Prophet had a daughter and two sons. He showed the camera their pictures and talked about them. They had kept their names, despite their father's notoriety, and were doing very well, according to him. The daughter was a physician, the oldest son was an executive in a space transport line, and the younger son was just finishing cockroach school. Prophet was very proud of them. He had killed their mother when he discovered that she was one thirty-second Cherokee Indian. He later discovered he had made a mistake, which is why he hadn't burgered his three children. I shut down the micro as the tears brimmed in my eyes.
Man, just like the fools who wrote that insane story about old Ham and his alcoholic father, it was so clear to me that Prophet was just a crazy sick old man I wanted to die. I wanted to give him his payback right then. I ejected the micro, placed it in the case, and was shutting down the camera when I saw on the index, "Bando Nicos, personal notes."
I found the micro and stuck it in the camera. There were images of me back with the walking column at night, standing at the back of a sled, riding my critter. And there was Jontine's voice.
"He's a Chicano who has no concept of race or nation. He's a murderer who tries and executes murderers with the fanaticism of an ancient inquisitor. He is an authority hater with a special focus on judges, lawyers, and police officers who functions in the Razai's peculiar kind of justice as all three. Bando Nicos hates responsibilities of any kind, yet he hauls more responsibility than I believe is humanly possible. He is plagued by the memories of those he's executed, yet I have the feeling that larger, more terrifying, ghosts would be chasing him should he let a murderer escape alive."
Ice filled my spine as I turned off the camera and dropped it back into the bag. My headache was digging a tunnel to Hell and something annoying was sticking me in the chest, rubbing the skin raw. I reached beneath my sheet and felt around until I found a tiny splinter stuck in my sheet. When I checked it out I almost went to black. It was a bone fragment. As his ghost towered over the clouds, I wondered if Prophet's brains and blood had gotten all over Anna Tane's note. I pulled it out of my shirt pocket and looked. The sheet was clean. I opened it and began reading the beautiful handwriting.
▫
To Captain Brady,
I am holding your boss, Nance Damas, a doctor named Jane Sheene, and over two hundred of your soldiers hostage. If you wish to negotiate for their safe return, send up three signal flares and meet with me two nights later in my old base camp. Nicos can lead you there. Be warned that even the appearance of treachery on your part will result in the immediate deaths of all hostages. If you take more than a day to send up the flares, or more than two days after that to show at my camp, the hostages will be gut strung. To show that I am to be taken seriously, I have already gut strung the hostage called Alna Moah.
What I want is a working copy of your auto rifle conversion. You have my assurances that, if we can reach an agreement, we will never use such weapons against the Razai. Act sensibly and the remaining hostages will be returned to you unharmed. We might even stop a war.
Deke Kegel.
▫
"Anna Tane. What a piece of work," I muttered as I folded the letter and put it into my shirt pocket. She really got off on that power behind the throne trip. She planned, she hired, she fired, she wrote the notes, chose who was to die, invented the tortures, and ran Kegel's entire gang by manipulating Kegel. That freakfaced bastard had to know what was going on, yet he let it happen. It was madness. Maybe it was love.
I glanced again at the note. Kegel and his bit didn't want to negotiate. All Anna Tane wanted was to get her pretty fingers on a working automatic rifle. All Kegel wanted was to do whatever Anna Tane wanted him to want. Wouldn't it be funny, I thought, if Kegel was actually hetero and had been bullied into climbing into my ass by Anna? For all I knew he had been thoroughly repelled by the whole thing.
Another fantasy on me. Me hoping that Kegel suffered from it as much as I had. But he was hard and in me. Only women can fake those moments. Men have to feel it, and Gutty enjoyed himself.
The perverse bent of my mind looked upon this thing that had been done to me, it examined how hard I had fought, and it dismissed it all and said that it was my fault. I denied the blame. It didn't make any sense. All the same, it was there. It had been something about me, something in me. Why else had it happened to me? A secret yearning, some dark corner of my soul, my sins coming home to roost. There were plenty of my victims back on Earth who would've thought that I'd gotten exactly what I deserved. There was a large part of me that said the same thing.
