Part 14 (1/2)

”The Peacer news service. Is it true, Wil?”

Brierson nodded. ”We don't know who did it, though.”

”d.a.m.n!” Dilip was as upset as Wil had ever seen him. ”After all the talk about peaceful compet.i.tion, I thought the NMs and Peacers had changed their ways. If they start shooting, the rest of us are... Look, Wil, back in civilization this couldn't happen. They'd have every police service in Asia down on them. Can-can we count on Yelen to keep these guys out of our way?”

Wil knew that Yelen would die before she'd let the NMs and Peacers fight. But today, dying might not be enough. The Dasguptas saw the tip of a game that extended beyond their knowing-and Wil's. He looked at the brothers, saw unmet i red trust in their faces. What could he do?... Maybe the truth would help. ”We think this is tied up with Marta's murder, Dilip.” He jerked a thumb at Della's flier. ”That's what I'm checking out now. If there's shooting, I'll bet you see more than low-techs involved. Look. I'll get Yelen to lower her suppressor field; you could bobble up for the next couple of days.”

”Our equipment, too.”

”Right. In any case, get people spread out and under cover.” There was nothing more he could say, and the brothers seemed to know it.

”Okay, Wil,” Rohan said quietly. ”Luck to us all.”

Della's flier was bigger than usual, and there were five pods strapped around its midsection.

But the crew area didn't have the feel of a combat vehicle. It wasn't the lack of control and display panels. When Wil left civilization, those were vanis.h.i.+ng items. Even the older mode had provided command helmets that allowed the pilot to see the outside world in terms of what was important to the mission. The newer ones didn't need the helmets; the windows themselves were holo panels on artificial reality. But there were no command helmets in Della's flier, and the windows showing the same version of reality that clear gla.s.s would. The floor way carpeted. Unwindowed sections of the wall were decorated with Della's strange watercolors.

As he climbed aboard, Wil gestured at the strap-on pod, ”Extra guns?”

”No. Those are defensive. There's a tonne of matter/antimatter in each one.”

”Ugh.” He sat down and strapped in. Defensive-like a flak: jacket made of plastique?

Lu pulled more than two g's getting them off the street; no simple elevator rides today. Half a minute pa.s.sed, and she cut the drive. Up and up and up they fell, Wil's stomach protesting the way. They topped out around ten thousand meters, where she resumed one g.

It was a beautiful day. The low sun angle put the forested highlands into jagged relief. He couldn't see much of Town Korolev, but Yelen's castle was a shadowed pattern of gold and green. Northwards, clouds hid the lowlands and the sea. To the south, the mountains rose gray above the timberline to snow-topped peaks. The Indonesian Alps were the Rockies writ large.

Lu's eyes were open but unfocused. ”Just want to have some maneuvering room.” Then she looked at Wil and smiled. ”Where to, boss?”

”Della, did you hear what I told the Dasguptas? Yelen should turn off her suppressors. Maybe a few low-techs will bobble out of this era, but she can't just leave everyone exposed.”

”Wil, haven't you been reading your mail?”

”Unh, most of it.” All night long it had been coming in, faster than he could keep up. He'd read all the red-tag stuff, until falling asleep an hour before dawn.

”We don't know the reason, but it's clear now the enemy may try to kill lots of low-techs. For the last sixty minutes, Yelen's been trying to remove bobble suppression from Australasia. She can't do it.”

”Why not? It's her own equipment!” Wil felt stupid the moment he spoke.

”Yes. You could scarcely ask for better proof that her system is perverted, could you?” Her smile widened.

”If she can't turn them off, can you just blow them up?”

”We may decide to try that. But we don't know exactly how her defenses might respond. Besides, the enemy may have his own suppressor system ready to come on the moment Yelen's drops out.”

”So no one can bobble up.”

”It's a large-volume, low-intensity field, good enough to suppress any low-tech generators. But my bobblers can still self-enclose; my best still have some range.”

For a moment, the purpose of this trip was forgotten. There must be some way to protect low-techs. Evacuate them from the suppression zone? That maneuver might put them in even more danger. Fly in high-power bobblers? He abruptly realized that the high-techs must be giving much deeper thought that he could to the problem. The problem he had precipitated. Face it. Face it. The only way he could contribute now was by succeeding with his mission: to identify the killer. Della's original question was the one he should be answering. The only way he could contribute now was by succeeding with his mission: to identify the killer. Della's original question was the one he should be answering. Where to? Where to? ”Are we certified free of eavesdroppers?” Lu nodded. ”Okay. We start from Peacer Lake.” ”Are we certified free of eavesdroppers?” Lu nodded. ”Okay. We start from Peacer Lake.”

The flier boosted across the Inland Sea. But Della was no satisfied with the directions. ”You don't know the cairn's coordinates?”

”I know what I'm looking for. We'll follow a search pattern.”

”But searches could be done faster from orbit.”

”Surely there are some sensors that need low, slow platforms?”

”Yes, but-”

”And surely we'd want to be with such sensors to pick up the find immediately?”

”Ah!” She was smiling again, and did not ask him to point out the equipment he referred to.

