Heaven's River

by Dennis E. Taylor

“So was that group, um… Administration, do you think?”

  Bill shook his head. “My money's on the Resistance. The tranquilizer gun strikes me as something the Administration would be more likely to have.”

  “Well, they did have one. I mean, they'd all have them. And the guns would be full. This feels more like one stolen gun.”

  He paused and frowned. “Bob. Skeev asked you if you were from the Resistance. Did he sounds scared?”

  “About us being Resistance? Not really, no.”

  Bill nodded. “So he was probably with the Resistance in the first place, and had been trying to get back in touch with them after his Scattering.”

  “I think the third group was Resistance and was there to rescue Skeve, and we got in the way. Whether they thought we were with the locals who were trying to kill him, or maybe the we were administration, they stepped in, jumped us, and rescued him.”

  “But if we were administration wouldn’t we have guns?”

  “Hm. True. So I'm going with ‘thought we were locals’.”

  “I still think that hotel wasn't random,” Garfield said. “They aren’t going to leave a back door open. I bet they had a knock or something.”

  “Do you want to stake it out?” I asked. “We could keep an eye on the place for a while. Maybe Skeev will show up again.”

  “Then we go in and trash the place?” Bill asked with a grin.

  Bridget rolled her eyes. “Okay, I know you're not being serious, but it's still worth a reminder that we can't do anything superhuman.” She glared at Garfield. “Or at least nothing else superhuman. We want to find out about them, not the other way around.”

  “Yeah,” I added. “The locals might not be able to take us on, but if the Administrator gets wind of us, well, they certainly have better tech and probably could throw superior numbers out us. One thing I do not want to do is get captured and disassembled.”

  Garfield nodded. “So we can’t go in like a SWAT team. That also means we'll have to avoid direct confrontations. Hmph. You'd think being a bunch of spacefaring computers would have more of an upside.” He grinned at us and got some chuckles in reply.

  “We don't have any choice though, do we?” Bridget said. “This is the first real lead we've gotten. Even if were still thrashing around, at least our area focus is better defined. A lot.”

  Garfield sighed. “Also a good point. Okay, I will try to figure a way to keep an eye on the hotel.”

  “Barney's Place,” Bridget said.

  “Seriously? Barney?”

  She smiled. “Almost. The native name sounds very similar. I knew it would be the first thing that came to mind. Especially considering the infantile Bob sense of humor.”

  “And yet you went straight right there,” I replied. “I think perhaps it's catching.”

  Bridget looked alarmed, and Garfield and Bill started chanting. “One of us, one of us.”

  “Oh shut up.” Bridget was silent for a moment, thinking. “Anyway, if Gar is taking care the hotel, I guess the rest of us should just go back to looking around. Could we get some kind of search pattern or something?”

  “Excellent idea. I'll see if I can get a close scan of the town and ask Hugh to grid it out for us.”

  Bill groomed his fur and thought. “Also, if Skeev was injured, he'd have to go to a doctor or hospital or something. Maybe we can figure out something along those lines?”

  “I’ll look into that.” Bridget said. She gazed at me. “Which leaves you, oh fearless leader.”

  “I'm going to sit here and drink,” I replied, raising my tankard.

  “In your dreams, beaver boy. Find us a new place to stay a little closer to Barney's, how about that? And tomorrow maybe we can finally locate the library I keep talking about.”

  I grinned back at her. Fearless leader my furry ass.

  There were several hotels in the area, this block being hotel row. I picked one at random, paid in advance for a week, and collected the key. I like the way the proprietor leered at my money pocket, as I meted out the proper coinage. We’d have to make a point of leaving nothing of value in our room.

  “Got us a room,” I messaged to the others and attached directions and an image.

  “Great,” Bill replied. “I've made arrangements with Hugh to get the town scanned. Unfortunately, moving the drone and doing a detailed scan will use of its remaining heatsink capacity, so he’ll have to fly it out and bring in a replacement. He’s grumbling about setting the project behind schedule.”

