INFINITY HOLD3

by Longyear, Barry B.

  I had to chuckle. A hitter with a guilty conscience? "Yeah. It don't pay as good." I pointed toward the stiff. "Ghosts beginning to bother you, Deadeye?"

  He shook his head. "No. Just trying to find out which string rings what bell." Deadeye turned, mounted a critter, and wandered off after the Magic Mountain. I would have loved to have been there when he was doing ragtime for the Bando Nicos shooting. I wondered if his face ever changed expression.

  Pendril was standing on the sand next to his client. I coaxed my critter over to his side and looked down at the cockroach. "I don't get it, Pendril."

  "Get what?"

  I held out my hand toward the deceased. "I don't see what you get out of trying to do this kind of work. Back on Earth there was at least big money in it. Maybe a little prestige among the rest of the roaches. Fame, glory, your own parking place. Maybe now and then you could feel good about helping someone who couldn't help himself. I don't see it here. Makhumbi could've gotten executed all by himself."

  Jason Pendril placed his hands on his hips. The wisps of his remaining hair blew in the cooling desert breeze. "My whole life has been dedicated to the law, Nicos. I was sidetracked for a bit, which is why I'm here. It's nothing you'd notice here in the middle of the hell you've created, but I am rather well qualified to do what I do."

  I nodded. "Like a lot of others, I've seen my share of trials on Earth. It must be pretty exciting out there in front of the black rag, waving your arms around, dueling with your mind, wit, and skill against an opponent for life and death stakes."

  "It is. But that isn't anything like what you've created here."

  "The law is something we all created. I think I told you before, cockroach. Winning here isn't beating the other guy or the system. Winning is when we get justice, and justice is everyone—"

  "Everyone getting exactly what they deserve as fast as possible," he completed. "But does what went on here today mean that whenever an RC is willing to be found guilty of a small crime they can use illegal means to obtain evidence?"

  I scratched the back of my neck as that shooting headache drilled my right eye and continued out through the back of my head. When it subsided I said to the cockroach, "Maybe. But right now a murderer's done his payback and is belly up to the Spider. Somehow that seems to be a lot closer to justice than letting him off because the other side got penalized on points. It's not a contest or a game, cockroach. Even you can't figure your pigeon was innocent."

  "No, but—"

  "But nothing. Look, Pendril, I know I've given you a hard time in the past, and that had nothing to do with you. It's just that you're a cockroach and I hate cockroaches—"

  "Why?"

  "How long you been in the crowbars, man?" I sat back on my critter and pulled my right leg up and crossed my ankle over the beast's back. "Look around you, money threads. You are in the middle of the results of millions of lawyers who got rich failing. The cockroaches who made the laws, the cockroaches who argued and judged according to those laws, all of the losers who then went and had a drink with the guys who beat them."

  "The law on Earth isn't one huge scam the way you think it is, Nicos! We aren't some brotherhood of thieves!"

  I scratched at my chin whiskers. "Okay, Jase, I'll give you this much. All lawyers aren't thieves. I've even known a couple who tried their best to get some squares for Bando Nicos, and felt real bad when they couldn't score. Lawyers being crooks isn't the problem."

  "What is the problem?"

  "Lawyers think different than everybody else. They're trained to think different. The honest ones think like little computers programmed with rules, events, conditions, sequences, and commands. In their own playing field, the courts, the crooked cockroaches take advantage of the rules. That's easy to do when everyone looks at nothing but the rules and forgets what the rules are supposed to do. A cockroach's head is filled with rules, arguments, and accounts receivable files. These are the guys who make up the laws, who prosecute violators, defend the perps, judge the contests, and work the appeals."

  "Yes," said the cockroach. "That's why it's a profession. What's your point?"

  "People. The point is people. The world isn't made up out of lawyers. It's made up out of people. Here the law isn't a thing or a game for lawyers. Here the law is for the people."

  He stood silently for a moment, shaking his head. He just didn't see it. Maybe he was thinking the same thing about me. I didn't know. My head was hurting so badly I could feel myself being tempted to pass out. I steered my critter back toward Nance's sled far behind the rear guard. The way my head was pounding I decided to work Mercy Jane for one of the diamond drops.

