Raging Star Read Free Page A

He takes in our plight at a glance, with a curse. He scrambles down the rocks, further into the gash of the Defile. He finds a handhold on a sturdy scrub tree. He gits in position to grab Lugh the moment he swings close enough.
    We swing once, twice, an—
    Now! says Lugh.
    His arm reaches out as he sails towards Tommo. Tommo stretches to meet him. They grab hands. The force of Lugh’s backswing sweeps Tommo off his feet. They let go. Rocksshower as Tommo scrabbles back from his death. He braces hisself more firmly.
    Ready, he says.
    This time, as their hands grasp, Lugh’s that much closer. Tommo gives a mighty tug. Lugh grabs the tree an they tumble on top of each other. But he’s safe. Lugh’s safe. They both are. I let go a gasp of relief.
    While Lugh clings to the tree an recovers his wits, Tommo hauls up the blastpack with care. I motion him to bring it to me quick. He clambers to the bridge an hitches along the girder to where I’m wedged between the struts.
    We should abort, he says.
    Hand me the pack, I says. Go help Lugh.
    I don’t like the feel of this, he says.
    Tommo, do as I say! I tuck the pack safe inside my shirt. I git myself around the struts an then, not lettin myself think, not lookin down, I start to move. Along the girder, inch by inch, in the pitch dark unner the bridge, till I feel my head touch the deck. Then, movin slow, oh so careful, I slide the pack out an, with one hand, I feel it into place. I make sure it’s jammed in tight, then I hitch myself backwards, payin out the fusecord as I go.
    Then I’m back on solid ground. It’s done. Lugh an Tommo help me down. As we hurry up the hill, a bank of low cloud tumbles in. Damp an white an thick as woodsmoke. I cain’t hardly see my own feet. We run thefuse as straight as we can. Over boulders, between bushes an trees. By the time we reach Creed, there’s a foot or so to spare.
    He’s got a lit spill ready. What the hell happened? he says.
    Later, I says. Light it, we bin here too long.
    The fuse don’t catch right off. Damp, says Creed. It’s this damn cloud. You know what this means? Ash won’t be able to see nuthin. She won’t hear so good neether.
    Lugh’s shiverin with shock. I hug his shoulders. Okay? I says.
    Thanks to you, he says. An you, Tommo. He grabs Tommo’s hand. Thanks, man. You saved my life.
    I dare to take Tommo’s other hand. To my surprise, he don’t pull away. I couldn’t of done it without you, I says. He gives me the tiniest of smiles.
    C’mon, c’mon, Creed mutters. The fuse catches. There’s a hiss. It starts to sizzle. But it’s sluggish. C’mon, he says, burn you beauty, gawdamnmit.
    Jest then, Tracker’s wail shudders the cloud. Our heads shoot up.
    Tommo mouths, What? at me.
    It’s Tracker, I says.
    But if Tracker’s wailin agin, that means—
    My thought dies. The wall of cloud splits an rolls open, like a door. Down below, three Tonton ride into view. Comin from the west, jest like the other two. Behind ’em,two horse-drawn carts rattle along. Creed curses. I snatch my looker.
    In the first cart, straight-backed on the driver’s bench, a boy an a girl sit side by side. In the white cloudlight, the quarter circle brand stands out starkly on their foreheads. Stewards of the Earth. DeMalo’s Chosen ones.
    There’s a spotted kercheef tied round her neck. Her hair ripples loose down her back. She ain’t seen more’n fourteen summers. Him, the boy, about the same. Strong an shinin with health, like all Stewards. So young, they’re probly newly paired outta Edenhome. Chosen fer each other by DeMalo, like the top breedin stock they are. The cart’s piled high with table, chairs, tools an other necessaries fer a life on the land. A life where, though? Surely not the Raze. It’s a wasted, desolate place.
    But it’s the second cart that stops my heart.
    One Tonton drives. Another sits facin backwards, firestick at the ready, keepin watch over their load. It’s slave workers. Maybe ten, maybe