Stadil sniffed. “Direct as well. Very well, Mister Walken, I will be as clear and forthcoming as I can. The fact is, the human resistance Roberta January and her friends have formed has been quite effective in slowing the Yathi colonization effort, but it no longer has the power needed to continue. Within a year, the Yathi will find and destroy every corner of resistance, and all hope for humanity will be eradicated.”
The words hit him like a slap in the face. Walken stared at the hologram in silence.
Stadil raised an eyebrow. “Something the matter?”
Walken glanced away and down, sighing. “I had hoped she had not gotten involved in all of this.”
“Then you have sorely misjudged her.” Stadil looked disappointed, which both shamed and annoyed Walken. “The way you disappeared was more than enough to keep her looking for you, and in doing so, it became necessary to include her once more in my plans to destabilize the Yathi.” Stadil lifted a hand. “No, do not speak. You will want to censure me, and tell me that this is not what you wanted. It is time that you realize that this situation is much larger than you, Mister Walken. Humanity is a very self-directed species. It is in no small part because of this that the Yathi have had the success that they have so far. You are only playing into the hands of the enemy by getting angry and blaming anyone but yourself for Miss January’s involvement – and even this is useless.”
Another slap. Walken burned with muted anger. But without the chemistry to maintain it, he fell instead into an analytical fugue. However he wanted to revolt against Stadil’s words, the man, ghost, or whatever he’d become spoke truth. If Walken had handled the situation differently, she would not have been involved. Now she was fighting them. He wanted to curse Stadil, and himself as well. “Please explain the situation.”
Stadil’s eyes narrowed faintly. “For four years, since discovering the existence of the Yathi colonization effort, Miss January has led a group of fighters, consisting of uncolonized humans and those who have thrown off their hosts, to hold back the Yathi expansion. They have done this through their own efforts, assisted by myself as I am able to provide information that they cannot themselves easily get. The first two years saw incredible gains.”
Walken’s brows lifted. “And the latter two?”
“The organization splintered,” Stadil replied. “A series of conflicts began that saw the force split in half along factional lines. Because of this, there are two independent bodies operating along two very different lines. One which operates as a military organization, led by a former subordinate, and one that runs along covert lines still led by Miss January herself.”
“Not exactly an auspicious career,” Walken muttered. He couldn’t quite wrap his head, such as it was, around the concept of Bobbi becoming some kind of modern-day guerilla leader. She never struck him as the Angie Zero type.
“That they have been able to do anything at all against the Yathi marks considerable ability,” Stadil said. “There have been others in the past three centuries, you know. Such groups were derided as secret societies, or worse, groups of political dissidents, all rounded up and eventually exterminated with little to their name but the occasional dead drone or other such servitor. Perhaps one or two very minor Yathi. It is only now that the confluence of technology and character is such that real resistance could occur.”
Walken squinted at him. “This makes little sense. Why would the Yathi allow for conditions in which they could be discovered by those who would have the technology and the knowledge to kill them?”
“An excellent question, and one that has been asked of me on many occasions. The answer, of course, should be obvious from your own interactions with the Mother of Systems. They do not believe the human race to be any kind of a threat, or at least they did not until the last few years.”
“That sounds somewhat suicidal.” Walken sat up, frowning at the holographic Slav. “And more than a little nonsensical. I assume the Mother of Systems knows the movement exists, so why not swing their resources from colonization to crushing all signs of the movement, especially when it’s been split in half?”
Stadil paused to raise an eyebrow at Walken – a gesture which, from Walken’s point of view, seemed irritably and enviously human. “I’m curious… At what point did you decide blind arrogance could be a purely human trait? Perhaps you are seeking a monopoly on your own?”
Walken pursed his lips. He deserved that one. “Point taken. I suppose I am simply unused to this kind of thing. She certainly didn’t seem arrogant when she would come to visit me.”
“She let you escape three times.”
