Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys (34 page)

The remaining delta had gained height and was turning to attack. Jet Ace let go with another blast, but it went harmlessly by the enemy aircraft. He desperately tried to gain height, but the delta pilot had him in his sights, and only a fast swooping roll saved him from being nailed by a burst of tracer. The rocket man and the airplane both came around, each in a tight Immelmann, each jockeying to lock onto the other's tail. Jet Ace proved to have the greater turning power. He fired again and hit the delta somewhere aft. Smoke streamed from the body of the plane, and it began to lose height.

'He's going down! He's going into the river!'

Just seconds before the delta hit the water, the pilot fired his missile. The rocket began to climb and turn.

'Damn it! He hasn't seen it.'

'It's behaving like a heat seeker.'

Jet Ace had his back to the missile. His arms were spread, and he was stationary in midair, riding on his powered-down dorsal rocket.

'He's taking a fucking bow.'

Almost like a swimmer, Jet Ace pushed forward and executed a slow victory roll. The missile was almost on him. It was likely that he never knew what hit him. There was little of Jet Ace left after the explosion, except for the shrapnel that rattled down on the streets and roofs of the city. The Minstrel Boy turned away.

'Now we're six.'

— Pressdra Vishnaria

The Human Comedy, Volume 14:

The Damaged Perception

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

'HEAR THIS, PEOPLE OF PALANAQUE. THE OPTIONS IN FRONT
of you are painfully simple. Your army is gone, and your city will be mine in the time it takes to burn through this gate. If you force me to do that, I shall go on burning until there is nothing left of your city except its ashes. People of Palanaque, I am Vlad Baptiste, and it is not for nothing that men call me the Torch.'

Baptiste stepped back from the microphone and paused to let the threat sink in. He was a square, Napoleonic figure in a stained leather coat, flowing scarf, and black goggles. His feet were planted firmly on the roof of the armored car, and his hands were clasped behind his back. The car was drawn up in front of the gates of Palanaque, but his amplified voice could be heard all through the city.

'There is one way that your city can be saved from destruction. I want the metaphysicians from Krystaleit. Deliver them to me, and I will spare the city and place it under my protection.'

After the destruction of the two aircraft and the death of Jet Ace, Baptiste had stopped playing with the Grand Army of Palanaque, and the raiders had gone about their fast and systematic extermination with bloody efficiency. A tearful Parshew-a-Thar had watched the slaughter, all the time demanding that his men be given real weapons. Unfortunately, that religious reform had come too late to do them any good, and they died to the last man. With only the gates of the city separating them from Baptiste, Reave and the Minstrel Boy decided it was high time they withdrew to the pyramid. When they arrived there, they found the entrance sealed.

'You think Showcross Gee's double-crossed us?'

The Minstrel Boy looked around tensely. 'I kind of figured that he'd keep his word.'

Baptiste's voice boomed on. 'I, Vlad Baptiste, will personally guarantee that any group of individuals who delivers the metaphysicians to me will be given control of the city under my own ultimate jurisdiction.'

It occurred to the Minstrel Boy that maybe Baptiste did not in fact want to raze the city. Maybe he actually needed a base in which to rest up and regain his strength. The Minstrel Boy could imagine just how unbearably wretched life would be in any city that had the Torch as its ruler. He had more important things to worry about, however. There was still no suggestion that the entrance to the pyramid was about to come open for them. On top of that, Baptiste was setting a deadline.

'You have one hour. If the metaphysicians are not delivered to me in that time, I will commence to destroy the city and its population.'

The Minstrel Boy looked around anxiously. 'Where the hell are the others? You think they're inside already?'

Reave did not answer. He was scanning the boulevard for any sign of Billy, Renatta, or Blaisdell. 'This is one sorry time for them to go missing.'

Gord the driver helped Baptiste down from the roof of the armored car and folded away the microphone. The raiders were drawn up in front of the city walls in four ranks. The only casualties they had suffered so far were the two delta pilots who had been lost to Jet Ace. The warriors sat hunched in their saddles as though they were quite ready to wait forever.

Inside the city, on the other hand, there was a considerable sense of urgency. The beloved Master had not missed Baptiste's implication that if he did not hand over the metaphysicians, there were plenty in the city who would, and that it was unlikely that he would survive such a transaction. It was not that Parshew-a-Thar had any objection to turning the metaphysicians over to Baptiste and what was undoubtedly their certain death. The problem that had him screaming hysterically at his retinue was that he was not sure if he was going to be able to deliver them.

'What about those brutes that they have protecting them, those bodyguards with the weapons? They're almost as bad as Baptiste's men. Am I supposed to face those animals myself?'

The first that Reave and the Minstrel Boy knew of all this was when General Zeum, followed by all that was left of his army, came striding down the boulevard toward them. The general had decided not to perish with the Grand Army. When he had finally realized that the situation was hopeless, he had hastily withdrawn inside the walls with
his aides and a small personal guard.

'I think he's on his way to ask us for Showcross Gee and his gang.'

'Are you going to give them to him?'

Reave glanced back at the pyramid. 'Not unless they open up the door.'

The Minstrel Boy swatted at something with the flat of his hand. It was a thin silver cylinder about the size of a cigarette. 'Goddamn snooper.'

