She smiled at that, the scars bending. “I know. According to your records, Lavrentiy Beria, Joseph Goebbels, and Hayden Keating served as your muses. Charming men, all of them. My implant reminds me that you kept a photo of Pol Pot on your wall as well. I’ve always found that odd since he didn’t last as long as the others, nor was his vision as lofty.”
“His goals weren’t the heart of my interest; it was his meteoric rise and the immediate and complete transformation of his country that fascinated me.”
“Tell me you’re not looking to model Port Authority on what happened in Cambodia two centuries ago. The country never recovered the loss of its intelligentsia, culture, or pride.”
“Of course not. You were the one who brought up the subject of Pol Pot. The lesson he taught me is to be circumspect in whom you eliminate. I’m more of a Hayden Keating fan. He used the security state with its algorithms, monitoring, and databases to identify and select ‘enemies of the common good’ for elimination or coercion. Without his ability to target and remove nationalists, populists, and so called ‘adherents of the democratic process,’ The Corporation would never have had a chance.”
“Hayden was working with billions. You have what? Four hundred or thereabout?”
“Means I won’t have to turn as many into fertilizer the way Hayden Keating did. He loved that, you know. All those ‘disappeared’ activists? Making their corpses into fertilizer solved so many problems. No bodies left laying around to be identified should the political winds change. And he got such a kick out of the knowledge that the people were ultimately consuming their own dissidents.”
Tompzen appeared in the doorway, face as expressionless as a carved block. “Ma’am, Two Spot reports that Mosadek and Dushane are gone.”
“Gone where?” Tam snapped, rising to his feet. “They were not given permission.”
Aguila’s lips quivered, making the scars along her jaw twitch. She turned to the marine. “Well?”
Tompzen, correctly, sussed out where the threat might lie and kept a wary eye on Tamarland as he said, “According to Two Spot, they’ve quit. Benteen, here, told them it was a coup, and he was taking over. That from here on out, Benteen was the government. Mosadek and Dushane told Two Spot that any and all complaints needed to be tendered to Benteen.”
“Unfuckingacceptable,” Tam muttered. Well, maybe it was for the best. As with Maniken, sometimes it saved trouble in the long run when examples were made of people. Mosadek and Dushane’s elimination would have to be very public and milked for the greatest psychological impact.
“Private,” Aguila said, “go find them. Bring them here. I want to get to the bottom of this.”
“That’s not your concern,” Tam barked. “They’re my people. Port Authority is out of your jurisdiction.”
“You heard me,” she told Tompzen, ignoring Benteen.
“Can’t do it, ma’am,” Tompzen told her. “According to Two Spot, they’re really gone. Took an aircar about three hours ago and flew away. Mosadek, Dushane, and officer Monagan.”
“They what?” Tam asked coldly. “Where’d they go?”
“Two Spot said they didn’t say. Just said to tell the people what happened, and to say they wished them good luck.”
As Tamarland’s anger increased, Aguila couldn’t contain herself. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” She slapped her left hand to her thigh, the right continued to rest on her pistol.
To Tam she said, “Forget what I said. Keep the office for now. Oh, and God help you.”
With that she turned on her heel, leading Torgussen and her marines out into the corridor. He couldn’t miss her laughter as it echoed down the hall.
60
The word was all over town by the time Kalico exited the admin dome and walked down the avenue to Inga’s. She found Talina’s seat open and levered her butt onto the worn bar stool. A sense of wry amusement, mixed with worry, continued to bubble inside her.
So far the day had been shitty. She’d awakened to the news that Mary Ting was missing. The woman worked down at the farm, was one of the incredibly important tree tenders who ensured the young pines were watered and cared for where they grew at the interface of the Donovanian forest. Pines, with their chemicals, served as the first line of defense against the constantly encroaching native flora.
Quetzal tracks were found on top of Mary’s. There had been signs of a scuffle. All that remained behind was one of Mary’s shoes and the pile of her torn clothing. One of the reasons Kalico had come to PA today was to see if she could hire either Trish or Step Allenovich to track the killer down.
