"That strange man," prompted Micah.
"Yes." Khamir downed his khav and ordered another. "Ammi'duz. Recall what I told you of the three marks."
"Family, brotherhood and learning," said Micah.
"Yes. Those are given through a life, a long life for the Marks of Learning. They are given by men to men for men. The Ammi receives his marks for great wisdom and service to Dhu, but again these are given by men.
"Sometimes the marks are not given by men, though." Khamir lowered his voice and looked about. "There are times when a young man as yet unmarked falls into the Madness of Dhu. His mind is filled with holy visions. I and my sect, the Light of the Eyes of Dhu, believe that the very voice of Dhu speaks to his ears.
"Such holy words and visions far exceed what the mind and body of flesh can contain. One so blessed must then try to make Dhu's will known through the imperfection of the corrupt flesh. If the man-child has the strength in Dhu and of the flesh to survive the Madness, Dhu gifts him with His holy marks. The gifted one is then known as Ammi'duz, though some sects call them the Mad Ones. I and my brothers believe this sacrilege to the face of Dhu."
"So that man..." Micah let the words trail off.
"He was chosen of Dhu, given Dhu's own message and gifted with the very marks of Dhu. It is great honor to you, not-stranger, and one never given to the infidel. Had he spoken against you you would have been killed on the spot."
"Given what you've told me I'm surprised some of the more intolerant ones in the crowd didn't kill him."
Khamir choked on his khav. "Not-stranger do not even joke of that! Did I not tell you Ammi'duz is sacred of Dhu. He is holy!" He looked quickly about. "Even did he spit in the face of Zehbol'ach Dhu and command his head be taken the guardian would stand in honor whilst his fellows struck him down! Even those who name them Mad Ones do so with respect!" Khamir shuddered.
"My apologies," said Micah, "I spoke in ignorance and I did not mean to offend."
Khamir smiled. "That is why I like you, not-stranger. You do not judge our ways or try to profane them with your own. Did more starmen approach Dhu with an open mind He might well gift them with His wisdom!"
They started back to the port well before Sentinel Call. Once again the crowd thinned and parted before them but this time Micah managed to catch the edge of it. Four men worked to scrub a large, chunky stain off the surface of the street. Micah didn't care to contemplate what might have caused the stain but the men working fascinated him. They worked shirtless but wore veils across their faces. Their bodies and arms were horribly scarred and some looked to have been burned. They didn't speak save to each other and none of the crowd spoke to them. Occasionally someone passing by spat on the ground near them but they ignored this and continued their work.
"Yrran'qui," spat Khamir with vehement disgust, "Honorless. They lost their marks yet lived through the removal. Dhu wishes them to know the depth and breadth of their shame before he blesses them with death."
Khamir spoke little on the way back but once again stopped in Omar's shop.
"There is one last thing I must tell you before we part, not-stranger. Tomorrow noon marks the beginning of the Feast of Dhu's Harvest. It is a sacred time and it will last until midnight the next day. You and yours must not leave the starport. It would be best if you locked your ship and did not leave it. Ordinarily no folk venture within the complex but none would stop any who did."
Micah nodded. "Of course we will honor what you say. These past two days you have taught me much of Esav and Dhu and those who follow him. Please take no offense at my request: I would like to learn more. I wish no insult upon you and yours or any other here but my thirst for knowledge is greater than my love of khav."
Khamir and Omar exchanged looks and remained silent a long time.
"That is... much to ask, not-stranger," said Khamir, "What I have told you any child would know well before his first marks. There is little more I can tell you unless you wish to take the marks yourself. Still, my sect-brothers and I know well the desire for learning. Ere the feast ends I shall speak with... others... and make your desire known. That is, I fear, the most I can offer you."
"Many thanks to you and yours," said Micah, "I shall accept with gratitude and respect whatever you and yours decide. Again, I mean no insult to any here and certainly no affront to Dhu."
Both of the others smiled at that.
