Part 17 (1/2)

Barney sighed. ”You won't give up, will you?” ”No.” Roads faded for a moment, then returned as strong as ever. ”DeKurzak was right in one sense: Stedman is bere. We're. out of time. Tonight's our last chance to regain any ground at all.”

Barney heard the determination in his voice. Everything he said was true, but she didn't have to like it. ”What time do you knock off, again?” he asked.

”Seven, if the crowd has cleared by then. I'll take an hour or two break, then head into Mayor's House.” ”You're going to be there tonight?” ”Wouldn't miss it for the world, regardless of what happens. And neither would Roger Wiggs.

He'll be there as well.” ”I sympathise. If nothing happens, we should all be grateful. We have to get together before then. There are a couple of things we need to discuss in person, not over the cyberlink.” ”Such as?” ”Ah ...

developments. Let's leave it at that for now.” ”Okay. Call me later, while I'm on break.” ”Will do.”

Barney waited for more, but the cyberlink was silent. She walked to the edge of the freeway. A fair few people remained, cl.u.s.tered in groups. They seemed slightly stunned, still trying to absorb what they had seen.

The officer who'd recognised the sound of acousticallys.h.i.+elded machinery came to stand next to her.

”Quite a day,” he said, not meeting her eye, watching crowd instead. ”I wonder what would've happened .”I [email protected] hadn't opened the Gate?” ”Don't,” she said, as much to herself as to him.

671,rrt even think about it.”

It., edged the bike through the crowd, following the 407m4M .Wt as it wormed its way toward the city centre.

[email protected] RUSAMC kept the pace fairly slow, giving everyone i- Kennedy a chance to absorb what they were seeing, i a he had no difficulty surpa.s.sing the slow crawl. When he caught up with the control van and its two *1111131” vehicles, he stopped to watch. Field-effects. The rumours he had heard about such things had been vague and noncommittal; although he had been curious, he had never received confirmation that they actually existed. He hardly needed to any more. The vehicles in front of him were enough.

Picking up speed again, he dodged through the crowd. He wanted to tell Barney about what he had discovered in Old North Street. A detailed picture of Morrow's face among the others Cati had drawn highlighted a relations.h.i.+p between the two that went deeper than a casual meeting. The obvious explanation was that Morrow was Cati's controller.

But it would have to wait until they were together. He couldn't be certain that Morrow hadn't tapped the old PolNet circuits.

Instead, he studied the soldiers. They looked as young as Roads had been when he'd joined the Army - even younger in some cases. A handful returned the curious stares of the crowd, but most simply faced forward, keeping their eyes carefully above the horizon, like robots.

Or like Cati would've done, Roads thought, if ordered to. That was the ultimate aim of every army: topossess soldiers both skilled and completely trustworthy. Biomodification wasn't the only means to achieve that endl although it was all too easy to imagine it happening again. Unlimited access to the Old World's military science almost cried out for misuse. While the RUSA had vowed never to emulate its predecessor's downfall, cautious scepticism was only natural.

Roads knew that few people deliberately chose the path to self-destruction. It was a gradual, almost unnoticeable course. With biomodification in particular, the progression was simple: everyone wanted to be stronger, faster, fitter, better - but there had to be a point at which one drew the line. For all he knew, the decline in standards might already have begun, with O'Dell's pragmatic acceptance of Roads' implants. Perhaps it could only end with the likes of Cati and the Mole.

Children in Kennedy - and Outside, Roads a.s.sumed had been told the berserker stories for long enough to have made biomodification synonymous with evil. The phobias were so well established that he doubted that the old technology would arise in that form. Yet it was still possible, and he wondered whether that was part of why DeKurzak was so worried. Did he believe that, by allowing Roads to escape unpunished, some sort of floodgate would open, filling Kennedy with monsters and cybernetic villains?

To combat monsters the city needed superheroes, of course, but Roads didn't feel much like Superman. He understood from experience where that feeling led, and what true powerlessness was like. The reactivation of PolNet had revived the memories with a vividness that stung.

The one time he had allowed himself overconfidence - perhaps even a sense of superiority - had been fourteen years before the War. He had drunk too much 290.

ating both a promotion and the subsequent Ration of the first of his implants.

When he had challenged by a gang of Puritans in a public street, of walking away or summoning a.s.sistance, he accepted the challenge - and won.

With heightened s and a super-charged adrenal system, he had ted the gang single-handedly at odds of five to one.

en, two nights later, on New Year's Eve 2026, he been walking the same street with his partner, rol. Apparently by accident, a large man had b.u.mped o him and shoved him into an alleyway. Before he uld resist, hands had pinned his arms and a bag had ne over his head. The last thing he remembered was a w to the back of his neck - until he woke up in spital a victim of violent a.s.sault.

[email protected] But that hadn't been the worst of it. Two days later, had been called to the forensic labs to identify his artner's body. Carol had been raped by every member f the gang over a period of six hours, then dumped in a ul-de-sac near Sydney Metro Police HQ where she had to death. The policeman who had turned back the sheet had had eyes like jewels - eyes like bis - glinting silver in the cold, white light.

Genetic traces - skin, s.e.m.e.n and hair - had enabled the police to track down the young gang responsible, and they had been duly punished by a court of law.

But Roads had never forgotten the lesson behind the act itself.

No matter how strong he felt, and no matter what his advantage over an opponent, he was still weak in some way. His love for Carol had allowed his opponents revenge on that occasion; it would be something else next time, something he had not antic.i.p.ated.

