"I understand the seal of confession, Father," Ray cut the priest off. Time was short; people were walking. A search circle was widening. "What can you tell me that most any gossip might know about how Sterling's industries and farmers and the Greens and hockey teams and all the rest normally behave?"
Ray made himself relax back into his chair. "We've accessed archives. They tell us painfully little. Newspapers with recipes on the front pages. Papers filled with church socials, workers' picnics, who's in the hospital and who's been in a brawl, though not many of those. Padre, in almost any other portion of space, I'd swear that a party censor had a choke hold on the newsroom. Is that what's going on here?"
The priest's lips fell into a frown. "The more you tell me about the worlds out there, the less I like them. Yet, we are the ones with the thing that can vanish a city. We are the ones who have taken to killing our brothers and sisters. You had nothing to do with this, despite Brother Jonah's claims. You just want to help us survive something from out of our own soil."
"Yes, padre. Help me understand. Help us all."
"Our papers are filled with what people do for fun so that others may join them. Maybe a few gossips would like papers such as you speak of, but they are busy talking, not reading. Though maybe you are right about one thing. Often young men from the villages work a few years for the Sterlings, to make the money they need to buy their first set of tools. Working for Victoria Sterling is not easy. From them I hear stories of machines
damaged, vehicles wrecked, buildings burned. We've always ascribed them to the Greens, but I never made anything of those stories."
"Chu Lyn's people, huh?"
"Oh, no, Chu leads the major circle in New Haven. She would never stand for any such behavior from her people. San Paulo knows that. So does Victoria Sterling, though I suspect it does not make her any less angry. No, Chu Lyn's people are as different as—well, as the people of Hazel Dell. Just because we live here doesn't mean we agree," the priest chuckled. "We come together and talk and talk. And bring in the crops. That, at least, we can agree on." The priest's eyes sparkled at that.
Ray let out a long, noisy breath. "So people agree to disagree, enjoy themselves, and go about their business."
"Or so it seemed until this thing in our heads made people reach for clubs and their neighbors' throats," the priest added.
"Any idea where someone with a small box that can do great damage might take it?"
The priest shook his head. "Too many. South, into the New Haven area, where those of like minds would help them. But you have already thought of that. To the east, where Richland is and other burned-out towns and villages. They might go there if the anger in their hearts is high." Ray nodded agreement. "They could go north. There are those of faith who believe the world is here for us to subdue. The Sterlings like to hear that preached and have those churches in Richland. However, there are also those to the north who believe we should return the earth to a garden like the one they say Adam and Eve were expelled from."
"Everybody reads the same book. Nobody gets the same answer," Ray snorted.
"And you, have you never had need of something greater to believe in?" the padre asked.
"At times. Right now I'm a bit busy."
"It is like that in all our lives. But tell me, Colonel. I have heard them call you that. It is a military rank and honor?"
"Yes."
"Will you order my people away from your base, their homes?"
"No. Our technology offers us better options. We're making ID cards for everyone. We'll ask people to carry them at all times. If our sensors spot someone within twenty klicks of here without a card, we'll send marines out to check on them."
"How will you get my people to carry the cards?"
"We're going to include credit balances in them as well. If you work for us or provide goods, we'll promise you so much copper equivalent in a credit balance."
"People like to have copper," the priest said gingerly.
"I know. We'll pay extra for them to take our credit. That ought to do it."
"And children? This box is the size of a baby carrier. You will want to keep track of
children."
"That has me stumped. Any ideas?"
The old man rubbed his chin for a long minute. "Among the refugees there are stories of children getting lost. If you offered these cards as a way to keep track of the children, assure that they are returned to their parents, you might find people very willing to listen to you." The priest stopped in midthought. "These sensors of yours. Do they only tell you that this person has a card, or can they tell you who that person is and where they are?" ,
"Both," Ray answered.
"God be praised," the priest smiled. "So you could help a mother know that her child is far over there, as well as look at a child's ID and know that her mother is in that village."
"We can," Ray told the priest.
"I think you will find people very willing to accept your cards. Very willing. How soon can you begin giving them out?"
"Tomorrow."
"I will tell the people of this wonderful gift you have for us in these troubled times." Ray stood; the priest accompanied him to the tiny vestibule of the church.
Closing the door behind him, Ray shook his head. As a boy, he'd seen a vid where a girl fell down a hole into a world where everything was reversed. Day was night, up was down, crazy. Just like this lunatic world. The media wanted only happy news. People gratefully let a central authority keep track of them. On second thought, maybe he ought to quarantine Santa Maria for the sake of the rest of humanity's sanity. Or maybe for the sake of the Santa Marians' sanity.
Ray's call to San Paulo was an anticlimax after talking to the padre. She was appropriately shocked that someone had found a gadget to make mountains or Lander's Refuge disappear. No, she didn't think they ought to tell anyone about this development. Yes, she'd be glad to help Ray set up an ID card system for the population of Refuge and its environs. The idea of using said cards to keep a balance of copper credits owed was intriguing. "Is that the way you do it among the stars?" "Yes," he assured her. It might work, but he'd have to talk to Victoria and Chu and they'd have to take it to their respective circles.
Ray could just picture Vicky asking anyone for advice. Oh, well, three out of four was not bad.
That night Mary watched as the northern recon's blimp limped back with hardly a hundred feet of spare altitude, leaking hydrogen from countless airgun bullet holes. The blimp settled in with a thump. Mules quickly surrounded it, and the marines and crew piled in, too exhausted to walk to the barracks.
