Pariah

by W. Michael Gear

  “The kid looks like she’s about to bolt,” Trish said, figuring it had to be Kylee Simonov. “Yvette, keep an eye on her. Shig, come on. Let’s take a look.”

  In the back bedroom, under a single light, they found Talina laid out in one of the beds. She looked thin, drawn, and, given the flickering of her eyes, lost in an REM state.

  “Hey, Tal?” Trish said, settling herself on the side of the bed. “Wake up. We need to talk.”

  Trish gave the woman a hard shake, wary lest Talina come to on the attack. Nothing.

  “The professor said she hit her head,” Shig suggested. “Could you lift it while I feel around?”

  Trish did, watching as Shig’s fingers probed through the thick black hair in search of Talina’s skull.

  “A slight bump on the back of the occiput,” Shig deduced. “Nothing that would indicate any kind of serious damage.”

  Trish lifted the sheet. “Fuck. She’s been out of it for a while. They’ve got her in a diaper.” Trish considered her friend. “Let me check something.” She bent down, pried Talina’s oddly bruised lips apart, and sniffed. “Peppermint.”

  “The quetzals are warring inside her brain,” the little girl called from the door as she zipped in, and then off to one side as if to stay out of reach.

  “You are Kylee?” Shig asked, stepping over and seating himself on the side of the second bed. “You’ve been living with the quetzals. What happened? How did you get here?”

  “You’re not taking me back.” The little girl slipped along the wall like some feral creature as Yvette came down the hallway behind her.

  “I wouldn’t,” Shig told her. “Not without your permission.”

  “Why not?” Kylee’s voice dripped suspicion.

  “Because, you are a new Tao. A new path. One specially tailored for this world. In my book, you’re a miracle.”

  “What are you doing here?” Kylee demanded.

  “For the moment we’re in exile. Until this morning, we were the government. Now someone else has taken over.”

  “So you were in charge when they threw Rocket out? You were one of the ones who got him killed?”

  Trish flinched at the anger in the child’s voice. Her sense of guilt deepened. Shit, couldn’t she do anything right?

  “Wasn’t my decision,” Shig told the child, a sadness in his eyes. “Unfortunately, people don’t always listen to me.”

  “What about Talina?” the little girl asked.

  “She’s one of the few who does. I know because she couldn’t accidentally misinterpret my teachings the way she does if she didn’t really know what I’m saying.”

  “That’s backward.” The little girl scowled at him.

  “Sometimes backward is a way of finding our path forward.”

  Kylee was looking even more suspicious when Yvette said, “Kid, don’t even think you can out-spar Shig. Seriously, what’s wrong with Talina? What’s all this business about quetzals? How’s she injured?”

  From the hallway behind, Weisbacher said, “It doesn’t make any sense. The quetzals had her down. They both had their tongues in her mouth. Yes, she bumped her head, but not hard enough to keep her out for days. I think Kylee’s right. That it’s something molecular going on in her brain. Some chemically induced coma.”

  Trish muttered, “We’ve got to get her to Raya.”

  “As if that worked the last time we tried it.” Yvette crossed her arms. “You know how that ended.”

  “Yeah. Raya’s still fuming. I could fly her back in Talina’s car while mine charges.”

  Shig studied Talina with thoughtful eyes. “We’ll decide in the morning. Meanwhile, I think we should make supper, plan what we’re going to do.”

  “I’ll see what we’ve got.” Yvette turned, leading the way out.

  “Go on,” Trish told Shig. “I’ll sit with her for a while.”

  Only the little girl remained, her distrustful and weird blue eyes missing nothing as Trish stroked Talina’s hair.

  “She raised me,” Trish said by way of explanation. “Kept me alive. I owe her.”

  “She’s not like the rest,” Kylee agreed. “It’s okay. She’s not going to die.”

  “How do you know?”

  “’Cause Rocket told me.”

  “Thought he was dead.”

