"You bringing any prisoners?"
"You want any?" Du asked. "I was planning on just leaving them here. Let them wake up and discuss the situation among themselves when they do. I'm a tired man, skipper, and I got a long road ahead of me tonight. I'll see you when I get back."
'Take care." Ray taped Du off and turned to the pilot. "You have any problems with that?"
"Nope. If the wind's too stiff to land, I'll lower a basket."
Ray nodded. "Lek, you packed?"
"I am, but Kat asked if she could go. She's lighter. Might be an issue with the blimp. Which of us do you want up there?"
"Neither." Ray rubbed his eyes. "Will I need her scrounging the databases, or you keeping Net Dancer under some kind of control? Mary, anyone else we could send?"
"No one else's ready for independent command, sir."
Ray flipped a mental coin. "Tell Kat she's got the job."
Lek nodded and left. Ray scowled at Mary. "Is that what they'll write on my tombstone, this whole planet's tombstone, "There just weren't enough of us to go around'?"
"Beat's the hell out of "They blew it,' " Mary snorted as she left, leaving Ray alone.
What did he think he was doing, going head to head with a super computer that had two million years to learn this territory? He had to be crazy. Still, it had never fought a war and had done little the past million years. Ray had spent most of his life fighting; he knew the drill. Use your strengths, assuming you could find any, against their weaknesses, assuming same.
Ray was targeting their strategic resources, limiting their local options. Now could he and the kids really hit the bastards where they'd hurt? Like every attack man had made since the first one, only time would answer that.
Ray stood. He'd promised the kids he'd read them a bedtime story. He needed to get in practice, reading kids bedtime stories. Assuming he lived through this battle. Assuming he got home. A lot of assuming there. He remembered some of the bedtime stories his dad had read him:
The Song of Roland, Beowulf,
Henry Five's address to his men before Agincourt. That might be a good one for the kids.
Ray shivered-at the thought of his own kid going into battle, at the thought of what he was doing to these poor kids. "It has to be done, and they're the only ones who can do it," he said aloud. Still, he tasted the wrong of what he was doing to them, even as he went to prepare them for it.
"Please, dear God, after tomorrow, no more of this for me or mine."
Fifteen
MARY SPENT THE day treading water, figuratively if not literally. Blimps had to be deflated, a wall finished. More people poured in; she closed down the chip fabrication plant, wrapped the sensitive gear in plastic, and opened the place to refugees. If there was a nook or cranny available, someone filled it. Du drove in late that night, wet and tired, trailing a bedraggled sky eye behind his rig.
The next morning dawned wet, rain coming down sideways. Mary surveyed her command from the factory roof; the perimeter wall was up, thank any God listening. The sod was back on it, for which she thanked the little priest, so the rain wasn't washing the wall back into the ditch. She'd need that wall; already people huddled outside.
Dumont joined her, his poncho keeping most of him dry. "What you want from mine, Captain?"
That was something to think on. At breakfast, the Colonel had been withdrawn, introspective. If she'd had a battle to plan against a computer as complex and confused as this one appeared to be, she'd be doing a lot of thinking, too. That left her a simple, old-fashion problem: Defend the base on which they stand. Problem was, those weren't armed-to-the-teeth bastards out there, trying to overrun her. She rolled her eyes to the gray sky, remembering the first time she'd met the Colonel. See the enemy, kill the enemy-war the good, old-fashion way.
But the people outside the fence were not enemies. She wasn't sure what they were. Wet, hungry refugees? Maybe. Computer-driven zombies? Possibly. Believers, pushed and prodded by those they trusted? Quite likely. So what should she do with them? Feed them would be nice; shelter and care for them, even better. But that was not in the cards. She'd had Chief Barber check their stores; they had enough food for base personnel to last about a month. Encouraged by the padre, the refugees moving on base had turned their food over to central supply for credit chits specifically allotted to food; food was now more precious than copper. Still, they were just about keeping even with the one-month maximum. Everyone depended on the next crop. Right now, that next crop was getting very soggy. In too many places, it was getting trampled.
Before Kat left, she'd done a data search on food storage. This place had grain silos; it was supposed to be able to survive a crop failure in one part of the land. Facing crop failure all over, those silos were suddenly reported empty; hoarding had started early. A part of Mary figured she might as well shoot any problem refugees; at least that would save them from starving. She shivered at the thought.
"That bad," Du said, calling her back to where she stood on the rainswept roof of the factory.
"It could get that way."
"What do you want from my team?" he asked her again.