So he had sought strength from within, through discipline - just as Kennedy had, many years later. Hehad quit the police force and joined the army, rising swiftly through the ranks until a transfer to the United States had been offered to him. He had trained in a biomodified squad for two years before earning a second course of surgery. He had gained new eyes and new ears; his entire body had been taken apart and rebuilt by a team of biogeneticists over a period of six months. He had spent a further half year learning his new capabilities - and, at the end of it, had still felt weak.

It took him most of a decade to realise that true strength came from a denial of strength, and an acceptance of weakness. Everything he saw during the War confirmed this: the Armed Forces - including the CIA and the FBI - had been too powerful for too many years, and ignorant of their own inherent flaws.

Every last spasm of the United States had been a flexing of dying muscle; during the Dissolution, the corpse of the nation had torn itself apart - slowly, but inevitably - along with the rest of the world, as a result of its unwillingness to believe that it was no longer in control.

General Stedman's desire to revive that old corpse did not in itself seem unhealthy, but Roads could not help but wonder.

Roads wound his way past a knot of schoolkids arguing with an MSA officer.

They wanted to catch one of the rodent robots, but the guard had forbidden them from stepping into the convoy's path. Their shrill entreaties fell behind him and became indistinguishable from the noise of the crowd and the steady rumble of machinery.

An icon winked in his field of vision: someone was trying to get through to him on the old PolNet lines. He opened a communications port automatically, then wished he hadn't.

M.

orrow's face smiled at him, superimposed [email protected] crowd. ”Phil. I have your pa.s.s.”

,Aq Mow hesitated slightly, unsure how to respond. ”Uh, Keith. How do I collect it?” itz. to the memorial on the corner of First and 4.it. Someone will be waiting for you there.” iai; ghostly Head vanished and Roads hurried 4446.

V. - Although he had expected the call, it still came M_ of a surprise. Morrow obviously didn't L M )[email protected] !-thhaf *-Roads had learned of the connection between [email protected], and the Head and the suspicions that aroused.

1'1Wvir4& would have to proceed as usual, at least until sk was certain enough of his latest theory to risk a rme$ F10011.1 He had no choice; the deadline was too (61,1i; to turn down the chance of getting into Mayor's The memorial was on the convoy's route. The crowd It would hide anything. If he was walking into a he might not know until it had been sprung. He turned into a side street and wound his way the less-crowded streets away from the When he reached the road leading to the he followed it back toward the crowd.

From behind, the memorial seemed deserted. A statue of ex-US President and chairman of the AMCP, Robert Mulcahey, who had approved the building of Kennedy Polis in 2010, stood ten metres high on a raised marble dais. Steps led to the base of the chair upon which the old President sat. The crowd had taken over the steps, seeking a better viewpoint.

Roads circled the memorial warily, keeping an eye out for any suspicious signs. The procession had only just reached the area; the crowd was busy waving at the marching soldiers. No-one seemed to notice him where he stood waiting.A whistle from above and to his right attracted his attention. Someone was standing on the statue itself, on the ex-President's lap; someone tall, with skin that looked dark against the granite, and round sungla.s.ses.

It was Raoul. The black man waved for Roads to come closer. He did so carefully, weaving through the spectators crowding the steps of the memorial.

When he was near enough, Raoul threw down a rope.

Roads mentally tossed a coin. Leaning the bike against the base of the monument, he grabbed the rope and climbed up to join Raoul on his unusual perch. ”Welcome,” said the Head's messenger, pulling the rope back up. ”Take a seat.” ”You have the pa.s.s?” ”Yes. What's your hurry?”

Roads forced himself to be patient. ”No hurry.” ”So let's watch the show.”

Raoul sat with his legs crossed on the President's knees. Roads followed suit, keeping a respectable distance between them. A brisk wind blew past them, much stronger than it had been at ground level.

Below, the might of the RUSAMC rolled by. Row after row of troops tramped along the road toward Kennedy's centre. ”I wonder where they'll all sleep,”

said Roads. ”Anywhere they like, I'd say,” Raoul responded. ”Actually, only a handful will be staying. The rest will be out of the city before long.” ”What makes you say that?” ”Well, they're only here to impress us, right? To show us how strong they are. Once the point has been made, they'll go back Outside to their camp.” ”You seem pretty certain of that.” ”It's what I'd do. Besides, I've seen their orders.” ”You have?”

roo. or less.” Raoul winked. ”De Head know Isto.- mon.” io, it seems. His problem is that he keeps most of it -I- if you're close.” White teeth flashed from the face. ”You could have been close, if you'd wanted turned back to the convoy. ”Perhaps.” oi., nothing. The Head likes you. He doesn't 11' to see you get into trouble.” W 7 @Fuat sort of trouble would that be, exactly?” That's up to you, my friend.

If you look for i , t it'll YOU.” ”Are you threatening me?” ”Quite the opposite. The Head asked me to give you warning. He won't hurt you, but there's plenty who Roads absorbed this in silence. That was the second k 4 [email protected] the Head had hinted at forces ma.s.sed against him. genuine warning? Or a threat, despite the messenger's 4 -03WMFIO .mok Of innocence?

Seeing Raoul again brought back memories of their *M- meeting, in the cellar on Old North Street. The sight of another person with biomodifications in Kennedy had taken Roads completely off-guard. Fear that Raoul might recognise him - might even have been under his command and remembered what he had done had left him frozen, unable to think. He had believed himself alone for so long that to learn otherwise had shocked him to the very core of his being.