by Alex Bobl
"It still doesn't mean that those organs are dominant in the human body."
"Right. That's how they create electronic chains these days: with routers, so that if one unit fails, the others will bypass it until the failure is repaired."
"So?" Jim lowered the spring.
"Our society has a different model. It's vertical, with one control organ on top. It issues orders and decides what to do in any given situation. Every law-abiding citizen should obey the rules - called laws - imposed on them by the government.
"Yeah," he nodded staring at the valley. "If you destroy the controlling organ, the whole system will collapse."
"You got it. So they could try and build a new society here on Pangea. But it wouldn't change people's nature. Speaking genetically... have you heard about genes?"
"It's," he looked up, "it's some kind of inbred memory, right?"
"It is, it is. Generations of our ancestors have formed the current society model which is based on obedience. There'll always be a leader, and whether he's elected or an usurper doesn't really matter. Can you tell me something? Are you a free man? Think well first."
"I... I think I have some control over my life," he said slowly. "But I still can't do whatever I want. I have to..." he nodded, "yes, I do have to obey. I obey the loggers' foreman. Uncle Lars."
"And," I raised my hand, "what if there is no Lars Swenson?"
"There'll be another one," Jim said quickly. "Another leader."
"Who will head the loggers' team," I pointed out.
Jim didn't answer. But his face was different now. He'd understood.
"Shame," Jim finally said. He put down the spring and reached for the firing mechanism housing. "Does it mean things will never change?"
I shook my head. "We won't know even if they do. We won't live long enough."
For a while, Jim didn't move mulling over our conversation. Then he picked up the rag and started wiping the breech.
The stars started to fade over the horizon. The dawn was creeping into the sky. Someone grunted; we both turned to see a gasping Georgie toss and turn on the cave floor. He rose wincing from the pain in his leg and pleading for some water.
I handed him the flask. "Go sleep now." He glanced at the far end of the tunnel where Kathy slept, then lay back down, careful not to disturb his wound.
"Lars Swenson," I said when I came back to the entrance, "is he really your uncle?"
"Yeah," Jim handed me the assembled gun and reached for the other one. "On my mother's side."
He lay his suntanned hands on the weapon and started depressing lugs and twisting latches, unclicking the parts with blindfolded ease. The boy seemed to have potential. His parents must have known as much which was probably why his father had kept notes and spoken to his son about his work. They must have hoped for the much-rumored repatriation amendment. Back on Earth Jim could do well. He could become a teacher or an engineer; he could continue his dad's research. He had the brains and the skills... but not the luck.
"Can you tell me," I shoved three cartridges into the magazine and clicked the safety catch into place. "Your uncle, what did he do before he became a loggers' foreman?"
"He was on New Pang council board," Jim wrapped a piece of cloth around his finger and wiped the filthy insides of the breech. "He was about to become head of the city administration. The townspeople liked him a lot. They still remember him. Uncle Lars was responsible for supplies and deliveries. He wanted to build new workshops in the estuary and a shipyard. The epidemic changed all that."
"I see," I stared at the sun rising over the eastern horizon. So had it not been for the plague, Lars Swenson could have become the baron of New Pang. I turned to Jim, "And who initiated this Confederation thing?"
"Initi... nitiated," he struggled with the word.
"I mean, whose idea was it?"
"Ah! I see. It was Uncle Lars's," Jim unwound the cloth from his finger, turned it inside out and continued wiping the grime off the gun.
"Thanks," I moved stretching my stiff shoulders.
So Lars could have headed New Pang, had it not been for McLean's curbing of the pandemic. I had to admit the logger had done his best to exaggerate McLean's faults in order to create the image of a ruthless gangster. He'd done it quite subtly, too, mentioning his building the water pipeline and uniting the population during the plague. And still McLean's people burned the infection victims. Having said that, what else could they have done? Here, there're no white-coat researchers capable of creating lab-produced vaccines.
