A Season for Slaughter

Chapter 54 Stingflies

Halfway to Japura and the sun was high overhead. The stingflies buzzed around me so thick, I had to wear a plastic hood and air filter.

There was no escape.

I stood alone on the skydeck on top of the vessel; not because I wanted to admire the sky or warm myself in the sun, but because I wanted to be alone.

I leaned on the railing and stared out at the dying Amazon. I could still hear the screaming in my head. It wouldn't stop.

I had made the worst mistake of my life, and the evidence was strewn across several hundred square kilometers of jungle.

It wasn't the dead worms that bothered me-it was the mistake. I had embarrassed myself. No problem there. I was used to it. But I had also embarrassed the general, who had stood behind me. And that was intolerable.

The Mode Training hadn't prepared me for this. I felt alone and miserable and totally without worth. I'd gotten overconfident. I'd made decisions without thinking about them long enough or hard enough. I hadn't considered all the consequences. I hadn't thought of all the possibilities. I'd just demonstrated to every person aboard this airship and every person with access to the worldwide network-and that meant just about everybody in the world-that the world's foremost expert on worms was a blind, bullheaded idiot.

The consequences of my reckless experiment had probably not inspired much confidence in the future of this operation.

There had been an anonymous note in my mailbox this morning. "Too bad the government suspended the payment of bounties for this mission. You would have bankrupted the Federal Reserve."

Ha. Ha.

Only Dwan Grodin had said anything worthwhile. After it was over, after we were sailing safely into the darkness again, she had come up to me and said, "Y-you know, Sh-shim. Th-this m-might b-be useful as a w-weapon. W-we m-might be able to c-confuse th-the w-worms w-with th-their own s-songs."

An interesting thought, that.

I wondered if we could somehow suggest that had been the plan all along.

Probably not. The Brazilians were already mad enough as it was. Through our careless disregard for consequences-according to the most vocal of the right-wing politicos in Brasffia-we had destroyed a major Brazilian resource, the developing Chtorran agricultural industry. That was a nightmare statement in itself.

Anybody who thought that Chtorrans could be farmed… well, they were welcome to parachute down into the center of a mandala. I wouldn't stop them.

My headset beeped. "Yeah?"

Corrigan. "General Tirelli's respects. We're ready to begin."

"Thank you," I replied. "I'll be down shortly."

I turned around and took one last look at the endless expanse of skydeck. The top of the Bosch was a vast pink parking lot in the sky. You could land airplanes here. You could play three side-by-side football games and still have room for a dozen baseball games as well. You could build a neighborhood on top of this airship.

Best of all, you couldn't see beyond it. You could almost forget the dying Earth below. Except for the ever-present haze of tiny gnat-like stingflies, we could have been sailing through the crisp blue sea of memory. But the damn bugs were everywhere up here. I brushed them off the plastic front of my hood, I waved them away from my face. I had nightmares of them flying up my nose or into my ears.

I shuddered and headed for the elevator down. I had to pass through detox too-where jets of air and decontaminant blew into oblivion any stingflies that still clung to me. I shrugged out of my hood and protective coveralls and headed forward.

The debriefing, analysis, inquest, call it what you will, was held in the Bosch's main conference room, a large meeting space surrounded by immense display screens. Two meters into the room and I knew how deep it was going to get. Dr. Shreiber was sitting on the left side of the table. Uh-oh.

General Tirelli caught the look on my face, but merely nodded me toward a seat. She looked unhappy. Worse, she looked grim. We hadn't spoken much. We hadn't had much chance to. I really wanted to know what she was thinking. Corrigan handed me a printed agenda and I buried my attention in it, grateful for something to look at so I wouldn't have to talk to anybody. I needn't have worried. Nobody wanted to talk to me. They were probably afraid it might rub off.