  “You don’t understand anything, do you? He’d be even more alive if people like you hadn’t hurt him.” And with that, the girl turned and fled down the hall.

  62

  Down deep, Tamarland had to admire Mosadek and Dushane, while another part of him railed at their betrayal. Skipping town neatly saved them from any immediate retribution. Ultimately, however, they’d pay the price for their treachery.

  Donovan was a small world, after all. Eventually they’d show up, and when they did, he’d deal with them in the most excruciating way possible.

  He liked the notion of skinning them alive. The technique was ancient. Long incisions were cut about an inch apart, and then the strips were slowly pulled off the body with vise grips. As each strip was flayed away, the exposed muscle was sealed with a paste containing a measure of scorpion venom. He’d have to find a substitute here, given that the supply of scorpions on Donovan was nonexistent. Someone in The Jewel had said that a local plant called thorncactus burned like liquid fire in open wounds.

  Maybe that would work.

  As he contemplated, he heard boots thumping in the hallway and a burly, muscular guy entered. He appeared just short of his twenties, black hair, smooth-shaven face, and curious brown eyes. He wore quetzal hide over a chamois shirt.

  “You wanted to see me?” Nothing in his tone hinted at deference.

  Tam stood, a faint smile on his lips. “That would depend. Who are you?”

  “Smit Hazen. Two Spot said that since Step turned in his resignation, you wanted to see me.”

  “What gives you the idea that Allenovich turned in a resignation?” He sure as hell hadn’t told Tam. Not that it would be a surprise. Well, too bad for Mr. Allenovich. There would be no shortage of people to publicly execute.

  “That’s what Two Spot said.” The guy crossed his arms.

  Tam stepped up to him, taking his measure. The kid thought he was tough. Work-hardened. The kind who’d seen some hard knocks, survived, but had no formal training. “You will address me as Director.”

  “Sure.”

  Tam flashed a hard knee into Hazen’s crotch, caught the back of the guy’s head as it jerked forward, and shoved it down as his other knee rose to crush Hazen’s nose. As a final thought, Tam kicked the man’s feet out from under him and let him crash to the floor.

  For a moment Hazen could only gasp and curl into a fetal position, one hand cupping his genitals, the other on his gushing nose.

  “You can be hurt worse,” Tam told him, “or you can pay attention. Which will it be?”

  “Pay attention,” the words came muffled.

  “Pay attention, Director.”

  “Yes, sir, Director, sir.”

  “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, if you are to be the head of security, what, exactly, does that entail?”

  “I make sure the guards are on the gates, that nothing’s missed, Director.”

  “How many of these so-called guards are there?”

  “’Bout ten of us now that Tal, Trish, and Step are gone.”

  “Mister Hazen, from now on, if I give you an order, will you obey it? Or do we need another demonstration of my authority?”

  “No, Director. I mean, yes, Director.” He winced, peering owlishly past the hand that he used to clamp his bleeding nose. “I’ll do what you tell me, Director.”

  “Good. Now, will your men take your orders?”

  “Yes, Director. Or, I mean, I think. Depends.”

  “On what?”


  “What do you want us to do?”

  “Be my right hand. I am now in charge. There is no other appeal. There is no resistance to my authority. No matter what you might have heard, I was appointed by the Board. Yes, it was a long time ago. However, since I have yet to receive any notification from the Board that my authority has been rescinded, I remain in charge.

  “All of which leaves you with a decision to make, Mister Hazen. You can serve me fully and completely, without any hesitation or reservation. You don’t even need to think. Just follow my orders. Do that and you will receive ample compensation. New and better dwellings. Food, sexual companionship, SDRs, status, whatever you covet.”

  “Yes, Director.”

  “Should you choose, however, not to give me complete and immediate obedience, I shall shoot you dead. On the spot. Without any additional chances or options.” He pulled his Talon, made a production of it as he clicked the safety off. “Your choice, sir?”

  Hazen was staring up in disbelief, eyes fixed on the pistol’s muzzle. “Don’t shoot. I’ll do as you say, Director.”