I hiked my neck to my right shoulder, then to the left. Then I locked my fingers and stretched my arms. So Lars Swanson wanted New Pang for himself. That's why he needed the cyber weapons: no wonder he kept mentioning them. But the riggers wouldn't wage war on McLean. Why should they? They seemed to have a normal working relationship with the city. McLean had apparently pitted them against the loggers. Besides, he kept sending carula shipments to the Fort and he really wanted to find out why Earth needed them so badly.
What a can of worms. Just my luck to get mixed up in their local politics. All I wanted was to find Neumann, and once I did that, I'd have no business staying here.
I looked around. Two still asleep: Wladas and Kathy. Georgie groaned as he tried to turn on his other side. Wong sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, meditating, and worked his wounded hand, clenching and unclenching the fist. Only a small spot of blood showed through the bandage meaning Wladas and I had done a decent job of tending to his wound and a good night's rest had completed the healing.
I slapped my hips and got up. Time to break camp. I still had to find time to speak to Kathy on the go. We needed to discuss how better to smuggle Neumann out but first, I needed to know what the FSA had promised her for her cooperation. I had no instructions regarding my Pangean contact and didn't plan on bringing back anybody other than Neumann - but Kathy probably counted on it. So I had no idea how she'd behave once she realized we were to part ways. Then again, I couldn't make it without her.
I told Jim to finish cleaning the guns and started waking everyone up. Wong rose without a word, took his gun from Jim and walked off. Georgie grumbled casting unhappy glances at the girl. Wladas shook his head and looked around, uncomprehending, rubbing his thin sallow face and trying to remember where he was.
A few minutes later, we sauntered out into the sunlit morning valley. A warm breeze promised a clear hot day.
"Everyone ready?" I scrutinized them one last time and commanded, "We'll move as before. On encountering the enemy, take cover and defend yourselves. In the event I'm killed, Wong takes over the command. Questions?"
"How about our guns," Georgie grumbled glancing at Kathy.
She sniffed and looked up at me. The bruises around her eyes had grown darker, a deep caked gash showing on the bridge of her nose.
"You'll have your guns," I said, "when the moment is right. Let's go."
Without going into more detail, I strode down the slope toward the valley.
Chapter Four
Walking Around the Devil's Barn
I'd underestimated Georgie's condition. Within half an hour, he'd begun to slow our group down. He limped, cussing under his breath at the piece of shrapnel that had ripped his leg open.
Cathie caught up with me. "We'll have to leave him," she said in a low voice. "This way, we'll never make it to the oasis by midday."
"No, we won't," I cut her short. "He's coming along."
We moved further east as we followed the river that showed now and again through the stony hills on the edge of the plain. I turned to the girl,
"This is a funny route, don't you think? The oasis is to the south of the cave. We should be going away from the river."
"Maybe," Kathy stared right in front of her. "To the south is the tigers' pride territory. We won't survive against them. So we're taking the scenic route. Walking around the barn, isn't it what they say? A car would've taken us there in fifteen minutes. But..."
&nb
sp; I didn't hear her last phrase. The Information in my head had started up again, and I nearly jumped hearing its monotonous female voice,
Pangean tiger, the most dangerous predator indigenous to the Continent. An adult animal weighs up to a thousand pounds. Fully grown males can reach over two meters in length...
It went on about claws as thick as construction steel; about saber-shaped upper fangs and vital organs protected by a massive rib cage. You needed a pulse gun to pierce the animal's hide: regular firearms might scare it but definitely wouldn't kill it. Its head was large and round with a wide lower jaw. The Pangean tiger was capable of accelerating up to sixty mph over rough terrain.
A true killing machine. You probably needed a grenade launcher to stop it. Surprisingly, they were easily domesticated to the degree of a loyal working dog that wouldn't dream of attacking its master.
That was an eye-opener! My brain refused to believe the Information. Why couldn't you do the same with Siberian tigers? Still, I had no reason not to trust the software.
"Kathy," I ventured in order to double-check the information, "have tigers been killed in the past?"
"Sometimes, yeah. Locals hunt them for their skins. If you make a jacket out of it, it's as good as bulletproof."
