The Lion in Paradise

by Brindle, Nathan C.

  "That's not all you like about me, or so I've heard." She winked.

  "Less talk, more kitchen time. I'll cook, you set the table."

  "Works for me."

  ◆

  "Can't believe we've been relegated to shuttling RIFs around to look at a mosque site," grumbled Wolff, in Japanese, glancing into the rearview of the Frumious Bandersnatch to see the six passenger seats filled with members of the Islamic Council.

  Von Barronov, in the nav seat, shrugged, and said, in the same language, "At least they are being courteous."

  "So desu. Tonikaku, karera wa kokkupitto o bakugeki shiyou to wa shite imasen."

  And it was true; in point of fact, they weren't trying to bomb the cockpit. They were chatting animatedly amongst themselves, and looking around the interior of the pinnace with more than a little wonder . . . and envy.

  "You need to get that humongous chip off your shoulder about RIFs," scolded his friend. "Yes, they blew you up once. How many years ago was that?"

  "A hundred and twenty-eight. And they're all dead. Including some who had nothing to do with it. Sorry. I hold long grudges." He cracked a smile. "I blame my Ukrainian roots for that. As bad as Russians, in some ways. But easier to deal with. And usually the other three-quarters that's German and Austrian keeps it down to a simmer."

  "Well. Ten miles out from the beacon."

  "Decelerating now." Switching to Arabic, he called out, "Take hold, we're decelerating."

  And a few moments later, the Bandersnatch flawlessly touched down on the plateau, alongside the USSF Tumtum and the two pinnaces on loan from the Constellation – rather unimaginatively named Pin One and Pin Two.

  Also on the ground was the unnamed USMC transport carrying FTSA2. FTSA2 were already dismounted, and crowding around the Tumtum's airlock.

  "The hell?" grunted Wolff.

  "There's some concern about snipers in the hills," offered von Barronov. "Or so I heard from Fred when he commed me about the situation."

  "Hmm," replied Wolff, thoughtfully. "I think they may have bit off more than they can chew with Ariela, but we'll see what happens if they try to snipe her." He unbuckled and got up; von Barronov followed suit. "Gentlemen," he continued in Arabic, "you may unbuckle and exit the cabin. I believe we are the last ship to land, so please feel free to mingle with the rest of your delegation."

  They followed the councilmen out onto the dry, dusty plateau.

  "Gentlemen, brothers," they heard Bahadur call out, "please come and join us, we would like to show you the view from the front of the proposed mosque."

  As the councilmen headed that way, Wolff and von Barronov walked over to the Tumtum. "Has she come out yet?" asked Wolff.

  "No, sir," replied 2nd Lieutenant Pete Moore. "We're told that's imminent; she was talking to Major Fox and Captain Harbinger."

  "Ah. Last minute security concerns, I assume."

  "Possibly, sir. I know the mullah and the governor contracted some executive protection types who came out with them. It's my understanding Sergeant-Major Fox insisted on a full fire team for Colonel Wolff, and that detail fell to us."

  "Good job, that. I know they can count on you, Pete."

  Moore looked flustered, but rose to the occasion. "Thank you, General. We will certainly do our best and utmost to protect the Colonel."

  Wolff beckoned him. "Pete, come with me a moment. I need to tell you something that's technically classified, but you have need-to-know."

  "Aye, aye, sir." Moore looked at his gunny, who nodded, and started talking to the rest of the team. The general and the second lieutenant moved about ten feet away.

  "I know you've not worked directly with Colonel Wolff like FTSA1 has," started Wolff, in a quiet voice, "and there's nothing wrong with that; I know your background and you're not going to have any trouble running this detail, and neither are your team. I just want you to be aware not to be surprised at anything . . . hmm . . . supernatural, I suppose, that happens to occur around the Colonel."

  "Sir?"

  "On other missions she has evinced certain . . . abilities. Let me just stick my foot all the way in, Pete. My guess is that if some RIF sniper up there on the cliff happens to take a shot at her, she'll be perfectly fine. Your job at that point is to locate and take out the RIF sniper – or snipers – so don't pay any attention to what weird shit happens around your principal. Savvy? Nah, I know you don't. Half the time I'm not sure I do."