“True.” Walken’s mouth flattened into a line. “But that suggests more that she has a plan. My experience is that the Yathi worship her, but they do not follow blindly.”
With these words, Stadil’s acid tone lightened. “Ah. You finally come around to the point of it. What purpose does she have for you, Mister Walken? Why capture you at all? Why keep you in stasis for years, upgrading your body, replacing the damaged portions of your brain when it appears that your hosted consciousness is not only separated, but dormant once more?”
Walken’s brows arched. “You’re the one who engineered my breaking. Aren’t you aware of the reason why?”
Stadil managed to look slightly contrite. “I regret that at the time, I was more interested in directing you at the Mother of Systems on a suicide mission. He leaned on the holographic chair. “I was not of a rank which afforded me answers to such questions should I have dared to ask them in the first place. It was ordered of me to guide you through the gauntlet and ensure that you were sufficiently weakened psychically so that the dormant mind would awaken. I am ashamed to say that my humanity was only returning in sparks, so to speak.”
Walken could understand the sentiment, considering how he felt only vaguely human himself. He wished for a truly great rage to appear, something to validate some trace of humanity within him, and thus emotionally capable of such feats, but the result was frustratingly lukewarm. “Very well. So I suppose you would be similarly ignorant of who beamed into my head in the first place.”
Another contrite wince, and Stadil nodded. “That is something nobody knows. Or at least, nobody of my rank or below. Perhaps the members of the colonial authority –”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“The colonial authority.” Stadil squinted at Walken. “What do you know about the structure of the Yathi effort as it stands?”
“Very little,” Walken admitted. “When the Mother of Systems came to visit me, she usually did her usual spooky matron act, trying to convince me that my humanity was a mistake and that I should divest myself of it so that the personality within me could take over. She would tell me stories, of course – over six years I’ve gathered a fair bit of their history for example – but she’s never really told me anything about what’s happening now.”
“Well, it’s very simple.” Stadil took his seat again, resting his hands upon the table. Slight optical imperfections flickered in the image. “The Yathi colonization effort is hardly a monolithic structure. There is Mother at the top, of course, and she will have you believe that everyone marches under her banner in lock step without question or concern. Beneath her, however, is the colonial authority. These are a number of incarnated Yathi, the oldest and most senior among the colonists that have been decanted at the current time, and it is they who facilitate the everyday operations of the program. Usually, they take the forms of executives, minor politicians, that sort of thing. Anyone who can wield power comfortably, overt or not, and for whom the psychological curiosities of Yathi minds can be tolerably withstood.”
“Curiosities?”
“Cold-blooded ruthlessness, lack of concern for humanity, that sort of thing– oh, and of course, the aforementioned blind arrogance.” Stadil grinned. “It is that sort of thing, you understand.”
“I think I see, yes.” Walken nodded. “So there is a ruling council, so to speak.”
“Something like that.” Stadil shrugged nonchalantly, leaving Walken with the impression that a great deal more existed to the whole thing than he let on.” Second to the Mother of Systems, however, they are the most senior – and therefore, best protected – members of the colonial effort. They are centuries old, and were very powerful figures in Yathi society at the time.”
“Potent individuals. I don’t suppose that they’re conspiring against the Mother to bring down her leadership, are they?”
“It was the first possibility that I explored when I started to return to myself,” Stadil said, “But I’m afraid it they seem quite satisfied. And even if they were unsatisfied with her, what could they do? It would take a mass revolt of the authority to eject her. We have neither the time nor the access to foment such a rebellion, either. Attempts to do so externally have proven ineffective, as well.”
“What do you mean, ‘externally?’”
“I mean by the outright assassination of one of the members of the colonial authority. Even this vulnerability seems to have done nothing to shake them.”
This revelation put things into perspective for him. If the outright murder of one of the oldest and most powerful of their kind did nothing to damage their faith in the Mother or her plans, uprooting them by other means would be a very tall order indeed. “But wait, this is assuming force is the way to go. Is there no other alternative that can be applied to removing them? Some other option that does not require violence?”
