The Devil Delivered and Other Tales (6 page)

… NOAC Economic Security officials “closer to Ladon’s list of secret shareholders.”

… boreal forest joins the list of Near Extinct ecosystems. But as Forestry Spokesman Arnold Sheer noted, “The boreal forest is notoriously low in energy yield. The biospheres are virtually inconsequential in global yield terms.”

The designation for the boreal forest now adds this ecosystem to coral reefs, tropical and temperate rain forests and tundra. As has been noted, however, the deforested areas are now viable for agricorp expansions.…

… the new virus infecting the East Codfarms has necessitated destroying over four thousand tons of fish stock. Economic and resource projections suggest a new designation to Red-3 level for Dependent Peoples. Given the trans-species characteristic of this new virus, the slaughtered fish could not be used as Feed for domesticates. The East Codfarms was the last marine farm still operating. Open Seas monitoring indicates little change in the now empty oceans worldwide. The official statement goes on to emphasize that there is no cause for panic, as GMO and GrowVat Foodstocks remain at optimum levels.…

… four months into the excavation, with complete capping of the site set to begin immediately. The Mars Paleontology Team is now officially dissolved following an undisclosed breach of security.…

… SINJO reaffirms military aid ties with India, at a historic meeting of officials outside Tel-abib on the banks of the Chebar River, where they arose and went forth into the plain and there spoke with each other and no one else, for this was a plain of darkness where he sang nevermore
RECALL? SYSTEM ERROR SINJO SOURCE RECALL
in all damnation, for they are rebellious in their houses.…

SFI 29786.17

Subject: Site Mj-eb 21

Subcategory: Mars Excavation Projects

Abstract: Sediments firmly dated at 11.2–13.3 mya yield gracile hominin fossil remains and evidence of an extensive agricultural complex in the
XXXXXXX
region of the Santo Regina basin—

Tracking …

Captured.

NF NF NF

Entry: American NW, July 4,
A.C.
14

In her blind world, she lay under the rock and listened. Burned blind, but eyes had become irrelevant. She thought nothing of this. Painless, forgotten. At night she would slide out from her place of rest, threading through the grasses and bouncing echoes off the land around her. Hunting, and there was food for her mouth in plenty. The rodents were everywhere, for a time unrestrained in their nightly activities. But she’d adapted, more or less overnight, along with a good many of her sisters. Granted, some took another route. No problem there. In any case, the snake was in heaven.

Beneath the rock, her newly sensitized ears detected the presence of humans. She felt probing sonar bounce off the rock she lay under, and other probes as well, but her blood was cold, and they found her not.

“I haven’t really got the time for this, Dr. MacAlister.”

“The Lady’s put you in charge of the project. You bastard, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What?”

“Is my language excessive, Max? Come on, give me a fucking break. These Lakota are dependent on us. If they cut NOAC out, they cut their own throat.”

“Take it up with them, Doctor. I’ve got an engineering problem to tackle. Being intercepted has messed up my schedule.”

“You passed through NOAC airspace, Max. Hell, I could’ve ordered you shot down.”

“Why didn’t you? It’s the only way you can stop us.”

“I want some messages delivered. Both ways.”

“And those messages are?”

“For the Lakota. The embargo is officially NUN approved. Extreme sanctions. Assets seized, the works. Nothing goes in, nothing comes out.”

“I can hear Horn already. Back to the reservations, right?”

“You’re missing the point. Tell the Lady this, Max. You may have made a deal with the Lakota Nation, but the Lakota Nation is finished. No money for you—I don’t think the Lady will swing this one past her secret shareholders. Ladon will be financially ruined.”

“No money was involved, Dr. MacAlister. Basic reciprocity in action. The Lakota appreciated the irony, by the way. After all, it’s the way they used to do things, isn’t it?”

“I’m not done with my message to Ladon. No air corridors will be granted. Your supplies will never reach here. Any efforts to breach the free-air zone will be met militarily.”

“Anything else?”

