V 14 - The Oregon Invasion

by Jayne Tannehill (UC) (epub)

  “Yeah, it sort of works that way.”

  “But if the person with the money is frightened he will die, then he will give the money, right?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “No one likes to die. But . . .” Hadad became very quiet. He had never spoken before to an Earth one about the power of Zon. He had never spoken to one of his own people about Zon. One does not speak of the power one knows all one’s life. One has no need to name that which surrounds one, contains one, sustains all being of all that one knows. He did not know the words that would say ail that he wanted Ruth to understand. “It is different when you are not afraid to die. Humans are afraid to die.”

  “You said ‘humans,’ not ‘Earth ones.’”

  “Not all Earth ones are afraid to die. Some are. Most humans are.”

  “But the Visitors aren’t?”

  “No, Ruth. There is no fear.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I was in Los Angeles. I worked for ... I worked for Diana.”

  “But you said you weren’t part of the resistance.” “There were a lot of us in Los Angeles who worked for Diana. Some were part of the resistance. The rest of us were just doing the jobs we had always done.”

  “I didn’t know they used civilians.”

  “There were lots of civilians at the compound.” “But how could you be part of it and not. .

  Hadad looked at Ruth. The eyes of the deer were frightened and shaming. He looked at her with no defense, as he had looked at the coyote for the entire night, never giving up the right he had claimed to be exactly what he was, exactly where he was, exactly who he was. She looked down at the table and then back up to his face, then to his eyes.

  “Ruth, I am not a brave man.”

  She looked back to the table. In a moment she breathed a heavy sigh.

  “Then you think they will test—”

  “If a Visitor can walk through town safely with the antidote, the next test will be to see if another can walk through town safely without the antidote. If he dies, then they will know the antidote works. Nothing short of that will satisfy them. If they find out soon there is no red dust in the atmosphere, they will invade Prineville.”

  “They haven’t invaded yet.”

  “Yet.”

  For a moment she did not say anything. Then she sighed and her shoulders dropped.

  “I’m going to the Ladies. I’ll be right back.”

  Ruth pushed her chair back from the table and got up. The energy Hadad had noticed earlier in her movements was gone. There was instead a lethargy, a despondency, that seemed foreign to her. Betty passed her, coming from the kitchen as Ruth went to the other door in the narrow hallway.

  “You two sure had some heavy talking to do. You old friends?”

  “No, we just meet.”

  “You’re not new in town.”

  “Not this morning new.”

  “Ah, I didn’t mean that.” Betty started to laugh as she got the inference that he was making. “I mean, you’re not a visitor in town or nothin’ like that.” “You think I am a Visitor?”

  “You’re teasing me. You know I didn’t mean that.” “Why do you ask?”

  “Thought I’d seen you round the mill.”

  “You might have seen me. I work there.”

  “Then I have seen you before. My husband works there.”

  “And who is your husband?”

  “John Hanawald.”

  “I know him.”

  “That’s where I’ve seen you, then.”

  Ruth came back to the table.

  “I’ll pay that, Betty. David’s my guest this time.” Hadad looked up and the eyes of the deer returned his look with that strange stare that made him stare back, unaware of time and circumstance. Ruth looked away and gave Betty money for their lunch.

  They left the restaurant and walked back on that side of the street, back toward the courthouse, walking east, looking at the ship hanging in the sky. They didn’t talk much. This time Ruth didn’t take his arm. “What is the meaning, ‘heritage’?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Come here. I will show you.” Hadad took Ruth by the arm and led her the half block more to the fountain in front of the courthouse. “Here.” He pointed to the sign on the base of the fountain: “The heritage of the past is the seed that brings forth the harvest of the future.”

  “It’s like a gift, I guess. More than that, though. It’s like everything that has ever been, that has ever been valued, that people have put energy and love into that

  they can pass on to their kids and their grandkids.” “Things then.”

  “Things, and traditions.”

