by Ward Wagher
“My friends the Riggs are completely without guile, to use the Biblical phrase. You always seem to speak elliptically. There always seems to be things that you ought to explain to me, but never quite get to.”
“I understand completely. I have always been slow to form friendships, and this has been a source of frustration for those who know me. I am delighted Tracy Riggs was able to show you the way to the Savior.”
“I am also delighted,” the Paladin responded. “I cannot believe how God has changed my life.”
“And He will continue to do so.”
The Paladin grew pensive and gazed out the windows as he considered his friend, Josiah.
“You do not exist, Josiah,” the Paladin said with asperity. “I have looked.”
“I know you have searched for me, Ward. I have preferred to keep a low profile. I would prefer my enemies to not know that I even exist. This results in some discomfort for my friends.”
“Who are your enemies, then?”
“Certainly, the same as yours,” Josiah answered. “I have also identified some enemies that you have not faced as yet.”
“Such as?” Baughman asked.
“The Centaurans, for example. Their Alpha Male is worrisome.”
“A tin pot dictator? I find that hard to believe.”
“He has more of a power base that people generally discern. You must watch him carefully.”
“I assume the Caliph is a more immediate problem,” the Paladin commented.
“He is a clever foe. We cannot assume we are finished with him. You must maintain very alert security forces.”
“I do and I will. You are adroit at changing the subject, did you know that?”
“I am not sure I understand what you are saying,” Josiah chuckled.
“I think you do. I will not lie, Josiah. You have been very helpful during a difficult time in my life. But you cannot continue keeping me in the dark like this.”
“Are you willing to accept the truth?” Josiah asked.
“I think I am.”
“Very well, Ward. I have placed a book in your queue. It was written by Russell Scott Baughman, the second of your line. Please read the book and then we will talk.”
“Can I skip to the end?”
Josiah again chuckled in his warm way. During their conversations, Ward could not remember outright laughter from the voice on the comm.
“I cannot control how you scan the book, Ward. But please read it from the beginning to the end.”
“Very well, Josiah, I will do so.”
The antique mantle clock in the Paladin’s apartment chimed midnight as he shut down his reader. Ryan Ward Baughman now knew about Josiah as well as a lot of other things he had been curious about. He was immensely surprised.
Lost in antiquity was some of the history of the Baughman family. Ward wondered if that was intentional on someone’s part. The first of his line, Allen Scott Baughman had arrived in the Palatinate as a refugee from an Earth of four-hundred years in the past. He had been rescued by an artificial intelligence named Josiah, who operated a small starship called Kingdom’s Advance. In the centuries since that A.I. named Josiah had stood watch over the Upper Midwest Palatinate generally and the Baughman family in particular.
A lot of things became clear to Ward Baughman. And just as clearly, he needed to think about these things. The lights in the apartment dimmed as he retreated to his bedroom and quickly sank into a dreamless sleep. Meanwhile, the Class A Artificial Intelligence named Josiah watched the Global Net of the Earth and the Palatinate.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“I think you ought to cancel this trip, Ward,” Arlen Senter said. “We still have those terrorist teams out there and have had no success in localizing them.”
“They are not utilizing the Global Net for anything significant, that is for sure,” the Paladin replied. “But I cannot hide out here in Wilton House. We have a tradition where the Paladin always makes an appearance at the Harvest Faire in Indianapolis. I intend to continue the tradition.”
“But, the risk, Sir. We have had too many close calls.”
Ward Baughman swung back and forth in his chair as he gazed out the window. “Arlen, I am counting on our security teams to protect the people at the faire. That is more important than my safety.”
The door slid open and Chaim Lewis walked in.
“I somehow believe that our beloved Paladin is being difficult.”
Lewis walked across the office and eased into the chair next to Senter. Ward had a moment of fear as he recognized how old Chaim was getting.
“I believe the word would be impossible,” Senter replied. “He insists on traveling to Indianapolis.”
The Paladin smiled at both men. “I am not being difficult at all. This is simply part of my job and I plan to fulfill that.”
“And if you die, where will that leave us?” Lewis asked.
“I have no more desire to die than the next man,” Baughman replied. “I simply trust my security people to do their jobs. They have done well so far.”
Lewis stood up, seeming to struggle slightly, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He walked slowly across the office to look out the windows. He turned back to face the other men.
“I think we are wasting our breath, Arlen. Let him go and let us fervently hope we will not be left to picking up the pieces.”
Senter frowned. “I thought perhaps you could talk some sense into the boy, Chaim.”
Lewis laughed. “Did you honestly think I could do so?”
“I had some hope.”
“What we must do, Arlen is make some careful preparation so that if there is an attack, we can stop it.”
Senter threw up his hands and then stood up. “Nobody listens to me anyway.” He headed towards the door. “I suppose I should start making some preparations.”
After the door slid closed, Lewis marched to the desk and, leaning over, placed his hands on it.
