The Little Green Book of Chairman Rahma (41 page)

“Yes, yes, that is correct. I could still override their decision, though, if I wish to do so?”

Hesitation. “You could, pursuant to the requirements of the GSA Charter. You would need to have extraordinary justification, though, beyond any personal animosity you might have toward Hashimoto.”

“Yes, yes, you are right.”

Director Ondex looked at the Chairman intensely. “Am I making the right decision here, Rahma? You won't abuse this power, will you?”

Rahma put on his most indignant expression. “I'm not crazy, Arch!” At the moment, he felt considerable affection toward his old revolutionary ally, and thought he shouldn't have criticized the man so much for his highbrow manners and lavish lifestyle. The production of this incredible new technology suggested that there were good reasons to tolerate such behavior, and perhaps even to encourage it. By their very nature, humans naturally wanted perks for themselves, rewards for their work. He didn't like it, but he had to accept it.

“You've done an excellent job as Director of Science, my friend,” Rahma said. “I'm sorry that I haven't praised you more.”

The two men clasped hands in the strongest handshake they'd shared in years.

“I'll turn the weapon over to the NDS in the morning,” Ondex said.

“Right. I'll expect my package of operating data as well, so that I can get my own staff up to speed on contingencies.”

“Of course.”

The men said their goodbyes and even shared a water pipe of juana, as if it were a peace pipe between them. Ondex left soon afterward.

Alone now, the Chairman fingered the golden peace-symbol pendant around his neck. With all the weapons at his disposal and the tens of millions of people he'd put to death, some of his critics said it was disingenuous for him to wear this adornment—his vociferous enemies overseas said that, and the whispering citizens who were afraid to face him. Maybe they were right, because at this moment Rahma felt like firing on the entire Panasian nation and wiping it off the face of the Earth.

He sighed, knew he didn't really want to do anything like that. Rahma would continue to make every effort to maintain the peace, trying to downplay the personal animosity he felt toward Hashimoto. That could help to defuse things. In addition, the SciOs just might get their own vanishing tunnel technology up and running in time, enough to discourage Bane and his allies, preventing them from making a larger attack.…

*   *   *

THAT EVENING, ARTIE
hurried into the communal dining yurt and caught up with Rahma before he sat down for his evening meal. A number of the Chairman's favorite women were taking seats around the large table, along with a handful of government workers who had done well enough to merit a supper with the GSA leader.

“Sir,” the hubot said, “perhaps we should speak privately … with your permission.”

Rahma nodded, and led the way to an alcove.

“We just received a strong lead on the whereabouts of the fugitive Joss Stuart. He and Kupi Landau have taken up residence in a forest southeast of the Seattle Reservation, with people who have managed to use electronic devices to avoid detection. Among them is one of your children, a young woman named Evana.”

The Chairman nodded. He had so many offspring that he could not keep track of them. The name meant nothing to him, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever met her.

“This particular tribe is a gold mine of fugitives, sir. It's led by the notorious eco-criminal Mord Pelley.”

“I know that name,” Rahma said. The ex–ranch owner had long been one of the most wanted criminals in the GSA.

“A member decided to turn against the group and report it to Greenpol,” the hubot said. “The man is telling everything he knows about a tribe of people living in the wilderness, a group that uses veiling technology we haven't been able to penetrate. Greenpol is tracking them in a new way, with robots that can actually pick up fresh scents. As you know, it's illegal to use dogs for that.”

“Yes, yes.” Rahma scowled. It was an animal rights issue that he had not been able to reach agreement on with powerful special-interest groups, something he had been intending to deal with when he got more time. The new robots would make that unnecessary.

“Stuart hasn't been captured yet?” he asked.

Artie hesitated as he accessed internal information. “No, the police robots are leaving right about now, and they'll get him. They've captured other fugitives in the wilderness. Greenpol has tripled the force, because of Stuart's powers.”

“Keep me advised. This is important.”

