Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

'So what do you make of it?'

'I'm damned if I know. These lizardbrain detectors are notoriously deceptive. On face value, it looks like either a very big vessel or a mass of people with synced SGs.'

'It's moving very slowly.'

'That's what's making me lean toward the mass of people.'

'Like an army?'

'I didn't say that.'

Reave and the Minstrel Boy stood in front of the hemispheric 3D screen, staring intently at a small trailing blip of green light at the bottom left of the transparent bowl. Behind them, Parshew-a-Thar and a good part of his holy court looked on anxiously. The Minstrel Boy glanced back. That bunch became incredibly anxious when confronted by anything from the outside world. He could only assume that they were terrified that something would come along to rupture their elaborate fantasy. There was no missing just how elaborate their fantasy had become over the centuries. There were at least two dozen of the religious hierarchy crowded behind their beloved Master. Their costumes were little short of outrageous. Dass-el-Hame was among the most conservative in his white and gold. There were two who looked like ancient Aztecs in brilliantly multicolored robes made from hundreds of tiny iridescent bird feathers and plumed headdresses so tall that the wearers had to lower thdr heads to clear the ceiling of the communications center.

The communications center was another part of the fantasy. It was a cool, austere underground bunker that looked more liice a burial chamber than a vital link with the outside world. Its equipment was faced in ivory Bakelite with very few visible controls. It relied almost totally on prox panels that were activated by passes of the hands, which gave the normal working of the place a quasi-magical air. Even the screen in front of them was an oversized approximation of the traditional crystal ball. The Minstrel Boy hated the whole setup. He felt that only those who were spiritually insecure in the extreme needed to cloak honest hardware with mysticism.

In addition to Palanaque's religious hierarchy, Showcross Gee and three other metaphysicians also waited and watched. They looked almost as concerned as the Palanaquii, and their anxiety was a little more understandable. Having had one city shot out from underneath them already, it was hard for them to maintain the face of tranquillity when an unidentified something appeared in the nothings.

'So what is your considered opinion?'

Reave and the Minstrel Boy turned and faced Showcross Gee. 'It's not much to go on.'

'But you must have some ideas as to the nature of this object.'

'We have a couple of guesses, nothing more.'

'So tell us your guesses.'

The Minstrel Boy looked to Reave to do the talking, but Reave deferred to him. 'You're the one who knows all about this shit.'

The Minstrel Boy took a deep breath and faced the preposterous gathering. 'The way that we see it, it's most likely a mass of people, all with synced individual stasis generators, either moving on foot or riding lizards.'

Parshew-a-Thar's voice practically squeaked with anxiety. 'Isn't that the way the raiders travel?'

The Minstrel boy nodded. 'It is.'

'You think these are raiders?'

The Minstrel Boy shrugged. 'There's no way of telling. I tend to doubt it. We have to assume that the large force was destroyed when they blew up Krystaleit. It seems unlikely that another force could assemble so quickly.'

That did not do much to allay their fears.

'But it could be a raiding force?'

'Anything's possible.'

'What can we do if it is a raiding force?'

'Off the cuff, I'd say that we were screwed.'

The beloved Master looked as though he were going to explode. As a demigod, he was not accustomed to the MinstrelBoy's direct approach. He was aflutter with bird gesture; 'What did you say?'

There were angry murmurings among the courtiers.

The Minstrel Boy raised his hands. 'Let's all calm down a minute. All that's happened so far is that we've spotted an object in the nothings. For all we know it's a party of harmless refugees.'

Parshew-a-Thar was petulant. 'There is no room here for refugees.'

'That's hardly the point.'

'What is the point?'

The Minstrel Boy was becoming a little impatient with the beloved Master's falsetto voice and patent stupidity. 'I think that the point is that you need to stop panicking and make some preparations to deal with the arrival of this object, whatever it might be.'

Showcross Gee attempted to restore some measure of reason into the meeting. 'Do you have any specific suggestions?'

The Minstrel Boy glanced at Reave, who took over.

'The obvious first move is to put your military on some sort of limited alert. I assume that you have a functioning militaiy over and above the ceremonial guard.'

Parshew-a-Thar was taking serious exception to the manners of the outsiders. His baby face was a mottled purple, and he seemed to be having difficulty restraining a temper tantrum. 'Of course we have a military. I will relay your suggestion to General Zeum.'

'They'll have to be armed with something a bit more substantial than oversized pool cues.'