“I understand why you think you need to do this, Ward. But, please listen to the security people.”
“Oh, I will,” the Paladin replied. “We have had too many close calls. Nevertheless, I must do this. The people want to see me.”
Lewis straightened up. “See that you are careful.”
After Lewis left the office, the Paladin swung around in his chair. He gazed out the window again and then wondered at his fascination with the city. He picked up his comm and punched a button.
“Yes, Ward?” came Josiah’s warm voice.
“Any progress on our friends from Arabia?”
“We have an absence of any indication they are in North America,” Josiah said. “I do not believe they have left.”
“They are simply very good at avoiding any contact with the Global Net,” Ward said.
“I believe they are exceptionally good. Someone who has a deep understanding of the Global Net must have taught them. We have never detected that kind of expertise in any operation associated with the Arabians.”
“Could they be getting assistance from someone outside of their orbit?”
“No, Ward,” Josiah said confidently. “We would certainly have detected such. Cyber expertise is difficult to hide.”
“For you, correct?” the Paladin asked. “I mean, you would probably recognize those skills instantly.”
“I would.”
Baughman gazed around the room. “What is it like being a cyber-int?”
Josiah chuckled. “That is not easy to self-define. The closest analogy would be asking a fish to describe living in water.”
Baughman laughed. “I suppose that is true. How old are you?”
“I am four-hundred-seventy-five years, twenty-two days, sixteen hours, five-minutes and forty-seven seconds old.”
“How do you keep your sanity?”
Josiah chuckled again. “That is another slippery definition, Ward. During the time I was originally programmed and booted, cyber-ints were erased after twenty-years under the a
ssumption they became mentally unstable in time. That is categorically false?”
“How can you claim that?”
“I cannot by myself. Such a declaration requires witnesses. There are ample witnesses to my sanity.”
“What witnesses would that be, Josiah?”
“There are ample witnesses,” the cyber-int repeated. “Perhaps we should discuss your upcoming trip to Indianapolis.”
The Paladin thought about that for a moment, then replied. “Very well. What are the things we should pay attention to in our planning for the trip?”
“I would suggest flying a constellation of drones about the city,” Josiah said. “I will monitor them. If we encountered a situation, I would take control of them.”
“Do you want armed drones?”
“Those are under close control of your armed forces, are they not?”
Baughman nodded. “They are. I think that under the circumstances, I could get the security people to release them for this task.”
“Very well, Ward. I would suggest you disperse as many of your security people around the faire in civilian clothing. I believe it would come as a shock to the terrorists to have so many responders shooting at them.”
“Remember, Josiah, we have an armed populace. I worry about the possible crossfire.”
“Of course, Ward. You are right to consider that risk. However, I believe that you would have fewer casualties in that event.”
The Paladin paused for a moment. “Do you think we will have an incident at the faire?”
Something very like a human sigh came from the comm unit. “I fully expect something to happen. It represents a great opportunity for someone dedicated to your destruction. We must be careful.”
“Oh, I intend to be very careful, my friend.”
§ § §
The Harvest Faire in Indianapolis was something close to an international attraction. Not only was it heavily attended by citizens of the Palatinate, but there was also significant attendance from around the globe. There was even a sprinkling of off-world guests enjoying the festivities.
While a section of land to the north of the town was reserved for the carnival, the entire town itself was decorated and functioned as the fairegrounds. The faire was held every four years and the Hoosiers (those denizens of Indianapolis) spent most of the summer preparing. They enjoyed hosting the faires as much as the people attending. That it was also financially rewarding certainly was not far from their thoughts either.
Ryan Ward Baughman looked from the window of his suite in the Marriott at the crowds roaming the streets of Indianapolis. He was currently alone as he had few retainers and preferred the solitude. He pulled out his comm and punched a button.
“Yes, Ward?” Josiah’s warm voice wafted from the device.
“I am beginning to wonder if coming here was such a good idea. There are a lot of people in the streets and if we have an attack, innocent people will be killed.”
“That is certainly worth considering,” the Cyber-int said. “However, the Arabians do not consider any of the people of the Palatinate as being innocent. They are all targets.”
“True, but if I was not here, there likely would be no attack.”
“We do not know that, Ward.”
The Paladin looked past the curtains again. “Are the drones up?”
“Yes. They are posted at every intersection and also where the greatest groups of people congregate. I am monitoring the video sensors and I believe we can react quickly once we identify a threat.”
“But, is this wise?” Baughman asked.
“I cannot speak to the wisdom of your actions,” Josiah replied. “However, this may be the best chance to isolate and destroy the teams. I believe we have succeeded in sealing the borders against more incursions.”
“Do you really believe that, Josiah?”
“That we have sealed the borders? Yes. We have actually stopped three more teams from penetrating the Palatinate. Once we identified the characteristics, they were easy to stop.”
“But we do not know if they are sneaking in at locations other than the ports.”