“Deliver the messages, Max. The world doesn’t want your project to get off the ground. Period. It’s dangerous, untested—”

“Right, the official line. Come on, Doctor, we both know why NOAC and SINJO, and EUROCOM for that matter, are pissing themselves. It’s economic, pure and simple. Or, rather, if you’ll excuse my blunt language, bloody greed. Ladon’s not offering a piece of the pie, and you’re all offended. Stopping us is your obsession, Jenine. You and your bosses. The Lady has a message for you, all of you, and it’s this: Stop panicking, you might get your piece of the pie, eventually. But only if you’re nice.”

“You’re exploiting the Lakota—”

“Bullshit. They aren’t children, Doctor. Never were, despite your most cherished beliefs. The noble savage was your creation, Doctor, not theirs. They won’t live in a bottle of your making. Hell, you want to see the effects of your social engineering programs, look in your own backyard. God never granted you the right to fuck around with other people’s cultures.”

“Who’s speaking?”

“A snake whispering in your ear, Doctor. She’s bored under that rock, waiting for night. She echolocated you out of the ether. You were just passing by, but her hunting instincts are up, and she’s with you now, with her newly reflective skin that makes her invisible, a ghost at your ear, whispering.”

“I’ve been placed in an untenable position.”

“And it’s all yours, Jenine.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m already here.”

Net

LUNKER:
Another streamer from Bound for Ur, friends. This stuff must come from an Inner Ear, if you catch my drift.

VORPAL:
I can’t believe what I’m reading. NOAC’s got spy sats tracking every Ladon shipment on the whole goddamn planet?

LUNKER:
Desperate measures … I admit my back’s up on this. Look, we’ve all been chased before, so we know how it feels.

BLANC KNIGHT:
The Lady’s not human, friends. She’s something else entirely. Something more than human.

LUNKER:
You anticipating she’s going to drop a perfumed scarf, Blanco?

BLANC KNIGHT:
I’ll take it up if she does, Lunker.

VORPAL:
Bravo, sirrah! Count me in.

LUNKER:
If the Lady’s as uncanny as you say, she isn’t likely the kind to ask for help. I’d think she can manage her own battles. She’s done it so far.

VORPAL:
Things aren’t looking good right now, though. At least that’s what’s between the lines from Bound for Ur.

BLANC KNIGHT:
Well, we’re looking at spy sats, correct? I mean, they’re rather small and delicate, aren’t they? Microsats usually are.

VORPAL:
Indeed, and of course com sats are much larger. We’d need to loop in and get a tracking matrix on the eye-spies—

BLANC KNIGHT:
Not necessary. Bound for Ur’s provided us with transport routes for all of Ladon’s shipments. We’ve got times, dates, lats and longs. The eye-spies will be right on them. Ergo.

VORPAL:
I’m setting up for a com sat interface now. Where’s my Nintendo joystick? You with me on this, Blanco?

BLANC KNIGHT:
Let me know which one you grab, and I’ll feed you the coords on the nearest eye-spy.

VORPAL:
Lovely.

LUNKER:
You guys are scary. Hey, anybody skimming the official news lately? Some weird things going on.

…

LUNKER:
Hello?

Net

JOHN JOHN:

NOACOM:
THIS IS AN UNRESTRICTED LINE. GO BACK. YOU ARE NOT CLEARED FOR THIS LINE.

JOHN JOHN:

NOACOM:
FREEDOM FILES REQUIRE CLEARANCE. WHO IS THIS, PLEASE?

JOHN JOHN:

NOACOM:
Freedom Files: In keeping with the NUN Charters and Conventions, all information is accessible to all citizens. Freedom Files represents a block of accessible information assembled by NOAC, SINJO, EUROCOM, and other National Cartels. This information block complies with all NUN Charters and Conventions. This information is an unrestricted line, and is accessible to all citizens.

JOHN JOHN:

NOACOM:
YOU ARE NOT CLEARED TO ACCESS FREEDOM FILES, CITIZEN. GO BACK, OR PROSECUTION AS UNOFFICIAL USAGE WILL RESULT. WARNING, PROHIB FUNCTIONS ON THIS LINE WILL DESTROY YOUR SYSTEM AS A PUNITIVE MEASURE. IDENTITY WILL BE DETERMINED AND ALL ASSETS SEIZED. GO BACK.

JOHN JOHN:

NOACOM:
YEAH WELL FUCK YOU, TOO.