Parshew-a-Thar glared venomously at Reave and the Minstrel Boy. 'Since you seem to have such little confidence in our capability to defend ourselves, I see that I will have to arrange a demonstration for you and your companions. I will order General Zeum to parade the entire Grand Army at high noon tomorrow in full battle array.' He turned to a nearby courtier. 'You will implement that immediately.' The courtier produced a scriber and tablet. He made a quick note and then hurried from the communications center. Parshew-a-Thar glanced back to Reave. 'Is there anything else?'

'Nothing else we can do except keep monitoring the progress of whatever this thing is.'

The beloved Master made a dismissive gesture. 'In that case, this audience is at an end.'

He waved for his nefrites. As he was borne away in his litter, Reave muttered under his breath, 'Yeah, it's been real.'

The following high noon found the seven out in the bright sun, on the flat, glaring white roof of one of the twin gate towers. They were dressed in their freshly cleaned travel clothes, and their weapons were held in plain sight. Even Lister Stent had made some effort for the martial occasion: All through the night a half dozen house girls had climbed all over him, sanding and polishing his ancient armor to the point where he gleamed in the sun. The seven were accompanied by Dass-el-Hame and a number of his aides. Showcross Gee and the other three metaphysicians who had been present in the communications center were there, too. They seemed to constitute the committee that dealt with the outside world while the other twenty-three were holed up in the Great Pyramid doing their mysterious research work. General Zeum was also on the roof. It was hard to gauge the metal men's response, but the remainder of the seven took an instant and open dislike to the general. General Zeum was a tall, smugly good-looking man decked out in a white tunic and cloak and gold Romanesque body armor. He appeared to be so fundamentally pleased with himself that he was totally impervious to outside suggestion. His response to all comment was to flash his perfect teeth in a slightly patronizing smile and assure whoever had spoken that they had nothing to worry about.

A wide, straight palm-lined boulevard led from the city gates directly to the base of the Great Pyramid. The Grand Army had been assembled at the foot of the pyramid. From there, they would march in formations down the boulevard, out of the gates, and on to the flatlands beside the river, where they would perform simulated combat maneuvers. The term 'Grand Army' was an unashamed exaggeration, considering that the force was little more than a thousand strong, although it did seem perfectly in keeping with what the seven had observed of the characters of General Zeum and the beloved Master.

A braying fanfare of trumpets and a thunder of kettledrums announced the opening of the show. The Grand Army started down the boulevard in half-time lockstep. The crowds that thronged both sides of the route had brought flags, bells, and noisemakers, almost certainly left over from the Cha'a festivities, and they made an atonal counterpoint to the slow crash of drums. As the ranks of white tunics came closer to the gates, looks of complete disbelief came over the faces of the seven. Billy, Reave, and Renatta hurried to where Zeum was standing, looking proudly down at his men. Reave faced him angrily.

'What the hell is going on?'

Zeum regarded him calmly. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

Reave pointed down at the marching men. 'That's what I'm talking about. These men are supposed to be in combat trim.'

Zeum looked blank. 'They are.'

'You're crazy.'

'Please don't take that tone with me.'

Renatta was right behind Reave. 'These men aren't fitted out for combat.'

Zeum's impeccable manners were wilting a little. 'Indeed they are, young woman. They have been issued spear blades, and they carry short swords and aluminum shields. They are more than ready for combat.'

Renatta was even more outraged than Reave. 'Have you ever seen combat?'

'Of course not. This is a peaceful settlement with deep roots in its religion.'

'Well, we've seen too damn much combat, and let me tell you that this so-called Grand Army won't stand a rat's chance if that blip turns out to be a party of raiders.'

At that moment Dass-el-Hame joined the arguing group. He was quickly followed by Showcross Gee.

'What seems to be the problem here?'

Again Reave pointed to the ranks of men who were marching out under the archway and through the open gates of the city.

'It's this army of yours that's the problem. They might be okay if you were having a war with the Trojans, but if raiders do come out of the nothings, they're going to be up against projectile guns and heat rays. They're going to be creamed in the first couple of minutes.'

'I believe it was the Minstrel Boy who said it was highly unlikely that there were raiders in the nothings.'

Reave scowled.'I hate to see a whole city pinning its survival on what the Minstrel Boy thinks is likely or unlikely. What harm would it do to forget all this ancient bullshit and go to Stuff Central for some real weapons? Then, if there is trouble, at least you'll stand a fighting chance,'

Dass-el-Hame stiffened and shook his head.'That's quite out of the question. It would go against our most deeply implanted principles.'