"All the other marines command a hundred locals in riot gear. Your squad's my only marine reserve."
"We handle the shit too bad for the rest, huh?"
"Looks that way."
"Anybody going outside?" Du nodded at the half-drowned land covered with ragged clumps of people.
"Don't know. We got a staff meeting at oh-eight-hundred. Want to come?"
"Got to be more interesting than standing around in this stuff," Du grouched, "but not by much I bet."
Mary laughed; Du was usually good for a laugh, except when she wanted to throttle him. They headed for the HQ. It was a pretty full room Mary entered, but she'd expected that; this was probably the last time they'd get together before whatever was about to break out started chewing up their fannies. Barber was there, along with the chief running personnel, sitting along the wall. Cassie sat between them; Dumont joined them. Harry and Jeff had taken the foot of the table. Doc was at Ray's right hand,
"Then maybe we could boost Dancer over the wall and into their court. It would be nice to know what those two are up to. Dean, have you decided which of them you want to win?'
"Neither," the tweed-clad image answered.
"Consider, they're fighting each other. As soon as one wins, it will come after us. Which do you want to tackle then?"
That put the computer images into a huddle. Mary watched the clock; three minutes passed before the Dean took a step away from his associates. "We can't arrive at a consensus, but eight of us agree we want the Provost dead first."
"Dancer, could you identify some physical areas the Provost can least afford to lose?"
"Yeah, no problem. What you got in mind?"
"Harry took out the main link into here yesterday. If we send him out again, he could take out a few nodes here and there. Surprise the Provost."
"Maybe the Pres would appreciate the help?" the Dean mused hopefully.
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend' has long been a saying among us humans. Given the chance, maybe the President will learn the wisdom in that," the Colonel admitted.
"But what if the Provost wins?" another holo image demanded. "Where will that put us?"
"No worse off than before. We'll still have weakened the Provost in the preliminary round. Less to fight in the main one," the Colonel pointed out.
There seemed to be general agreement on that among the holograms. "Let's get cracking," Net Dancer said. Lek headed out the door; shortly after, Dancer disappeared from the display. Ray turned his attention to Harry. "Up to another run?"
"No problem. Who can you lend me?"
"Mary?" Ray said, passing her the problem.
The captain scowled. "Boss, anyone outside ain't inside keeping the outside out." That got a few smiles. "I guess I lend him the two marines he had yesterday. I keep Cassie."
"Three's a mighty small team," Ray countered.
"I'll go with Harry," Jeff put in. "My hands are healing fine. I think Old Ned will join me, too."
"This kid's officer material," the Colonel joked. "He's learned to volunteer other people. Okay, five it is then."
"Have you decided what kind of attack you can launch when the time comes?" the Dean asked in the silence that followed Harry and Jeff's leaving.
"I'm still thinking about it" was all the Colonel said. "Thank you for your time. I'm about due for my next meeting."
Most filed out. Mary stayed in her seat, as did Doc and the padre. Chief Barber moved up to the table as a yeoman led Ms. San Paulo and her staff in. The Colonel introduced the Dean and his ten present associates. San Paulo ignored them; Ray made no attempt to change that. "What can we do about the food situation?" he said to begin the meeting.
"You'll have to feed all these people you turned into refugees," she countered.
"You have control of the food reserves."
"The landers wanted a market economy. Farmers are free to set their own prices."
"And what's stored in the silos—"
"Is privately owned. They may dispose of it as they choose."
"Charge all the market will bear," Mary growled.
"I'm certain the situation will resolve itself. Left to itself, the market always does," San Paulo insisted.
"How many people are you willing to let starve?"
"No one will starve," San Paulo said with absolute certainty.
Ray tapped the board, bringing up the weather picture. A fifth hurricane was forming behind the four headed their way. "The first storm will come ashore just south of Refuge tomorrow. Then one every three days. There won't be a next crop."
San Paulo looked at the board, frowned at it, then shook her head. "That's impossible. Hurricanes do not behave like that. That's just another one of your computer tricks."
Ray shook his head. "Ms. San Paulo, we will continue to care for Rose. You are welcome to stay here as our guest. But if you will not cooperate with us in the problems we now have, I believe this meeting is over."
"I must serve my people, look out for their welfare," she started.
Ray cut her off. "Outside the base, but not on it. Here, the people are under my protection. They are at present organized and satisfied with that arrangement. Is that right, Father?"
The priest nodded.
"What would you expect from a priest? You feed him," one of San Paulo's staff muttered.
