Death-Bringer

by Patrick Tilley

  By the time that happened, Red River would be even further from the scene. CINC-TRAIN had already ordered her to roll south and off-load Brickman and the injured Mute at Monroe/Wichita for forward shipment to Grand Central. The signal had caused Fargo and his crew considerable distress. This was the first time they had been ordered away from a fight. What made it worse was the fact that they had been ready and willing to take this cocky bunch of Mutes apart for more than eight weeks only to learn twenty four hours before the expected attack that The Lady from Louisiana – a real nothing train to nowhere – was going to act as a decoy!

  After giving the command staff of Red River a report on the general situation aboard The Lady up to the time he’d left, Steve was handed over to Wallis for debriefing on the more sensitive aspects of the operation.

  Steve stuck to the scenario he and Cadillac had concocted. After two hours of patient questioning that ranged from the battle at the trading post to Malone’s death while attempting to reach the flight car, Wallis indicated that he had enough material for his preliminary report but warned Steve he would be required to cover the same ground in greater detail when they reached Grand Central.

  Until then he would be required to remain close to Clearwater and use his ‘best efforts’ to prevent her from becoming a threat to the security of the wagon-train or its crew.

  In a somewhat blunter vein than usual Wallis said. ‘The word is you’ve developed a relationship with this lump. I don’t know how much influence that gives you, but you should make it clear to her that if she steps out of line, you will be held responsible.’

  ‘I don’t think there’ll be any problems, sir.’

  Wallis’s face creased with anxiety. ‘I can’t understand why Jake hasn’t reported in. I hope they’re okay.’

  Steve shrugged. ‘They flew into a tough situation. Hartmann’s boys were doing a good job when I left but they were only just holding their own. That’s why I suggested calling in Roz. Wish I hadn’t now. If I’d known you weren’t going to let me stay and help look after her I’d have kept my big mouth shut.’

  ‘In this game you do what the big man says. I have to follow orders too.’ Wallis eyed him, then said: ‘Have you, ahh … heard from Roz?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Don’t you find that kinda strange, in the circumstances? From what I understand, your mind-contacts are stress-related.’

  ‘With her they have been. It doesn’t always work the other way around. There’s nothing strange in not hearing from her – but it is worrying.’

  Wallis appeared satisfied with this explanation. ‘But if she does come through …’

  The lie came easily. ‘You’ll be the next to know …’

  Wallis slapped the table top. ‘Okay, listen, I’m assigning you to the blood-wagon. Report to the CMO – Michelle French. You’ll be quartered with her staff until we reach Monroe-Wichita. The night duty-staff will keep an eye on your patient but otherwise she’s all yours.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Don’t take your eyes off her.’ Despite his anxiety, Wallis managed a grin. ‘Having taken a look at her myself I imagine that won’t cause you too much hardship.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Okay, get on it …’

  Clearwater opened her eyes to find Steve sitting by her bed, freshly scrubbed and in a clean set of fatigues. ‘At last … How d’you feel?’

  ‘Better for seeing you.’

  ‘The doc tells me your arm will be out of that cast soon and that in a month or two you’ll be on your feet again.’ He touched the back of her hand. ‘When I think of how you looked when …’ He waved the thought away. ‘But that’s all over now.’

  ‘For you, perhaps. Tell me, Cloud-Warrior – why did your masters save my life when, as we speak, they are killing my clanfolk?’

  ‘That’s because you’re important. They hope to discover the secret of your power.’

  ‘I am merely a channel. The power belongs to Talisman.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s their problem.’ He took a firmer grip on her hand and gave her a warning glance. ‘We’ve got other things to worry about.’

  ‘Where is your kin-sister?’

  ‘She’s gone.’

  In his mind’s eye, Steve looked down at the M’Calls, settlement as he circled it like a bird. Flames and smoke from burning huts rose into the air. Many were already rings of grey ash. Around them lay the bodies of the nursing mothers and the young children the clan had left behind with a posse of She-Wolves to guard them.