When Alna had talked about being raped, though, she had said the same thing. Before she had ever done anything wrong she was raped and took from the experience that it had been, somehow, her fault. As the committee in my head argued furiously, there hovered in the background a specter. It only watched. It watched me to see what I would do. It was an interesting ghost, now the undisputed leader of the pack. Bando Nicos was no longer the Watcher. Prophet was. Now I was the one being watched.
"Not right now, Prophet," I whispered to the ghost. "I'll give you your payback in a few days. As soon as we do Kegel and Anna Tane I'll give you what you want." I pushed my thoughts away from Kegel, away from Prophet's ghost, and concentrated on riding up the trail.
Hours later, Alsvid reaching for the western horizon, I heard sounds from up ahead. Low talking, the snorting of a few critters, the occasional snap of a dried stalk of grass. I thought it might be another ambush, but then I heard Teheran Man shouting, Head Start bellowing for him to shut up, and Deadeye bellowing at both of them to shut up. It was the remainder of the posse.
As I rode around a slight turn in the trail, the tall walls of grass opened to reveal the few who were left. The cannibals, Power Tool, and Head Start. Deadeye was mounted. I pulled up my critter and Deadeye spoke to me, his expression down deep. "Sorry I did such a bad job."
I looked down at my hands as they gripped the lugh's braids. I moved my eyes, letting my gaze play upon the faces of the posse. I looked back at Deadeye. "Let's hear it."
"Maybe when we get back."
Blinding rage filled my eyes as a growl began deep in my throat. "Spit it out, Deadeye! Talk to me about last night!"
The hitter shifted nervously on his critter's back. "He freaked, Bando. Exterminator left footprints twelve feet up the wall and all around the room. He screamed. Then he started shooting. Full automatic. He lit us up like New Year's."
"What happened to him?"
Deadeye's tongue moved over his lips as he faced me, his eyebrows going up. "I had to stitch him. I tried to get the gun away from him, but he shot at me. So I killed him. It was the only way I could think of to quiet him down. Am I a murderer? Do you shoot me now?"
I felt spent. With me hairing off after Kegel with no plan and even less prospects, it was a wonder any of us were left alive. I closed my eyes and slowly shook my head. "No. I don't shoot you. If anyone deserves to be shot for what happened last night, it's me." Opening my eyes again I was startled to find them filled with tears. I wiped them dry with my hand. "You saved half the posse, Deadeye. You did good."
"What about the killing?"
I couldn't think straight right then. It seemed to take forever to piece together my sense of the law that I had shattered along with Prophet's skull. "It sounds like you were defending yourself and the posse. There's no payback for self-defense. Stick a sock in it for now and let's get back to the main column. I have to deliver something to Cap."
"What happened to the others?" It was the cannibal chop, Peking Man. I couldn't read his face.
"Kegel has Keeper. The rest are dead." I cocked my head toward the north, kicked my critter's sides with my heels, and said to them all. "No more talk. We move. If we don't reach Cap Brady soon, all the hostages die."
││││
││││
││││
▫
The Paxati Stroll
▫
&nbs
p; We rode that night until the Eyes of the Spider were at the top of their arc. Signs had been left along the trail, and before we reached the edge of the desert, they pointed us toward the northeast. The main column was in the Big Grass.
The Razai had made it to moisture. The Forever Sand was over. No more scorching days and freezing nights. No more living in constant filth to conserve precious drops of foul smelling water. I should have been happy but I was dead where that nerve should have been.
Cap Brady had his headquarters in the hospital sled from which Nance, Alna, and Mercy Jane had been nabbed. Once we got into camp we met him at the sled, except now it was mounted on those spoked wheels. It began moving almost at once. The column was long enough that a unit at the front could move to the sides of the trail and let the rest of the column pass, set up camp, and rest for fourteen hours or so before having to pack up and hook on to the rear of the column. It was like a living endless belt pulling itself toward the Sunrise Mountains. That was another thing. We were no longer running from Kegel's column. We were heading directly for the Hand.