"And the cubs?"
"The cubs?" she turned to me.
"Can't you keep them and their mother in a cage or something? I mean, to train them, like in the circus? Can it be done?"
"You're nuts, man," Georgie commented in the back. I looked at him.
"No, you can't," Kathy said. She wanted to add something but paused, raised her hand to her eyes and peered at something in front of her. I never knew what her 'you can't' meant.
The sky darkened over the horizon. Another thunderstorm, I thought. We could do with a bit of rain. It wasn't even midday yet, but the sun blazed down and the hot wind started to scorch our skin. If we wanted to get to the oasis, we'd better move it, and fresh rain from the east might rev us up a bit. We could collect some water, too.
"We need to go back to the cave," Kathy said. "Before it's too late."
"Why?" I said.
"Look up," Georgie said approaching.
At a distance, the air thickened, swirling, as if the horizon was engulfed in a forest fire. Still, I knew there were no forests there, just rocks and lumps of clay.
"There's a storm coming," Georgie said. "This French bitch is right. We need to leg it."
Kathy lunged forward but I blocked her way and clasped her wrist. "If you two keep threatening each other or calling each other names, I'll leave you both here! No water, no guns! Do I make myself clear?"
They sulked. Georgie's jaw moved as he ground his teeth. Kathy clenched and unclenched her fists.
"We're one team," I let go of her hand.
Georgie spat. The girl turned away. I went on, "A sand storm? What's the worst thing about it?"
"The wind," Georgie said. "It'll fucking blow you over. The sand will block your lungs and scrape your eyes out. Unless you hit your head on a stone."
"Is it so strong, the wind?"
"It is," Kathy turned to us. "Let's go back."
I looked at the horizon, then at the south where the tigers' territory lay. When would the storm reach us? How long could it last? I didn't want to lose another day sitting it out by the river. Varlamov could take action any day now, and I didn't even know how and where he intended to use Neumann and how I was supposed to get him back to Earth.
The sand cloud grew. Now I could clearly see its edges. Still distant but visibly approaching, it was heading for the river. Soon it would cover us. Then we wouldn't be able to find our way anymore.
"We can't go back," I said. "We won't make it."
"We might," Kathy said.
"Look how fast it's growing," I nodded toward the east. “It'll cover the hills before we get there. But if we go south, we might just catch the edge of it."
"The south is tiger country," Georgie said. "Better turn back."
I looked at the sandstorm weighing up our chances. "Let's risk it. No good beating about the bush. Animals normally lie low during storms."
"You're nuts," Kathy exclaimed.
"Nuts as a clone's ass," Georgie added. "Do you think you can escape the tigers? You'll be lunch before you know it."
"This is no time to discuss it," I lifted the gun, checked the magazine and stepped forward. "Those who'd rather go back, be my guest. I won't stop you."
After a moment's hesitation, Wladas walked over to me, pale and silent, his forehead covered in cold sweat. The decision hadn't come to him easily.
Kathy and Georgie didn't move. After a pause, Jim joined us. Wong walked past us, smiling, the shotgun on his shoulders.
"Forward, at the double, march!" I glanced back at the two remaining. Georgie spat and hobbled after us, frowning. Kathy paused and trotted behind him.
We ran watching the storm approach from the east. Very soon the swirling clouds of sand and dust eclipsed the sky. The hot wind lashed our faces; grains of sand stung our eyes as the storm choked us clogging our noses, ears and mouths. The sun glowed yellow through the murky brown haze.
This was only the beginning. "Stop!" I yelled covering my face with my hand. I grabbed Kathy's shoulder forcing her to stand next to Wladas and ordered them to rope themselves together. Wong didn't need instructions: he'd already made his belt into a noose and fastened it round Georgie's hand. Jim gave me his gun strap. I shoved its end under my belt buckle and we resumed running south, guided by the sun.
The wind grew. I was forced to slow down as our group huddled together, stumbling and burying their faces in their elbows. Still, they kept going. They had to: the moment the sun went down we'd lose any sense of direction. So we had to keep going.