  “Good.”

  Tam holstered the pistol and walked back behind his desk. “Now, what I really need to know is who will buck my authority? Make trouble for me? I’ve got Dan Wirth and his people on my side. Aguila and her people are automatically hostile and considered enemies. Who else would I need to worry about? Anyone in your security staff, Chief Officer?”

  Hazen sat up, his nose swelling, pain in his brown eyes. “Like I said, that depends, Director. My guys will do anything to keep the compound safe. Some might hesitate if they were asked to act against the people here.”

  “Your first order, then, is to find out where your people stand. You are authorized to shoot anyone who you think might compromise our agenda or refuse to take orders.” Tam smiled. “See, that’s one of the perks, Chief Officer. You answer only to me. Your people answer only to you. Any order you give to Two Spot, Dr. Turnienko, Dan Wirth, or anyone else, must be obeyed.”

  “I see, sir.”

  “Good. The next task is to determine which structure to use as a holding facility. There will be miscreants and malcontents in the beginning. People we are either going to have to incarcerate until they come to their senses, or eventually execute as examples to the others.”

  “Execute?”

  “Harsh times, harsh measures.” Tam propped his butt on the desk and crossed his arms. “There will be no more talk about the odds that the colony here will fail. I won’t allow that to happen. I intend on making this colony self-sufficient if I have to kill half of the population to do it.”

  Hazen’s eyes had taken on a worried sheen.

  “I understand,” Tam told him in soothing tones. “Making the transition will be difficult and not without cost. You, more than any of the others, will pay a terrible price. But, Chief Officer, you need to harden yourself. Understand that distasteful actions will be necessary to straighten this mess out. There may be privation, suffering, and what appears as injustice at first glance, but believe me, it’s the only way to ensure that a human presence will endure on this planet.”

  Tam smacked his fist into his palm. “Damn it, there’s so much potential, but only if we all act for the common good. Resources must be managed for the maximum potential return. The same with our labor. I’ve seen the statistics, our population is falling, which begs the question: Why isn’t every female of childbearing age pregnant?”

  “Well, it’s sort of the women’s—”

  “Choice?” Tam cried in wonderment. “Because of a choice, the population can dwindle away into nothingness? How the hell do you think that’s going to sound in another hundred years? ‘Well, the women thought it would be inconvenient, so they failed to reproduce.’”

  “Um, Director, how do you suggest . . . ?”

  “All in due time, Chief Officer. First things first. Which leaves us at the detention center. Which building do you suggest would make a suitable prison?”

  “Um, maybe the old repair shop out at the mine? The place is built like a fortress. There’s those parts bays that could be turned into cells. But it’s five miles out of town. Sort of far away, but nobody in their right mind would try and make a run for it out in the bush like that.”

  “What about the Wild Ones?”

  “I don’t follow, Director.”

  “Would they make a run for it?”

  “Not without their kit, sir. Can’t eat the plants. Take their boots away, and it’s a death sentence. And without a weapon they can’t shoot a crest or chamois or fastbreak.”

  “As the Wild Ones come in, they are to be disarmed, detained, relocated to holding, and put into work details. It’s a waste of manpower to have them wandering around out in the bush. I want them made productive.”

  “Doing what, Director?”

  “For one thing a haul road around the fields so these damned trucks aren’t rumbling through town every day. For another, I want this hodgepodge of cluttered property cleaned out and organized living quarters erected in their place.”

  “What about the titles?”

  Tamarland considered. “All in good time. First we have to reeducate the people to what their real priorities are. Once we have instilled a more realistic understanding of what’s good for them, we can tackle some of these other insanities.”

  “Yes, Director.”

  “You look skeptical, Chief Officer.”

  “Well, Director, the last time we had a Supervisor who tried this, it didn’t work out so well.”

  “Clemenceau?” Tam arched an eyebrow. “I’ve seen the records. He suffered from a failure of the will. Nor did he employ his assets correctly. What’s the point of making people afraid of you if you don’t intend to apply that terror strategically and to obtain specific goals?”