  The only moving figures wore camouflaged combat fatigues; a unit of Trail-Blazers had descended without warning to complete the destruction of the clan. And as the flying eye swooped lower, some of them turned their faces towards the sky and waved triumphantly.

  Steve shared with Roz the sense of utter desolation. He lowered his head and pressed a thumb and finger against his closed eyes in an effort to wipe away the haunting images but they were branded on his soul.

  This was all his work. This was why he had been called the Death-Bringer. Oh, Sweet Sky-Mother! When would it stop?!

  Clearwater saw the pain in his eyes. ‘I see it too, Cloud-Warrior. I share your grief. But these are things we cannot speak of.’

  Steve got the message, ‘No. So … from now on, it’s just you and me.’

  Against the might of the Federation …

  Not just you and me, thought Clearwater. But that news could wait. She nodded and squeezed his hand. ‘The journey begins.’

  ‘Yes …’ But how would it end?

  Despite Brickman’s cooperative attitude, the debriefing failed to provide Wallis with an answer to the one big question. Whatever the final outcome of the present engagement, the Mute attack on The Lady had obviously been carefully prepared. But how had they known so far in advance where the wagon-train was going to be?

  Brickman, outwardly none the worse for wear, was unable to add anything of significance to what Wallis already knew from the radio signals he and Malone had sent while on the run. He claimed to have done his utmost to warn them of the impending attack and although he repeatedly expressed the wish to have done better, could offer no explanation as to how the Mutes came to be lying in wait for The Lady.

  The young man had suffered a double trauma – the assault on the wagon-train crewed by many of his former comrades and officers, and the loss of Malone and the other mexicans. Crushed by the guilt which haunts all survivors, he felt personally responsible for both and in an effort to unburden himself he confessed to not having reported that the M’Calls believed Cadillac was able to predict future events.

  Wallis struck this veiled and somewhat embarrassed reference to seers and seeing-stones from the record. Even though he had been given access to what COLUMBUS knew about Mute summoners, Wallis shared his director’s scepticism. The subject of ‘gifted’ Mutes and psionics was a speculative quicksand into which a rational man ventured at his peril.

  In time, Brickman’s mental scars would heal. He would come to realize that the responsibility for such disasters could rarely, if ever, be laid at the door of a single individual. The system might need to find a scapegoat but investigations showed it was a series of actions and decisions – often apparently unrelated – by a large number of people that created the circumstances in which something like this could occur.

  Wallis counted himself doubly lucky – first, because he had been ordered to hold the fort instead of flying to the embattled wagon-train with the rest of his team and second, because the order to transfer Roz Brickman had come direct from Karlstrom’s private terminal. With Nevill watching, Wallis had translated the coded letter strings into a clear on-screen message, then he had logged it into the comms-system memory to build up a complete record of the operation. When you were working on something this sensitive, it was always advisable to cover your ass.

  A niggling thought triggered by the continuing silence from his men aboard The Lady prompted Wallis to double-che
ck the log. It proved impossible to retrieve the record of Karlstrom’s signal ordering Roz Brickman’s transfer to The Lady. With growing desperation, Wallis spent several hours trying to coax the fateful order from the system’s memory but it was no longer there.

  There were only two explanations for its disappearance, and both cast a dark shadow over his career prospects. He had either been the victim of another stunning illusion created by Roz Brickman or shafted by his superiors. Perhaps the message he and Nevill saw had only existed in their imagination for the length of time needed for them to act upon it. The alternative was altogether too depressing.

  Ray Ramsay, the Red River Flight Ops Exec knocked on the outer wall of the skip and put his head around the open door. ‘A message for you from the wagon-master. It looks as if we may have lost Hartmann’s battalion. The Lady is ablaze from end to end.’

  ‘Jeezuss!’ Wallis drew a hand down his face.

  ‘We don’t know the full score. The support units that went in are still mopping up. Commander Fargo asked whether you would like to join him in his quarters to hear the news as it comes in.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll be right along. Just got a little business to attend to.’