  "Dammit, Nicos!" came Pendril's voice from behind me, "I don't understand!"

  I called back over my shoulder. "Results are all that count, Pendril. The rules don't count at all, if they don't deliver the results. The results we're after is justice. Change the way you think, cockroach. When you stop thinking like a cockroach and start thinking like a people, you'll understand."

  I left him back there in the sand, pondering his past and his present. I figured he was in big personal trouble because, if all he wanted was something to do, we could have found something for him to do. But if he saw what I saw, the law, what it was, and what it was becoming, and if he craved to be a part of the process, he and the rest of the cockroaches were the last ones who should have anything to do with it.

  Cockroaches try to bend reality to fit the rules. That was what they were trained to do. That was all that they were good for. In the Razai we made the rules fit our reality. It was the reality benders who got trimmed off.

  On the way back to the hospital sled, the Eyes of the Spider were gleaming brightly. I dozed in and out as my critter moved through the rear guard. My headache went to sleep after awhile, and I'd half made up my mind to forget the thumper. Still, I wanted to see Alna, so I kept pushing west.

  At one point I noticed that there was a rider following me. By turning slightly I could catch a flash out of the corner of my eye. The Hand? Kegel? They'd had patrols out trying to catch stragglers. Maybe it was Nance's shooter snipping off a loose end. Maybe it was my shooter. Out on the sand by myself, I'd be easy to pop off. Especially since I had no weapons. Maybe it was Deadeye.

  Before I could even begin to think about what to do, I was startled by a hellish amount of rifle fire straight ahead where Nance's sled was. I kicked my critter along to the top of the nearest dune, but could see nothing. I kicked him along again and in a moment I was joined by about fifteen mounted rifles headed in the same direction.

  We reached where the hospital sled was just as the sky turned light. Along with a dozen of our guards, the Wolf was shot up and on the sand. He looked like he had taken one in the left thigh and through the palm of his right hand. So much for all those years cutting up frogs on foundation grants.

  I climbed down from my critter and went over to the Wolf. He was wrapping his hand with an almost clean cloth. He already had a cloth around his thigh.

  "What happened?"

  "They hit us without warning, Bando. Maybe seventy or eighty mounted rifles. We have about twenty dead here that are Razai. The other three belong to Kegel. What was left of the sled guard took off after the raiders, but from the way it sounded back here, Kegel had a trap set for them." He shook his head and finished tying his bandage with his teeth and good hand. When he was finished, using a rifle as a crutch, he struggled to his feet, his face wincing at the pain in his leg. He looked around at the bodies. "They must've taken out the flank guard or sneaked around it—"

  "Where's Alna?"

  "They have her. They have Nance Damas and Jane Sheene, too. All of our medical supplies. They want to negotiate, Bando. Nance Damas, Jane Sheene, and your Alna are the hostages."

  "Negotiate? Negotiate what?" He shook his head. I turned my critter back toward the center of the column. Just coming into the area was the rider who had been following me. It was Deadeye. "Where are you going?" shout
ed the Wolf.

  My head was pounding so hard I could hardly see. The dunes and the faces before me thumped in and out of focus. "The ordinance sled. I got to get a piece." I turned to the leader of the mounted riders. "What's your name?"

  He said something, but it didn't get through the pounding in my head. "Find Martin Stays, Cap Brady, and Jak Edge. Have 'em meet me at the ordinance sled. I'm going to need some rifles and some shooters. Got it? "

  "Right!"

  He shouted an instruction to his number two, turned his critter, and dusted off. I rode up to Deadeye and said, "You come with me." I rode east.

  An image of Alna's eyes hovered before me. They were filled with tears and she was telling me about the times she was raped and how she would die before letting anything like that happen to her again.

  I chased the image and the memory away. I forced everything inside myself to shut down. I kindled a blue flame of deadly purpose. I couldn't allow my fears for Alna to touch my mind. I couldn't allow even an edge of this pressure of rage to enter my awareness. Death was my name, my meaning. I repeated it beneath my breath a thousand times.