  Moore looked over at the cliffs, which were a fairly easy M11 shot away, and nodded. "So what you're saying, sir, is that crazy shit may happen around the Colonel, but pay it no mind; stay on mission, take out the trash, oorah."

  Wolff clapped him on the back. "Splendid, lieutenant, splendid. I knew you would understand that part."

  "But sir – what exactly do you expect to happen?"

  "I would not be entirely surprised," said Wolff, slowly, considering possibilities, "if she caught the bullet in her hand and threw it back at the sniper who fired it. But more likely, she'll manage to create a shield around herself before the sound of the bullet even reaches us, and the bullet will simply ricochet. Hopefully, at an angle that takes it far away from all of us."

  Moore looked at him, askance. "Really?"

  Wolff nodded. "Yep. Really."

  "So the stories about her having, er, 'special abilities', are true?"

  "Delaney definitely has them. And I've spent enough time around Ariela on various missions to imagine Delaney got them from Ariela. So just don't be surprised, Pete. Stay frosty and worry about taking out the RIFs."

  "Aye, aye, General."

  "Good man. Let's get back to the others."

  They walked back over to the airlock, where Ariela and Fox were just debarking. "Hi, Dad," said Ariela, brightening a bit. "Glad you're here." She stepped up and gave him a hug.

  "Hrmf. Not very military, young lady." But he hugged her back and gave her a kiss on the forehead for good measure. "Hi, Smaj." He stuck out a hand and Fox shook it, with a grin.

  "Delaney and Harb didn't come because of the potential the Islamics might interpret their presence as SFMID intelligence-gathering, as opposed to simply executive protection," explained Ariela. "They were fine with you using FTSA2, as it turns out. Helps clear the air about the mission."

  "Good." They disengaged, and Wolff gestured to Moore and his people. "Here's your principal. The lieutenant will give you some advice on how best to protect her. I'd like to hear a muted 'oorah' on that, please."

  "Oorah," they all said, understanding he didn't want the rest of the attendees to have their attention drawn to them.

  Wolff offered an arm to his daughter, who took it with a smile. "Shall we join the others?"

  "Sounds like why we came out here," she agreed. "Upon this rock, build we peace, as I told the mullah." They stepped off and started walking over to the main event, FTSA2 and Fox trailing them, and Lieutenant Moore talking quietly but urgently to the sergeants in his group.

  "What kind of 'advice' is Lt. Moore giving his group about me, Dad?" Ariela whispered, fiercely. "I mean, what the fuck, over?"

  "I have a feeling about your Mesh abilities," he whispered back. "I think if someone shoots at you, you'll react and deflect it."

  "With the Mesh?" She looked incredulous.

  "Shh. Yes. With the Mesh. You can push it around, why wouldn't you be able to concentrate it between a bullet and yourself to create a shield?"

  "Um." She looked thoughtful. "Actually, I don't know why not. But why do you think I'd be able to react that quickly?"

  Wolff smiled. "You'll feel it in the Mesh, won't you?"

  "Never thought about it that way. Maybe?" She looked around herself, with that far-off expression on her face she got whenever she was looking at the Mesh. "Sure, there are Mesh lines in the atmosphere, just not thickly-grouped the way they are for solid materials. I suppose there are Mesh lines in space, too; but like I said, I never thought about the Mesh that way. Hmm. Interesting, Dad. I find your ide
as intriguing and I wish to subscribe to your newsletter."

  "Heh."

  "But, to get us more on a normal track, why do you think there are snipers in them thar hills?" She waved a hand nonchalantly at the cliffs on either side of the plateau.

  "Oh, my sweet summer child," groaned Wolff, theatrically. "Has nothing in your many years as a Space Force Marine dealing with these people rubbed off on you? This is the perfect place for them to rid themselves of their infidel enemy. And we know we didn't collect all the hardcores. There were several hundred missing when the count was made."

  "Killing me won't stop the project," Ariela pointed out, puzzled. "Even without me bringing the water up, it would be entirely possible to build drilling platforms and let the water rise."

  Wolff shook his head. "The project would never be finished. They've already jerked around for close on eighty years trying to decide whether to do it at all. Yeah, Interior sent this university group out – to study it. Again. For the 'leventy-dozenth time. You tipped their hand by actually bringing water from the rock." He squeezed her hand. "Keep smiling, we're getting too close to the others."