'Principles can get kind of irrelevant when the vultures are picking out your eyes.'

Dass-el-Hame paled a little. Even then, though, he was not about to give ground.

'In the unlikely event that we were willing to do such a thing and the beloved Master gave his consent, I seriously doubt that it would be possible. There have always been the most basic blocks built into our stuff receivers to prevent the creation of such material. I don't think that they'd even accommodate the templates for advanced weapons. The Founding Master was quite obsessive about these things, and the prohibition on weapons is built into the very fabric of the settlement. It might well take weeks to reprogram the stuff cages.'

Reave sighed. 'Then we're just going to have to hope that that thing in the nothings is just a column of refugees.'

He turned and walked slowly to the edge of the gate tower. Out on the flat grasslands, the Grand Army had formed itself into fighting phalanxes. Spears with bright polished tips bristled through the shield wall as two of the solid squares advanced on each other, executing a perfectly rehearsed textbook maneuver. It was a grand but completely irrelevant spectacle.

'Yeah, they'd be great against a bunch of Trojans.'

'Aren't you being a little hard on these people?'

Showcross Gee had come up behind him. Reave eyed him coldly.

'And?'

'The introduction of advanced weapons could have a disastrous effect on these people's social structure.'

'So would fifty heavily armed raiders.'

'It's hardly likely, though, is it?'

'I don't know what's likely, just what's possible.'

'Would you like to see a man like Zeum in charge of a really effective fighting force?'

'It's hardly my problem.'

'It might become your problem.'

Reave raised an eyebrow. 'What exactly are you trying to say to me?'

'If the Palanaquii had advanced weapons, they might decide that they were in a position to expel us from the settlement. It's very important right now that we remain where we are.'

'Operating according to strict self-interest, are we?'

'Our work is very near its completion. We must not be interrupted at this point.'

'Did you stop for a moment and consider what it might mean if that really is a party of raiders coming in from the nothings?'

Showcross Gee stroked his chin. He seemed to be weighing Reave's loyalty before he answered. He glanced around to make sure that they were not being overheard.

'We have discussed this. We estimate that in the event of an attack, we could seal ourselves in the Great Pyramid. It could withstand a lengthy siege.'

'And the Palanaquii can go hang?'

Out on the flatlands the Grand Army of Palanaique had formed itself into four spear squares of equal sizes. They were circling each other in a stately martial gavotte. Showcross Gee watched them for almost a minute before he turned to face Reave.

'The work in which we are engaged is infinitely more important than the survival or otherwise of this odd little settlement.'

Reave nodded. 'Just so long as we understand each other.'

Showcross Gee's eyes met Reave's. 'I think we've always understood each other.'

'Perhaps you 'd like to give me an idea what this work of yours is all about.'

Showcross Gee shook his head. 'Even if I did, you wouldn't understand me.'

'You could try me.'

'I don't think so.'

Reave considered slugging the metaphysician. Showcross Gee's superior certainty had become something more than a simple irritant. He was starting to ball his fist when Jet Ace suddenly provided a face-saving distraction by taking off in a roar of rocket exhaust. He climbed high and then swooped down in a steep power dive. He skimmed low over the heads of the Palanaquii hoplites and then pulled up and climbed again. He made a wide turn, then came in for a second pass. It had to be said in favor of the Grand Army that they did not falter in theface of the metal man's antics. They did not scatter and run but simply went on with what they were doing.

Showcross Gee looked at Reave. 'What does he think he's doing?'

Reave shrugged.'What can I tell you? He's crazy and getting crazier.'

'I don't understand how you can work so calmly with an individual who is so unstable.'

Reave grinned. 'I guess there are some things that you'll never understand, either.'

Showcross Gee scowled and said nothing.

Later that night there was a tense emergency meeting beside Dass-el-Hame's pool. The exotics and house girls had taken one look at the faces of the contract warriors and made themselves scarce. The games were on hold, and life was suddenly very serious. Billy, who seemed to have been shocked into normalcy by the spectacle of General Zeum's toy army, said it all in two sentences: 'This place is beyond weird. We got to get the hell out of here, right now.'

Renatta and the Minstrel Boy nodded as one.

'He's right. We should pull out before it gets any more bizarre. We all saw those clowns marching about this afternoon. If anything goes down here, we're on our own.'

