Engineman by Eric Brown Page B

through the 'face with a deafening roar of engines. Ella recognised tanks and personnel carriers, nuclear rocket launchers like long tankers and fliers lashed to the flat-beds of low-loaders - but there were other vehicles, bulbous pantechnicons and things that looked like helicopters without rotor-blades, the function of which she could only guess at.
    She recalled Hennessy's Reach from the days in her teens. It had been a quiet, backwater world on which nothing ever seemed to happen. She remembered that her father had considered his posting there as a demotion, which might have been a contributory factor to his moods at the time. Now she wondered what had happened, in the ten years she had been away, to account for the military build-up.
    She stared through the interface. In the fifteen minutes since the 'face had opened, the sun had set fractionally. Sunrise and sunset lasted for five hours on the Reach, with correspondingly long days and nights - approximately fourteen standard hours each. The sunset phase had been Ella's favourite time of day, warm and balmy. She'd spent long evenings swimming in the sun-warmed lagoons of the Falls with her friend L'Endo-kharriat.
    The bitterness provoked by these memories was stopped short when the military courier called, "Everyone for Hennessy's Reach..."
    She shouldered her bag and crossed the lounge to the desk, standing in line behind the military officer. When it was his turn to be processed, the official at the desk gave his card a cursory scan and saluted. "Pleasant trip, Major."
    He was not so swift in dealing with Ella.
    He examined her card, then slipped it into a computer scanner. He read the information revealed on the screen, frequently glancing at Ella. She pulled the lapels of her jacket together, conscious of her silversuit beneath.
    "I take it that 'Fernandez' is an assumed surname?" he asked.
    "Right."
    "And that you're a Disciple."
    What good would come from denying it? "Right again."
    The official tapped at his keyboard, entering the information. "Your profession?"
    Her details were on the identity card. He was trying to intimidate her with his authority.
    "I'm an artist," she answered evenly.
    "And why are you visiting the Reach, Ms Fernandez?"
    "Pleasure. I'm visiting my father."
    "His name and address?"
    Ella gave him the information.
    The official entered the details, then waited. Ella guessed he was cross-referencing the name of her father with a list of the planet's citizens. He read something on the screen, then looked at Ella.
    "One minute."
    He opened a swing door behind his desk and stepped out. Ella watched him cross to where the uniformed courier was waiting by the exit. They exchanged a hurried, whispered conversation, the courier allowing his gaze to remain fixed on her.
    The official returned. "How long do you intend to stay on the Reach, Ms Fernandez?"
    Ella shrugged. "Maybe a week or two."
    "Where will you be staying?"
    "At first in a hotel in Zambique City, then perhaps with my father-"
    The official interrupted, "Much of the city is out-of-bounds to off-world travellers, and the country north of the twentieth parallel is off-limits to all non-Reach citizens."
    "Why?" Ella asked. "What's happening?"
    The official smiled. "Civil unrest in Zambique province," he said. "Oh, and by the way, a curfew is operating on the Reach. Eight till eight, and the patrols have shoot-on-sight orders. If I were you I'd be very careful." He returned Ella's identity card. "I hope you find inspiration for your art on the Reach," he said with barely concealed sarcasm.
    Ella plucked her card from his fingers. "Merci, Monsieur. I'm sure I will."
    She crossed to where the courier was waiting with the other five travellers. She was aware that she had undergone a more than usually rigorous grilling.
    Civil unrest in Zambique province? Somehow she found that hard to believe. And since when had it taken nuclear rocket launchers to quell civil unrest?
    The coach ferried them