  When Ramsay had gone, Wallis thought over all the moves, then closed the door to the cargo skip, sat down in front of the blank screen, switched his pistol to Full Auto, placed the barrel against his chest and shot himself.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘It’s over. I just got word from CINC-TRAIN.’ The President-General invited Karlstrom to take a seat by the blazing log-fire. The logs were modelled in cast-iron, the glowing ashes were flakes of mica, and the flames were fuelled by a gas line but the effect was real enough.

  Karlstrom wondered why this news hadn’t reached him through his own information network. He hated surprises. ‘And The Lady?’

  Jefferson stretched a hand towards the flames. ‘A total loss I’m afraid. A lot of her crew ended up with their heads on sticks. The Mutes – and it has now been confirmed it was the M’Calls – formed up around the train and charged the Blazer battalions as they closed in for the kill.

  ‘With the supporting firepower from the trains it was over in minutes, but as the Mutes went down, the wagon-train went up. Nobody quite knows how. The suggestion is a combination of napalm, fuel and explosives taken from the stocks on board. They must have laid it from end to end of the train …

  ‘Anyway, it started a fire-storm that completely gutted her from end to end. Then she just … blew apart.’

  ‘And Mr Snow?’

  ‘No trace. But then there was virtually nothing left of the hundreds who must have died on board. Strange though …’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘When the final explosion occurred, it was accompanied by a severe earth tremor. The earth split four ways, with deep fissures running out towards True Grit and the other trains –’

  ‘Oh, shee –’

  The P-G held up his hand to quell Karlstrom’s anxiety. ‘It’s okay, they didn’t reach them. But it was enough to throw people to the ground … and there was some structural damage.’

  ‘But nothing serious …’

  ‘We’ll get the score-sheet after they’ve been checked over at Fort Worth. We won’t release this news of course. But what I wanted to tell you was this – when The Lady fireballed and the earth split open, a shaft of white light fringed with rainbow colours shot out of the middle. The trains caught it on their cameras. They reckon it was about two hundred feet high. Seemed to flash upwards then vanished –’ Jefferson snapped his fingers. ‘Curious, eh?’

  ‘Very. Let’s hope it was him. What about Cadillac and Roz Brickman?’

  ‘No trace of them either. But since our young hero shows no visible signs of distress we must presume that she, at least, is still alive. A Skyhawk was seen to leave The Lady just before our counter-attack. We know that Cadillac can fly …’

  ‘Ye-ess …’

  The P-G raised his eyebrows expectantly but Karlstrom did not respond to the prompt. ‘Assuming there was no prior collusion, they must have reached, ahh – how can one put it – an understanding? From what you told me about that young lady’s abilities it’s unlikely she would allow herself to be coerced.’

  ‘No. But “understanding” might be putting it too strongly. Given the situation she was, quite literally, catapulted into, she may have decided to take the least line of resistance.’

  The P-G chewed this over. ‘You think she’s still working for us …’

  ‘I think we should assume that until there’s evidence to the contrary. Brickman did his utmost to warn us that things had gone wrong and both Hartmann and Malone praised his efforts to help save the wagon-train. I think we should give them both the benefit of the doubt.’

  ‘Mmmm, yes, I’m inclined to agree. There’s just one thing I’d like to clear up. How, in the light of all this, did she come to be transferred to The Lady?’

  Karlstrom spread his hands. ‘I can’t tell you, although I hope to have an answer soon. As you know I consulted you on this as a matter of some urgency. Wallis was pressing me for a decision. My orders were quite specific. Brickman and Malone were to fly to Red River and give us a complete sit-rep before any further action was initiated. I wanted to establish that whatever was left of Hartmann’s battalion was still being properly led and capable of organized resistance.’

  ‘Wise move. But you didn’t okay the return trip …’

  ‘No. You can imagine how I felt when I received a signal from Wallis confirming that Roz had been landed on The Lady.’ Karlstrom gestured frustratedly. ‘I just can’t understand what got into him. And I still haven’t had an adequate explanation.’

  The P-G gazed into the fire for a moment then said: ‘You’re unlikely to get it. Wallis shot himself.’