Silence for a moment. Stadil inclined his head. “There is something of a theory. And this is, in part, why you are with us.”
Walken frowned. “I suppose merely rescuing me as a right and moral thing to do did not cross your mind.”
“Didn’t have the resources, I’m afraid. Until now.”
“Until now. And what has changed?”
The holographic ghost tapped his brow with two fingers. “You have the key to it in your head, we think.”
“The key to this theory of yours?”
Stadil nodded. “The alternative to force.”
“And what is that?”
This time, the simulacrum grinned with no trace of humanity in it. “Mass disconnection. Or, if luck is with us, the wholesale destruction of the Yathi race.”
hey came to Tenleytown in a beat-up cargo van, so much deja vu for Bobbi she couldn’t help but feel a certain darkness about the whole thing. This time they weren’t supposed to be delivering humanitarian supplies, though. She and Violet had made an appointment to see Lionel under falsified names. Driving past the CivPro cordon and into the Old City wastes reminded Bobbi of how much the area had changed since their last excursion in two years ago. Then, Bobbi and Scalli had been captains of a united anti-Yathi front, finishing the work Redeye had started in either recruiting or scouring the last of the feral alien-possessed from the blasted streets.
The feral humans had retreated south, fearing the strangeness behind the deaths of those whom they had come to see as ghosts or gods or worse. In the ensuing vacuum came corporate interests, resettling efforts, cleanup. The New City expanded, and the ring of the Verge followed suit. Except now, instead of crumbling, the Verge was being rebuilt in earnest. Not with the glittering towers of the New City, but with high-rise apartment blocks, residential centers, cheap malls and the like. As if driven by an urban Big Bang, the city regenerated, and the outer locus of that effort had become Tenleytown.
Bobbi frowned at what it had become as it swung into view from the passenger window. No longer a walled bastion of the disenfranchised that sought to avoid the corporate tyranny of the world, it had become a microsprawl of its own, the crumbling office towers that had formed its center radiating rows of modular incinerator complexes and recycler barns, rough markets from which salvage, tools and cheap consumer goods could be purchased. Tenleytown processed salvage, generated biofuel, reclaimed plastics, and refined them into sheets of virgin polystyrene for use in consumer products. It had expanded to ten times its size and five times its population. Trade routes opened in the form of a cleared and secured stretch of Route 509 that branched into the complex. Tenleytown had become an unofficially recognized township of its own, a little suburb of Seattle right in the middle of the urban waste.
Shaper drove Bobbi, Violet, and Sumire along this route in the rusty hulk, which though it had an electric engine, still managed to rattle on like an ancient gasoline-burning beast.
“Jesus, man,” Violet called from the back after the engine gave a particularly noisy groan, “Where the hell did you get this thing, a scrapyard?”
“Yes,” Shaper said. “Why, is it not flash enough for you, love? Would you prefer leather seats, mint under your pillow?”
“Oh, that’d be lovely,” Violet said with a laugh. “I can just imagine what the Tenlies would think of that.”
“Like as much to strip the whole thing down and sell it to a limo company, “Bobbi said.” Anyway, Vi and I are supposed to be rolling in here incognito, I’d like to point out. Kind of hard to do with two other people jammed up our asses.”
Shaper snorted. “The best thing about our organization is that it’s not a complete tyranny. Besides, what’s two other people? People travel in groups out here still. It’s not as if it isn’t dangerous.”
“Mr. Shaper is correct, I’m afraid,” said Sumire. She sat quietly in the front passenger seat, hands folded in her lap. Though everyone was dressed in well-worn street threads, the analytical savant managed to look the absolute picture of order. “There is nothing wrong with an additional party following you, so long as the ruse is carried off mindfully.” At this, she gave Shaper a meaningful glance. Bobbi couldn’t help but smirk.
“S’right,” Shaper added, snorting. “I know you lot think I can’t exist without stamping around like bloody Godzilla, but the truth is that I can be subtle when times call for it.”