Reave was not in quite such a hurry. 'We need to think about this.'

Blaisdell looked at him in surprise. 'What's there to think about? It's time to be moving on, and that's that. You can't argue about that, Reave.'

Reave walked over to the edge of the pool and looked down at the water. It glittered with reflections of foxfire, moonglo, and the flame insects. The fountain splashed, and behind him the wind chimes rang in the night breeze. The place seemed so peaceful that it was hard to conceive of it as maybe being on the edge of destruction.

'All I'm saying is that we need to think about it. This place might prove to be a haven. We've got no idea of what conditions might be like in the other realities.'

Billy was not buying it. 'We've got no idea what's coming out of the nothings.'

'We'd look pretty stupid if we lit out for some place a wholelot worse and the thing in the nothings turned out to be nothing more than a bunch of refugees.'

Blaisdell snorted. 'We'd look pretty stupid if it turned out to be a bunch of raiders, armed to the teeth and barking crazy, with only the seven of us to stand against them.'

The Minstrel Boy nodded. 'He's got a point there. My mother didn't raise no sitting duck.'

Up to that point Lister Stent had not spoken. He and Jet Ace had been standing on the sidelines while the others argued. Now he caught everyone's attention with a metallic clearing of his throat. 'I'm afraid that this whole conversation is quite academic.'

Everyone except Jet Ace looked at him in amazement.

'Say what?'

'We cannot leave Palanaque. We'd be in contractual breach.'

'So? Who's going to stop us?'

Stent raised a steel arm. The gesture was almost apologetic. 'Unfortunately I would.'

Reave raised an eyebrow. 'And what would you want to go and do that for?'

'I'd have no choice.'

Renatta was shaking her head. 'What are you talking about?'

Stent did his best to be calming. 'Perhaps I should explain something. I am a very powerful and dangerous weapon and virtually indestructible. Because of this, like all of my kind, I don't have the luxury of choice and emotion that is available to you unadapted humans. Because of my strength I have been conditioned from my birth and creation to absolute obedience to authority. It is reinforced by chemical blockers. If I disobey a legitimate order, I start to vomit. After that, I go into convulsions, and finally I die.'

Renatta did not look particularly concerned with Stent's problem. 'So you stay. We don't have no conditioning to keep us here.'

'I'm afraid it's not as simple as that. I have been ordered to stop any of you from deserting.'

Reave slowly let out his breath. 'And when was that order given?'

'Soon after we left Krystaleit.'

'So Showcross Gee screwed us.'

'He did indeed.'

Billy thrust his hands deep into his pockets. 'So what do we do now?'

Reave once again stared at the reflections on the surface of the pool. 'All we can do is wait and see what pops out of the nothings. Once we know what we're facing, we can make a decision.'

For the next five days Reave and the Minstrel Boy made regular trips to the communications center to monitor the blip on the detector screen. Although it was still moving very slowly, if the lizardbrain could be believed, it was definitely moving in their direction.

'Can you guess at an ETA on this thing?'

The Minstrel Boy did not look happy. 'It's real hard to tell, but I can't see whatever it is taking more than a week to get here.'

On the fifth day of monitoring the object in the nothings it became plain that even the Minstrel Boy's prediction of when the thing would make realityfall had been overcautious.

'There's no mistake now. The signals have been too consistent. We'll know all about this sucker in the next sixteen hours.'

'It'll be here?'

The Minstrel Boy nodded. The pale green glow of the screen in the otherwise darkened room cast sinister shadows across his face.

'It'll be here.'

Reave's voice was very quiet. 'Damn.'

The Minstrel Boy turned away from the bowl-shaped screen. The messengers were already on their way to inform the beloved Master and General Zeum.

'You worried?'

Reave shook his head. 'I don't know. Maybe we've been watching this thing for too long.'

'All we can do is wait and see.'

'That's the worst part.'

Reave looked around. The communications center looked even more like a tomb. Most of the staff members were standing in a group on the far side of the detector room watching the two of them nervously. They could easily have passed for mourners.

'So what do we do now? Hang around here and wait for whatever it is to arrive?'

'I don't see what else we can do. I'd like to be around when the thing hits. It's most probably a false alarm, but I figure we need as much time as we can get to start motivating.'

Reave did not seem particularly enthusiastic about waiting in the communication center for the object to arrive. 'Motivating?'

'Motivating our collective ass.'

'What about Stent?'

