Fall From Earth by Matthew Johnson

Fall From Earth by Matthew Johnson

Author:Matthew Johnson [Johnson, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780987735218
Publisher: Bundoran Press
Published: 2012-03-05T17:13:55+00:00


Chapter Eight

They came out of the shell not at the field hut, but just inside the forest on the other side of the compound, near Ande’s home. Kao had not known there was another shell near there, but concealed her surprise from the others. They had to be able to feel confidence in her, after what they had just done. She led the others to the door of Ande’s hut and knocked on it.

“Kao, is that you?” Ande said as he unsealed the door. “I was wondering—oh, you brought friends.”

“May we come in?”

“Of course, of course.” He stepped aside, gave them each a quick bow. “We can finally use all of this furniture. I’m afraid I don’t know any–”

“Elaine Koch,” the other woman interjected. “I used to work two floors below you, actually, in the library.”

He smiled slightly and nodded. “I’m sorry. That’s a poor reward, I’m sure, for all the books you must have helped me find.” He stepped over to Kao, who was resealing the door. “Are your friends staying?” he asked.

“I believe so. There will be more coming, I hope.” She slid the round door into place and felt it seal as the higher pressure in the hut pushed it into the frame.

“You’ve been telling people, then,” he said. “About what the Greyen showed you.”

“About what I saw. Yes.”

He paused, scratched the bridge of his nose. “Is this a good idea?” he asked in a low tone. “Making people listen to you—believe in you—is a responsibility. If you’re not sure–”

“I have a responsibility to show what I saw,” she said, not looking at him. She owed him too much to show anger. “You are exactly the sort of person I am talking about. A hero of the Empire thrown away like garbage—your talents would not be wasted if we were like them.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said.

#

Bennett watched as most of the convicts went back to their huts. Some of Soren’s more devoted supporters—Huyt, Wood, and Szalwinski—were standing by expectantly, waiting for instructions. Wood, in particular, was like a dog that had been whipped and did not know why.

He gave them a weak smile and waved them off. It was strange how having authority did not make telling people what to do any easier. The trio reluctantly wandered away, Wood occasionally looking over his shoulder in case Bennett should call them back. He gave the man another little wave—hoping this would reinforce his obviously fragile ego—and was rewarded with a smile and a nod.

“He likes you much better now that you’ve kicked him in the teeth, doesn’t he?” Soren said quietly, not turning to face him. The old man was looking toward the forest, straight into the sun. “Go easy on the treats, though. You don’t want to devalue them.”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Food tastes better when you’re hungry, right? Keep them hungry.” Soren looked at him. His eyes were black, like polarized lenses; they lightened as he turned away from the sun. “Not a problem around here, I guess.



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