Then, at breakfast, Torgussen and Seesil Vacquillas had flown down to brief her on Vixen. The crew was on the verge of mutiny. Half wanted to space for Solar System. Half wanted to stay in orbit or make a home on Donovan. What were her orders? Worse, Torgussen had forgotten to deliver the last of the coffee he’d promised to Corporate Mine.
Which was when Lea Shimodi appeared to report a software problem in the program that modeled subsurface mineral deposits and that the mucking machine in the Number Two had broken a drive shaft. Operations were effectively halted until the machine could be extricated, repaired, and tested.
Letting the Vixen problem simmer on the back burner, she’d shuttled up to Port Authority and found the town in a flurry of upset. As she and her people had cleared the gate at the shuttle field, people were talking about something going on with Shig and Yvette. And that Benteen—who’d made a name for himself over a murder in The Jewel—was at the bottom of it.
Had that been one of the understatements of the year or what?
At least Torgussen had delivered the last of the coffee, but he did so with a visible reservation. Maybe he was finally figuring out what a valuable commodity the stimulant was going to be in the future.
But that still left her with the problem of what to do with Vixen’s rebellious crew.
“Just a beer today,” she told Inga as the woman lumbered in her direction.
As much as Kalico wanted a whiskey, something told her that her interests would be best served if she kept her wits mostly un-muddled.
“That for sure?” Inga asked as she set a glass mug of IPA in front of Kalico. “Benteen forced Shig and Yvette out?”
“I got it straight from Two Spot. Benteen threatened them with bodily harm, told them he was taking over, so they loaded themselves into an aircar and left at around noon today.”
“What’s Benteen’s plan?”
Kalico took a taste of the bitter IPA. “Says he’s gonna turn PA into a paradise. Figures he’s going to create a rank-and-file society where everyone fits the mold for maximum efficiency. Turn PA into a finely functioning machine.”
“Sounds like Corporate bullshit to me.” Inga accented the words with a hard scowl.
“You figure I’m going to take the bait? Fire back with both barrels about how it’s the only way to maximize output, laud the sacrifice of the individual in exchange for the promotion of common good?”
Inga’s slow grin bore a measure of conspiracy. “Once I would have, Supervisor. Since that day, you’ve shown a measure of personal growth and adaptation. You and your mine down there? You’re no more Corporate than PA. You think we don’t know what goes on? The plunder you’re sharing with your people? Rewarding incentive and productivity?”
“Yeah, well how about we keep that our little secret?”
Inga snorted like a bull. “Seems to me there’s not much of a secret to keep.”
“Then how about we compromise and just say we’re maintaining a fiction for the sake of appearances?”
“That’ll work.” Inga glanced out at the growing crowd. “So what’s the real word on Benteen?”
“The scorpion is now in your midst. All I can tell you is that he’s deadly, smart, and puts even less value on human life than a scarlet flier cares for an in
vertebrate. Don’t underestimate him.”
Inga shook her head. “If he thinks he’s going to run roughshod over the rest of us, he’s got another think coming.”
“I’ll tell you this once, so pay attention: Be. Careful.”
Inga’s expression sharpened. “I got ya, Supervisor. And thanks.” A pause. “So, unofficially, where does Corporate Mine come down in all of this? You backing the scorpion’s play?”
“Let’s just say that we’ve been corrupted by your libertarian ethic. My people and I would just as soon see the status quo maintained. While we’d rather not take sides in PA politics, if Benteen manages to come out on top, he’s going to come for Corporate Mine in the end.”
“Nice to have allies.” Inga gestured toward the beer. “That’s on the house.”
“Much appreciated.” Inga wasn’t known for drinks on the house.
Kalico glanced around the room, filling as it was with people. The crowd at the other end of the bar was growing, waiting on Inga to finish her talk with Kalico. “What I don’t understand is why Shig and Yvette ran. When I showed up and made a claim on Port Authority, they stayed to fight.”