The hubot saluted with the sign of the sacred tree, then hurried off.

 

46

A thing imagined can take on its own reality.

—Rahma Popal, two years before his fame

THE DAWN PEOPLE
didn't know for certain if Zeke Ambrose would reveal their location, but they had to assume he would. He'd been behaving erratically recently, and villagers had seen him arguing with his friend Theo Garcia, though no one knew what it had been about.

Only hours after the death of Garcia and the disappearance of his presumed killer, trackers had found Ambrose's transponder discarded in the woods. Out of an abundance of caution, Mord Pelley had immediately ordered the tribe to pack up and leave the village site they had occupied for nearly three years. This was not without hardship, but the downside was dire, if what they feared came to pass. Acky Sommers and his small group of anarchists would accompany them.

So, more than two hundred people set off into the deep forest behind an old woodsman named Willem Mantle, a man who knew his way around in those parts better than anyone else. Evana (wearing boots now) and Mord Pelley hiked near the front, as did Joss and Kupi. Going uphill for the most part, they traveled single-file on game trails, or spread out to bushwhack their way across rough areas of devil's club and other thick underbrush, climbing until finally reaching a network of old forest-service logging roads that had not yet been greenformed.

The younger men and women carried backpacks filled with essential items, including small hand tools, shovels, and picks. The tribe and anarchists also took their security system with them, preventing outsiders from detecting their presence. Everyone, including Joss and Kupi, wore the transponders that linked them to the veiling network, generating an electronic blanket over the entire group. The anarchists were all heavily armed, as were many of Mord Pelley's men. Joss counted four children on the trek with them, two boys of around eight or nine years old and a couple of girls who appeared to be almost teens.

The hikers passed the fallen-down, vine-covered remnants of a ghost town in the midst of second-growth fir trees, an area that was going back to nature naturally, without the intervention of J-Mac crews. With trees and underbrush grown in, they could barely make out the structures at all, just broken, vine-strangled remains of what they had once been. On the other side of town they found an abandoned mine entrance, and a game trail that ran alongside a creek for a ways and then climbed, in the direction that the woodsman wanted to go. On the trail, they stopped while Mantle examined a section of hillside that had slid in the recent past, and had very little plant growth on it.

Ahead of them, the game trail narrowed and continued across a slide area, but if anyone lost their footing there, they would fall onto the dry creek bed hundreds of meters below. He tested the trail, made it to the other side, and proclaimed it safe. Then he motioned for the others to follow.

“Take it slowly,” he said. “One step at a time and you'll be fine.”

Perhaps twenty people made it across, including the anarchists. Joss and Evana then set out; she was a few steps ahead of him, wearing her boots. Suddenly she lost her footing and slid below the trail, slowing her fall by grabbing hold of a sapling, but it looked as if it would give way at any moment and she would go over the edge.

Then she fell.

With only one chance to save her, Joss quickened his pulse and reached out with his right hand, shooting the black threads of a force field toward her and wrapping them around her. Cradled by the net, she stopped falling, and he brought her back up to the trail, then helped her to the other side, while onlookers cheered.

“I didn't think we needed to rope up for that,” Willem Mantle said, looking guilty for not taking the proper precautions. He brought out a long rope, which he secured to a small cedar tree on one end of the slide area, and then took back to the other side.

“Watch yourselves where she fell,” he said to the ones who had not yet crossed. “There's some loose soil there for a couple of meters.”

To play it safe, Joss went partway out and prepared to extend his safety net again, should the need arise. With his help, and the rope, everyone made it across.

After Joss helped the last person (an elderly black woman named Nanette), Evana ran to him and threw her arms around him. The pretty young woman felt warm against his body, with her soft contours pressing against him. She trembled in his arms.

“I was afraid for you,” she said softly, “when you were out there in the middle, helping others across.”

As he looked into her hazel eyes, Joss had a peculiar feeling, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. “Afraid for me? You're the one who almost fell.”