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  ▫

  Hurack v. Rhadmajani

  ▫

  "Remember what you got there is a lever-action piece that's been made gas operated."

  To work on the extra weapons Bloody Sarah was bringing in, the Trolls had expanded into a second sled and now had eleven men and women working for them. There were two fat men turning a crank for all they were worth and a woman next to them pushing a sharp hunk of metal into a turning piece. They actually had a working metal lathe. The smell in the ordinance sled was made up of strange root oil, hot metal, and familiar super stale sweat. The odor combined with my headache, made me want to puke.

  Chief Troll, Emmet Stant, pointed at the bottom of the rifle just forward of the trigger guard. "There's where the piston and rod'll come shooting out to yank open the bolt and pick up the new round. It acts just like a pair of scissors. When you fire, don't have your fingers wrapped around the stock there or you'll be picking them up off the sand."

  I nodded, impatient to get after Alna's kidnappers. "Yeah, okay. Important safety tip."

  "To get full automatic, just twist this little nut here clockwise." He pointed at a square piece of metal that protruded from the left side of the trigger housing. "Those things come out in case you want to prevent anyone else using the thing. Once they're out, the piece is junk, so don't lose it."

  "Fine." On the other side of the trigger housing was an opening into which the Troll stuck one of his homemade forty round clips. A belt with six of those loaded clips attached to it was looped over my shoulder. Stant scratched at his beard and looked at me as his silver-peppered eyebrows went up.

  "We've tested the things, but the housings and stocks weren't designed to withstand anything like full automatic fire."

  I picked up the rifle, loaded a round into the empty chamber, and slung it. "So, sooner or later, it's going to blow up in my face."

  The Troll shrugged. "It's possible."

  "It didn't come with a warranty, so don't worry about it."

  He pointed at the red button to the rear of the trigger guard. "The safety still works."

  "So?"

  He turned his back and reached for his tools. "Just another important safety tip."

  I nodded at my faithful companion. "Get one for Deadeye."

  "Bando?" It was Cap Brady's voice calling from outside.

  I stood in the doorway of the sled. Cap and about a dozen armed and mounted Razai riders were waiting outside on the sand. All of them wore the sand colored desert sheets and were toting converted rifles. In the distance, Jak Edge was riding in our direction accompanied by the man I had sent to fetch him. I looked at Brady. "Cap, I'm going after the perps who took Nance, Alna, and Mercy Jane."

  He looked over my ammo belts, newly converted rifle, and umbrella. "How're you doing, Bando?"

  I looked down at him from the sled. "What do you mean, how am I doing? How am I doing what?"

  Cap's shoulders went up and down slightly as he continued to fix me with his sharp blue eyes. "What I mean is, are you in control, or is your monster in control?"

  He meant, of course, my rage. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm chief of the RCs. Kegel's gang just nabbed three of our people, along with all of our medical supplies. It's cop work. I'm a cop. It's my job to go after the perps."

  "By yourself?"

  "No, not by myself. I'm taking Jak Edge with me, Deadeye, and I sent that one guy to go get some shooters."

  Cap glanced at Jak then looked back at me. "Bando, what about the RCs?"

  "We're stretched to the limit. I can't spare anyone."

  "Neither can the army."

  I pointed at the armed riders. "What about these chups? I don't know 'em, but they don't seem to be doing much of anything."

  "They've been doing guard on the main column. Maybe I can spare them. We'll do some introductions." There was some distant shouting. As Deadeye emerged with his new weapon and stood just behind me, Cap turned on the back of his critter and looked toward the north. I looked and more riders appeared. They were followed by a large number of sharks on foot.

  "What in the hell is that all about?" muttered Cap.

  "It doesn't matter. If it's cop work, have Stays handle it. I got to get moving."

  "Stays's with 'em," Jak Edge observed.

  I didn't care. Stays was a lot smarter than me, so whatever it was, he would have to deal with it. I gave my shooters a quick scan. I didn't recognize a single one of them. From orange painted hair to wild-eyed stare, they were about a creepy-looking bunch. I looked back at Cap. "Where'd you get these birds?"