  Ariela kept smiling, but she was seething. "So the whole fucking thing has been a lie from the start?"

  "Yes and no. I think at first the idea was to shut people up who were complaining something ought to be done. Then, when it looked like the project might be feasible – read, they discovered where all the water had gone – they started making approving mouth noises and ginning up more feasibility studies like the one FGCU is doing, and of course who best to send out to garrison and protect them than the 1/1 SFM? Because we weren't doing much, even with the standoff in West China, and some of us who had the ears of the President and other folks up high strongly suggested we do that. But in the end, yeah, it's all been a gigantic boondoggle, until you spoke to the rock and made water come up and get shit wet."

  "Sons of bitches." Ariela smiled as she walked up to where Bahadur and the mullah were standing. Wolff let her go, with another squeeze of her hand, and backed away to the fringes of the group. Everybody present knew who the real SFMID power was, FTSA presence or no, and he figured he'd best not rock any boats if he could avoid it.

  "Welcome to you all, brothers and friends," said Bahadur, in Arabic, looking out over the assembled crowd. "Today, with the blessing of Allah, the compassionate, the merciful, we announce the pending construction of a Grand Mosque on this plateau – a Grand Mosque which will finally allow all of our brothers and sisters on this planet the ability to take part in the Hajj. With the help of our associates in the American military, and by the grace of our brothers who remain on Earth, we will receive an exact duplicate of the Kaaba and the Black Rock it contains. Your Islamic Council has graciously agreed that this is sufficient to meet the requirements of the Hajj for any of the ummah who dwell on al-Saḥra'.

  "I invite you to look away to the North, at the unparalleled view of this plateau—"

  Something behind them, to the East, caught Ariela's attention. The Mesh, she realized. Something in the Mesh . . .

  The water pitcher on the small table next to the podium exploded.

  Ariela whirled as everyone else on the platform, and the civilians in the crowd before it, hit the ground. She saw a flash from above, in the cliffs . . . she threw her arms out in front of her, as if they would stop a bullet . . .

  . . . and that's when the world slowed way the hell down.

  Chapter 12

  Upward Flows The Water

  "Ari."

  Nothing had changed – but the world was frozen. She turned her head toward the voice she'd just heard. Her eyes boggled.

  "Beam?"

  She started to lower her arms and turn to face him.

  "Stop," he ordered. "Don't move."

  She froze.

  "If you turn completely away, the time effect will drop, and you will be shot," he explained. "Your arms being up will focus your reaction. Which, if you turn your head back to the bullet, should happen immediately."

  "But what—"

  "Much as your father said, your Mesh sense will gather the Mesh lines in front of you and create a shield. Or," Beam smiled, "you may choose to simply catch the bullet in the air and throw it back at your sniper, again, as your father said."

  "When did he say that?"

  "When he was talking to Lieutenant Moore."

  "Wait. So I could deflect this one, then catch the next one and throw it back?"

  "Assuming there is a next one. But, yes."

  "Oh, believe me," snorted Ariela, "there will be if this one misses. But where is this time dilation effect coming from?"

  Beam cocked his head and looked at her. "You have to have time to recognize the threat and react to it, yes?"

  "Um . . . "

  "I didn't say I understood it. I don't control the True Universe to the extent I controlled your time trunk. To be honest, though, I think it is really all in your mind, and not a physical manifestation at all. If I'm right, your brain went into overdrive and is processing Mesh events so quickly, it simply appears as if time has slowed down." He straightened. "That does not mean you have forever to deal with the threat, however," he added.

  "Ah." Ariela turned her head back and "reacquired" the bullet. Instantly, in front of her hands, she both felt and saw the Mesh coalesce into a thick, round shield. "No, wait," she said, "I want to catch this one."

  She dropped her left arm, and the Mesh obliged by making a somewhat smaller shield in front of her right hand. "No," she said, "make it more like a fielder's glove – or, no, a catcher's mitt."

  The Mesh reformed.