Dwan Grodin scuffed in, followed by Clayton Johns and a couple of other techs. I noticed the Brazilians muttering among themselves. Drs. Amador, Rodriguez, and Hikaru-privately, I'd begun thinking of them as Larry, Moe, and Curly-looked absolutely mutinous. And with good reason. They should have been consulted, not just informed. A major breach of protocol. This wasn't going to go well.

Lieutenant Siegel and Sergeant Lopez, both wearing plain jumpsuits instead of their regular uniforms, slipped in silently and took seats at the back. There were maybe twenty people in the room. I had no idea how many more were listening over the network. Dr. Zymph for sure, Uncle Ira and Danny Anderson as well. Probably General Wainright. Dannenfelser. Bellus? Oh hell, just assume the whole network is tuned in.

Captain Harbaugh came in last, sealing the door behind her. "Sorry to be late," she said. "Our flight engineer insisted on briefing me about helium replenishment. I think he's the only person here who outranks us all." She smiled gently to General Tirelli. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

Lizard went to the podium at the front of the room. She looked off above our heads for a moment as if composing herself. She looked down at the podium as if checking her agenda. She glanced up at me, her face unreadable, then looked to the room as a whole.

"I've been thinking," she said. "Not just about what happened last night. But about this mission. What we're really up to here. And before we do anything else, I want to share those thoughts with you." She took a drink of water. I remembered the beautiful crystal goblets of our wedding dinner and the way the condensation had beaded in icy droplets. That was already such a long, long time ago.

"Most of us in this room," Lizard said, "are old enough to remember what it was like before the Chtorrans came. But we've been living with the Chtorr for so long now that we're starting to forget. We're starting to act as if the Chtorr have always been here. We're starting to forget what we've lost, what we're still going to lose. For my part… I'm willing to lose anything, but my will to resist. I am here because I want to find a way to stop the Chtorr. I want to defeat them. I want them off this planet." She took a deep breath. "I don't know if that's possible anymore, but that's what I want.

"There are scientists-some of them are in this room, many of them are watching and listening on the network-who believe that it is impossible to get the Chtorr off the Earth, that the best we are ever going to be able to accomplish is some kind of accommodation. Personally, I hate that thought. Professionally, I recognize that it may be much more realistic than all-out warfare."

Now she looked around the room carefully, specifically noticing the Brazilian contingent. "In the past year, serious discussions have begun about ways to live with the Chtorr or to accommodate the human species to a Chtorran-dominated ecology. Some people view this as realistic policy planning. Others think it leads to a defeatist mentality. Myself-I see the truth of both sides of the argument. Those of us in positions of responsibility have to make decisions based on the best advice available to us. Believe me, these are heartbreaking decisions." She leaned forward across the podium. Her voice was intense. "Our resources are running out. We only get one chance to invest in our own future.

"War?" she asked. "Or accommodation. That's the debate.

"In the discussions about accommodation," Lizard continued, "we are beginning to hear two separate philosophies, and a host of variations. One position-and it is the position that our Brazilian hosts have adopted as a matter of national policy-is to let pockets of the Chtorran infestation develop unmolested. The rationale behind this is that once a pocket of infestation becomes stabilized, its further growth can be limited by natural and lethetic boundaries. The ultimate goal of the Brazilian experiment is the development of a Chtorran-based economy; one that exploits Chtorran plants and animals for human benefit.

"As attractive as this idea may seem at first hearing, there are a great many questions that need to be answered first, not the least of which is this: are there any Chtorran products of such utility to human beings that the value outweighs the environmental cost? Equally important, we have not seen any evidence that the Chtorran ecology has a threshold of stabilization; it may be that a mandala nest must be the size of Ohio before it starts to slow down appreciably. We just don't know. We do know that the seemingly unchecked ferocity of many of the feral Chtorran species is definitely muted when they are integrated into the complex society of the mandala environment-and so, yes, there is same validity in the argument to let the mandalas exist, but under severe controls. What kind of controls might be applied is a whole other discussion, which I'm not going to get into here.

