Defenders (20 page)

There was a knock on the door.

“Come on in.”

Smiling tightly, Lila said, “Ready?” It was obvious she wanted to talk, compare notes, but who knew if their rooms were being monitored? It would surprise Oliver to learn they weren’t. They may not have an opportunity to speak privately all day; their hosts had scheduled a full slate, all of it chaperoned.

First up was a tour of the countryside, to Adelaide and back. Oliver was hardly in the mood for a quiet ride through the country, and for the life of him he couldn’t imagine why the defenders had scheduled it. Had they genetically engineered giant trees to match their giant buildings? Would they encounter wallabies the size of dinosaurs?

Everyone seemed tense as they boarded the high-speed train. Their host was waiting for them.

“Hello, Vlad—” Oliver began, but Lila squeezed his elbow.

“I’m Lila Easterlin, US ambassador. This is Oliver Bowen, science and technology emissary attached to the US contingent.”

It wasn’t Vladimir. They all looked the same to Oliver. Evidently Lila was able to distinguish one defender from another. Maybe that wasn’t surprising; sometimes Oliver had trouble recognizing
people
after he’d met them a half dozen times. He wasn’t good with faces.

“My name is Erik. I’ve been assigned as liaison for the North and Central American emissaries, because I have exceptionally good interpersonal skills.”

Under other circumstances Oliver might have smiled at the oxymoronic nature of Erik’s proclamation, but he only nodded while he studied Erik’s face, trying to find a way to distinguish it from all the other long, angular faces.

“Please choose a comfortable seat and make yourselves…” Erik paused, frowned. “…comfortable.”

Oliver and Lila sat across from the British contingent, Ambassador Galatea McManus and a military expert, Alan Nicely. Galatea was in her fifties, slim bordering on bony, with a lean, elegant face and red hair streaked with white. Alan was pudgy, impeccably dressed in a tight white tunic with tied lace cuffs and a matching bowler hat.

The train whisked them out of the city, into the exurbs of Sydney (much of the suburbs had evidently been consumed by the oversized version of the city the defenders had created). Massive new defender construction gave way to dilapidated human towns. Far fewer defenders lived in Australia than there had been humans, so it made sense the defenders’ renovations left off in the outlying areas.

Erik joined them as they hurtled through the eerily deserted human towns.

“Erik, how many defender cities have been constructed?” Oliver asked as soon as he sat down.

“Several,” Erik replied. An awkward silence followed, as Oliver digested the evasive answer.

Lila finally broke the silence. “Where were you stationed during the war, Erik?”

“I led the Eighth Airborne Battalion in England. My rank is colonel.”

“Ah,” Galatea said. “Did you spend any time in London? I might have passed you while running for my life.”

They all chuckled except for Erik, whose flat expression didn’t change. With serotonin absent from their biochemistry, the defenders would have a difficult time with humor. Lila had a better grasp on the defenders’ limitations than Oliver. He made a mental note to avoid joking. Better to keep communication formal until they developed a better understanding of the defenders’ psychological makeup. In many ways they were dealing with another alien species, although hopefully they would prove easier to comprehend than Luyten.

“I was in London late in the campaign,” Erik answered. Abruptly, he turned to Lila. “I understand you studied under Dominique Wiewall.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Oliver watched Lila adjust to the abrupt shift in topic. They’d been surprised, when the defenders requested Lila. She’d been fifteen when they left for Australia. For the past thirteen years humans had been incapable of monitoring the defenders, because of the cloak, but clearly the defenders had been watching them closely, and not just their television programs.

“What can you tell me about her?” Erik asked.

Lila tilted her head to one side. “What do you want to know?”

Erik leaned toward her. “
Anything.
Anything other defenders wouldn’t know. What are her hobbies? Does she paint?”

“Um, no, she doesn’t paint.” Lila pressed a finger to her lips for a moment. “She’s not exactly the hobby type. She runs, a lot. And plays volleyball.”

Erik folded his arms. “She’s no-nonsense. Hardworking. Pragmatic. I suspected as much.”