The Minstrel Boy pursed his lips. 'We're going to have to sneak past Stent.'

'We sure as hell can't go through him.'

'That's a fact.'

Reave slumped into a chair, resigned to the wait. 'Okay, so let it come.'

'It's going to. Don't worry about that.'

Palanaque had a single advantage. Its stasis field was shaped so that anyone or anything approaching it would be tunneled around and forced to enter only at a single point, the break in the mountains at the very end of the valley, the farthest point from the city. Although its passengers had not known it at the time, the R1009 had come in that way. The entry point was right beside the upland lake that was the source of what turned into a wide river by the time it flowed past the city and eventually ran out into the nothings over the spectacular waterfall at the lower end of the valley.

The instant General Zeum received the word, he was galvanized. His reaction might not have been inspired, but it was certainly swift. A detachment of 150 hoplites with spears and shields, attendant epsilons, a malfunctioning portable communicator, and supplies for two days were dispatched up the valley. The first leg of their journey was by gaily painted riverboat, the kind normally used to provide pleasure trips for the leisure caste. When they were close to the rapids below the lake, they would disembark and make the remainder of the journey on foot. Overall, the trip would take them some five hours. Once in place they would stand guard at the edge of the nothings and wait for whatever arrived. Reave and the Minstrel Boy had long since given up trying to advise Zeum, so they simply kept their own council and watched the screen.

The wait took on the feeling of a vigil. After a couple of hoursRenatta and Blaisdell arrived. They were both a little drunk, but they had brought an epsilon with them, carrying a basket containing food and a number of jugs of the raw local wine. They had their weapons with them, and they seemed to have come to stay for the duration. The epsilon had brought along Reave's pistols and the Minstrel Boy's knife belt and AK 5000 as well as SG portapacs.

'If the moment of truth's on its way, we ought to be ready for it,' Blaisdell explained.

Reave looked approvingly at the equipment and the wine. 'Good looking out. Where's Billy?'

'Oh, he's gone again. No one home there.'

'Fuck him, he's tailing back into his old ways.'

'He's picked a great time for it.'

'He always does. Where are the metal men?'

'They're out in the city someplace. They seemed to feel the need to move around.'

The Minstrel Boy broke the seal on the first jug of wine. The staff of the communication center looked a little askance at their pristine inner sanctum being turned into a party place, but they appeared too intimidated to say anything. The hours passed, and the mysterious blip crawled painfully slowly toward the merge point.

Renatta was the first one to grow angry at the waiting. 'This is like watching paint dry.'

'So don't watch it. Go on getting drunk.'

After eleven and a half hours the object entered Palanaque reality. There was a brief flash on the detector screen as it made the transition.

'This is it. They're here.'

Renatta stared a little wearily at the now-empty screen. 'Do you realize that they probably watched us come in just like this?'

Blaisdell laughed. 'They probably weren't drinking.'

'Maybe they should have been.'

Reave stood up and stretched. 'Let's hope these guys don't cause any more trouble than we did.'

Renatta looked up at him.'How do you know they are guys?'

One of the communication staff members came into the detector room and bowed. 'There's a signal coming through from the company at the lake.'

Reave looked up. 'Can you patch it in here?'

'Easily.'

'Then please do so.'

The technician bowed again and hurried away. Within a matter of seconds the detector room was filled with an urgent voice that was almost drowned in static.

'. . and the nothings have started to glow. . major transition flux is being created.' The static increased, and the voice came through only in brief snatches. '. . something coming through. . can't make. . just shadows against the. . a lot of. .'

The clear voice of a military operator in the city cut in. ' Please say again, Company A. You are breaking up very badly. I repeat, please say again. Check your equipment and say again.'

'. . moving in. . I don't know. . it looks. . hard to. .'

'We are losing you altogether, Company A. Dispatch the runners now. I say again, dispatch the runners now.'

'Holy shit!'

The Minstrel Boy clapped his hands to his ears. The signal was gone, and the room was filled with violent shrieking feedback. It lasted for almost a half minute and then cut out. Thie static returned, but this time there was not even the semblance of a voice. The Minstrel Boy sighed. 'They're off the air.'

Renatta put down the wine jug she had been cradling. Her voice was suddenly sober. 'Do we ask ourselves why?'

The Minstrel Boy stood up. 'I've been trying to avoid doing that, but I haven't found a way around it. I also have this terrible feeling that the best thing we could do would be to go up to that lake and take a look for ourselves.'