"The Eyes of Dhu light the paths of learning and wisdom," said Omar, "These are the paths we seek to follow, not-stranger. My brother speaks truth. We shall ask others who might countenance enlightening your path. Perhaps Dhu will find some worth in favoring your desires." He checked the sun. "You must hurry now! Sentinel Prayer fast approaches."
Micah worked quickly to transcribe what he had seen and learned. He wore his holocaster again but he wanted to make notes on some of the things it missed. His two days with Khamir produced a treasure ship of information, some of which might figure prominently in whatever plans they developed but all of which they didn't have before.
"I spoke with your friend Omar today," said Ionoski when Micah finished, "He drives a hard bargain even for information. Or especially."
"Khamir mentioned that. He said the same of you. Do we now know what will trade well here?"
"Six-sigmas. As it turns out both Omar and Khamir have a plenitude of brothers, blood and otherwise, who trade with starmen. After we had an enjoyable lunch, which was hotter and spicier than you reported and don't think I'll forget that, we made our rounds through the town and a few of us gathered for afternoon khav. They all seemed quite pleased at what I learned from you, amazed that you remembered so much and willing to discuss a few things of, and I quote, '... some small interest to us.'
"Sigma line: if we can bring in certain goods they will trade with us. Once that happens we'll be in position to score a lot more in the way of information and what passes for good will."
Siffai, working diligently to clean her nails with a large knife, cursed as it slipped and drew blood.
"Information is good," she said, "but there is a problem to be handled."
"Steady, dosha," said Barstein, "All of this is more than good, even if it does test your patience. How can we fight what we do not understand? Just what we have gleaned from Micah's voyages far surpasses what we knew, sela'hai."
"I know, David," she said, "That does not make the waiting easier. My apologies to you as well, Ted. Like Micah my path is the one of direct action."
"Negative problem, dear," said Kidwell, "Micah's worse."
"The festival of the harvest," said Ionoski quickly, "It starts tomorrow. Besides that what did you get on it, Micah?"
Micah shrugged. "You heard all of it. Basically that we should remain locked inside our ship until well after it's over and that bad things might happen if we didn't."
"I got that plus a bit more," said Ionoski, "The feast starts at noon, that's by the sun, and the revelry will start mid- to late afternoon."
"The... Excuse me," said Kidwell, "Did you say revelry? I didn't think that was on the list of things Esavians approve of, especially on their own worlds!"
"Essentially correct," grinned Ionoski, smug in a bit of knowledge Kidwell did not yet have, "But not. Most of the time they're stricter than a Unity congregation, but even Unity has its dark side. Think about it. Any society held as rigidly as this one must have some kind of release. Governments and rulers who don't take that into account tend to lose power, thrones and heads. Since these folks have been basically unchanged as long as anyone can remember their release must be built into the structure of their society.
"From what I learned the release here is during certain festivals and rituals. Apparently Dhu either looks the other way or snoozes when it happens. The very devout limit themselves to some wild song and dancing but others are always tempted to excess. This afternoon during social conversation Brother Chifac confessed that he didn't have enough, ahem, ceremonial wine and he feared what might happen when
it ran out. Fortunately Brother Pahir's cousin's sister's something is married to the brother of three Zehbol'ach and for the appropriate offering, consideration or bribe they are willing to make sure his family and home are safe."
"Frost," said Ferrel, "I used to think Meridian Cluster families were complicated."
Kidwell scowled hard at that. "For people who don't have instant communications technology, Charles, family and friends and family of friends fill that role handily. What's more, Meridian Cluster families are not complicated!"
"I see a platinum opportunity here," said Micah, "What did you say about the nets here, Charlie?"
"I said I'd like to try them from outside the port. Wait a milli!" He grinned hugely "Does that mean what I think it does?"
***
By two hours after full dark the Feast of Dhu's Harvest had grown into its full revelry. Ferrel and Kidwell had some good holos of the day's festivities. By the simple expedient of sending spiders up on balloons they purchased at the port, before the fest began, Ferrel seeded the bugs in seven widely-separated locations within the city. Save for the three he managed to land near power the small devices wouldn't last long but they didn't need to. They would at least survive the night, all that mattered.