The snooper skittered away, easily avoiding the blow, flew off to a safe distance, and hung in the air, apparently watching the two of them.

'I figure that little sucker belongs to Showcross Gee.'

'At least he's still taking an interest in the outside world.'

'The outside world is getting a little radical for me. I wish he'd open that door.'

General Zeum and his band of men were two-thirds of the way along the boulevard. Reave and the Minstrel Boy were momentarily distracted as Billy Oblivion came around the corner of the pyramid. He looked out on his feet, but he did have the multiplex slung over his shoulder.

'Did the world end yet?'

'You vanished again.'

'I decided that I'd jag out during the slaughter.'

'You're fucked up, Billy.'

Billy glared at the two of them with hung-over belligerence. 'Oh, yeah? I suppose you two feel a whole lot better for watching it all happen?'

'Do you have any idea what's happened to Renatta or Blaisdell?'

Billy shook his head. 'I've been out for the last hour.'

'But you heard Baptiste?'

'Couldn't miss him.'

Reave pointed to Zeum. 'We think the generalissimo is coming for the metaphysicians.'

'Is he getting them'.'

'I don't think so. Not yet, at least.'

Zeum was only fifty yards away. The hoplites with him appeared to be armed only with spears, but it was hardly the moment to take chances. Reave drew one of his pistols.

'I think it's time to put the brakes on this.'

He held up a hand and called out to Zeum. 'That's quite far enough.'

Zeum ignored him. Reave drew his pistol, took quick aim, and sprayed the road surface a few paces in front of the general. Zeum and his men stopped dead.

Reave yelled again. 'Do you hear me, General Zeum?'

'I hear you.'

'If you have something you want to discuss with us, you'll have to come up here on your own.'

Zeum turned for a hurried discussion with his aides. Then he started walking alone toward the plaza in front of the pyramid. Even in the face of what had to be considerable stress, he still maintained his confident military stride.

Billy shook his head in wonder. 'Is he terminally stupid, or what?'

The general started up the steps to the plaza. Reave stopped him halfway up with a gesture of his pistol.

'You can say your piece from there.'

'You must be aware of the current situation.'

Reave nodded. 'We heard Baptiste's ultimatum.'

'All rules of toleration are suspended. We have to ask you to surrender the metaphysicians to our custody.'

'Baptiste will never keep his word.'

'We intend to preserve the city by any means open to us.'

The Minstrel Boy stepped into the conversation. 'It seems to me that you're between a rock and a hard place, General Zeum. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not saying that we're the hard place. Although we're not about to hand over the metaphysicians, it's hardly up to us. They sealed themselves in the pyramid, and they don't show any sign of coming out.'

For the very first time Zeum's confidence deserted him. He had lived all his life and spent all his career operating according to a tailored fantasy. He had no patterns or guidelines with which to handle brutal, ragged reality. 'What can we do? Baptiste intends to destroy the city.'

Reave regarded the general with open contempt. 'There's nothing you can do. It's too late. About the only thing you could try would be to ask Baptiste for more time.'

Zeum looked at him with an almost childlike hope that someone would make it all right, after all. 'You think he might allow that?'

Reave closed his eyes. He could not stand looking at that idiot any longer. 'I don't think you've got a prayer.'

Zeum's temper suddenly exploded. Once again it was an infantile regression, a temper tantrum. 'I'll get weapons from Baptiste. First I'll deal with you, and then I'll get those damned metaphysicians out of there, even if I have to burn them out.'

Reave's patience was at an end. 'Yeah, sure. Do what you like.'

Zeum squared his shoulders and marched away.

Reave turned and stared at the blank surface of the pyramid with its black scar from the air attack. 'I don't know if you can hear us, Showcross Gee, but you better let us in there pretty goddamn soon. It's going to start coining unglued out here in a matter of minutes.'

Billy was looking in the opposite direction, across the city and beyond the gates, where Baptiste and his men were waiting out the ultimatum.

'There's something I'd really like to have explained to me,' he said.

'What's that?'

'What exactly does Baptiste have against the metaphysicians? I mean, how did all this get started?'

Reave looked at him in surprise. 'You mean you don't know?'

'How the hell should I know? I was never one of his boys.'

Reave shrugged. 'It's easy. He was one of them.'

'He was what?'

'He was one of them. He was a metaphysician once upon a time.'

Billy blinked. 'That lunatic?'

'They cut him off, drummed him out of the order.'

'Because he was crazy?'

'It was more specific than that. He was doing this series of experiments that involved tapping directly into the brain patterns of live humans. Rumors started going around about mas
sive death tolls and how Baptiste was having hundreds of duplicates beamed in from Stuff Central. The College of Metaphysicians investigated, and they found that he had hundreds of human duplicates wired up to these kind of storage devices. He was literally draining off their life forces like some kind of high-tech vampire. The college outlawed the practice and expelled Baptiste in disgrace. He was lucky to escape with his life. It was only the fact that the College of Metaphysicians had never granted itself capital powers over its members that saved him from execution. Needless to say, Baptiste didn't see it that way. He swore that he'd get his revenge, and he's been doing exactly that ever since. I imagine he sees this as his crowning moment.'