Reave looked at him as though he were mad. 'Are you kidding?'

'No, I'm not.' He motioned in the direction of the communication staff. 'But I'd rather not discuss it in front of them. Little pigs often have big ears.'

Reave picked up his jug and stood up. 'So let's go stretch our legs.'

As soon as they were out in the open, the Minstrel Boy started to outline his plan. 'The way I see it, we volunteer to go up the river and see what's going on by the lake.'

'And do we?'

'Sure we do. It's what we do next that counts.'

'And what's that?'

'We'll have two options. If whatever's come out of the nothings proves to be harmless, we come back to the city and spread the good news.'

Blaisdell pushed his fingers through his hair. 'And if it ain't harmless?'

'Then we try and creep through and make it to the nothings.'

'But why go all the way up to that lake? Why don't we just hit the nothings at the nearest point?'

The Minstrel Boy allowed himself a small superior smile. 'Because if you'd check out the stasis field on this place, you'd know that it's one of those spiral fold deals. The only way in or out is through a quite small access window up by the lake. '

Reave shook his head. 'I'm not so sure about this.'

The Minstrel Boy halted. 'Listen, it's only just after sunset outside. We would make it before dawn. We can take a boat most of the way.'

Renatta blinked. 'A boat?'

The Minstrel Boy was confident. 'We can get a boat.'

'We can?'

'Sure we can. I figure they'll be about ready to give us anything right about now if we can shed some light on the situation.'

Clay Blaisdell was nodding his agreement. 'The Minstrel Boy's right. If this is a raiding party and they're moving on the city, they won't bother to hide their position. They'll be coming with fire and sword, and we'll see them when they're still miles off.'

Reave sighed. 'I guess you're right. I've got to tell you, though, trekking up that river is the last thing I feel like doing. '

The Minstrel Boy ignored that final objection. 'So we ask for a boat.'

He started toward the Great Pyramid, but Reave caught him by the arm.

'What about Billy?'

The Minstrel Boy had temporarily forgotten their third musketeer.

'Oh, hell. Yes. Billy. .'

Renatta stepped in. 'Clay and I will get Billy. You guys get the boat. We'll meet you at the dock.'

As the Minstrel Boy had predicted, the beloved Master and General Zeum were more than willing to help anyone who wasfoolhardy enough to go upriver and find out what was going on. Forty-five minutes saw Reave and the Minstrel Boy at the river pier closest to the pyramid. A light, fast galley with a prow like a painted sea monster, a single tier of epsilon rowers, and the sleek stylized lines of racing craft of the Elite was moored there. Torches burned on the canopied quarterdeck, their flames reflecting off the oiled bodies of the rowers. Reave and the Minstrel Boy were, however, a little too preoccupied to spend very long admiring the beauty of the craft. The Minstrel Boy looked anxiously back down the dock.

'Where the hell are the others?'

Reave scowled. 'They're probably still looking for Billy.'

'I swear the bastard's capacity for fucking up increases in direct proportion to the system breaking down. It gets worse, he gets worse.'

'Maybe he's the one who's responsible for it all.'

The Minstrel Boy laughed despite the tension. 'The whole world's an analogue of Billy's rotting psyche?'

'Got to blame someone.'

A further ten minutes brought an end to the waiting but a hardly satisfactory answer. There were just two figures coming down the dock toward them, Renatta and Blaisdell — but no Billy.

'We looked in all the usual places, but there's no sign of him. He could be racked out in any one of a dozen discorp dens.'

Reave glanced at the Minstrel Boy. 'We can't leave Billy behind.'

The Minstrel Boy shrugged. 'We've left him behind before. '

Reave looked unhappy. 'Yeah, but this time's different.'

'A bit more terminal?'

'You know what I mean.'

'What do you want to do about it?'

Reave was spared having to come up with an answer, General Zeurn and a squad of his hoplites chose that moment to come marching down the pier. Showcross Gee and Stent were with them. Zeum was his normal unshakable self.

'Are you sure that you wouldn't rather wait for the runners?'

'We'll meet them if they're coming.'

'There's a communications unit aboard.'

'Let's hope we have better luck with this one.'

Zeum ignored the crack. 'Do you want a squad of my men to accompany you?'

Reave shook his head. 'We work better alone.'

'As you will.'

The Minstrel Boy was looking impatient. 'Is there anything else? Can we go aboard now?'

