The Little Green Book of Chairman Rahma (38 page)

SOUPY GREEN DARKNESS
surrounded them.

Joss and Kupi moved through the night like ninja fighters, wearing hooded black outfits and night-vision goggles that had been provided for them, following a shadow-shape in the green murk, made that way by light enhancers in the goggles. An anarchist from the forest had come to get them, a bearded young man who introduced himself as Acky Sommers.

It occurred to Joss that this could be a SciO trap, designed to lure them to a place where they could neutralize his powers and capture him. His senses were on full alert as he listened to every sound while peering through the goggles, watching for slight movements around the perimeter that might indicate attackers.

The darkness was a double-edged sword, he realized, concealing him to a degree but also enabling potential attackers to hide. The young anarchist had not said much, only a few whispered instructions as he met Joss and Kupi outside the Sonora hotel where they had been staying with their crew. Wearing ordinary clothing and carrying a valise, he had passed a hand-held electronic device over their brains quickly, to disable the tracking chips in their cerebral cortexes. Then he led the way through shadowy side streets to a doorway in a high wall, where he used an electronic key to go through, emerging into the night outside the reservation for humans. There he opened the valise and distributed dark clothing and goggles.

Now the trio ran across a sandy expanse toward a rock outcropping. As they reached the rock and ran around one side, Joss saw an aircraft waiting in the murky greenness, glistening ever so faintly. It had articulated wings that drooped slightly, like the ornithopter that Joss and Kupi had taken on the eco-tourism flight over the Columbia River gorge. But this one was longer and sleeker.

They climbed inside and took up positions on a three-person power-station strip inside the bubble cockpit, with Joss at the rear. At Acky's direction, they left their goggles on.

“We won't have to work too hard,” he promised, looking back from the forward station, where he also had the piloting controls. “This thing has whisper-quiet motors and enough remaining solar charge to fly us all the way, perhaps with only a small boost from us when we feel like moving around and expending a little energy. I flew it here on my own, working moderately at the controls, and only used a quarter of the available charge.”

“I'm assuming we need to get there in darkness,” Joss said. “It's a long way to the Pacific Northwest. Are we going to set down somewhere and conceal ourselves during daylight hours?”

“Not necessary. We'll make it all the way before dawn. I guess I forgot to mention that the wingspan becomes short when we reach two thousand meters and the solar jet assist kicks in. This is an advanced craft that my people stole from the SciOs, but it's like a lot of their stuff. It has sealed compartments that we don't dare touch. We figured out as much as we could without tampering with the internal systems, and everything seems to be well built.”

“Let's hope it's good enough to get us where we want to go,” Joss said, “and that it has no tracking system to report where we are.”

“No problem on either count. It has anarchist-designed stealth technology that we've set with our own codes. So far no one has been able to detect the craft; when we fly, we're as invisible to outsiders as air.”

“Anarchist-designed?” Joss said. “
Anarchist
technology?”

“We were front-line fighters in the Corporate War,” he said, “but it's also a little-known fact that our members include scientists and other people who worked in Corporate labs, and later in SciO facilities, before opting out of the system and escaping from hit men who were sent after them.”

“Geniuses who don't fit in?” Joss said.

“You could say that.”

“Sounds like you've got it all figured out,” Kupi said, as the plane rolled along the hard ground and soared into the air like a large butterfly. The three of them worked smoothly at the stations, providing a flow of energy to the articulated wings, reducing the need for reserve power.

Joss felt a new sense of excitement, and of hope.

*   *   *

AFTER FIVE AND
a half hours, Acky announced, “We're here.”

They had removed their night-vision goggles a few minutes ago. Dawn was just beginning to break, with the eastern horizon glowing golden over the mountains, putting them in profile.

The aircraft had flown in starlit darkness over the vast northwest greenbelt of the Green States of America, periodically passing over reservations for humans that were only dimly illuminated in order to conserve energy.