  “Like there's an actual schedule. I think the Skippies are just OCD.”

  “As opposed to the rest of you,” Bridget observed.

  No one chose to reply

  The others would be a half hour or so getting home, so I took the time to look around her new digs. This room was somewhat bigger than our previous residences, having just about enough room to swing an actual cat with everyone present. Palatial. The ceiling, as with most buildings, was just open rafters. Of course, the climate was mild and Quinlans came with fur, so insulation was not a major consideration.

  I eyed the rafters until I spotted a good location. Not big enough to hide something valuable, therefore, unlikely to be of interest to a burglar. I placed my hand in front of my face palm down and opened my mouth. A 1-inch roamer marched out onto the back of my hand. If anyone was watching, that would probably give them nightmares for life.

  I reached up on the roamer climbed from my hand onto the nearest beam, then made its way to the hiding place. The 1-incher was about the smallest model that would have optics suitable for surveillance. Otherwise, I’d have gone with nanites. If someone cased the joint while we were gone, I just wanted to know. I didn't want to scare them half to death. Well, okay, maybe a little bit. Bad Bob.

  I was considering popping back into virt while I waited for the others when I received a comm from Bridget. “Bad news, guys. I tracked down Skeev.”

  “This is bad?”

  “Sorry Bill, he left. Got to a doc and got patched up. He was gone by the time I got there.”

  “Oh, for…” I sighed. But only in person, not over the intercom. “Okay, let's meet at our favorite pub.”

  I locked the door to our apartment after leaving instructions with the roamer. The Growling Guppy was less than five minutes away. I got there first and grab the table. The barkeep glared at me as I parked my butt, probably remembering our parsimonious spending habits. I couldn't afford to stand out like that, so I signaled him for four brewskis and four meals du jour. His demeanor changed significantly, and he gave me a thumbs up, which strangely, meant exactly the same to Quinlans as it did to me. Some mannerisms just, by chance, correlated.

  Within a couple of minutes, the others arrived. Garfield made a concerted effort to catch up with me on the beer, and Bridget got way ahead on the meal, which was a sort of pasta stuffed with fish. Because why not. I visualized myself being thoroughly sick of fish, long before this was over. I pushed mine toward her as she finished hers off.

  “You know,” she said between mouthfuls, “one of the big advantages of being a replicant or running a Manny is never worrying about overeating.” She paused to savor a mouthful. “Although I used to love hot fudge sundaes. Then I ate a hundred in a row in virt because I could. I think I'm over them.”

  “I’d do the same with these fish recipes,” I replied, “except I think I'm already there.”

  Eventually we finished our meals and I signaled for another round of drinks.

  “Careful Bob. We don't want to run out of money.” Bill gave me a glare. “We can't just import more it will.”

  “We’re good for a while. I'd like to avoid the short-term problem. Over the longer term, I hope we'll have some kind of contact before we run out of cash. Failing that, we will have to fly some more in. Or get jobs.”

  Bill grunted, but didn't reply.

  I turned to Bridget. “So. Skeev.”

  “Multiple stab wounds, according to the doc. He wanted to know if
we were related. I said yes, but not close. He didn't appear that concerned.”

  “Skeev probably didn't have any relatives here. He was Scattered twice, remember?”

  Garfield made a sort of exploding motion with his hands. “Based on context, it looks like some kind of involuntary relocation. Skeev maybe nowhere near where he was born.”

  “Huh.” I stared into space for a moment, thinking about that. “So if someone does something to attract the Administrators attention, they get Scattered. Relocated.”

  “Or even a whole town? But why?”

  “I guess it depends on the motivations.”

  “As in ‘what defines uppity’?”

  “Like that, yes.”

  “Seems like an odd sort of punishment,” Bill said.

  “If that's what it is,” Bridget replied. “Maybe the point is just isolate troublemakers.”

  An uneasy silence settled over the table as we wrestled with the idea. A billion miles of river over which to randomly relocate someone. It made banishment to Australia look like a walk around the block.