General Zeum gestured toward the galley. 'The boat is at your disposal.'

Showcross Gee took a step forward and spoke for the first time. 'There is one thing.'

Reave's eyes narrowed. He did not like the metaphysician's tone. 'What's that?'

'I'd prefer it if you left your SG portapacs here.'

Reave glanced down at the unit on his belt. 'There's a chance we might need them.'

'Indeed there is — a chance that you might need them to slip away into the nothings and desert. We can't afford to not have you here right now.'

Reave started to bluster, but he could hardly deny that the thought had crossed his mind. 'This is ridiculous. The SGs are a part of our basic equipment.'

'Just hand over the portapacs.'

Reave looked at Stent. 'Are we to suppose that you're here to back him up?'

Stent's expression was impossible to read behind his metal headpiece, but his voice sounded a note of regret. 'I explained how it is.'

Reluctantly, Reave undipped the SG from his belt and handed it over. He indicated that the others should do the same. Stent watched impassively.

'Can we go aboard now?'

'Please, go right ahead.'

As they mounted the gangplank, the Minstrel Boy leaned close to Reave. 'I guess we don't have to feel guilty about leaving Billy behind anymore.'

In addition to the ten epsilon rowers, there was also a helmsman, an overseer/drummer to set the stroke, a lookout on the bow, and an ensign who was in command of the vessel. Once Reave, the Minstrel Boy, Renatta, amd Blaisdell had settled themselves in its stern, the galley was quickly cast off and the epsilons hauled on their oars. The drummer set a steady pace, and the lights of the city slipped away behind them while the four lounged in the stern cushions in most unsoldierly comfort.

The ten rowers quickly developed a healthy rate of knots, particularly since the drummer regularly rose from his bench and, all the time shouting the cadence, encouraged them to greater efforts with a multithonged lash.

The first stage of the journey might have been pleasant, even leisurely, if it had not been for the thought of what they might find at their destination. The carved and painted prow sliced through the dark water, producing white curlicues of foam; the oars rose and fell to the accompaniment of the hypnotic drumbeat and the soft groans of the sweating epsilons. The sky was dark blue velvet and studded with thousands of twinkling pseudostars. A soft breeze blew along the length of the craft. For the first couple of hours the Minstrel Boy was almost able to turn off his apprehension and simply savor the experience. After two hours, though, as they neared the halfway point, a new anxiety set in. There was no sign of the runners from Company A. If they had been dispatched when the communicator transmission had failed, the boat should have already encountered them. It might have been possible to miss them in the darkness, but with the stem lit by blazing torches, the runners would have undoubtedly seen the boat and signaled.

Reave pushed himself up from the cushions and walked forward along the catwalk between the two lines of rowers to question the lookout. 'Are you absolutely sure that you've seen nothing?'

The lookout, a boy who could not have been more than fourteen or fifteen, vehemently shook his head. 'No, my lord. I've been watching all the time. The ensign would have the skin off my back if I missed anything.'

Reave returned to his companions. 'I don't like this at all. If these newcomers stopped the runners leaving, we can only assume that their intentions are hostile.' He turned to the ensign. 'Is it possible that they took another route?'

The ensign shook his head. 'There is no other route. They would have had to follow the river.'

The Minstrel Boy squinted into the dark. 'So what do we want to do now? It's too late to turn back.'

Reave was also peering into the night. 'All we can do is keep going, taking all possible care.' He called to the lookout. 'If you see anything, boy, anything at all, tell me immediately.'

'Aye, aye, my lord.'

The galley maintained a steady speed for the best part of an hour. Toward the end of that time Reave, the Minstrel Boy, and the ensign were all up in the prow watching for any sign of life. The river had become considerably narrower and ran between steep, rocky banks. The ensign looked warningly at Reave.

'We'll be coming to the rapids very soon.'

'What will we find when we get there?'

'There is a landing stage on the smooth water just below them. We should see the riverboat that brought Company A up here.'

It was only a matter of minutes before the lookout sang out. 'Something in the water up ahead.'

'Does it look like a boat?'

The lookout shook his head. 'No, my lord. If it is, it's burnt and sunk in the shallows.'

Reave scowled. 'I hope to hell you're wrong,' He signaled to the ensign. 'Let's take it slow and easy.'

The ensign motioned to the drummer. 'Stop that racket and reduce the stroke to dead slow.'

The drummer put down his mallets and maintained the slowest possible stroke with silent gestures.