Lila grinned. “You’ve got her pegged. She holds herself to very high standards. If you want to find Dominique, day or night, look in her lab.”

“Excellent. Excellent,” Erik said.

There was something strange about Lila that had been nagging Oliver as he watched her, and Oliver finally put his finger on what it was: She was glowing; all of her irony and sarcasm had melted away when the defender singled her out for attention. Sometimes when the three of them were together, Oliver felt like Lila and Kai were speaking a different language, punctuated with odd tonality and wry non sequiturs. Suddenly Lila was back to speaking straight English.

As Erik went off to mingle with his other charges, the exurbs gave way to open country—alternating farmland and forest.

“So, Oliver,” Galatea said, “I have to admit, I did quite a bit of research into you before the trip. I’m fascinated by your interactions with the Luyten, Five. I’m hoping you’ll be willing to share some details I wouldn’t be able to find in books.”

“It was a long time ago, but I’d be happy to—” Oliver stopped speaking. The woodland the train had been traveling through had given way to open space again, only instead of farmland, all was blacktop, surrounding an immense factory. It must have been a mile long, fit with dozens of steel smokestacks, each hundreds of feet high. The paved lots surrounding the factory were filled with shiny, brand-new weapons: huge fighter jets that resembled manta rays; muscular tanks on four sets of treads on squat legs, sporting three independent turrets; building-sized winged monstrosities that might have been bombers. Chrome and silver sparkled in the sunlight, as if the weapons had recently been polished.

Alan stood, pressed his nose to the window. “Holy Christ.”

“What sort of weapons are those?” Lila asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Alan didn’t answer immediately. He studied the machinery passing by. “Those look like amphibian craft.” He pointed at rows of chrome shovel-shaped vehicles. “But they have wheels. They may be dual-purpose. One thing’s for certain: They’re heavily armed. Heavily armed.”

Oliver looked at Erik, who was leaning in their direction, eavesdropping. This was the reason for the ride in the country. The defenders didn’t want to show them trees; they wanted to show off their military might.

Ten minutes later, they passed another factory.

Then another, twenty minutes after that.

Aircraft, artillery, guerrilla craft. Oliver’s insides felt like liquid as he surveyed seas of shining metal. They must have a weapon for every defender alive. Unless they were making more defenders as well. Surely, surely, that was well beyond their technological abilities. Machines were one thing, genetic codes another.

A sound caught Oliver’s attention. Overhead, defender fighter aircraft as big as houses flew drills. They were the same models human engineers had designed for them in their war against the Luyten.

“Look at those—it looks like Luyten technology.”

Oliver followed Alan’s gaze. Row upon row of assault sleeves, similar to the ones the Luyten used, filled a valley paved in concrete. Hushed whispers shot about the cabin. Since they had Luyten slaves, it seemed they had access to Luyten technological knowledge.

If the Luyten were sharing technology with the defenders, who was to say they weren’t passing information to the defenders, plucked out of the emissaries’ minds?

“Shit,” Oliver whispered. He closed his eyes, rubbed his temples. If the Luyten were passing information, what would the defenders learn? What would they want to learn? As far as Oliver knew, the UN had no ulterior motives, were not plotting against the defenders. There was also no overt indication the defenders intended them harm. They were emotionally unstable, yes. Maybe a bit paranoid. That didn’t mean they were gearing up for war. Clearly they held humans in high esteem. Still, the weapons were alarming.

Among defenders, staring evidently wasn’t considered rude. As Lila and her six companions explored Sydney on their own for the first time, defenders everywhere stopped what they were doing and stared. Some followed, until they had dozens trailing them, pressed close, carefully watching them.

Sook looked straight ahead, as if she was used to ignoring adoring stares. Galatea and Bolibar seemed bemused. Oliver seemed uncomfortable, although that wasn’t unusual.

“How are you today?” Bolibar called up to a defender who was walking so close the blades along his leg were no more than three feet from Bolibar.

“Very well, thank you,” the defender replied.

“Lila Easterlin?”