While Kat, Lek, and Harry went off, talking rapidly about the geomorphology and conductivity of the strange rock samples they'd collected, Mary cornered Jeff and Dumont. "How'd it go?"
"Fairly good at first," Dumont shrugged. "Got tighter as folks noticed us. Had to shoot
our way out of the last place."
"Any casualties?"
"None on our side. 'Course, poor Jeff here lost his virginity." Dumont gave Jeff a slug on the shoulder.
"You okay?" Mary asked. The young man looked green.
"I'll live," Jeff muttered. "Can't say that for others."
"I need both of you. We've put together our best imagery of Vicky's compound. Jeff, can you tell me what's where?"
"When we going visiting?" Dumont asked.
"Tomorrow night."
"That fast?"
Mary did a quick glance around. "Until we know where that damn mountain-killer is, we have to consider every place on this planet subject to vanishing. We're working on making the base safe. Should be by day after tomorrow. Whatever Vicky's got, I want it here by then."
"Can I go with you?" Jeff asked.
"I was hoping you would," Mary smiled.
Dumont shook his head. "Damn fool volunteer. Some kids never learn."
"Like a few I know." This time it was Dumont's shoulder that got punched. They piled Mary's mule with rock slabs, then headed for the HQ. On the table that they could turn into anything, Mary had a layout of the Sterling mansion compound.
Jeff was amazed at how much they already knew. The ground around the buildings was marked for weight bearing; they'd spotted all the flower beds and even the place in front that collected rain and always seemed to make a mudhole. "You've spotted the kitchen, even the bathrooms. How'd you do that?"
The two marines exchanged a grin. "We have our ways," Mary said. "So, where's the data stored?"
Jeff ran his fingers over their layout of the archives building. "You've got the three workstations in the right place. There's a second door into that room. Comes from a stair you missed." He pointed out the central security passage.
"Nobody's used it," Mary said.
"Don't, unless they have to. You've got the guard post in the basement right, but there's an emergency stairs out of there to both floors. They can get up and into any room without using the public access."
"Damn," Mary and Dumont echoed. "Nice to have an inside man," Mary finished, then went on, "Are we just after the workstations? Are there backups?"
"All along this wall." Jeff thought of the blimp and its limited lift. "Say, twenty feet of
shelving, eight shelves high. I don't know what that weighs."
"We'll find out," Mary assured him.
"What's on the upper floor?" Dumont asked.
"Books, printed maps, pictures of dead ancestors, as Vicky puts it. Souvenirs collected over the years. A few bits of jewelry that Great-Great Aunt Elma made. She fancied herself an artist. Vicky keeps threatening to melt them down to make something practical out of them, but Mom liked them. I don't think there's anything up there you'd be interested in."
"Books?" Mary reminded him.
"I think they're all on disk. Maybe not all, but do you really want someone's old art book from Earth?"
"I don't know." Mary shrugged. "I guess we can always go back for more if we have to."
"I'm bushed, Mary." Dumont stepped away from the map table. "Jeff has got to be. Let's go over this in the morning again."
"I've got some locals laying out a full-size mock-up of this place so we can practice tomorrow. Need to add a stairs."
"You want to bunk at the barracks tonight?" Dumont offered.
"I'd rather go back to the inn," Jeff mumbled.
"See how the girl is," Dumont nodded.
'Take my mule," Mary offered. "Be back at oh-six-thirty."
Jeff glanced at his wrist, realized he still had some marine's commlink. "Who do I give this to?"
"Keep it," Mary said. "That way I can call you in the morning. You're sure as hell going to need it tomorrow night."
"Thanks," Jeff answered. "Thanks for everything."
"You've earned it, you poor dumb shit," Dumont grinned. "You're one of us now."
Hazel Dell was dark as Jeff drove its streets. He parked in the alley behind the Public Room and let himself in the back door. One candle burned in the room, showing Annie and her dad still in the same chairs they'd been in this morning when he left. Mrs. Mulroney quickly stood from the chair between them. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked.
"I'm not hungry." Jeff hadn't eaten since breakfast, but his stomach was not interested.
As her mom settled back into her chair, Nikki made her way slowly to the keg. Jeff shook that off. "Tea," he said. "Hot."
"What's wrong?" Annie said hoarsely, as if they were her first words of the day. Her eyes did not move from the patch of wall they'd been staring at for the past two days.
"Nothing," Jeff answered, searched for more words and settled for "I'm alive."
"Where have you been?" her mom asked.
For a long moment, Jeff didn't know what to answer. Nikki arrived with tea. He sipped it slowly. "Hell. Maybe."
Now Annie's eyes came around to him, looked at him for the first time since she'd returned. "What did they do to you?"
"It's what I did to them," Jeff answered, putting down the tea and taking Annie's hands in his. Hers were cold, so cold.
His still had the warmth of the tea on them. Still, he began to slowly rub her hands as he told the story of his day
The words came out in a monotone, the people coming at them when anyone with an ounce of sense would have fled. People with airguns taking on the marines. Taking on Jeff. Dying under Jeff's gun sights. The three hung on Jeff's words; even Annie's dad started to show a response or two.
"What is happening to us?" Annie's mom moaned.
"I don't know." It was the only answer Jeff could make.
"Would the starfolk shoot Daga, the others if they found them and the box?" Nikki asked, eyes wide.
Jeff thought about that, let it rumble around in his tired mind. "Yes. They would. I would, now." His words sank into the darkness of the room. Hung there. Tears in her eyes, Nikki tore out the front door. No one went after her.
"She'll come back," her mom said softly, eyes still on the slammed and half-open door.