Behind the police on the southbound carriageway was a long convoy of twenty-six-wheel SAAB Vitan trucks. To begin with they were all diesel-powered, in direct contravention of the highway rules that only permitted electric-powered vehicles. That was almost irrelevant when compared to their contents. They were carrying all the equipment necessary to build a wormhole detector station for the navy’s planetary security division, which was due to be set up in the Dau’sings just above Randtown. That equipment included three fission micropiles to provide power for the detectors.
There had been a big argument at the toll gate at the northern end of the highway when the convoy arrived there. But the navy officer in charge called in the local police who overruled the operator and sent the convoy through. Simon Rand had been informed straightaway, and set out to stop them from the southern end, accompanied by his followers driving every piece of big civic equipment they could find. When they arrived at the high point on MtZuelea they stopped, disabled the vehicles, and waited. The standoff had now lasted two days.
Mark and Liz soon found the Conants, and the Dunbavands, David and Lydia, who owned the vine nursery where Liz worked; they’d brought their kids along for the afternoon, too.
“Is there anyone left back in Randtown?” Liz wondered.
They spent a couple of hours talking to the others, mostly about what this would do to the tourism industry. The buses that brought groups in to the hotels weren’t even waiting behind the stalled navy convoy anymore, and the tour operators were raising hell, and talking about suing. Flasks of warm drink were passed around. People went back to their vehicles to fetch warmer clothing. Kids had to be taken to the toilets on one of the buses. The whole protest was more like a giant picnic than a political statement.
After a couple of hours, Mark went back to the pickup to fetch the box containing their lunch. There was a flash of orange between the vehicles over on the other lanes as Simon Rand walked purposefully on some mission, his courtiers tagging along loyally. Mark was nearing the end of the parked vehicles, craning his neck to find the pickup, when he saw her.
He didn’t think she was a tourist; something about her made him doubt she’d ever be a part of a tour company’s herd, a spark of independence or self-confidence he was adept at recognizing. Exactly the kind of first-life girl who came to Randtown to join in the party scene and spend her spare time doing extreme sports all around the landscape. Although he’d not seen her around town before, waitressing or helping out in any of the stores.
She was gorgeous. Which made him nervous, because that kind of beauty made him think what kind of wife he’d have after Liz. Because they both knew it wouldn’t go on forever. Even though it was good right now. He was a realist, and so was Liz. Which meant it was okay to consider such things. Right?
The girl caught sight of him staring, and gave him a cheeky smile. “Hi,” she drawled. It was a husky come-on of a voice, perfectly suited to her long young face with its beguilingly flat nose. Her skin was a healthy tanned bronze, matching the tawny hair she wore long and wavy.
“Hello,” he replied. Already his voice was strained as his stomach muscles tightened, holding his abdomen taut, the way it used to be only a few years back. “Are you looking for someone?”
“Not really, I’m just looking around.”
“Ah, well, um, the main action is up there at the front. Not that there’s a lot of action. Apart from the kids’ football game. Ha!”
“Right.” She came right up in front of him, still smiling. Everyone else up here was dressed for the cold, but she seemed comfortable in a white short-sleeved T-shirt and a suede skirt that stopped above her knees; there was a small silver M logo just above the skirt’s hem. The outfit showed off broad shoulders and a gym-junkie belly. Her cowboy boots had flat heels, even so her eyes were level with Mark’s. She put her hand out. “I’m Mel.”
“Mark.” He tried not to read too much into the physical contact. She was a lot more confident and sophisticated than most of the young first-lifers in Randtown.
“So did you come all this way just to see the football?” she asked.
He blushed at the teasing tone, the way her intent stare never left his face, the proximity—he still hadn’t let go of her hand. “Oh, God, no. I’m here to support Simon Rand. And the rest of the town.”
“I see.” She gently removed her hand from his. “Do most of the town support this blockade?”
“Yeah absolutely. It’s an outrage what they’re trying to do to us. They’ve got to be stopped.”
“Stopped from building a wormhole detector station?”
“That’s right. And we’re going to do it. Our ideal will only be safe if we act together.”
Her lovely face crinkled slightly with a frown. “I’ve not been here long, but I can see how the simple life attracts people. What exactly is that ideal, would you say?”
“Just that, we’re devoted to living a simple, clean, green life.”
“But surely the navy won’t destroy that? The station is due to be sited kilometers out of town, up in the mountains where it can’t affect anybody. And the Commonwealth really needs to know if the Primes open a wormhole inside our boundaries.”
“It’s the principle of what they’re doing. The station has nuclear power systems, which is the absolute opposite of everything we believe in. And they didn’t ask us about this, they just barged onto the highway and set out to build their station without our permission.”
“Did they need permission?”
“Sure they did. The whole Dau’sings range is included in the Foundation charter, and nuclear power is specifically excluded from it.”
“I understand that, but the navy really needs a series of wormhole detector stations on the southern continent to give the whole network complete coverage. Surely if you oppose that then you’re taking an antihuman stance.”
“If this is being antihuman, then bring it on and give me more,” he said with bravado, which earned him an encouraging smile. “It’s not, of course; the decision to site the station in the Dau’sings was taken by a bunch of bureaucrats sticking a pin in a map. They didn’t care about the wishes and beliefs of the people who live here; they probably didn’t even bother to find out any of our customs. All we’re doing with this blockade is making them take our requirements into account. Apparently, they’re already starting negotiations about other power sources.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Well, that’s unofficial. But, yeah.”
“Won’t that cost more?”
“The navy budget is so big nobody will ever notice it. In any case, they’re supposed to be protecting our way of life. That’s worth paying a little bit extra for, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is.”
“So, er, how long have you been in town? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“I only just got here.”
“Well, if you want to stick around and try some extreme sports, I know a few places that have vacancies.”
“That’s very sweet, Mark, but I can pay my own way, thank you.”
“Right, uh, fine.” He suddenly remembered he was supposed to be collecting lunch for his family. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around then.”
Her lips pouted up. “I’ll look forward to it.”
That evening, they managed to leave Barry and Sandy sleeping over with the Baxter kids in Highmarsh so they could spend an evening in town. They started off at the Phoenix bar on Litton Street, which ran parallel to Main Mall. Like every building in Randtown it was newish, with a solar panel roof and insulated composite walls. But inside, the owners had built up stone walls to mask the carbon girder framework, and then gone on to lay heavy ash beams above to support a wooden ceiling, making the long rectangular room dark and cozy. The bar itself took up most of one wall, serving a few beers along with every type of wine produced in the valleys behind Randtown, including some from the Vernons’ own vineyard. A fireplace dominated the far end, wide enough to require two chimneys; the iron grate could hold enormous lengths of wood to burn in the winter months, giving off tremendous heat. Now, in summer, it was filled with a long ceramic trough of fresh-cut flowers. Several settees were arranged in front of it, which Liz and Mark claimed along with Yuri and Olga Conant. Normally the settees were already occupied this early in the evening, but the blockade had thinned out the bar’s usual crowd.