At first the music was festive and the dancing wasn't too wild. Then, as the day progressed into evening men began overindulging and things turned less tame. Zehbol'ach, who did not indulge at all, broke up the fights quickly. At first. As the wine flowed more freely the number and severity of the incidents outpaced the black-garbed guards' ability to contain and halt them. When that happened they worked to keep the combatants separate from other people's property and the other people themselves, provided they didn't want to join the fray. Both Micah and Siffai eagerly analyzed the Zehbol'ach style of fighting, both armed and unarmed. No guard drew his knife unless faced by multiple armed opponents and even then they struck to subdue and disable rather than kill.
By 22:00 local adjusted most of the populace had retired for the evening. Some scattered but intense celebrations still dotted the city but traffic on its streets diminished nearly to the point of absence. Op time!
Micah ghosted through the streets followed by Ferrel, Siffai and Barstein. Ionoski vetoed Kidwell's request to accompany them. She wanted to read crowds and Micah planned to avoid them. All of them wore black complete with minimal hoods, veils, gloves and boots. They each wore a curved dagger. Siffai also padded her garb to conceal her gender; had Micah not known he'd have seen her as a small man. Ferrel had four targets in mind with none of them close to the port. Micah's plan for the mission: not to be seen. His backup: look like Zehbol'ach to any observers.
"Laughable," said Ferrel, "Obviously not a temple."
Though the town had no civil authorities other than the Zehbol'ach, Ferrel and Kidwell managed to locate several buildings that might serve similar purposes. Inside this one they did find records: shelves and shelves of boxes and boxes, all filled with paper.
"Shakasta," swore Siffai, "Barbarians and uncivilized. No computers at all?"
"One," said Ferrel, "One terminal and two cores, all of them at least a century obsolete."
While Ferrel worked to compromise those, Micah and the others donned low-light high-res scan goggles, scattered and began flipping through random samples of the papers and books they found. Twice they heard groups of men outside singing loudly but they passed quickly and with no incidents.
Ferrel's second target went down as easily as the first and more quickly. This one actually had three obsolete cores and not as much paper. Siffai even found and duplicated an archaic dataspool. Ferrel's third location, while not itself a temple, lay across the street from one. After seeing the crowds still celebrating there, along with a heavy Zehbol'ach contingent, he vetoed it.
According to Ionoski and Kidwell their fourth target belonged to a well-to-do merchant of some type. This would also be their riskiest venture: the man's business shared a wall with his residence.
"Interesting," said Ferrel when he scanned the door, "There's some serious security here and I don't mean a string and a bell. Micah, check windows please and don't touch."
Micah did so and found a lot of very sophisticated security in place.
"It's active," he said, "It looks fairly straightforward but I'm not touching!"
Ferrel checked and verified what Micah found and proceeded to neutralize the entire system. When he opened the door cool air washed over them and inside the room the air cooled several degrees. Interesting squared: none of the places Micah or Ionoski visited boasted such frivolous equipment. Ferrel cackled with delight when he found a very modern terminal. Siffai kept watch and Micah and Barstein scanned the papers and books loose about.
"Bonusjack," said Ferrel, "I have a house net and a very pyro one. Looks like Jengiil gear but I can't say six-sigmas. Call it three."
Ferrel connected his portable datacore with a smugness Micah could feel. He mentally marked off five credits and braced himself for Ferrel's rub-in. Then Barstein found a hidden cache of very recent dataspools and began copying them.
The door to the room burst open and a man staggered in carrying a bottle, dragging a woman beside him and singing loudly all the while. He made it to the middle of the room before he realized he had company; Micah fired his stunner and they both collapsed to the floor. Siffai eased the door shut.
"Rut," swore Micah, "Hurry, Charlie, Dave. They might have company."
Ferrel scowled. "Come monitor this, Micah. I'll prep the door alarms for fast egress."