“I only did that to see if you really cared about me!”

“That wasn't intentional! You're kidding, aren't you?”

She nodded. “I guess I'm not as sure-footed in these shoes as in my bare feet, where I can feel the ground and rocks better. If we have to cross anything like that again, I'm doing it barefoot.”

Joss had felt a sense of panic when she was falling off the trail, in the terrible moments when he thought he would lose her. This told him something important, that he cared deeply for her, and perhaps even loved her. He pulled her toward him and held her tightly. For the first time in years, since losing Onaka Hito in his youth, he believed love might be possible again.

Over Evana's shoulder, Joss saw Kupi looking on dejectedly. He pulled free and went to her.

“Kupi,” he said to her, “please don't make me feel guilty for my feelings.”

“I don't deserve you anyway,” she said, her face a mask of sorrow and regret. “You deserve better.”

He shook his head in disagreement while the others waited, looking on but not intruding.

“Go to her,” Kupi said. Then with a reassuring smile, she added, “Don't worry about me. I'm resilient. I'll find somebody.” She looked over at Mord Pelley, added, “Maybe him. He's old, but he's been making eyes at me.”

Joss stepped back from his former lover and went to Evana, shaking his head sadly.

“How do you feel about me?” the young woman asked, her voice little more than a whisper in his ear.

He smiled softly. “I'm still trying to figure that out.”

*   *   *

JUST BEFORE DARK,
the villagers and anarchists reached a broad expanse of grassy, sparsely treed land alongside a wide river. “A hundred years ago, a town stood on this site,” Willem Mantle said, “so it seems fitting for us to make a go of it here. I have fished this river many times for Chinook salmon, steelhead, and kokanee. We'll always have fresh seafood for our table.”

“Or for a wedding feast,” Joss said. He put an arm around Evana's waist and drew her to him.

She didn't resist. Looking up at him she said, “Are you asking me? I thought you didn't like to rush into anything. Aren't you the one who doesn't believe in love at first sight?”

“I've known you for four days now,” he said. “Out here, with the experiences we've shared, that's long enough for me. Besides, we don't know how long we have together; we're fugitives from justice.”

“Fugitives from justice?” Mord Pelley said, overhearing their conversation. “On the contrary, we brought justice with us!”

“And found love,” Evana said, beaming prettily at Joss.

Pelley put his hands on his hips and studied his adoptive daughter, as if searching for any doubt on her part. Apparently seeing none, he said, “A wedding it will be, then, and I shall perform the ceremony!”

Kupi moved to the white-haired old man's side, smiled ruefully in Joss's direction.

“But how will we accomplish it out here?” the elderly black woman asked. Joss thought Nanette had an interesting face, careworn and creased with the wisdom of years and experiences.

The tribal leader smiled and looked up at the sky. “Why, we will visualize it all, of course, with help from the Lord. And for music, we shall have the voices of angels. I already hear them singing for us, heavenly notes wafting on the wind.”

“Yes, I can hear the angels, too!” a man shouted.

“So do I!” a woman said. And others piped in: “I hear them, too!” … “I hear the angels!”

Joss imagined hearing the angelic sounds himself, and he could tell from Evana's serene, happy expression that she was imagining this as well.

“Now visualize this,” Pelley said. “The bride and groom are dressed entirely in white, with flower leis around their necks, and after they exchange vows we'll drink wine until the wee hours of the night.”

Looking over at Kupi, Joss caught his former lover's gaze. As she stood by Mord Pelley, tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled courageously, letting him know everything would be all right. He nodded to her in appreciation, felt a little better about the situation. His feelings were bittersweet. He really did not want to hurt Kupi, not after they had been through so much together. He would talk with her again and try to forge a continuing friendship with her, a way for them to go forward.

Around them, tribal members were still visualizing the gala wedding festivities. The air really was filled with laughter and happy voices, another form of music, Joss thought. He kissed Evana for the first time, and it was sweeter on his lips than any wine.