, "Calling command center. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that whatever this interference is, it's on Cadma

He had gained the altitude he needed to dive down toward Cadma

Justin stood behind him in the doorway.

"I've got to talk to you," he said. He didn't want to say what he had to say in front of Justin, and that made him feel even worse.