  “It is very special to value things that are old, ideas that are old. Not everyone is like that.”

  Ruth looked up in the sky.

  “They do not value old things, or old ideas.”

  “I had a feeling that was what you were talking about.”

  “Thank you for the lunch. I am sorry I could not eat.”

  “I understand. The food wasn’t what was important anyway. Where . . . where are you headed now?” “I don’t know.”

  “We forgot your plant.” Ruth’s energy returned rapidly.

  “Oh, yes.” Hadad felt the urgency from her and assumed it himself. “I must go back to get it. Then I . . .”

  “Well, my car’s over there.”

  “I have to get my plant.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You will be careful with what I told you?”

  “Sure. I ... I don’t know . . . I’ll see you sometime.”

  “You will travel safely?”

  “Oh, sure.”

  “About what you said to the Visitor . .

  “What about it?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh, that. Sure. You owe me one. One of these days you get to rescue me.”

  “I promise.”

  The eyes of the deer looked once more at him and the urgencies of the plant, the day, were gone again. Something drew him toward her, but his muscles stopped him from moving. Suddenly Ruth smiled and the look was gone. And then as suddenly she stepped from the curb and began to run toward her car.

  The tires squealed, the horn blared, and the bumper impacted Ruth’s leg with a thump. She was pushed down the street by the car as it stopped, and then it dropped her on the pavement.

  Chapter 4

  Paul stood at the console behind Eleanor when the guards dragged the costumed Jeffrey into her quarters. He was amazed at the beleaguered look on the lieutenant commander’s face when he became aware that they had been alone. Eleanor was, to Jeffrey’s mind, to be his own prize. He did not cherish the notion that Paul might have taken advantage of his absence.

  Eleanor was a toy to Paul. It was true, he enjoyed playing from time to time. But for him she was no prize, no conquest, and he kept his values very clear when it came to the politics of the bedroom. He had won his military command of this ship by bedding Diana well. When she had gained strategic power she had remembered him and counted on his allegiance. Now that he had gained her favors, he would have her and no others. At least no others as public and conspicuous as Eleanor.

  But it did not pass his notice that his friendship with Eleanor was interpreted as a threat to Jeffrey. That pleased him. He did not like the lieutenant commander and enjoyed any irritation that he might be able to inflict upon him.

  Eleanor was a scientist, not a strategist. She had evolved a strain of volatile antitoxin that seemed to hold the resistance virus, the V-dust, at bay for a couple of hours. She was refining it to develop a true antitoxin, when her experiments were sabotaged by fifth columnists. Only Paul had known enough to sabotage the experiments. Only he had known exactly what stage she had reached in her work, the precise moment when a bit too much acid would void the entire project. But Eleanor was not a strategist and had never reasoned out the source of her aggravation. She would have to begin again. But in the meanwhil
e the volatile antitoxin allowed them to penetrate infested areas for three hours at a time without harmful effect. Each returning combatant had to be sanitized to return to the ship, and each could not be reinjected for seventy-two hours. And eventually the body would saturate with antitoxin and become ill from the solution itself. But it was the best they could do for now.

  Jeffrey stood staring wistfully at Eleanor.

  “Leave him,” she barked at the guards.

  They turned and left her compartment. Paul poured himself a glass of mulled caterpillar.

  “All right, Jeffrey,” Eleanor began, “what have you discovered in your masquerade? I’m still not satisfied that this hoax was really necessary. And it certainly is undignified. You look like a common Earthling. Why I even agreed to consent to this, Fm not certain.”

  ' Jeffrey regained his swagger once his bodyguards had been dismissed. Paul was delighted that he had disconcerted his contender by ordering the escort. He knew now that Jeffrey was unable to bear an escort with authority. And that pleased him. The Jealous One—Jeffrey certainly lived up to his true name. He had tried to reach Diana with his intrigue, to sabotage Paul’s prospects while they were both on Lydia’s Los Angeles ship.