They flew in silence for several minutes. Wil tried to see evidence of their escort. There was a flier ahead of them. To the right and left of their path, he saw two more. There was an occasional glint from beyond these, as from objects flying distant formation. It wasn't very impressive-until he wondered how far the formation extended.

”Really, Wil. No one else can listen; I'm not even recording. You can 'fess up.”

Brierson looked at her questioningly, and Della continued ”It's obvious you saw something in the diary that-for all OUR deep a.n.a.lysis, and all Yelen's years with Marta-we did not. She was trying to tell us that the murderer was stalking her, and that the Korolev system had been deeply penetrated... But this story about a fifth cairn”-she raised an eyebrow, her expression mischievous-”is ridiculous.”

Wil pretended great interest in the ground. ”Why 'ridiculous'?”

”In the first place, it's unlikely the killer lived every second of those forty years in realtime. But if he was so interested that Marta felt his presence, and felt the need to write with hidden meanings-then I think it's reasonable he had sensors watching all all the time. How could Marta sneak away from her camp, build another cairn, and get back-all without tipping him off? the time. How could Marta sneak away from her camp, build another cairn, and get back-all without tipping him off?

”In the second place, even if she succeeded in fooling the killer, we're still talking about something that happened fifty thousand fifty thousand years ago. Do you have any conception how long that is? All recorded history wasn't much over six thousand years. And most of that's been lost. Only an incredible accident could preserve a written record across such a span.” years ago. Do you have any conception how long that is? All recorded history wasn't much over six thousand years. And most of that's been lost. Only an incredible accident could preserve a written record across such a span.”

”Yes, Yelen raised the same objection. But-”

”Right. You told her Marta had taken all that into account. I'll give you this, Wil. When you feel like it, you're one of the most convincing people I've ever seen-and I've seen some experts... By the way, I backed you on this. I think Yelen is convinced; she believes Marta was all but superhuman, anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if the killer does, too.

”My point is, I'm I'm on to you,” Lu continued. Wil put on an expression of polite surprise. ”You saw something in the diary that we didn't. But you don't know much more than what you've said-and you have no clues. Hence this wild-goose chase.” She waved at the lands beyond the flier. ”You hope you've convinced the killer that you will soon know his ident.i.ty. You've posted us as targets, to flush him out.” It was a prospect she appeared to enjoy. on to you,” Lu continued. Wil put on an expression of polite surprise. ”You saw something in the diary that we didn't. But you don't know much more than what you've said-and you have no clues. Hence this wild-goose chase.” She waved at the lands beyond the flier. ”You hope you've convinced the killer that you will soon know his ident.i.ty. You've posted us as targets, to flush him out.” It was a prospect she appeared to enjoy.

And her theory was uncomfortably close to the truth. He had tried to create a situation where the enemy would be forced to attack him. What he couldn't understand was the activity around the low-techs. How could hurting them them hide the killer? hide the killer?

Wil shrugged; he hoped, that none of this turmoil showed on his face.

Della watched him for a second, her head c.o.c.ked to one side. ”No response? So I'm I'm still on the suspect list. If you die and I survive, then the others will be on to me-and together, they outgun me. You're trickier than I thought; maybe gutsier, too.” still on the suspect list. If you die and I survive, then the others will be on to me-and together, they outgun me. You're trickier than I thought; maybe gutsier, too.”

The morning pa.s.sed, slow and tense. Della paid no attention to the view. She was rational enough-and perhaps even brighter than usual. But there was a c.o.c.kiness in her manner, as if she held reality at a distance, thought it all an immensely interesting game. She was full of theories. It was no surprise that her number one suspect was Juan Chanson. ”I know he fired on me. Juan is playing the role of racial protector. He reminds me of the centaur. I think our killer must be like that centaur, Wil. The creature was so trapped by his notion of racial duty that he killed the last survivors. We're seeing the same thing here: murders and preparations for more murders.”

Wil's ”search pattern” took them slowly outwards from Peacer Lake. Fifty thousand years before, this had been vitrified wasteland. The jacaranda forests had won it back thousands of years since. Though this forest had not existed in Marta's time, it was much like the ones she had traveled. Wil was seeing the heaven side of the world Marta had described. To the northeast, a grayish band stretched along the border of the forest domain. That must be the kudzu web, killing the jungle and preventing invasion. On the jac side, there were occasional silver splotches, web attacks on non-jacs that had sprouted beyond the barrier. The jacarandas themselves were an endless green sea, tinged with a bluish foam of flowers. He knew there were vast webs there, too, but they were below below the leaf canopy, where the spiders' domesticated caterpillars could take advantage of the leaves without shading them out. the leaf canopy, where the spiders' domesticated caterpillars could take advantage of the leaves without shading them out.

Here and there bright puffs of cloud floated above it all, trailing shadow.

Marta had walked many kilometers before finding a display web. From this alt.i.tude, they could see several at once. None was less than thirty meters across. They s.h.i.+mmered in the treetop breezes, their colors s.h.i.+fting between red and electric blue. Somewhere down there was a fossil streambed, the remains of a small river Marta had followed on one of her last expeditions out of Peacer Lake. He remembered what the land looked like then: kilometers of grayness, the water and wind still working to break through the gla.s.sy surface. She would have carried whatever food she needed.