Resistance: Hathe Book One Read Free Page A

against a fellow native. The soldier was too busy
yelling at her to get up to notice the swift movement of hands as
she passed the precious sliver over from the hidden pocket in her
robe, or the quick nod of reply from the other Hathian.
    Now
they came to the last street. Ahead, the houses huddled even
closer, seeming to draw back from the fearsome block of the
Citadel. No other street led off this, and it was as if she were
passing through a tunnel leading inexorably on to the black
emptiness of the slowly opening gates beyond. It was the only
breach visible in all the vast squareness of the fortress. Nothing
else of the outer world was allowed to intrude into this, the
centre of Terran control on Hathe. Equally, she could not help
feeling that, once taken into the Citadel, nothing and nobody would
be released lightly from the heavy gates that now shut behind
her.
    She
was in a closed passage, blocked at the far end by another pair of
metal doors. The lights came on, and Marthe saw a smaller door
opening to one side. She was taken through it, to find herself in
an immense triangular courtyard, bereft of natural life but for
soldiers and nervous, scurrying natives. In an office, a clerk took
down her particulars then tapped his voicecom.
    “ Sir, we have a native girl on report. Data through to your
screen now. What period of punishment and duty assignment? Looks
reasonably young and strong, as far as you can ever tell under that
shroud of theirs.”
    “ One
year. Major Radcliff mornings, prison kitchen the rest of the day,”
came the reply from the Committee.
    “ Right, sir.” The clerk switched off, then looked up briefly.
“Thank you, Sergeant. That will be all for now,” he said,
dismissing the guard. Again, he spoke into the voicecom. “Agnethe,
to Admin immediately,” he said, and then turned back to his own
screen, taking no further notice of Marthe, though she now stood
unguarded within a hands breadth from him and could have easily
killed him. The man had no idea of the skills she had been forced
to acquire these last few years. She kept her head down and
maintained the image of a stray native girl, fearful in this home
of the conquerors. If only she were free to do otherwise. Marthe
had known so many if only moments.
    Ten
minutes later, a large, native woman bustled in, the hood of her
robe slipping from her head to reveal a red-cheeked, smiling face
and wisps of unruly, damp hair beginning to grey. “My apologies,
sir. I was busy checking this evening’s meal for the officers when
you called, and it needed a few of my own touches. These ignorant
peasants know nothing of a gentleman’s palate, but I, who served in
the kitchens of Councilor Bodmin, understand these things. Not that
that degenerate would have noticed,” she added hastily.
    “ Enough of your prattle, Agnethe. If the Commander was not so
attached to your cooking skills, that tongue of yours would’ve had
you banned to the mines years ago. You’re to show this new girl her
duties. She’s to clean for Major Radcliff in the mornings and work
in the prison kitchens the rest of the day.” With which he turned
back to his work and took no further notice of them.
    “ Come on, dear, this way,” said the matronly woman, hurrying
Marthe out the door. “What’s your name, now, and how did you end up
in this godforsaken place?” she asked as soon as they were out of
the clerk’s hearing.
    “ Riarda, please ma’am,” came the timid reply. The woman may be
one of her own, with an innate likeability, but Marthe’s briefings
had not included this woman’s security clearance level, and she was
not about to trust her with her real name. “I fell asleep and
missed the shutting of the gates yesterday evening. I also ate a
bag of jerbels that I’d gathered to sell to the
Terrans.”
    “ Is
that all? I remember feasts of best bortch, with jerbels scattered
everywhere. Now we get imprisoned for a few! But times are what
they are. Come along,