It was strange how far away from things I had gotten. Liberating the slaves held by the Hand had somehow fallen into the background. In my own mind, next to leveling Kegel's camp and thinning every bastard in it, doing the Hand was small stuff. I knew Margo Hoyt, Cap's bit, wouldn't see it that way. Of course, she had been raped by the Hand, not by Kegel. It affects one's priorities. Margo was up at the point guard advising General Nazzar.
I rubbed my eyes as an endless weariness filled me. Cap invited Deadeye, Ondo Suth and me into his sled. Inside was a mokk my size wearing a Hand sheet and a slung piece. He was one of those pale dark haired things that look like they always need a shave from the age of three. He looked at me like I was the new kid on the sand. The bed had been removed and in its place was a table surrounded by eight crude chairs. After filling cap in on most of the things that had happened, and after reading the note and ordering the flares to be sent up, we sat down. Shava sat across from me. Cap put out three cups and poured fresh water for each of us as I talked.
"I trashed it big time, Cap. I got five dead, one captured, and no results. I wouldn't blame you if you got yourself another chief. If you do, just please let me go along when we waste Kegel's camp."
"You look different, Bando."
"Looking at Alna gut strung took off a slice." I leaned back in the chair and stared at the table top. "There were a couple of other things."
He nodded at the cup in front of me. "Try the water."
I took a sip and it was cool and fresh. "Spring water. We had some at Kegel's camp when we snuck in."
"There're a number of springs in the grass. That's what gave the straightmeats the courage to stroll. We lost more than forty thousand with Lomon Paxati and the we-don't-want-to-fight-nobody party leading the parade. That happened soon after the election."
"What election?" I asked. "There aren't supposed to be any elections until we either get Nance back or she dies."
He shook his head. "The cockroaches argued that there's nothing in the law that could prevent it. They were right. Now we have Rule 62 which lets a number two call an election if the boss is absent against her will. Stays cleared it."
"Oh, did he?" I held out my hands, knocking over my cup. "So what was the result of the election? Did we put Bug Eyes or the Mummy up for boss?"
"Nance is still boss and I'm still number two. There really wasn't any contest. By and large the straightmeats and many of the whacks voted for Paxati, the sharks voted for Nance."
Shava Ido laughed and shook his head. "All but the yard eagles who think there's an angle to be worked in the straightmeats running things."
"Then Paxati sucked his thumb, picked up his ball, and went home?" asked Deadeye.
Shava nodded. "They split along voting lines and took off. Maybe five or six thousand sharks went with them. I believe the sharks are looking for feeding waters where the pickings aren't so lean and the penalties not quite so harsh."
"The cockroaches went with them, too," Cap said.
A bitter laugh forced its way through my tiredness. "After the sharks finish feeding there are always scraps left for the lower forms of life."
"The cryin' truth," said Deadeye.
Cap scratched his reddish gray beard. "Paxati has his camp about twenty minutes north of ours."
"Yeah," said Deadeye. "With us between them and Kegel, I notice."
Cap nodded. "Funny how that worked out."
"A riot," I answered. "Why are they so close? They still expect us to protect them?"
"No. It has to do with one of the results of the election. It's a pretty sticky case and Stays wants to discuss it with you before taking action."
"What if I was dead? What would he do then? Throw up his hands and cry he can't deal with it?"
"You aren't dead, so let's just stay with the current problem."
Man, what a pack of bums. I needed to come up with something pretty soon if the RCs, the law, and the Razai weren't going down the toilet. The law couldn't feed on me any more than the army could depend exclusively on Habran Indimi or Bloody Sarah. It wasn't just because anyone or anything that had ever depended on me had died. Nothing that ever depended on any single person could be counted on for long. People die, they change. I didn't want the law to die with them. The only candle I had to bring with me into the dark and chilly was the law and the little I had done right.