"I don't have time for you to poll them," the Colonel shot back. "Stay in the quarters assigned you, or leave. If you won't help us, I can't afford for you to cause me trouble."
At that the Colonel stood and left; Mary led the rest out. Poor Father Joseph watched them go, glanced at San Paulo's group, then joined Mary. She held her troops for a second in the work bay. "You've got your orders. Make 'em happen." The others left; the doc and the padre remained. "Mary, I'm worried about the Colonel and the kids," the doc started.
"My office," Mary cut him off as the first of San Paulo's cronies nosed around the door. A moment later, door closed, Mary motioned the two to chairs, then leaned against the front of her desk. "What about the Colonel and the kids?"
"I think he plans to use them in some kind of attack on the computer," the doc said. "They were with him and a stone when the Gardener died."
"I know. I saw the kids shortly after it happened," Mary answered. "He looked a lot worse than the kids."
"Right. Something had healed his back. He should have looked bad. Still, using the kids in a fight!"
"Father"—Mary turned to the grandfather of one of them— "what do you think?"
"Like so much of what is going on around here, I don't know what to think. I do know that unless we get sun, lots of it real soon, a lot of people will be very hungry. If David can somehow help ..." He trailed off.
"What chance could the Colonel and a couple of kids have against that?" The doc waved toward the conference room, whether at the storms or the allied computers or fighting ones, Mary didn't need a clarification. All of them looked too much to her.
She stood; centuries of breeding brought the men to their feet. Or maybe it was the command presence of a marine officer. Mary wasn't sure, just glad of it. "We've got a day's work cut out for us. Let's take it one step at a time. Padre, will you accompany me on a walk around?"
Mary scrounged up a poncho, which on the priest dragged the ground. For the rest of the morning, they walked the base. They stopped to talk with the troops mustered on the wall, enduring wind and rain to keep an eye on the growing crowd outside. They passed through all the living quarters, saying a kind word to worried
grande dames
and little children. Mary included the padre in her stops around the base's functions run by the crew of Second Chance. His heartfelt thanks to Ray's crew was probably the best morale boost she could have hoped for. Here was one of the locals, thanking the crew for what they were doing. Thanking them for the risks they were taking.
There was no way for the padre to know what Mary did. That the crew had no more choice of being here than he did. Until Matt found a way home, they were all in this together. Still, it would have been easy to build a wall between us and them. The priest helped Mary keep that wall low, toss away the stones that could have built it higher.
Early on, Jeff and Harry said their good-byes, heading out the north gate. The mule towed a trailer full of explosives, laser cutters, and batteries with three horses following it. God help them, never had a smaller David taken on a bigger Goliath.
Jeff held his rifle tight as the young marine driving zipped out the gate and gunned the mule, wagon, horses, and all out across the field, dodging first left, then right to avoid small clumps of people rushing their way. "You know, Zed," the older marine in the back drawled, "you flip that trailer over and none of us will be worrying about meeting anyone anymore."
"Lil, I'm the one driving and I ain't wrecked a heap yet." "Before last year, you'd never wheeled a heap legal." "When it's hot, you sure don't drive it like an old lady." Jeff and Harry exchanged glances, neither sure exactly what was being said. Jeff strongly suspected he'd be happier not knowing. Ned just leaned back, enjoying the ride. Two hours later, they'd avoided all problems, and had the present small valley they were crossing all to themselves and a flock of six-legged things that ignored humans and vice versa. "I'm getting a message from Lek!" Jeff hollered. "Zed, could we take a break?"
"Braking!" the kid hollered, and skidded to a halt that fish-tailed the mule's rear and the trailer behind.
"Zed, I'm gonna turn those nanos loose on your head." "Wouldn't find nothing."
"He didn't drive that way yesterday," Harry pointed out. "Wouldn't dare; Cassie'd hauled his ass off to church," Lil laughed.
"Just having some fun," the kid defended himself.
Jeff studied the map Lek fed to the mule's display. "Dancer says the two are fighting it out up the James River, with flanks seventy miles on either side," Lek told them as the screen showed a large blob of pink in front of them. Blue was on the far side. Both spread north and south of the James. "Dancer figures the Pres was outmaneuvered. He'll take the worst hits from the hurricanes unless he gets inland fast. Any places we can disrupt the Provost?"
Harry overlaid his geology data on the display. "Several rocky outcroppings close to us." He highlighted four. "Does Dancer have a preference?"
There was a short pause. "Dancer has no idea. Hit a few. He'll let us know what happens."