Inga used her bar towel to wipe the scarred chabacho wood. “Different kind of a fight. You came with marines and a Corporate mandate. The scorpion comes on his own. Shig and Yvette know what they’re doing.”
“I sure as hell hope so.” Kalico glanced around the room, saw the concern in the faces. “Anyone needs a place to run to, you pass the word. Corporate Mine will give them sanctuary.”
“Is that right? If so, supper’s on the house tonight, too.” A beat. “You turned out okay, Supervisor.”
“Yeah, well, that’s another subject that I prefer we didn’t let go public. After all, I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Those are the best secrets to keep. The ones everyone else already knows.”
“Then here’s one that fits that category: The story is that the scorpion was trapped in Guanxing, that Boardmember Shayne had sent him down to blackmail a Chinese tech Supervisor who’d amassed quite a little empire and was one of Radcek’s major supporters. Something went wrong; the Chinese Supervisor caught wind that the scorpion was going to try and flip him to Shayne’s side. The man had better-than-average security, and he slowly began to cut off the scorpion’s avenues of escape. Played him, like herding a sheep into a kill pen.”
“So, what happened?”
“They supposedly maneuvered the scorpion into what should have been a dead end. When they closed the trap, nothing. The guy had disappeared. By the time the Supervisor’s security figured out that Benteen had crawled into an electrical chase and traced his path though the guts of the palace, Benteen had made his final play. The security forces closed in on the power plant. Figured they had Benteen trapped in one of the subbasements.”
“Obviously they didn’t get him.”
“Nope. That whole security force and half the city died in the explosion when the fusion reactor went suddenly fission. The official explanation claimed it was an industrial accident. Benteen showed up a couple of weeks later on Bali, said he’d never been in Guanxing.”
“What kind of damage are we talking about?”
“A million and a half dead. Along with the tech Supervisor, his small army, and most of the assets that made him a threat to Boardmember Shayne.”
“So, you’re telling us we’d better not leave the guy feeling trapped with no way out?”
“That’s pretty much it. Tamarland Benteen plays for keeps. He’ll take the whole of Port Authority with him if he thinks he’s going to lose.”
61
Capella burned in a fantastic orange ball on the western horizon; its rays painted the undersides of the clouds in the most remarkable patterns of reds, yellows, blues, and purples. The sandstone slickrock around Rork Springs glowed in a salmon color.
In the dying light of day, an emotionally unsettled Trish settled her aircar onto the sandstone bedrock beside Talina’s battered craft. Through the long flight, she’d tortured herself, figured that there was something she should have done, that she’d let Shig, Yvette, and Port Authority down. Not to mention herself.
“He would have killed you,” Shig said softly as the fans spun down. “As a corpse your only value would be to Benteen. He’d use it as a symbol of his power and deadly ability. Alive you remind others that they have a choice, that Tam Benteen isn’t invincible.”
“Should have done something, Shig. Tal would have.”
Yvette rose from her seat, placed a hand on Trish’s shoulder. “You did exactly what we wanted you to. You were perfect. Talina? She’d have pressed the point. People who are alive today would have been dead. This might sound like heresy, but Tal’s way isn’t always the right way.”
Trish caught her breath, the words having failed to soothe her guilt.
In the drainage below, the chime had changed pitch, now a symphony of rising and falling melody. Rork Springs was always pretty; now it filled her with wonder. The dome itself had taken on a reddish hue, and behind it the sheds and dormitory gleamed in the light. The solar panels had swiveled to take in the last of Capella’s fading energy.
“Yeah, whatever. Well, guys, we made it. Welcome to our last refuge.” Trish flipped the switches to kill the power.
Shig and Yvette turned to the luggage on the deck at their feet.
“Been a long time since I was here,” Yvette noted. “Bet it’s been fifteen years. Hansen and I spent a couple of weeks here. He was calibrating some of the equipment while I supervised the plumbing.” With that she picked up her bag and stepped over the side.