  But Jeffrey was an upstart, vengeful. He lacked savoir-faire. And especially he lacked tact. Already he had offended Eleanor by overriding her plan to send an inoculated troop into the hills to test the antitoxin. Instead, he had insisted only one should go—and of course he was to be the volunteer. Heroics are either

  dangerous or stupid. Jeffrey’s heroics were generally stupid.

  Paul listened as Eleanor now berated him for his departure from the craft area, leaving his hover craft untended. It seems he had gone down to the planet, left his craft, obscured but untended, stolen clothes and gone into town to see just how far he could penetrate the populace without notice. Apparently he had been successful. But the risk of capture, of inciting resistance, of being killed in the process, could have defeated the test of the antitoxin. Eleanor was not interested in his reconnaissance ventures. She wanted to know how he fared with the virus. She wanted a specimen from his colon to test in her laboratory and she was impatient that he had kept her waiting.

  Paul watched. Had he left, Jeffrey could have sweet-talked his way around the angered Eleanor. But Paul did not leave. And so Jeffrey took the verbal abuse and argued his cause with logic rather than sex and came up wanting of arguments. At least for Eleanor.

  “You might be interested, Paul, in one bit of information I gathered.” Jeffrey turned away from Eleanor now and addressed him directly. “We aren’t the only Visitors in Central Oregon.”

  Paul lifted an eyebrow almost involuntarily.

  “I’m sure you will remember Hadad—The Leader’s chosen disciple at the compound at home, the future king of Pau. I always figured he was killed with Stephen in Los Angeles. But I was wrong. Somehow he got to Oregon. I have a feeling Diana will be very pleased to know where he is. And very pleased with whomever it is who carries out her orders to eliminate him. Apparently he was part of the fifth column, otherwise how could he have survived the V-dust? I’d say that makes him doubly fair game.”

  Paul shrugged, unwilling to reveal his response to the information. Hadad had been a pawn, first of The Leader, then of Diana. But it had seemed to Paul that Hadad was liked by The Leader. If he were still alive, he might serve Paul’s interest. He would have to consider carefully.

  Since he had aligned himself with the fifth column, Paul had complicated his strategic efforts. Now he must weigh his priorities.

  “And you, Jeffrey, you, too, were in Los Angeles. Were you a part of the fifth column? Is that how you survived the V-dust?”

  Jeffrey bristled at the accusation. Paul was amused that words, even false words, could reach their mark.

  “You know I was on the mother ship and taken prisoner. You were the one who negotiated for our release.”

  “Of course. I had . . . forgotten.”

  Paul had had enough; Jeffrey had suffered his presence sufficiently for one day. He downed the last of his drink, nodded to them both, and left Eleanor’s quarters.

  The long white corridors of the mother ship gave Paul no solace though they were his to control, to dominate. His orders could change the path of any armed party, the priority of any worker, the execution of any plan designed by a junior officer. His authority was complete and tested.

  But that authority rested upon his compliance with the western invasion. Diana’s plan was simple: vanquish Earth. The Leader had designed a much more complex invasion. His priority had been relief for the famine and drought at home. His plan had included overcoming petty Earth allegiances, molding the populace to serve his purposes, taking what was heeded and leaving the rest under the supervision of devoted followers—intelligent, docile priests—who would govern the remaining Earthlings and mold them into passive, obedient creatures, available for the future needs of their superiors, disinterested in retaliation or rebellion. The priests of Zon had been eliminated. Only Amon remained, and his influence had been repressed, his followers forced into obedience to The Leader.