'Douse the stern lights.'

There was a soft hiss as the torches were extinguished. The galley glided forward like a silent ghost. The lookout proved to be absolutely right. The remains of a charred hulk were half-submerged beside the pier, and bodies and debris were floating in the water. The Minstrel Boy felt a cold clutch at his guts. Their worst fears had been realized.

'It's a fucking massacre.'

A conference quickly convened on the quarterdeck.

'This has to be the work of raiders. They must be camped somewhere up by the lake, though why in hell they haven't made a move on the city yet is beyond me.'

'I should get on the communicator.'

The ensign seemed to be waiting for Reave's okay. Reave nodded. 'Yeah, go ahead. Give them the bad news.'

Everyone gathered around the large cumbersome communicator while the ensign coaxed it into life.

'Company B calling Palanaque Central.'

All that came from the small speaker was the familiar crackle of static.

'Company B calling Palanaque Central, acknowledge, please.'

The ensign looked worriedly at Reave. 'I don't seem to be raising them.'

'Keep trying. If you don't get them after five minutes, send out all the relevant information in the hope that they can hear us even if we can't hear them.' Reave glared at no one in particular. 'Why does nothing here work properly?'

The ensign stayed crouched over the set while the others gathered in a tense group.

'So what do we do if the communicator is out? Head down-river and warn them in person?'

Reave shook his head. 'I want to have a closer look at what's out there. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with. The Minstrel Boy and I will go ashore and try to infiltrate their camp.'

The Minstrel Boy started to protest. 'How did I get elected to walk into the jaws of death?'

'You and I can most likely mingle with these raiders in the dark.'

'So can Blaisdell.'

'I prefer to work with you.'

'Thanks a lot.'

'You're welcome.'

Renatta planted her hands on her nips. 'And what are we supposed to do while you two are out playing heroes? Sit here twiddling our thumbs and waiting?'

'Get the boat out into the middle of the river and be ready to go fast at the first sign of trouble. Give us two hours. If we 're not back by then, take off and warn the city.'

The galley moved up to the pier, and Reave and the Minstrel Boy jumped ashore. They watched as the galley backed up, positioned itself in the middle of the stream, and dropped a light anchor. The rowers skulled lightly to keep it from dragging with the current. Satisfied that everything had been done, Reave and the Minstrel Boy turned and walked purposefully away.

'You know something? I'm not going to forget how you volunteered me for this.'

Reave laughed grimly. 'Let's hope you have lots of time to remember it in.'

A well-trodden path ran away from the pier and then curvedand zigzagged up a steep hillside for over a mile. After a half hour of solid climbing, both men were close to winded.

'We've been living soft for too long.'

'Let's take a break.'

Reave got no argument from the Minstrel Boy, and both men flopped down on the soft turf.

'Goddamn.'

When the Minstrel Boy had caught his breath, he propped himself up on one elbow. 'How long do you figure we should go on following this trail? We've got to be nearing the lake by now.'

Reave looked up at the crest of the hill that still loomed over them. 'I'm assuming that when we get to the top of this hill, we're going to be able to see the lake and probably whatever kind of camp there is. If anyone's got half a brain, they'll have posted pickets out on the road at the hilltop.'

'So we go cross-country from here?'

'Have to. Though I wish I'd seen this country in daylight. We're working on too many blind guesses.'

They got to their feet and, leaving the road, started up the hillside, at times climbing on their hands and knees. After about five minutes, they hit a dry streambed and began using it as a guide. Then Reave slipped and almost stumbled.

'Watch out for loose rocks. They last thing we need is for one of us to break his ankle.'

Slowly the crest of the hill came closer. When they were only fifty yards away, Reave signaled to the Minstrel Boy. 'Keep low; we don't want to skyline ourselves.'

In a half crouch, they crested the hill. The lake was in front of them, contained in a bowl formed by the sculpted hills. Its mirror surface reflected the dozen or more bonfires that burned along its far edge. By the standards of the force that had attacked Krystaleit, the camp was a small one. Three armored cars stood side by side, and maybe a dozen tents were pitched in a loose circle. They could just make out the shapes of men moving around.

The Minstrel Boy lay in the grass and stared. 'There don't seem to be that many of them, but these're more than enough to make a mess of Palanaque.'

'Let's move in closer.'

'Do we have to?'

'Can't stop now.'

The Minstrel Boy sighed and followed Reave down the slope.