Lakota Nation, Terminal Zone, July 5,
A.C
. 14

The small tracked machine circled him from a distance at first, then began spiraling closer. After a while, he stopped walking and waited for it.

Its four sensor eyes examined him in turn, the metallic half dome swiveling with a faint hum. Its steel chest opened up to reveal a monitor screen. The image flickered, then steadied to reveal Jenine MacAlister’s face.

Her voice came from a speaker above the monitor. “So one of my searchers found you. Good. Please speak clearly when you record. I assume you have delivered the appeal to Daniel Horn. What was the answer? Will they talk?”

William glanced up to see a hooded hawk circling overhead. Earlier, he’d panicked a score of shiny mice on a knoll. They had been collectively weaving blades of grass, making long green tunnels between den holes. The mice seemed to possess extra digits on their front paws. William couldn’t be certain—the mice quickly disappeared down their holes—but the weave of the grass blades looked intricate, precise.

A new voice came from the speaker: “The recording device is voice activated. Please speak to activate the recording device.”

A loud roar startled William. He looked back into the sky to see the hawk diving earthward. Far above, like a piece of the sun, a ball of white fire descended. Amber smoke poured from it in a tail. It cut its way across the sky, spinning, flinging burning fragments out to the sides. The roaring sound deepened.

William raised a hand to cover his eyes. His attention was drawn to the skin of his hand. Burned, blistered, the first epidermal layers cracked and yellowing. His fingerprints were gone.

A distant detonation to the southwest. Thunder beneath his feet, then silence.

He closed his broken lips on the spitter, drew in a mouthful of recycled water. A taste like ashes. He blinked rapidly, but the blank spots continued to swim across his vision. Blank, like patches of snow on a gray day.

He saw the helishuttles before he heard them. They flew in formation, miming the contours of the ground; skimming hilltops, plunging down into valleys. They approached quickly, on a route that would take them nearly over his head. The muffled sound of their blades barely carried on the wind.

William stared, blinking and shifting his head as they swept into and out of blind spots. A moment later the helishuttles reared up in front of him, then over. He saw the Ladon logo on their underbellies, a dragon coiled around a tree against a black field. He swung round and continued staring after them.

“The recording device is voice activated. Please speak to activate the recording device. Camera is recording.”

William tried to smile, but his lips split and he winced. He opened his mouth and crouched down to one of the visual sensors. He stuck out his swollen tongue, tried to move it, then withdrew it, closed his bleeding mouth and sat back, shrugging.

He looked down at his hands, closed them into fists. His skin and flesh felt waxy. He dug his nails into his palms. As good as a candlestick, and this monitor, on this machine programmed to return to her, is as good as a plaster wall. So I come forth, the fingers of a man’s hand, and so that you may see the part of the hand that wrote, here on this shiny screen.

William reached out to the screen, then hesitated. Someone crouched down beside him. William glanced over, nodded. I recall the photograph, the days at the fort, during that hard winter. You weren’t wearing rad goggles back then, of course. But you’ve been disarmed a thousand times, old man, haven’t you.

Sitting Bull shrugged, then grasped William’s hand.
I will guide you thereon, in this message. I will write this for you.

Who will read it?

She cannot. Daniel can, but she will never ask him. All the records have been sealed, and this language of pictures, ancient as it is, is nevertheless complicated, for our thoughts were never simple.

Of course they weren’t.

Do you know, the ghosts are dancing?

Is that your message?

Clever boy. We’ve known that all along, your cleverness. Even so, this spirit you quest for, it changes our countenance and leads us into doubt.

I make no grand claims, Sitting Bull.

This spirit you quest for, it is your own?

I’m not sure. I still keep denying it.

Sitting Bull finished guiding his hand, and let it fall. He smiled at William.
Blindness inside and out. Here, take my goggles.

No, thanks.

Tell me, William Potts, will your final fire be hot?

Hot as hell. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The machine swiveled its eyes one last time, then crawled away, northward. William rose and retrieved his backpack. Far to the southwest, pillars of smoke reached skyward in a row, each pulled to one side by the steady wind. William squinted. Four, maybe five pillars. It was getting hard to tell things like that.