"There's a second opinion about accommodation with the Chtorr. And this one is shared by a number of scientists not directly involved in the Brazilian experiment. In this second scenario, each mandala represents a significant reservoir of infestation; so much so, that the potential threat that each one presents to us for spawning additional mandalas far outweighs any benefit conveyed by any civilizing effect that they may have on the Chtorran species operating out of the nests.

"In this scenario for accommodation," Lizard said grimly, our best hope will be to invest heavily in the construction of new robot-assembly plants, and put the cyber-animals on the front lines of the battle. The idea-please, let me finish-" Lizard said to Dr. Hikaru, who was rising angrily to his feet. "You'll get your chance to speak, I promise you." He sat down grumpily, and she rebooted her thought. "In this scenario, our attention would be focused on destroying mandala settlements as fast as we can identify them. By keeping the mandalas from establishing themselves, we think we should be able to prevent the Chtorran infestation from reaching a critical threshold long enough to discover the biological weapons we need to directly attack their ecology. The cyber-animals-the prowlers, the spiders, and all the others-functioning as semündependent entities, would patrol their individual territories ruthlessly and relentlessly. In this way, a single human operator can have his effectiveness multiplied a thousandfold. We've already had some success with this technique in northern Mexico, Colorado-especially around Denver, and in Alaska. We expect to see additional progress next year, when the Atlanta and Orlando plants come on-line and begin producing. Those will be big. At the present rate of construction, we should be able to bring two new assembly plants on-line every six months for the next three years. We hope it will be enough." She took a breath. She allowed herself a sip of water. She referred to her notes. And then she went on.

"This hemisphere represents a test bed for both philosophies," Lizard continued. "The South American continent is experimenting with the first course of action; the North American continent is pursuing the second. It's just a matter of time until we find out which is the right course of action. The problem is… either way, it's going to cost us a continent." She let that thought sink in. She shook her head, as if remarking to herself that it was an mnsatisfactory situation. One side or the other of this argument was going to pay a terrible price. It was obvious that she was holding herself back. It was equally obvious which side she felt was mistaken in this argument. I glanced over at the Brazilians. They were whispering angrily among themselves.

Lizard ignored them. She stopped to take a drink of water. "Now let's talk about the events of last night. Oh, one other thing first-" She indicated Dr. Shreiber. "At the request of Dr. Zymph, I have suspended yesterday's decision to relieve Dr. Marietta Shreiber of her responsibilities." Dr. Shreiber looked smug. Lizard looked unhappy. It must have been one hell of an argument. I couldn't imagine what Lizard and Dr. Zymph must have said to each other. Lizard represented the military arm, Dr. Zymph was the head of the scientific effort. Neither could have pulled rank on the other.

Uncle Ira must have made the decision. Right. So that explained that.

He probably sympathized with Lizard, more than she knewbut he was willing to let Dr. Shreiber have the appearance of a temporary reprieve. Which also meant that her career was probably going to mysteriously self-destruct very shortly after this mission concluded. Uncle Ira was good at removing obstacles. I remembered a conference in Denver so many years ago and how he'd handled some of the more obstreperous delegates there. There were political considerations. There were always political considerations. Uncle Ira had his own way of dealing with those considerations. He always let the other side think they had won.

Lizard was saying, "Dr. Shreiber is here on-site. She is qualified. Our enemy is the Chtorr. It would be a mistake to deprive ourselves of her talents and contributions. Dr. Shreiber has assured me that we will have no more unprofessional disagreements and that she is prepared to concentrate on the job at hand. With that assurance, I agree with Dr. Zymph that Dr. Shreiber's services are too valuable to waste." Nice. I liked the way Lizard slid that one in. It was obvious that General Tirelli had been ordered to do something that she didn't want to do, but the spin she put on it put all the muck back on Dr. Shreiber's end of the stick. I wished I'd had a camera to catch Dr. Shreiber's expression. Her smile was frozen so coldly on her face that it looked like her makeup had suddenly hardened.