“That's Mount St. Helens,” Acky said now, pointing. “It had a big blow eighty-three years ago.” Joss and Kupi had briefly discussed the same thing on their earlier eco-tourism flight.

The aircraft slowed, and Joss heard a smooth whir as the wings extended farther out on either side, with flaps down. He and his companions worked the power stations slowly, and the craft descended.

“I'll take it from here,” Acky said when they were a couple hundred meters above the ground.

Below, Joss saw a grassy meadow in the midst of tall evergreens. The pilot circled the meadow several times, slowing and going lower, then pushed the hand bar of the power station forward and landed on a surface that was only a little bumpy.

As Joss stepped out in the gray light of dawn he saw people running toward them from all directions, emerging from the woods. Men and women, they were dressed in heavy coats, bundled against the early morning chill. He was surprised to see what looked like fur coats on some of the people, and fur collars on other garments. Even the use of artificial fur was verboten in GSA society, and he'd only seen pictures in history books of people wearing such grotesque products, complete with long dissertations about why it was immoral to kill animals for any purpose. But Joss would say nothing of his feelings; he needed to make his way in a new reality.

These looked like wild humans, with lean, dirty faces and unkempt hair. The men's beards were long and untrimmed. All of them wore small patches on their arms or lapels, showing the golden image of a sun cut in half by the horizon.

“I'm leaving you here,” Acky said, as he got back into the plane. “These are not my people.” He looked at Kupi.

“Thanks for everything,” she said.

Acky nodded. He taxied the plane around for the longest takeoff route, then gathered speed down the middle and lifted off.

“He doesn't have far to go,” a white-bearded old man said. “We all share these woods.” Small and wrinkled, with a mane of white hair, he introduced himself as Mord Pelley, saying he was the tribal leader of the Dawn People.

The man's name sounded familiar to Joss, but he couldn't quite place it. He heard a low but distinct buzzing sound, like a hive of bees around them, and asked about it.

“Something we got from the Black Shirts,” Pelley replied, “a localized transponder system that veils heat, visual, and sound signatures, making us virtually undetectable to outsiders. But when it's dark we still use night-vision goggles instead of lights, and remain silent, just to play it safe. The system is mechanical, after all, and could fail.”

The old man led the way into the forest. “These woods are full of tribes like ours, and of smaller nests of anarchists, with all of us working in networks for our mutual survival. Each group is limited in size because of the limitations of the veiling transponders, protecting no more than around two hundred and fifty persons. Each group has its own codes and signal frequency, which we share with the ten anarchists in Acky's group. There could be as many as three hundred thousand people living in the wilds of North and South America, undetected by GSA authorities.”

Joss let out a whistle of surprise.

“All with veiling technology?” Kupi asked.

“Hardly,” Pelley said, shaking his head. “Lots of people get captured by the authorities, but my tribe has electronic and manual systems to deal with various eventualities. Here's one of the ways we protect ourselves.” He handed tiny veiling transponders to Joss and Kupi and showed them how to clip them onto their earlobes. Joss felt only a little pressure in his ears as he secured his, a sensation that soon dissipated.

“Think of the anarchists as our security forces,” Pelley said, as he inspected the two transponders. “They're really quite good at it.”

“In more ways than I realized,” Joss said.

“We have two hundred and twenty-seven people in the tribe,” Mord Pelley said. “Plus two, for as long as you wish to remain. You come highly recommended by our Black Shirt friends.”

 

43

What are the limits of human endurance?
Sometimes I think my mission in life is to find out.

—Mord Pelley, to his tribe

PREVIOUSLY, JOSS STUART
had only heard rumors about this alternative way of living, a realm he had not been certain actually existed. Just the same, he had occasionally imagined what it might be like to be in the wilderness all the time, how different it would be from the confines and strict rules of the reservations for humans, and from his life on a J-Mac crew. But in the end he always came back to the same conclusion, that it wasn't suitable to him.