  I looked up as I received a ping from my roamer. “Uh, guys. Someone's broken into our apartment.”

  “What? How do you know this?”

  I explained to Bill about the roamer and he made a gesture of helplessness. “Was that necessary? If with the leave in a hurry, you won't be able to get your roamer back.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just…” I stopped as I acquired the roamer’s video stream. “Hmm. I expected the proprietor, or maybe one of his children or something. Not four rather ugly looking individuals with weapons, and they aren't being subtle.”

  “That doesn't sound like a B&E,” Bridget said.

  “No, it looks more like a home invasion,” I replied, “except no one was home.”

  Garfield swept an eye quickly around the pub. “Interestingly, there are at least two individuals paying more attention to us than seems reasonable. I think we’ve been made. My guess would be whatever group messed up Skeev.”

  “And who we then messed up,” I replied. “And who maybe want to return the favor.”

  “I don't see any other reason for them to care one way or another about us.

  “Unless it’s the second group. They are probably not fans either.”

  “Hmm.” I nodded at Bridget's comment and carefully didn't look around the pub. “Shall we go? See what happens?”

  “Remember, no superhuman shenanigans,” Bridget said.

  We rose casually and headed for the door. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that several Quinlans picked that moment to leave also. Maybe coincidence? Probably not.

  “Hey Gar, are any of those people you notice now suddenly leaving as well?”

  “Yep. I predict interesting times ahead.”

  “Do we recognize any of them from yesterday?”

  Garfield was silent for a moment, then said, “Yes, I see one individual who was with the third group. Resistance?”

  Wonderful. Which meant they might have more of those guns. And very probably had more bodies to throw at us.

  We exited the pub and turned to head back to our hotel room. I could hear feet behind us as multiple patrons also abandoned the Growling Guppy.

  “Sounds like four sets of footsteps,” Bill said.

  “I like those odds,” Bridget replied.

  We turned a corner and my Spidey Sense went into overdrive. The block was deserted. I mean really deserted. In the middle of the day.

  As we continued on our path of footsteps behind his came around the corner and at that moment another four Quinlans stepped out of doorways ahead of us.

  “Wonderful. Classic encircling maneuver,” Bill said.

  “And masterfully executed,” Garfield replied. “My complements to the Resistance.”

  “And two-to-one odds are still accept - awwwww, shit.”

  I was swearing a lot lately, but it seemed appropriate. The group surrounding us just pulled knives. Big knives. Real metal, from the look of them.

  “I think we’re probably going to have to push the limits of what's possible for a Quinlan to get out of this one. Try not to cast fireballs, but most anything else is fair game.”

  The thugs took their time forming a circle. They grinned at us and waived their knives in a menacing manner. I wasn't sure if they were just trying for psychological advantage, or wanted us to beg for our lives. Either way, they were going to be disappointed.

  They attack simultaneously, jumping toward us more or less as a unit. I was impressed, despite myself. They either drilled together regularly, or they'd practiced this particular maneuver. Unfortunately, they weren’t dealing with real Quinlans.

  I slid to the outside of the nearest knife thrust, grabbed the arm and rotated my body. My target spun around me and smacked headlong into the Quinlan beside him, but without his knife, which I'd appropriated during the maneuver. As the second attackers staggered under the impact, I smacked him on the side of the head. Punching didn't look like it would be a good idea with the Quinlans, more likely to break their haora without knocking them out, and I didn't want to do that kind of possibly permanent damage.

  Number two went down as number one caught his balance and turned to me. A second smack and he was down. I spun around to see how my teammates were doing. Bill and Gar have used similar tactics, since we’d all taken the same self-defense courses. Bridget, however, didn't have any particular martial arts training. At least, based on a fighting style, which depended mostly on enthusiasm. She finished off her two attackers, then turned to glare at us.

  “What was that?” Garfield said. “Cage-match-foo?”

  “They’re down, aren't they?” She replied, concentrating her glare on him.