"All right-now let's look at the pictures." She tapped the podium keyboard, and the big screens on either side of her lit up to display the overhead views of last night's gathering in the Coari mandala. As new images appeared, the older views moved sideways to the next screen, until shortly we were surrounded by images of the mandala we had destroyed.

"These first images were gathered by spybirds, without apparent disturbance to the nest. But here, in these later images, you can clearly see that even our silent presence in the Chtorran sky totally disrupted the life of the settlement. The gastropedes swarmed. Whatever biological imperatives were operative, they were unable to resist. They had to track with us. They followed us to the center of the mandala and gathered there.

"It's our belief that the effect of our appearance was so overwhelming that just about every gastropede that was able to get to the arena did so. The final count was over three hundred thousand specimens. In terms of sheer biomass, the Coari mandala is-was-a city the size of San Francisco.

"Here, you can see-even before we did anything-the crowding into the arena was already fairly ferocious. I'm not going to play back the singing that accompanied this gathering. I think everybody here is more than familiar enough with the unnerving effect it produces in its listeners. I just want to establish that the potential for violence was not only there before we did anything, but-if you'll look at these close-ups-you'll see that it was already expressing itself in isolated pockets. Here, here, and… yes, here."

Lizard referred to her notes, blinking thoughtfully as she scanned the screen of her clipboard. "The point I want to make…" She found her place. "… is that the potential for violent behavior was already present and already expressing itself from the first moment that this airship appeared over the mandala." She looked up, gazing directly across the room at the Brazilians. "The mandate of this mission was that this airship should do absolutely nothing to disturb the nest. That was mutually agreed upon by our respective governments, and everybody aboard this airship was thoroughly briefed as to the importance of following that guideline."

Dr. Hikaru looked like he wanted to leap to his feet again, but he stayed firmly in his seat. Drs. Amador and Rodriguez looked equally angry; their faces were very tight.

"Yes," Lizard admitted. "I know it looks like that agreement was broken last night. I apologize-publicly and sincerely-for anything that might have created that impression. There was no intention to cut our Brazilian colleagues out of the loop. Decisions had to be made, they had to be made quickly. As a result, Drs. Amador, Rodriguez, and Hikaru were not consulted as fully as they should have been. They were informed of decisions already in the works after those decisions were made. This is a breach of protocol for which I accept full responsibility. However…"

I knew that tone. Lizard was conceding a breach of protocol only. She was not conceding anything else, least of all an error in judgment. She was protecting herself as well as me. I leaned back in my chair and relaxed, folding my hands loosely across my stomach.

"… However," she continued, "I fully endorse the actions that were taken. They were appropriate to the circumstances. And after we hear from Dr. Hikaru, I will explain why. Dr. Hikaru?"

Now he stood. "General Tirelli," he began in thickly accented English. "For two years, I have campaigned among my people, my government, and my colleagues for this mission. For two years, I have argued the case for the kind of detailed on-site inspection that only this mission could provide. During that two years, many objections were voiced and considered. There were warnings. There were dire predictions that precisely this sort of thing would happen-that the United States would use this mission as a cover operation for a massive attack on the mandala nests. Nevertheless, I put my career on the line for you and your mission, General Tirelli, because I believed in you. I was wrong.

"You," he accused, "have betrayed a trust. You have embarrassed me in front of the entire world."

He stood there, surrounded by glowing screens displaying the thousands and thousands of awestruck gastropedes of the Coari mandala. Their eyes blinked and focused. Their arms waved. Their red fur glowed brilliantly in the enhanced images. Dr. Hikaru stood framed by his constituency.

"On behalf of myself and my colleagues," he said "and on behalf of the Brazilian government, I refuse to accept your apology. It is halfhearted at best, and it does not address the real issue here. I am speaking primarily of your failure to recognize the rights of the host government and in specific, the total domination of this allegedly international mission by the United States government. The events of last night prove that all the warnings and all the dire predictions of the most cynical pessimists were absolutely correct."