Shig thoughtfully snared his own bag. “Never been out this far before. I begin to understand.”
“Understand what?” Trish asked, plucking her pack from its restraints and slinging it over her shoulder before tugging her rifle from the rack. After a quick chamber check, she vaulted over the side, weapon ready, taking in all the surroundings.
“The lure of the bush,” Shig told her as he clambered awkwardly over the side. “Beauty is sattva. And I saw an incredible amount of beauty today.”
“Yeah, well, you enjoy all the sattva you want while you’re flying above it,” Trish told him; her trained eyes missed nothing as she searched for threats. “But the second you set foot back on the ground, you’re in a world of shit.” A beat. “They got a word for ‘being in the shit?’”
“Dukkha. Ultimately, all is suffering,” Shig told her. “At least until you can divest yourself of the illusion of existence.”
“Illusion, huh? Just where in the process of being torn in two and swallowed by a quetzal does this illusion of yours come into play?”
“Right off the bat, actually. It’s the first of the four noble truths. Things will happen to you in life that you really dislike. Being eaten alive, at least in my book, is right up there.”
“Damn straight. You know why there was never a Buddha on Donovan? It’s because not finding a Bodhi Tree, Buddha sat down under a mundo tree in search of enlightenment . . . and a nightmare ate him.”
“You have the most remarkable ability to take the sublime, completely turn it on its head, and trash it.”
Trish tapped a meaningful hand on her rifle, “Yeah, well on Donovan a full magazine trumps all the mystical teachings in the universe.”
Satisfied that nothing was going to jump them and eat either Shig or Yvette, Trish checked Talina’s aircar, noted the charge was up to ninety-six percent, and took a moment to shift the charging cable to her own car.
That’s when she saw the ceramic fragments. Some sort of blue-on-white pieces. And then she fixed on the blood, now just dark drops in the shadow of Talina’s aircar.
“Wonder where Talina is?” Yvette was asking as Trish followed the droplets of blood to the dome door.
“Hang on,” she called. “Got blo
od here. Let me check it out before you go barging in to find a quetzal chewing on someone in the main room.”
“Oh, you don’t think . . .” Shig couldn’t finish the thought.
“Welcome to Donovan,” Trish growled. “When it comes to full magazines, I rest my case.”
She eased the front door open and let it swing wide as she stared over the sights of her rifle.
The lights were on, which was reassuring, and the refrigeration was humming. Nothing looked amiss in the room; all the tables and chairs were upright. No sign of a struggle.
She could hear voices coming from the back hallway.
“Hey! Hello! Anybody home? Tal? You here?”
Within seconds a little girl appeared, maybe ten or eleven, dressed in oversized yellow overalls. “Who’re you?”
“Trish Monagan. Where’s Tal?”
The next surprise came when Dortmund Weisbacher stepped out of a doorway behind the girl, saying, “You really can put the gun down. Talina Perez is injured. I would have called, but it appears there’s a problem with the radio. I call it imp-inspired sabotage.”
Trish lowered her rifle, stepped all the way in. Yvette and Shig followed. “What do you mean, injured?”
“Something with the quetzals,” Weisbacher said. “They sort of, well . . . mugged her might be the best way to describe it. She hit her head.”
“And what happened to you?” Trish asked, taking in the fresh white bandage inexpertly applied to the man’s forearm. She could see the discoloration from blood and disinfectant on the skin.
“Quetzal,” Weisbacher told her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “Most remarkable. It’s only a start, mind you, but given the basics, we’ve got an incredible amount of opportunity to build on. It won’t be easy, visual patterns, variations of color, posture, and the way—”
“Let’s get back to Talina,” Trish growled, stomping forward. “Where is she?”
“Back bedroom.”
The little girl darted off to take a defensive position behind the table and chairs as she warily watched Trish pass, then fixed uneasy eyes on Shig and Yvette.
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