  Garfield reached down and gathered the last two knives. “I think we may have a solution to our money problem. I’d bet these are worth mucho bucks. But not here. I’m pretty sure our welcome has just worn out in Galen. They’re after us, they don't appear to be interested in talking, and I bet they'll just keep throwing more and more bodies at us.”

  “Great,” I said. I sent a silent command to my roamer to zero in on me. “Time for a swim, I guess.

  I opened my mouth and the roamer crawled in. Garfield groaned and cringed, and I laughed.

  “Yep! Ate a bug.”

  “I bet you had had in mind when you designed these things,” Bridget said with a head shake. “Children.”

  “Still not mature, even after 300 years,” I said, grinning and reply.

  “Okay, fun’s over, time to go.”

  Bill reinforce the statement by diving into the water without waiting. This was a little more work than normal because we were leaving from the dock. It occurred to us that it would be an easy location to establish surveillance if there were more than the eight thugs. With that in mind we'd circled around to the west side of town, and then simply walked away until we found an isolated beach. We dove in after Bill, skillfully avoiding the shallow bottom and torpedoed out to mid-river, where the current was swiftest. It took only a moment to link up into a Quinlan raft.

  “Well, that was eventful,” Bridget said. “We do seem to make a splash in every town.”

  “We’s rock stars, we is,” Garfield muttered.

  “And we still haven't hit that library,” Bridget reminded us.

  “Okay, next town we do that, first thing. We should also think about trying to find the Resistance, maybe not to talk, maybe to spy on. If Skeev was able to get in touch with them, despite being in a new town, they must be either easy to locate or have lots of ears.”

  “Yeah, talking isn’t proving to be a high-probability strategy, honestly,” Bill replied. “We’ll try spying first.”

  “Sounds good,” Bridget said. “Funny. Despite my initial skepticism about Hughes statistics, it looks like he was right. Two towns in, we’ve contacted a group that might either know something, or can point us at someone.”

  Garfield snickered. “Yeah, ‘contacted’. Say,
which one of us has a hole in his sternum?”

  Bill grinned at him. “Way to take one for the team.”

  We settled into a companionable silence as the sun warmed our top halves. Insects buzzed around us, and Bridget swatted at one.

  “Must be a heat seeker. Interesting. I'm impressed at how robust the artificial ecosystem is.”

  I looked around. “The Arcadia River's pretty wide here, and the current is slow. Let’s hand off to the AMIs. They can alert us if anything requires our attention.”

  The others made agreeing sounds, and we popped back into virt.

  23. Dancing with Dragons

  Bill

  July 2334

  Virt

  Two Gamers lay dead, their smoking ruined skeletons providing perfect tripping hazards, as players ran frantically back and forth. The dragon, red variety, was doing its best to immolate the rest of the dungeon party. The only thing working in our favor was that the beast seemed to want to get at least two targets with each flame breath. Given the required recharge time, it was a reasonable tactic.

  “Get under him! Hit him in the belly!” Tim the Warrior yelled.

  “You first, asshole!” replied Vern the Dwarf Warlord. “You’re the one with the magic sword!”

  The dragon, an NPC known as Garg the Destroyer, roared and tried to stomp on Tim - also a reasonable tactic. Tim was far too close to take out with fire breath. At least, not without dealing itself a few hit points of damage. I had, for the moment, escaped Garg’s attention. Probably because I was a) by myself and b) flat on my back, having been run over by our NPC troops when they fled in terror. I had only some crap armor and a basic sword to my name. The Gamers had flat out refused to give me a higher starting level. Something about game integrity. Sure.

  The smoking remains of Kevin the Wise, perhaps not as wise as he thought, still had a death grip - hah, death grip - on his former pride and joy, a Staff of Fireballs. Unfortunately, a Staff of Fireballs against a red Dragon was about as useful as a harshly worded email. Now if he'd had a Staff of Ice Storms or something...

  Still, it was a valuable weapon. If I got out of this alive, it might be tradable for some enchanted armor or something. I stood, grabbed the staff, and wrenched it out of what was left of Kevin's hand.