  She grinned. "Not for nothing did I play all that softball and baseball when I was a kid," she said, pounding the "catcher's mitt" with her left fist and assuming a catcher-like, but standing position. The bullet came slowly at her, and finally landed in the mitt, which absorbed its kinetic energy and folded in around it. She barely felt the impact at all.

  "And now, the throw to second base!" she exulted, grabbing the .50BMG bullet with her left hand, and, with the assistance of the Mesh reusing the stored energy of the sniper's shot, firing a strike right back at the sniper's hide. Which promptly exploded.

  Kinetic energy is a bitch.

  "Wow," she said, "I must have hit his ammo can."

  "No," disagreed Beam. "You actually threw it right back up his rifle barrel and it set off the next cartridge in battery, which threw the bolt back into his face, blew up the receiver, and set off the rest of the cartridges in the magazine. And, well, the kinetic energy in general pretty much obliterated his firing position to begin with."

  "Cool," she exulted again, "like the Hathcock shot!"

  "Not really. Colonel Hathcock's shot went through the other sniper's scope."

  "You say to-MAY-to . . . "

  Another flash twinkled, not far from the first sniper's former position.

  "I believe this is the only other sniper," Beam informed her. "He is not as good as the first one, though. This bullet is headed for Governor al-Hashimi."

  "Doubt it's a mistake, but, well, we can't have that," replied Ariela. She stepped behind Bahadur and formed the big shield again. "We'll just deflect this one. The Marines will take him out."

  And a moment later, the bullet hit and bounced off the invisible Mesh shield. Ariela dropped the shield and time went back to normal. Beam disappeared; she assumed he had business elsewhere. So she flipped the sniper off—

  —just as his hide blew up. Even more spectacularly than the first sniper's.

  Stunned, she whirled to see FTSA2 high-fiving and generally doing an oorah dance.

  "What did you do?" she shouted.

  Moore ran up; she leaned down to listen to him through the hubbub of everyone else losing their minds over the assassination attempts and the resulting obliteration of the two snipers. "Saw the first flash followed by the water pitcher exploding, then the second one followed by the explosion on the cliff, and when we saw the thir
d one, I already had Constellation on the comm and Blake had a laser designator on the second sniper. They hit him with a plasma cannon."

  "Nice."

  "What happened with the first guy?"

  "You'll never believe it, but I'll tell you later. Right now, we need to get this mess cleaned up."

  "Aye, aye, ma'am."

  Slowly, but patiently, the Marines and the three leaders got things calmed down and back more or less on track. Bahadur managed to finish his speech, the mullah gave a few remarks, and then it was Ariela's turn.

  "When the Father of All determined that the place for your ummah was on al-Saḥra'," she began, softly, in her Lion of God voice, "He did not mean for you to suffer in the desert as your far forebears on Earth had done. For al-Saḥra' hid a far more valuable treasure under its crust than the diamonds and gold and other precious stones and metals you found there.

  "Water.

  "Eons ago, possibly before the Great Lode coalesced at what would become Kanz al-Sultan, a catastrophe happened, tearing the single moon of al-Saḥra' into pieces – many of which fell into an orbit trailing the planet, where they remain to this day. But one fragment, larger perhaps than the rest, survived the catastrophe, and plunged to the planet far below.

  "We believe today that the Great Rift existing between this continent, and what will become the island of Kanz al-Sultan, is likely the final resting place of that fragment. When the Great Rift was opened, all of the surface water drained down, far down, under the topmost layers of the planet's crust. And there it remained, except for some shallower lakes and rivers in the cave systems under the former oceans.

  "When humans came here, eighty-five Earth years ago, and built the old sections of Madinat al-Jadida, they drilled over two miles down to find an aquifer to supply the city. And that was a shallow bore, compared to the rest of the planet."

  Ariela took a sip from the water bottle she'd brought to the podium, and continued:

  "As I have said from the time I came to al-Saḥra' with my Marines, I come to build bridges of peace between the Muslims of al-Saḥra' and the rest of the human race, both on Earth and on the myriad colony worlds we've settled within a hundred light years, give or take, of Earth. There has been bad blood; I shall not gloss over it. First with the Chinese and the mine. Then with the drugs made here and distributed throughout the human sphere of influence. Finally, with the Space Force Marines and USMC stationed here to prevent further abuse of the outmigration system and other problems we came to fix."