  But the quality of priesthood remained among the people. And The Leader had found that a useful commodity. No longer priests of Zon, the young trainees would become the priests of The Leader. And so he had sought out fifty young men, all of whom bore the mark of Zon, and had trained them in the new ways of the new priesthood. He had banned the book of Zon, replaced it with the book of The Leader. He had taken the sacred language and indoctrinated his new priests with new meanings for the sacred words. He had taught these young men how to lead people, promised they would become kings, and, using the conversion techniques, stripped from them the core of their belief system, the sense of worthiness that aligned them with the Lords of Light. He had created them as docile, accepting, empty shells and given them responsibility with no authority.

  Diana had rebelled herself at the notion of leaving priests in charge of a population. She wanted the control herself and so, even before reaching Earth, she had undermined the allegiance of John and the other directors, changed the objectives of each of the mother ships, and given herself the greatest advantage by choosing for her ship a megalopolis to conquer.

  Paul hadn’t needed the privacy of her bed to comprehend her tactics. But. having enjoyed those pleasures, he had used that intimacy to learn her vulnerabilities. His loyalties were still with The Leader. He could not overcome Diana’s influence directly. And so he had used her interest in him to gain position, and then he had sought out the fifth column and found among its ranks those sympathetic with his resistance to Diana’s leadership.

  He was valuable to them in his own position, but he found it difficult to keep close communication with the organizers on the ship. And he could not assume control of the fifth column. He would have liked that. But the allegiance of the rebellion aboard his ship was already with Justine. And so he contented himself with facilitating the plans she directed, aware that in time he must, for his own purposes, subvert her to his plan, or eliminate her influence.

  Power over one ship was not enough to satisfy Paul. He wanted Diana’s power, and ultimately he wanted the power of The Leader.

  He passed Patricia in the corridor and gave the obscure signal that would call her to his quarters for a private conversation. She nodded in acknowledgment and continued down the corridor without breaking stride. Now he must return to his quarters and wait until she found time and excuse to visit him. She was careful and that is why he had chosen her for his personal liaison. He could not risk detection of his counterallegiance. He must appear loyal to Diana and her cause.

  He wondered now what course best served his purpose.

  The Leader’s priests had been eliminated. It was assumed that Hadad had been killed in Los Angeles and so he had not been considered in the purge. It was evident now that he had known in advance what would happen and had escaped.

  The first thing Paul must det
ermine was if Hadad had aligned with the resistance. If not, he must be absorbed into the fifth-column operations, or he must be eliminated. It would not serve Paul’s purposes to have a third Visitor interest in Earth. But would Hadad serve the resistance? He wasn’t sure.

  He reached his quarters and set the visual monitors onto prerecorded scenes of himself undressing, sleeping, reading, enjoying the privacy of his own compartment. He turned down the lighting in the room and removed his uniform, preferring a vestment of fur for the communication with Patricia that would come soon.

  He pushed aside the drape at the far end of the room, exposing his bed. He threw additional pillows onto the sheepskin cover and stretched out to enjoy the wait. He reached over his head to the pile of books he kept beside him. He had cultured the habit of reading while at the compound in Los Angeles. The books of Earth were such fascinating relics of a dead past. The mysteries of the culture fascinated him. He took the top book: The Art of War, by Sun Tzu. That one would do nicely.

  He opened the book to the place he’d marked, turned on the light behind him, and began to read.

  Chapter 5

  All of the human energies in witness of the impact of the car upon Ruth denied awareness of the moment; consumed themselves in wondering what they might have done in the moment before to avoid the accident; to warn her; to change the momentum of the car; to prevent the damage done that now could not, time being irreversible, be undone. Only Hadad did not try to rewrite history. And so he was the first person at Ruth’s side when the car finally stopped and dropped her to the pavement.

  Now it did not matter that his right hand was bandaged, hidden, torn. With both hands he straightened her body, feeling as he touched her the places where her body held the pain, her shoulders tensed, her elbows raw and bleeding, her back bruised, her head aching, her hips jarred, her leg broken, her feet burning. There were too many points of pain for him to attend to himself. But now there were people gathering. The driver was bringing a jacket from the car, tucking it under Ruth’s head.