Now, faced with the reality of the alternative domain, he would have a chance to find out for sure. He didn't seem to have any better choices.

“This is the real green life,” Mord Pelley said. “Unlike anything you've experienced before.”

“I can see that,” Joss said, as he and Kupi followed the elderly man through a compound of simple lean-to structures and tree houses that were accessible by primitive stairs, rope ladders, and rope baskets. There were even rough-hewn rock stairways leading down to underground habitats, storage chambers, and worship rooms, with covered entrances topside. It looked as if everyone in the settlement had come out to see the newcomers, young and old alike. He noted a handful of children playing games, and dogs that walked the perimeter of the compound, as if on guard duty.

After racking his brain, Joss suddenly remembered where he'd heard the name Mord Pelley. The man was a notorious eco-criminal, a wanted fugitive who had disappeared nine or ten years ago. Joss caught his breath. In his earlier career as an eco-cop, he had busted people like him for violating the morals and sacred-Earth principles of the GSA. This man had been a trusted contributor to the Green Revolution, before running afoul of the Chairman.

Pelley led the way to a pair of open-air structures, lean-tos made of tied-together branches and cedar-bough roofs, with pine-needle floors. “We built these for you when we heard you were coming. It will be your obligation to contribute to the work of constructing future habitats, and to perform other tasks that are necessary for the continued existence of our community. Later, if you prefer to live underground you can, but most people like it topside, especially when they first arrive.”

Joss and Kupi nodded. Then she said, “As I told you in my message, my companion has special talents.”

“Yes,” Pelley said, looking at Joss. “I had already received some information on you from other sources. It is most interesting to meet you in the flesh.”

“And you,” Joss said, without revealing what he knew about the fugitive. He noticed people coming in for a closer look. For a moment he caught the gaze of an exceptionally attractive young brunette as she pushed her way past other tribal members.

“Joss's ability to greenform without equipment could be used for gardens,” Kupi suggested, “or for other plants you might need around here.” She looked at Joss. “Could you create vegetable gardens?”

“Maybe,” Joss said. “I haven't tried yet.”

“It's too late in the season,” Pelley said.

“I forgot about that,” Kupi said.

The old man looked at the sky, turning his dark eyes heavenward. “The weather is turning colder at night, though the days are still warm. We're expecting a storm system soon, and lots of rain.” He pointed at men digging a drainage ditch around the settlement. “In addition to the old standby of holding our fingers up to the wind, we have developed alternative methods of predicting weather, based on patterns of plant growth as well as animal and bird behavior.”

“Is the electronic veil your most advanced use of technology?” Joss asked. He still heard the buzzing of the veiling transponders, but was getting used to it, beginning to tune it out of his consciousness.

“Maybe,” Pelley said, “and maybe not. We have a few gadgets for this and that, depending on our needs and priorities.”

Kneeling to look into his own lean-to, Joss estimated it was around four by two meters, and saw that it had a floor of evergreen needles. The enclosure was barely large enough for him to sleep in, and had no amenities. It didn't even have a mat. Despite the primitive living conditions he felt an odd sense of relief, and very little of the apprehension he had experienced when he and Kupi decided to flee into the wilderness.

“Not very fancy, is it?” Joss turned at the sound of a woman's voice. It was the attractive brunette. Perhaps twenty-five years of age, she had shoulder-length hair and hazel eyes. She wore a dark blue parka open at the front, revealing a heavy shirt that curved over her smallish bosom, with the tails tucked into her trousers. Her clothing was typical of her companions, warm and practical.

“It will do,” Joss said.

“I'm Evana Popal,” she said, with a smile. “Everyone already knows who you are.”

He frowned. “Popal?”

“I'm one of the Chairman's daughters,” she said, with a shrug. “It's really not a big deal. He has hundreds of children; some say there are more than a thousand of us.”

“I see.” Joss noticed that Kupi was looking on, her face a mixture of sadness and acceptance.