  Karlstrom hid his relief behind a look of total consternation. ‘Wha-aat?! When?!’

  ‘A few minutes ago …’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Karlstrom added a flash of anger. ‘Why wasn’t I told?!’

  ‘Calm down, Ben. Isn’t it obvious? With Wallis gone and the rest of your team missing, Fargo didn’t have a direct line to you. No one else on Red River had the codes to operate that equipment.’

  ‘No, of course …’

  ‘He had to go through CINC-TRAIN. I told them I’d break the news. But it means we’ll never know what prompted him to make that decision. Still, these things happen. We’ve got Clearwater, Brickman’s back on the team, Roz – we hope – is well placed to put Cadillac in the frame, Mr Snow may have finally shot his bolt and we’ve taken out the M’Calls.’

  ‘You’re right. It’s not all bad news.’

  ‘Except for the fact that it cost us a wagon-train.’ The P-G’s face clouded. ‘Well, we can live with that – and thanks to your clever little scam it wasn’t Red River. That really would have been a disaster.’

  ‘Nevertheless we did lose a whole Trail-Blazer battalion.’

  ‘Hartmann’s battalion. There were some good men in it but that’s how it goes. They ran out of luck from the first day they ran into the Plainfolk. Let’s hope their demise will make the other wagon-masters realize there’s no mileage to be gained out of supporting lost causes. If his Blazers had been on the ball, that train could never have been taken.’ Jefferson’s mouth tightened. ‘But it seems we won’t ever know how that happened either.’

  ‘Looks that way …’

  ‘Never mind. I refuse to be downhearted.’ The P-G rose from his chair. ‘We may have fumbled a pass but we’re still in the game.’

  And I’m still on the team, thought Karlstrom, already on his feet. How long, he asked himself, would he be able to conceal the full story of his own involvement in this semi-fiasco?

  The chain of administrative orders which had led to the issue of the explosives used by the M’Calls against The Lady had been ‘sanitized’. With the train now a shattered, burnt-out shell in enemy territory, no one was going to be checking
it for tell-tale clues that, under other circumstances would have pointed to the use of Federation PX and not the black powder used by the Iron Masters.

  Unfortunately, other people in AMEXICO had been involved in covering those tracks. Could they be relied upon?

  With the order to transfer Roz from Red River to The Lady, Karlstrom knew he was on firmer ground. The message, routed directly from his own computer terminal to the comms-system operated by Wallis, had contained a code-virus which caused the message to self-destruct when it was transferred into memory. When Wallis keyed in the instruction ‘SAVE TO DISK’, the order concerning Roz disappeared from the screen and – despite the visual confirmation that it had been safely transferred to the hard-disk – vanished into thin air.

  Despite the risks, the opportunity to swap Roz for Steve had been too good to miss. Karlstrom didn’t want Roz and her so-called psionic powers back inside the Federation. And especially not anywhere near AMEXICO. If she intended to betray the Federation then it was better to deal with her at a distance. If, on the other hand, she was as loyal as she claimed to be, there was always a chance that someone else might use her mental abilities to spy on him.

  Someone like his cousin George Washington Jefferson the 31st. Karlstrom, a voracious reader, was aware of an ancient quotation which – as head of the secret organization dedicated to the protection of the President-General – was directly applicable to just such a situation: Quis custodiet ipsos Custodes? – Who is to guard the guardians themselves?

  No. Steve Brickman might be devious but he was not a threat. The young man was brave, resourceful and gifted – but he also had a certain weakness which Karlstrom believed could be exploited to keep him in line until – like most pawns – he became expendable.

  Five days later, Karlstrom found himself back in the Oval Office with the young man in question. And this time, there was no trace of the Mute whose painted presence had so disturbed the wagon-master of Red River. Brickman, immaculately dressed in a blue wing-man’s uniform, clear-eyed and clear-skinned, with his blonde hair trimmed into a regulation crew-cut would have been a credit to any passing-out parade. To have turned this half-breed into a Tracker from head to toe was an amazing feat …