Violet laughed. “Baby Jesus doesn’t like it when you lie, Shaper.”
He shot her a black look via the rearview mirror. “Well, Baby Jesus doesn’t exist, love. So I imagine we’ll be all right.”
“Might be,” Violet said. “Rejection of religion and spirituality is a cornerstone of the colonization plan. What if he’s up there wondering what the fuck we’re all on about?”
The van settled over a rebuilt stretch of road, lending them a smooth respite from the ragged blacktop they had been cruising over.
“I reckon that he’d think we were all bloody fools for getting duped by the alien Bogeyman,” Shaper said as he surveyed the road ahead. “Besides, if he did exist, he’d be giving us all the support we needed. He wouldn’t have sent some second rate angel like that bastard Cagliostro, that’s for sure.”
“You’re such a pleasant person, sometimes, Shaper, I swear.” Violet’s tone had grown sullen; she never had much patience for her fellow fighter, though she always chose silence over venting her displeasure in other ways. Bobbi often thought half the ferocity with which she fought the Yathi was borne of misplaced annoyance with the cyborg Brit. “I wish he was real, myself. Too many fucking demons floating around, no matter what we do.”
“My name is Legion, for we are many.” Sumire looked back at Bobbi from over her shoulder. “I am sorry. I should have insisted that Mr. Shaper let you go as you wished.”
Likely true, Bobbi mused, but even Sumire couldn’t guarantee she would have been better off without the additional backup. “It’s fine. I understand. Besides, if something does go wrong, I’m sure I’ll be grateful for the fire support.”
“I’m sure we’ll find something to amuse ourselves with when we get there.” Shaper called out as the rebuilt patch gave way to rutted pavement once again. “Besides trading punches. Think I’ll hit up the underground market when we get there, see if we can’t pick up anything fun.”
“I doubt that’s a good idea, Shaper,” Bobbi said. “If Scalli has anyone planted there, it’s likely they’re going to be watching the market.”
“If the
y see you around there and we aren’t acting like a pack of hoods at least a little bit, they’re going to be suspicious,” Shaper replied. “Besides, maybe we can lure them into showing their hand if they know we’re in the area. It’s not like we aren’t prepared.”
Bobbi winced. “All right,” she said, “If you must. But don’t go out of your way to be conspicuous, please. And don’t start any shit with anybody. That’s the last thing we need.”
“I shall not employ the tasseled pasties,” Sumire said, which managed to shock the whole van into silence. Based upon the smile that Bobbi glimpsed in the rearview, precisely the effect Sumire aimed for.
They reached Tenleytown a little later, though they saw it long before they arrived. Where it had once been a walled city on its own, Kowloon reborn, the cluster of high-rises and office buildings comprised the center of a sprawling complex of new machinery. The crumbling blocks surrounding Tenleytown had been bulldozed, new structures assembled in their place. Not ultramodern factory structures, but simple and solid buildings of reclaimed steel and concrete that contained the machines of the city’s new industries. Much of it looked rather low-tech. The blunt stacks of incinerators rose in colonies from the roofs of some of the buildings, while others swarmed with pipes and conduits. Beyond the core of original structures, neat rows of shops and houses constructed from cargo boxes and modular refugee units were established in lots next to parking zones for residents, visitors, and merchants. The stench of chemicals leeched into the van at a distance, even with the recycler on. It looked organized. It looked modern, far and away from the Tenleytown Bobbi had known as a child, or even four years ago.
“Jesus,” Violet said. “The Tenlies have been busy.”
“Yeah.” Bobbi looked out the side window. “At least we won’t have to use flares to get in anymore.”
Violet slipped into the middle seat beside Bobbi. “Good thing. All I have is this.” She opened her bulletproof jacket, carefully disguised as a padded ski coat, and showed off a thermite needler like the one she had in France.
Gathering Ashes (The Wonderland Cycle Book 3) Page 13