Meanwhile Siffai investigated the bottle. She frowned as she sniffed it.
"Definitely not wine," she said, "That is much stronger liquor than Dhu permits! Perhaps..."
She dragged the two limp figures to an overstuffed chair and arranged them in a compromising position. She poured the liquor liberally around them, took a sample of it and dumped about half the rest outside. Then she placed the bottle where it might have dropped out of the man's hand when he passed out.
"I hope they are married," she whispered, "else he'll have an explanation to concoct!"
The portacore beeped.
"Time to leave," said Ferrel.
None too soon! As the door clicked shut behind them Micah thought he heard noise from the other door.
Back aboard their ship Ferrel immediately attacked the data. He connected the portacore to his terminal and began working on it while Ionoski debriefed the rest.
"Outstanding job," said Ionoski, "Not that I expected otherwise. Katie, let's analyze that slosh. It's probably local but if not we may have something else to trade. Even if it is we may have some leverage, if we can figure how best to use it."
"Bloody," said Ferrel, "This is uncryo to the high orbits."
"What is it," asked Ionoski.
"This encryption. It's way beyond anything these stapes should have, or even be able to spell! It's like... Feces!!" Ferrel worked his terminal hard. "Flames! That ruddy data had a toxic charge on it. My whole bloody transfer's gone! Glad I made a backup."
Ferrel grumbled as he reloaded the data. Micah jacked in beside him, mostly to watch. A quick analysis of the logs showed the initial attack and progression of the data's protection. Micah forked a copy into his terminal and disconnected from Ferrel's. He segmented two areas of hot memory for analysis and slowed down the remainder. He then emulated Ferrel's actions and before long the data exploded and decayed. The isolated hot modules began analyzing what happened and logging in detail.
"Clever," said Micah, "That's almost metaviral, Charlie, and I'm only one sigma on the 'almost.' If we didn't have pyro boxes it would have wiped everything."
"As if," grumped Ferrel, not wavering in his concentration, "Will you..."
"Analyze the attack," asked Micah, "Of course, brother. I doubt I could crack the data."
At Micah's request Ionoski, Kidwell and Barstein meshed their terminals with his. Siffai meshed hers to Ferrel's. The datatoxin was indeed very soph
isticated. Each member of Micah's group ran an analysis and each time it attacked differently. It acted differently on each individual terminal and, when they let it loose on the smesh it adapted to its environment and attacked differently again. They tried several different smesh configurations and the thing always adapted to optimum efficiency. After a few iterations and analysis Micah loaded a carefully-corrupted copy into his machine. Ionoski loaded a pristine copy and they both tried to break the attack. Then they configured the machines with a full wide pipe and Micah began working on Ionoski's data. It attacked, of course, and Micah directed it to his copy of the data. Both machines lagged nearly to paralysis as the virus fought itself.
"That was impressive," said Barstein.
Both datacaches reduced themselves to random fragments of data while spiking all the other warez in the process. Kidwell and Barstein watched and logged, careful not to let the thing loose in their boxes. When they shared the raw analysis data and began correlating it Micah found a pattern he very much did not like.
"It's not only AIdaptive it's ruddy aggressive. I haven't seen anything that can self-adapt in such a tight space since we the last time we burned a Consortium embassy."
Ferrel grunted something inaudible. "Full truth and no blather on that. It's plenty pyro but I'm plus-plus better! That virus may not like hitting a copy of itself but it six-sigma doesn't like chewing on its own self!"
"You've cracked the encryption," asked Ionoski, visibly impressed.
"Not quite, Ted, but I did figure out how to stop the data toxin. The crypto's still there but not for bloody long! This thing actually irritated me."
***
Micah woke the next morning, showered himself mostly conscious and headed to the lounge for strong chog. He found Ferrel slumped over his terminal, snoring. He pulled two big cups of chog, sat and nudged Ferrel in the ribs.
"Mmph. What?"
"Good morning, gorgeous," said Micah, "Was she worth it?"
The Radical Factor (Stone Blade Book 3) Page 10