"Could hardly miss him," Ned drawled.
"That was the idea, I understand. Listen, we can do this two ways. I and the half squad I got waiting on the other side of this hill can follow you, or we can work together. Colonel thinks we'd do better that way. What's your call?"
"We're doing pretty good on our own," Ned answered.
"Can't argue that, but our search map shows a definite bias to this area, even before we factored you in. All the Colonel asks is that you listen to what we've got and share what you're willing. You know you're not the only search party out."
"Not after last night," Ned growled, but he smiled.
"Not before either. Vicky Sterling has had a team out for a while, we think. Some religious fanatics are on the trail, too, though we don't know how long they've been at it. We picked that up from net chatter, but that's kind of drying up this morning."
"Wonder why?" Ned grinned sardonically.
"Anything you do has upsides and downsides; at least that's what Mary keeps telling me. Most of my life, everything I done had its downside and its downer side, but the padre is helping me find a bright side. You willing to help?"
"I'll at least take a gander at your map," Ned conceded.
"How'd you find me?" Jeff asked as he helped Dumont up on a horse for a quick ride to his team.
"Electrocardiac fingerprint," Dumont said, settling himself none too confidently on his mount, then making a stab at his chest. "Everyone's heart is a bit different. Doc took your cardiac print as a matter of course when you signed on with us. We set the sky eyes"-now he pointed up-"looking for you. Found you this morning. Since Mary and Harry were headed south to start mining, I was told to hitch a ride and tie in with you. Now, how do you put this animal in gear?"
Jeff shook his head. How could someone find you by your heartbeat but not know how to mount a horse or get it walking. Starmen were full of contradictions.
Ray took Dumont's call. He was glad Old Ned was throwing in with them and he and Du were hitting it off. Ray needed Mary at base, and Cassie in Refuge. That left either Dumont or Tico, Mary's junior sergeant, chasing the vanishing box. Dumont had drawn the long straw. The word that Annie and Nikki were just ahead of them was encouraging; that half a dozen riders were with them now was not. Somebody was hot on the box's trail; Ray chose to assume that group was Vicky's. The two sky eyes he could spare were now sweeping ahead of Dumont. Between Old Ned's information network and their own, they just might find the box ahead of the others.
Lek brought the first hint that Refuge's attitude might be changing. It seemed that all official workstations were now isolated in specific pools-and turned on only when in use. Phone usage and net traffic were way up, lots of people talking over Ray's message. Official traffic was as close to zilch as you could get and still pass along weather reports and train schedules. Maybe he had been a bit too sweeping in his approach.
His calls to San Paulo went unanswered. When Hen did call, she was alone. Without preamble, she launched into a long list of Refuge's requirements, including a veiled hint that all the blimps were needed back. Ray pointed out that their security depended on blimp-based surveillance systems and offered to pay for them. That brought forth a not very veiled hint that the Monetary Reform Act of yesterday could be repealed today. Ray had just taken a call from Mary about her reception in New Haven, so Ray countered that threat with one of his own. Chu Lyn was in no rush to side with Vicky Sterling on monetary policy. The call ended quickly after that, nothing resolved.
Mary's reception in New Haven had not gone all that well, since she had opened the meeting with Chu by buying all the land they intended to mine. It about wiped them out of spare change, but the land was theirs free and clear. Chu had the good grace to accept the purchase. Mary had the miners quickly at work, producing the raw metal that could, if confidence returned, fuel New Haven's return to normal business.
Encouraging was the number of calls from people who wanted to help find the vanishing box. Not just people who thought they might have seen it, but people willing to join search parties. A few called with suspicions that their brothers or sisters, aunts or uncles might be one of the mysterious three. Kat followed those up. It looked to Ray like he'd called it right.
Still, being right made all the powers-that-be around here wrong. That put him in the wrong by definition. Oh, for the good old days when an artillery shell was either aimed right- and blew away your enemy-or was aimed wrong and gave him time to blow you away. Life was so much simpler then.