While I was lost in my thoughts, Cap had been talking. When the straightmeats decided to stroll, they had demanded a percentage of the rifles for their own protection. "Since they helped fight to get them," Cap continued, "I figured it was right. We agreed on seven hundred rif—"
"Seven hundred!" I shouted as I shot to my feet. "Are you popped? My god, that's what? A quarter, a third of our weapons?"
Cap shook his head. "We have almost a hundred thousand armed right now, Bando," said Cap, "and at least twenty thousand of those rifles have been converted to auto. We didn't give Paxati any of the autos."
Again I assumed my usual pose: standing there with my teeth in my mouth. I lowered myself back into my chair. "From where?" I held out my hands. "How?"
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "There are over a quarter of a million Razai right now. Most of them we picked up out of the sand, the rest came over from Kegel and the Hand. Scavenging the dead and nailing Kegel's supply train has given us another twelve thousand weapons and lots of ammo." Cap grinned. "We also have his second supply train. I just got the news a little while ago."
Ondo whistled and I sat back and folded my arms as I thought. Kegel's squats were depending on that supply train. Without it they couldn't move. Maybe Kegel couldn't even hang onto his men. "There's something more. It has to do with the law. A lot of Kegel's men are deserting. When they captured some of our soldiers, they came across copies of the law. Maybe eight or nine thousand of Kegel's men have deserted, just about each one carrying one or more rifles, and sometimes bringing with them a few of our prisoners. All that's small stuff compared to this other thing." He glanced at Ondo.
"Did you ever hear of Yani Comini?"
Ondo frowned and looked at the center of the table. After a moment he nodded. "Sure. Years ago, back before the Hand threw me away to Kegel. Yani was real important, a Hand army leader." Ondo glanced at me and back at Cap. "Just before Carlo T. sent me to Kegel, Yani was dropped into Kegel's crowbars for some reason. I thought he was dead."
"No," said Cap quietly. "He's not dead. Some of Kegel's deserters were captured by the Hand. The news of what's happening out here along with a few copies of the law went with them. Some of Yani Comini's men liked what they saw, put Yani's army back together, and busted out their general. He showed up on our doorstep yesterday evening with sixty thousand armed soldiers and supplies enough to arm another twenty thousand—"
I saw the light and slammed my fist down on the table. "Kegel and his monster!" I shouted as I looked at Cap. "Right no
w, we can take 'em. We have 'em out manned, out gunned—" I glanced at Ondo and looked back at Cap. "Listen to me. Nance and Mercy Jane want you to go down and wipe Kegel's camp and everything in it."
"What about them? What can we do as long as Kegel holds them and the others hostage?"
"Anything we want." I sat back in my chair. "Nance and Mercy Jane know the score. Everybody with crowbar time knows the score." I looked at him. "Rule 63, brand new. If you take a hostage, payback is the max. Rule 64. If your boss or government takes a hostage and you don't do anything about it, payback is the max. We're going to put it to a vote."
Cap frowned as he asked, "Won't that make us responsible for Nance's and Mercy Jane's deaths?"
"Just like in the yard or on the block. Kegel's bunch has a choice to kill or not. We can't force them to kill anybody. Maybe the hostages die." My breath caught as I continued. "Probably they die. But the Razai will be driving the Razai, not the hostage takers. And Nance, Mercy Jane, Alna, the prisoners, they'll get their payback. How about it?"
Cap Brady leaned back in his chair, raised his eyebrows, and aimed his gaze at me. "Would any of this payback be yours?"
A tingle skittered up my back. I looked at my clasped hands on the table. My knuckles were dead white. I removed my hands from the table and nodded. "Yeah. A good bit."
"I expect you want to be with the force that hits the camp."
"That's right."
"So you better get cracking on this matter Stays wants you to handle, Bando. After they got their allotted weapons, one of Paxati's straightmeats wouldn't give up his piece. When the RC tried to take it from him, he shot and killed the RC."
I stopped breathing as a hundred images flashed through my head. There were a lot of men and women in the RCs I cared a lot about. "Who was it?"
INFINITY HOLD3 Page 56