Lizard listened to him calmly. She displayed no emotion whatsoever. Her face was as carefully blank as if she were playing poker. Well, she was. I looked back to Dr. Hikaru.

"After much discussion with my colleagues, I am afraid that we must withdraw our support from this operation effective immediately. We resign from your team." He gathered up his notebook and started for the door, followed by Drs. Amador and Rodriguez, and their assistants.

"Dr. Hikaru," General Tirelli said quietly.

He ignored her. He continued angrily toward the door. It refused to open for him.

"Dr. Hikaru," she repeated.

He turned around to face her. His face was red. "Open the door," he demanded.

"Now it's my turn," she said. She touched a button on the podium. "The network has been disconnected. We are now off the record. Now that you have performed the mandatory dance of outraged national pride for your home constituency, there is still work to be done on this mission. Your contributions, as well as those of your colleagues, are still needed. May we depend on you to-"

"Our resignations," he interrupted, "are final. We shall do nothing that supports the nefarious goals of this operation. Open the door." He glared at her. "Or are we to be your prisoners?"

"It's your choice," she said. She met his furious glare with incredible grace. "I do not have flyers available to take you and your team back to Rio. I still haven't found yesterday's missing pilot, and her safety outweighs yours. This leaves you with two choices. We can let you off here, if you wish-" She tapped her keyboard, and a map of here appeared behind her. Here was literally a thousand miles from anywhere. "-or I will have you and your colleagues confined to your cabins for the duration of this voyage, without access to any of the usual tools of communication. This is to protect the rest of us against any misguided attempts to sabotage the rest of this operation. By the way, you'll find that certain items are missing from your cabins. Specifically, your toothpaste, your shaving cream, the batteries from your portables… and the detonator buttons."

Dr. Hikaru was outraged. He looked like he wanted to attack her. For the first time I noticed that the aides standing on either side of the doors weren't aides at all. They were members of Lieutenant Siegel's team, dressed as aides and technicians. Once again, I was impressed with the woman I married.

"I shall file a most vigorous protest at this invasion of personal privacy," Hikaru said darkly.

"I'd be disappointed in you if you didn't. As a matter of fact, the appropriate paperwork has already been delivered to your cabin. I've taken the liberty of even suggesting a rough outline for you to follow, so you don't leave out any of the good parts. In the meantime, my government is filing a most strenuous protest with your government about the instruments of espionage that you brought aboard this airship."

Dr. Hikaru did something strange then. As angry as he was, he bowed respectfully to General Tirelli. "I curse you," he said with quiet venom. "I curse your blindness. You don't understand what is happening here, so you try to destroy it. I curse you for it today. History will curse you for it forever."

General Tirelli stood her ground rigidly. "No, Dr. Hikaru," she said. "I reject your curse. It's you-and the people who think like you-who have lost your vision. Look around at the rest of the people in this room. We haven't forgotten who the enemy is. We haven't forgotten who killed five and a half billion human beings in six years. So you can take your self-righteous pretense of spiritual superiority and go straight to hell." She nodded to Lieutenant Siegel. "Get them out of here before I lose my lunch." A cordon of "aides" and "technicians" immediately formed around the Brazilian contingent. Sergeant Lopez led the way, Lieutenant Siegel brought up the rear. He was grinning broadly. He was loving every minute of it.

After the door whooshed shut behind them, Lizard glanced around the rest of the room. She tapped the keyboard on the podium and we were live on the network again. "God, I hate this shit," Lizard remarked candidly into an open mike, for the entire world to hear. "I just hate it. When a nest of mindless slugs becomes more important than human lives, there's something wrong somewhere. They told me that Dr. Hikaru was a brilliant man. Brilliant he may be, but…" She shook her head in sadness and resignation. "… oh, so goddamn stupid."