When Ray's nostalgia got cynical, it was time for a break.
A call to Cassie found her off duty and in church. Yes, she could ship back her second squad to reinforce the base. She could throw another thousand volunteers at the base, too. Ray accepted and had Chief Barber rotate blimps down to Refuge to pick them up. Never more than one blimp on the ground, so San Paulo couldn't repossess but one. That ought to do it.
Personnel was getting critical. Automated plants were a contradiction in terms; someone had to provide their feedstock. Someone had to take the packages off the assembly line. A lot was being done by backbreaking labor, much of it carried in horse-drawn wagons.
The chief was pulling out what little hair he had left, hiring anything that walked on two feet and the doc assured him had a small enough tumor. That was something Mary and the doc agreed on. Anyone below a certain age and above a certain tumor diameter was given a thanks-but-no-thanks slip and hastened out of town. This still left Ray wondering if they were covering all the bases.
Just because a human wasn't being driven crazy by the Teacher didn't guarantee they wouldn't act dumb out of normal human cantankerousness. Mary and Barber just looked at Ray and asked for more workers. Base security was at rock bottom. Only half a squad of marines were left, six lonely troopers headed by Tico, Mary's junior NCO. Mary had assigned a chief to help Tico out, providing adult leadership and such.
Each young marine private now led a platoon of one hundred local recruits equipped with riot shields, helmets, and clubs. A senior petty officer was detailed as deputy to each, providing support and guidance on nonsecurity matters. Security and nonsecurity matters weren't all that easy to separate.
Like the proper response when two guards one night decided it was more fun to cuddle up than keep walking their beat. The young marine, remembering what had happened when troopers fell asleep on watch during the war, wanted to shoot them. The petty officer shipped them back to factory duty, much to Ray's relief.
Ray even managed a good night's sleep. Maybe the Teacher or Dean or President was too busy with its own problems to bother him. God knows, people were doing a damn good job of screwing things up with no help from a super computer. Calls done, Ray ambled over to the doc's before lunch. He was still trying to puzzle out what made the tumors tick. The padre had helped him get access to several local cadavers. "We can't map the human brain. How am I supposed to map this?" Until they understood that thing better, none of them was leaving this planet.
Ned and Jeff trotted into the next village. Dumont had offered to ride in, too, but Ned still wanted to keep the starmen out of sight, so the mule took the long way around, using forest trails. Ned headed for a small cottage on the outskirts where a woman was serving the noonday meal to three nearly grown sons. "Mother of many," Ned hailed her, "can you help me? I'm looking for five or six people, traveling fast."
"The ones on the Public Room's TV?" the youngest asked.
"Shush, boy," the woman answered. "Do I know you?" she asked, squinting up at Ned.
"They call me Old Ned up Hazel Dell way. Your mother and my sister once talked a spell of earth and sky and other things."
"Maybe they did," the woman answered, then glanced at Jeff.
"One of the young women traveling south carries his heart. She may not know it yet, but she does." The two elders laughed as Jeff fidgeted in his saddle.
After a few more moments of thought, the old woman spoke. "There is a large house off the road south of here. Two young couples farm it, say they inherited it from one of their mothers, but I don't know about that. My youngest was collecting firewood yesterday and saw six riders and a led horse go by late. He thinks they stopped there. It was starting to rain."
"Ma," the tallest said, "just before I came in, I saw maybe a dozen riders, going fast through the trees, headed that way. I think at least two of them were women, from the flash of their skirts and hoods."
"Blue plaids," Jeff put in.
"Blue with some yellow. One of them raven-haired,"
"Annie." Jeff swallowed hard. He wanted to turn his horse away to the south. Kick it for speed.
"I think we'll be going, Mother," Ned said.
"Ride carefully," the tall one said. "I've seen people ride. Some just amble along. Those rode their horses hard, like they were at the chase."
