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conditions all lumped together under the common heading of "the creeping crud." Somehow, like cockroaches, rats, and the other vermin that had followed mankind to the stars, those ancient parasitic afflictions had survived being transplanted from Terra and the ancient colony worlds, continuing to exist in numbers too small to be noticed, kept in check by the sanitation and medical prophylaxis taken for granted by civilized beings.
But civilization on Cloud had been destroyed, reduced to a scrabbling hand-to-mouth existence without the sanitary luxuries long taken for granted, and the afflictions were returning now, like the plagues of Egypt, each contributing in its own small way to the misery of existence in the Camp.
Can we possibly hope to win? he wondered. With that goddamned big Bolo on our side again, we could probably break out of here, but then what? How long could we remain free?
He looked at the others gathered in the half-darkness of the hut. The small building, located in a clutter of similar makeshift structures west of the factory, was one of several used occasionally by former members of the CDF for their meetings. Of the six men living here, four were now at the dig, while two more, Sergeant Jack Haley and Corporal Peter Zhou, had been admitted to the growing conspiracy. At the moment, Jack was on guard outside, while Peter lay on his rag pile next to Wal. Alita sat on the other side of the single, dirt-floored room, fiddling with the torn-off hem of the ragged T-shirt she was wearing. The psychotronics expert, Shari, sat next to her, head back, eyes closed; she might have been asleep. Well, no wonder, after being up on the hill with Jaime and the Bolo most of the night. Her next work shift was going to be hell, though. The Masters took a dim view of slaves who fell asleep on their
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hands and knees in the pits. It was an invitation to the harvesters.
The other members of the budding conspiracy present so far included Dieter Hollinsworth, Tamas Reuter, and Lieutenant Lewis Moxley, formerly of the Chryse communications division. The meeting had been called by Jaime, who wanted to discuss Valhalla with all of them before their next work shift.
There was a knock, bare knuckles on rotting wood, and Jack's voice sounded from outside. "Go on in, Major. They're waiting."
The rags serving as a door were pushed aside, and Jaime Graham ducked into the room. "Any luck?" Wal asked him.
Jaime found a bare spot on the floor next to Shari and sank onto it. "No. Pogue wouldn't even let me in to see him. I don't think Spratly's going to budge on this, Wal."
"Told ya."
"We might have to ... do it ourselves."
Wal considered a moment before he replied. "Jaime, I understand what you're saying. But think about it. First, what you're suggesting could be construed as mutiny. Second, have you given any thought to the possibility that the man could be right?"
Jaime looked at Wal through half-closed eyes for a long moment. "As I see it, Colonel," he said, finally, "we go for this, and go for it now, while we have a clear shot. Or we decide that this is how we want to live out the rest of our lives." He looked around the tiny, scrap-wood room. "And how long do you think that's going to be, anyway?"
"What," Alita said quietly, "is the absolute worst that could happen? We try to reprogram Hector, we fail, and he cuts us all down with AP flechettes. Don't know about the rest of you guys, but that option's looking better and better, lately."
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"No," Dieter said. The worst is that they round us up and take us away for vivisection. Some of us have been trying to avoid that particular career path, you know"
"Then we'll just have to make sure that we die fighting," Jaime said. "I don't care what happens to me after I'm dead. I'll be damned if I'm going to let them take me alive."
"Brave words, Major," Corporal Zhou said. "The people they take don't seem to have much choice, though."
"Well, damn it," Tamas said, "what's the difference? If they don't take us now, while we're trying to do something about it, they'll take us later. I say we take a chance, before we're too weak from malnutrition and exhaustion to do anything but scream!"
"All true," Lewis Moxley said. "But. . . but we've got to have it, don't we? We don't stand a chance without it. And if the general won't give it to usў"
"We'll have to take it, that's all," Jaime said.