  "They're all Cicis. I've been working with them the past few days."

  I leaned over and said, "You want me in front of a posse of armed homicidal maniacs?"

  "I said it's all I can spare. They ought to do all right. At least they're motivated."

  Cicis. A string of armed killer popcorns. Not just that, either. They all carried converted rifles. Well, I thought, maybe that's what I need for this job. The bunch of us on full automatic could lay down one hell of a fire storm for a couple of minutes. Maybe you had to be crazy to ride out after Kegel.

  "Okay, popcorns. You're all deputized. Do you whacks have a leader?"

  The nearest one to me, a pale hulk with one black eyebrow resting atop bug eyes that never seemed to be pointing in the same direction at the same time, broke out into a big smile. "You are, Chief."

  "Terrific." I pointed at him as Stays and the new crowd came rolling up. "Bug Eyes, I want you to ride in front of me and keep that piece pointed up at the Spider. Understand?"

  His eyes each did independent scans of the day sky as that eyebrow writhed about on his forehead. "Let's go." I faced Stays. "While I'm gone, you run the RCs."

  "Hold it," he answered as more walkers and riders joined the assembly. "Not so fast, Bando. We have a problem."

  "So handle it. I got to get moving."

  "It's a very strange problem in a very strange trial." Stays looked over his shoulder at the crowd. As he looked back at me he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. "Here it comes now."

  There were a couple hundred sharks working their way between the dunes. I could make out Jason Pendril, Lane Rossiter, and Lewis Grahl. Whatever the problem was, it attracted roaches. Jontine Ru was there, too. She was mounted on a critter and was taping the whole thing.

  It was like trying to do the butterfly stroke in cold molasses. Nance and Alna were in trouble. I had things to do. I didn't have time to exchange hot air with the cockroaches. "If you've got something that requires a new rule, Stays, then you be the clearinghouse until I return. Okay? You know what happened to Alna, Nance, and Mercy Jane."

  "No, that's not okay, Sherlock. This is something different." He looked around then said very quietly,
"Yeah, I know what happened to them. But I don't know what to do here."

  "You don't know what to do?"

  "That's right. I've listened to what everybody's said," he nodded at the cockroaches, "and I'm not sure we have this covered. If we don't, I don't know what new rule to cook up."

  I let out a short sigh of exasperation and nodded at Stays. "Okay, let me have it. Quick."

  "This might take longer than that." He glanced again at the moving trial, and began. "The victim is Walt Hurack. You know him from back in the Crotch."

  I nodded. "An asshole. What happened?"

  "Walt was working his mouth and a fellow named Nuris Rhadmajani shut it for him with a cutter."

  "Was it a threat? Did Hurack threaten this Nuris Rhad—"

  "Rhadmajani," answered a voice from the approaching crowd. "Nuris Rhadmajani." The speaker was walking with his left arm across the shoulders of another man who appeared to be his twin brother. Both men were olive skinned, dark eyed, and had shaven heads. Jason Pendril was walking beside them. "He did not threaten me. He called me some names and made rude jokes about me and my brother, Peris."

  I looked at Stays. "Is this my case now?"

  "Yes. But there's a complication—"

  "There always is." Returning my gaze to Nuris Rhadmajani, I asked, "Are you doing a thirteen, or do you want me to decide it?"

  Nuris Rhadmajani grinned wickedly as he nodded. "Please, you decide."

  "Okay. Then what happened?"

  "I became enraged," he answered, his arm still around his brother's shoulders. "Therefore I took my knife and thrust it into Walter Hurack's heart."

  I couldn't figure out what the big deal was. It was a simple case of murder with a guilty plea. I looked at Peris Rhadmajani. "Are you an accomplice to the killing?"

  "No," he answered. "I tried my best to prevent him from killing the man, and once Hurack had been stabbed, I was the one who called for help. Regrettably Hurack expired before anyone could treat his wound."

  I looked questioningly at Stays. "I don't get it. What's the big complication?"