  “I see.”

  “No, Chief Officer, you don’t. But eventually you will. Now, before you get on about your business, I need a list of families. Which ones might cause me trouble, and more to the point what are the names and locations of their children?”

  “You’re worried about the children?”

  “Good heavens, no. But if one controls the health and welfare of the children, one controls the parents. Now, you have your first orders, Chief Officer. Please see to them.”

  Hazen swallowed hard, finally climbed to his feet, and said, “I’ll get that to you immediately, Director.”

  Tam watched the man hurry from the room. After he’d gone, he asked, “So, what do you think, Tam?”

  Then he answered himself: “Chances are Hazen’s not going to cut it, and I’m going have kill three or four of them before I find the right subordinate who’ll shut off his mind and just implement the orders.”

  But he’d still give Hazen a chance.

  63

  In the dream Talina walked with quetzals. Rocket matched pace on her right side. Her old nemesis, Demon, strode along on her left. For this task she carried an empty sack over her shoulder. They walked together down the length of the ballcourt at Copan, across the stones where Talina had been devoured. She wasn’t surprised when Demon lowered its head, ran its tongue over the bloodstains, and flashed patterns of indigo, blue, and pink.

  Talina stopped at the calabash tree, looked up, and considered the skull that rested on the branch. “In the old stories, it is the twins, Hun Ajaw and Xbalanque, who come and bring you back to life. But that’s a story for a different time and a different world. Here I only have myself and the quetzals. One-and-many. A quality the Maya would have appreciated in their mystical concepts of Maker-Modeler, One-and-Seven. The many that make up the one.”

  The skull grinned down silently.

  Talina removed the sack from her shoulder, shook it open, and reached up to lift the skull from the branch. That it could be so light shocked her.

  The
time she’d helped to lower Mitch’s dead weight into the grave, he’d been so heavy she’d almost dropped him. And lowering Cap Taggart’s body into his last resting place had strained the muscles in her shoulders and back.

  The skull might have been made of air.

  Carefully she placed the cranium into the sack, shifted it onto her back, and turned. She winked at Rocket and glared at Demon. About time the damn baby-killing monster had a name. She was getting too many of the beasts inside to keep track of.

  Didn’t matter that the great ballcourt of Copan was a couple hundred miles southwest of her home in Chiapas. Because she was in a spirit dream, the moment she climbed out of the ballcourt, she was on her old street. Walking down the cobblestones toward Mother’s whitewashed-and-plastered house with its solar roof and cistern catchment. She wondered at the sense of contentment and belonging.

  Such were the powers of Way and the spirit world. Had an ancient Maya shaman been hanging around Donovan, he would have told her that the realm of spirits was simply an inverse of the reality most people lived. A fact that wasn’t lost on students of multiverse physics—or on the crews of the starships who inverted symmetry and traveled through parallel universes.

  Stepping through the front door, she made her way to Mother’s kitchen with its smells of cooking tamales, the incense-like aroma of steaming mole, and the tang of ancho in the air.

  Talina crossed the Saltillo tiles and carefully laid the sack upon the scarred wooden table. She removed the skull and placed it next to Mother’s sand bowl and the collection of shards from the broken burial pot.

  Seating herself, Talina glanced at the quetzals who’d taken up places on either side. Next she carefully organized the broken shards, placing each according to the design. The images of One Death, Seven Death, and Blood Gatherer—not surprisingly—had remained in one piece. Hun Ajaw and Xbalanque she fitted back together, and then the image of maiden Blood Moon. But even as she did, the images changed, the lines and colors shifting.

  Finally she organized the pieces that depicted resurrected One Hunahpu rising from the cracked turtle shell to become the Maize God. Only, to her surprise, as she labored to fit the pieces together, they didn’t create the familiar male rendering of the Maize God who would lift the World Tree to hold up the Sky World.