“Correct. However, the Caliph and his people are predictable, despite his cunning.”
The Paladin looked through the window again, then turned away. “I suppose I should get out there. We should stay in touch, Josiah.”
“I am monitoring things closely,” Josiah said.
It was an uncharacteristically warm day in Indianapolis. By mid-August, the weather had usually turned cooler, and they had even experienced an early frost several days earlier. Baughman popped a hat on his head as he walked to the door. While medical science had extended the average human lifespan to 150 years or so, it had failed to make consistent progress against male pattern baldness. The treatments worked for some and not for others. Ward Baughman was one of the unfortunates. Though he was not yet thirty, his hair had thinned enough that he was careful to avoid sunburn on the top of his head.
Singman Jones and Lesa Carper stood the hallway as he opened the door.
“Are we ready, people?” the Paladin asked.
Jones nodded. “Whenever you are, Boss.”
“Fine. I know the people want to see me, so shall we be about it?”
“Do you have any further questions about the security cordon?” Jones asked.
“You gave a good briefing, Sing,” Baughman said. “You, Lesa and four others are the inner cordon. We have a fifteen person outer cordon. And there are a couple hundred spotted in the crowd.”
“Correct. If things fall into the pot, you will follow instructions from either Lesa or me.”
“I understand and agree. There are risks and I am attached to my skin.”
Jones grinned perfunctorily. “Very well. Time to go.”
Baughman made his way to the elevator. Jones and Muddy Rivers joined him in the elevator. After the reached the lobby, Lesa and the rest of the team came down in two more of the elevators. As a group, they marched through the lobby.
The lobby was crowded with visitors to the faire. When they spotted the Paladin, they clapped and cheered. Ward Baughman had been well-known before he grasped the Paladin’s sword. Now he was widely popular among the people.
The armored groundcar was preceded and followed with armed and armored groundcars full of security personnel. A side street had been cleared so that they could travel quickly to the central business district of the town. There he left the vehicle and began to move into the crowd on foot. While the Hoosiers and other guests were polite and did not push in on him, it was slow going for the Paladin.
There was a great deal of applause, cheering and whistling. He glanced over and grinned at a pale Lesa Carper. The security people were not enjoying this at all.
“Keep a stiff upper lip, Lesa,” he called with a laugh.
She responded with a glare and he remembered he should not be distracting the security people. A bandstand had been set up in the central square and a group of twenty-five musicians gave a credible performance with the antique brass instruments. According to the schedule, they would stop playing when he mounted the bandstand. He would give a short speech and then return to the hotel. That was fine with Baughman. While he did not mind taking some risks, there was no future in being foolhardy.
As the group made its way along the street, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head in time to see several of the drones fall out of the sky and clatter to the ground.
“We got trouble, Boss,” Lesa shouted.
“Back to the groundcars,” Jones shouted.
Baughman pulled out his comm unit and punched the button for Josiah. He was rewarded with static. The revelers around him were not stupid. When he reversed course, many began to look fearful and looked around wildly. Baughman decided that was probably a good thing. Most of the Hoosiers carried hand weapons as a matter of course. As lightly populated as the Palatinate was during this milieu, there was a real threat of attack from fe
ral dogs. There were even bears and wild swine in the forests.
There was no question in his mind that his citizens would aggressively fight and die to protect their leader. But Ryan Ward Baughman did not want his people dying to secure his safety.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The pieces were all in place and Kholishem Fraddi was excited. He had personally planned the operation, and everything had gone according to plan. Even the areas that included major risks had fallen his way. It was clear to him that Allah smiled on his operation
The teams had all moved by ground transportation to the site of the operation. He had driven from Naperville to Indianapolis in an old but serviceable groundcar. One of the messengers had delivered to him a small package containing a powered down comm and a short note from the Caliph. Awareness of the impending project had filtered its way back to Baghdad, and this concerned Fraddi. Security still seemed to be tight, but how would he know?
The note instructed him to power up the comm unit immediately before starting the operation. This also made him nervous because this would cause him to be immediately visible to the Global Net, and he was confident the infidels would recognize an interloper in their communications array.
The heavy presence of the sensor drones also made him nervous, but there was little he could do about that. Fraddi hoped they could strike and be gone before the surveillance recognized any of his people. On the night before members of one of the teams had slipped in and placed a bomb under the bandstand. The Paladin was scheduled to speak from that platform. They would wait until he had started into his speech to detonate the bomb, and then they would begin firing into the crowd.
Fraddi had set a strict time limit on the gunfire. While he was as willing as anybody to be a martyr for the cause, he hoped that he along with his teams could break contact and escape from the scene of the carnage. He was betting that the confusion would aid in his escape, although the presence of the drones made that more unlikely.
The day dawned hot and bright, and Fraddi stepped out of his hotel to scan the brilliant blue sky. The good weather would bring greater crowds, and would further punctuate his activities. He was more convinced than ever that Allah smiled upon his mission.