"They are," Ned answered, "but so are we. Thank you."
Jeff tried to let Ned set the pace. Tried not to gallop ahead. Ned waited until they were out of earshot. "Call Dumont. Tell him what we found out. And son, you can pull that rifle out now." Ned pulled his air rifle out, nestled it in the crook of his arm, under his poncho. Jeff did, too; the call went quickly.
"I got a farmstead south of town on our map," Dumont said. "We'll come up fast on it. You wait for us."
Like the other farm, this one was well out of town—and none too easy to get at without being seen. Ned turned up its side road without hesitating. They paused as they reached the outbuildings. Several cows lowed. No horses were visible. Chickens and pigs wandered the farmyard. Jeff called Du.
"We're at the homestead. No one's moving."
"Wait one minute for us, kid. We're almost there. Don't go doing something Annie will be mad at me for."
Ned and Jeff dismounted, tied the horses, and studied the scene. "Front door's ajar to the house," Jeff noted.
"We wait," Ned answered as the mule gunned out from the woods, slipping and splashing as it raced across the pasture. The marines held on, one hand for themselves, the other for their weapons. Jeff pulled the arming handle back on his rifle. It settled in place with a soft, purposeful chunk.
"They'd have to be dead in the house not to notice that mule," Ned said. Safety off, Jeff followed Ned toward the house. They were about fifty yards out when the mule skidded to a halt. Dumont ordered his troops to surround the house; he and one rifleman trotted to join Jeff. Halfway to them, he spotted the slowly swinging front door and came to a halt.
"Crew, this looks like a cold datum" came from the commlink. "Still, keep your heads up. This could change any second." Dumont signaled to Jeff, and together the four rushed the porch. Ned yanked the door open; Dumont, gunner, and Jeff crashed through into a darkened room. The stench of blood and death rolled over Jeff. He squinted but saw nothing.
"You, check the upstairs," Dumont ordered the other trooper. The man took the stairs two at a time, his rifle steady as it swept the banister above.
There was a crash in the back. Jeff's rifle came up. "We're in," came over the commlink. "Kitchen empty. Stove cold."
Now Jeff's eyes had time to adjust. There was a table near the fireplace. A woman's body sprawled on it. She was naked. She'd been cut....
Jeff's stomach revolted. He groped for the door, made it to the porch before he lost his breakfast. He stomach was still heaving when Dumont, Ned, and another marine came out to catch their breath. "I'd say they were interrogating him while they tortured her," the marine said.
"Him?" Jeff got out.
"Yes," Dumont answered. "There was a guy—husband, maybe—tied to a chair. They slit his throat."
"Why?" Jeff begged.
"Want to know where the box is," Du shrugged. "They wanted true answers, and I guess they think that got them."
"That way?"
"I take it you don't have much of this type of shit around here," Dumont said matter-of-factly.
"None," Jeff spat.
"Not much," Ned said. "I want to take a look around." He stepped off the porch, eyes down; Jeff and Du followed. "Someone left six, eight horses here"—Ned pointed at droppings—"say, for an hour. Expect we'll find a few horses were left in back, too."
At the barn, he looked around carefully. "Lot of hay in the mangers, not much eaten, as if they prepared last evening for more horses than spent the night. The mother told us two couples lived here. We've found one. Where's the other?"
"Sweet Mother of God." Jeff's stomach did an empty lurch. "You don't mean the other two led them here, then watched as they did that." He bent over, but his stomach had no more to hurl.
"Looks that way," Ned said.
"I've seen people do worse for money." Dumont's eyes suddenly focused far away. He shook himself. "Which way'd they go?"
"Don't know. The ones who did are dead," Ned answered.
"I know. What were their choices?"
"There's a TV in the house. They must have heard your Colonel. We've reached a ridgeline here. Follow it west, and you're in the mountains. Follow it east, and you can get almost to Richland and Refuge without leaving the woods."