Lila turned to find a defender walking beside her. She examined him carefully, recognized the slight bump in his nose, the flaring nostrils. “Hello, Erik.”

“You recognize me. I’m pleased.”

“Well, you recognized me.”

“Human features vary considerably, which makes it easier. You have blond hair, and you’re shorter than most of the other emissaries. I noted those distinctions so I would recognize you.”

Lila resisted making a self-deprecating crack about being short, afraid it would be lost on the defender. Her heart was racing.

“I came to ask if you would do me the honor of being my companion at the races this evening. It promises to be exciting.”

Lila grinned. The way he phrased it, it almost sounded like he was asking her out. “I’d love to. Thank you for asking.”

“Wonderful.” He made a fist. “Everyone will be impressed with me, when they see you’re my guest.”

Lila laughed, not sure what to say to that.

After arranging to meet outside her hotel, Erik left to find the emissaries he was escorting to the Museum of Culture.

There were at least twenty defenders following them now. The defenders were treating them like rock stars, which amused the hell out of Lila, because she’d had posters of defenders on her bedroom walls until she was nineteen. She remembered trying to strike up a conversation with a defender once, while feeding it fried chicken. She’d so desperately wanted it to talk to her, but it just went on eating like it didn’t hear her. She stifled a laugh, not wanting the others to ask what she was thinking. During the war she’d entertained such lush fantasies of having a defender friend, of going for walks with him, of the envious looks from the other kids. Of course back then the defenders had been too busy fighting Luyten. They hadn’t gone for walks, hadn’t made friends, even with each other. It was dumb, but she was excited as hell at the idea of having a defender friend.

Bolibar was chuckling as he stepped off the hotel elevator. Lila gave him a questioning look.

“Word must have spread about your date with a defender this evening, because I just received a call from a general named Hassan, who asked me to accompany him to a military banquet on Friday.” Bolibar spread his arms. “Now I have a date as well.”

When Oliver, Galatea, Azumi, and Alan joined them, they had similar stories that they shared as they all headed off to lunch.

Oliver had two engagements lined up. “When I informed the chief of housing and construction for the city that I couldn’t join him for dinner on Thursday, because I had already agreed to join Brigadier General Thomas for an art opening, he seemed remarkably disappointed. Almost jealous.”

“That’s because you’re being unfaithful to him,” Galatea said, nudging Oliver’s arm. It seemed a flirtatious gesture to Lila. She wondered if something was brewing between Oliver and the British ambassador. God, she hoped so. It seemed as if Oliver was still waiting for his ex-wife to call, sixteen years after their divorce. It was about time he got laid and forgot about Vanessa.

“Given that they’re asexual, you may not be far off,” Oliver said, straight-faced. “To the extent they have affiliative needs, they have to funnel them into friendships. Since we created them, we represent high-status friends.”

“If we created them, don’t we represent momma and papa?” Bolibar said, grinning.

Oliver pointed at him. “Don’t laugh. Not only do they have no romantic relationships; they have no parents—”

Galatea shushed him gently, gestured that a defender might overhear.

Oliver continued more quietly. “Their brains are derivative of human brains. There could be residue of human needs, like procreation and maternal attachment, built into their DNA, with no direct means of expression.”

Oliver looked toward Lila for support, as Bolibar chuckled.

“Don’t look at
me
,” Lila said. “I only know how genetic codes express physically. The psychology is beyond me.”

“It’s beyond everyone,” Oliver said.

She was winded by the time she spotted the sign—
ROYAL RANDWICK RACECOURSE
—up ahead. The defenders had retained a lot of the original names of places after rebuilding them to larger scale, perhaps as a tribute. That seemed to be the case with the racecourse.

They had walked from Lila’s hotel, because, as Erik put it, “that way, more defenders will see me with you.” Erik was trying to walk slowly, but Lila still found herself striding briskly to keep up.

“I understand your husband is a professional poker player,” Erik said.

He’d really done his homework. “That’s right. His father, Oliver Bowen, introduced him to the game. Kai was beating Oliver soundly six months later, and he was barely thirteen.”