A large shadow slid past. Wladas cried out. I raised my gun while Georgie and Kathy yelled at me demanding theirs.
"Jim!" I spat out the sand and called over the wind, "What's on your side?"
"Two, I think!" he answered. "Two tigers."
I took one hand off the gun and shielded my eyes from the stinging dust. A shadow... then another... and again... how many of them were there?
"Five," I heard Kathy's finally-composed voice. "They're prowling around."
"Can someone give me a fucking gun?" Georgie kept screaming.
I was racking my brains for some way to deter five adult tigers. Even one was enough to tear us all to shreds. That's why I missed the sound that had weaved itself into the storm's roaring. First I took it for the wind singing in my ears. Then I realized it was not the wind but a whistle. A cop's whistle.
Its trill died away, then repeated, closer this time. As if on cue, the tigers legged it and disappeared in the haze. A white light came on in front of us, similar to one of those Forecomers' beams. But as far as I could remember, there were none of them there.
The bright spot of light shifted up and down as it approached. Was someone trying to send us a signal?
"Hello!" I stepped forward. "We're here!"
"We're here!" the others shouted. "Over here!"
A gust of wind pushed me onto Jim who collapsed onto one knee. Wladas behind me cried out and clasped my elbow pulling me to the ground. I wouldn't have stayed on my feet had Kathy not offered me her shoulder. With her other hand, she held onto Wong's belt who dragged Georgie along trying to brave the wind.
I wheezed attempting to take another step. Holding onto each other, we struggled toward the bright light until a new gust of wind knocked us all down.
Sand blinded our eyes and crunched between our teeth. My swollen tongue was abrasive in my dry mouth. But the light approached - not as fast as we'd thought at first, but it kept moving toward us.
Suddenly the wind abated. The storm still raged around us but it seemed to have lost its strength, as if it had had its fun playing with new toys and had left us under a falling blanket of sand flecks.
Dust floated in the air. The light went out. The sun shone brighter
showing bits of sky and a tall human shape.
A man in long flowing robes and a headdress strode toward us leaning on a staff. His face was covered by a shawl.
"Ahmad," Kathy gasped. "This is Ahmad! The goat-herder from the oasis!"
A large herd of goats followed the man, about forty animals at least.
"You know him well?" I spat sand as I sat down and picked the dirt out of my ears, nose and eyes.
"Not really, no. I've seen him a couple times. Normally it was Famba who did all the talking."
Our faces were covered with so much dust you couldn't even see Jim's freckles. Wladas reached into his bag for the flask and was about to wash his face when Kathy stopped him.
"No point in wasting water. Have a swig yourself and offer some to the others. You can wipe your face with a cloth."
He complied, a silent question still in his eyes.
"We don't know if we can get more water at the oasis," she explained. "Better save it. Now don't say anything," she lowered her voice. "Leave him to me."
I nodded. Let her do it. Georgie didn't have enough strength to protest. He sat and wheezed spitting out sand as Jim wiped his face with a cloth. Wong was already back on his feet, his shotgun on his shoulders, greeting the goat herder.
Ahmad walked past him without acknowledgment. Kathy waved her hand to him. The goat herder walked toward her and stopped. The bell-jingling goats advanced a little more and stopped too. Some of them bleated, identifying themselves. Long-haired and tailless, they had black patches on their heads and short horns no more than a thumb long. Very sharp.
I swung round remembering the tigers. The storm had moved off toward the river. Had the tigers moved along? Or... I looked at the goats. Could I have mistaken these hairy beasts for tigers? Say, a few had strayed from the herd and the man had whistled to call them back. All that panicking was for nothing.
A silver whistle dangled on Ahmad's chest. On his belt he wore a lamp very similar to those I saw in the hotel and on Grunt's boat. Still, this one was different. Its base was of the same material as the cave and the Forecomers' tower supports. A glass tube sat in the base letting the light through its convex lenses. A thick cap of the same material covered the lamp.
