Carnifex. Part 40

5/10/48 AC, Desperation Bay, Lansing Colony, Southern Columbia, Terra Nova News traveled slowly on the new world. Rather, true news traveled slowly.

"But you can get the UN's lies right away," said Ollie Rogers to his a.s.sembled family and a few guests, over dinner.

Ollie now had five wives. One had died but three more, along with another seven children, five of them from those three wives, had come his way from the survivors of the wintry disaster that gave the bay its name. Of his thirty-one living children, natural and adopted, three had children of their own. Ollie considered it a mark of G.o.d's special favor that he had been so blessed with offspring. Though it wasn't as if he would not have been elected as leader of the colony even if he'd been a bachelor.

One of the guests, Benjamin Putnam, asked, "What do you believe, Ollie? Do you think it's true about the UN troops using or raping little girls up in Balboa?"

That rumor-really that set of rumors, for there were several variants-had become quite widely told over the last few months. The least of the variants told of pre-p.u.b.escent prost.i.tutes being dismembered and their bodies put on display near one of the UN's bases, to drive their trade to where the money was less.

Rogers arose from the table and walked to the cabin's sole window, a wavy gla.s.s that the colony was just beginning to produce. Looking outside he saw a small cemetery, with a tree growing in the middle of it. They'd named the tree "the tranzitree," and the white wooden crosses around its base reminded Rogers that the tranzitree's fruit, with its bright green exterior and poisonous red interior, killed.

"Ben," Rogers answered slowly and deliberately, "we've both heard a lot of propaganda in our lives. That one has the ring of truth to me."

"Disgraceful," judged Gertie. She'd grown rather plump the last couple of decades but her husband still found her among the best of all women.

"Disgraceful, it may be," agreed Rogers. "But what can we do about it?"

"We can help them; the people the UN is trying to suppress, I mean," said Ollie's oldest son, also called "Oliver" or just "Junior."

"You have children of your own to watch out for," the patriarch reminded.

"We don't," said three of the boys, simultaneously.

Sheriff Juan Alvarez's son, too, spoke up, "And neither do I." Before the lawman could object, his son added, "And if we don't stop the UN up there, how long before they come here? Father...Mr. Oliver, you both left the homes you had because of them. Where do you...where do we...go...if they come here, too?"

"You'll need better arms than we can provide," Rogers said. He didn't say it like he thought it would be impossible to get those arms. "We have, after all, found quite a bit of gold here."

Chapter Sixteen.

The winds of Paradise are blowing. Where are you who hanker after Paradise?Motto of the Ikhwan IkhwanAs a soldier I will fulfill my duties brilliantly. I die with a smile on my face with the deep belief that to meet my end on the kamikaze battles.h.i.+p Yamato is the ultimate honor.Chief Petty Officer Yos.h.i.+aki Ogasawara Mikoto KIA 7 April, 1945 (Old Earth Year)

3/6/468 AC, BdL Dos Lindas, Nicobar Straits Except for having gone to a much heightened state of alert, and maintaining a lookout for Gallic vessels of war, the election had not much affected the carrier or her escorts. They, like the single legion now deployed on the border between Pashtia and Kashmir, had a contract to fulfill. Now, without the specter of a major war with Taurus in the offing, the cla.s.sis cla.s.sis was able, once again, to concentrate solely on pirate hunting. was able, once again, to concentrate solely on pirate hunting.

Which was...disappointing. Since the flotilla had arrived on station piracy in the straits had dropped to, essentially, nothing.

"It's almost as if someone's told told them to lay off," Fosa said, looking enquiringly at Kurita standing on the bridge overlooking the calm waters. them to lay off," Fosa said, looking enquiringly at Kurita standing on the bridge overlooking the calm waters.

"Someone has," Kurita answered, cryptically. "We don't know why. It could be as simple as the hope that if there's no piracy for a while the zaibatsu zaibatsu will curtail your contract and send you home. It could be just fear-well founded fear, too, I might add-of what the will curtail your contract and send you home. It could be just fear-well founded fear, too, I might add-of what the cla.s.sis cla.s.sis will do if there will do if there are are any incidents. It could be..." Kurita's eyes looked skyward. any incidents. It could be..." Kurita's eyes looked skyward.

Fosa's eyes, too, traveled upward. f.u.c.king Earth-pigs. f.u.c.king Earth-pigs.

UEPF Spirit of Peace High Admiral Robinson (Wallenstein understood perfectly that UE senior officials were always "High" in order to make clear to the rest of humanity that they they were were low low) and Captain Wallenstein sat comfortably in the silverwood paneled s.h.i.+p's conference room, along with a few others that were in on enough of the secret to trust. None, of course, barring only Wallenstein, knew everything. Ordinarily, Robinson might have enjoyed the show in the privacy of his own quarters, watching it on the big, crystal-clear Kurosawa. Still, in odd little ways the staff had helped quite a bit and were ent.i.tled to their reward.

On the wall past the end of the conference table-the table, like the paneling, brought up from below-a vision screen showed a small flotilla moving majestically through some jungle-lined straits. It was the dry season in that part of the world below, Robinson knew. Even if he had not known, the fires raging uncontrolled that send thick clouds of smoke across the straits, often blocking the view, would have told him.

The s.h.i.+p was not only too far up to see in this much detail with its own sensors and camera; it was also in the wrong orbit. Instead, the real-time images were being sent by a skimmer launched by the UEPF Spirit of Brotherhood Spirit of Brotherhood a few hours before daylight had arisen on the straits. a few hours before daylight had arisen on the straits.

MV Hendrik Hoogaboom, Nicobar Straits The captain of the Hoogaboom Hoogaboom looked behind him, watching the last sunrise he would ever see in this life. The sun's light shone red, a result of filtering through and bending around the smoke that dominated the straits. In his hand the captain held a picture. It was a family picture, with the females' faces exposed. As such, it was not to be shared. The picture showed the faces of his wife, his two daughters and his three sons. looked behind him, watching the last sunrise he would ever see in this life. The sun's light shone red, a result of filtering through and bending around the smoke that dominated the straits. In his hand the captain held a picture. It was a family picture, with the females' faces exposed. As such, it was not to be shared. The picture showed the faces of his wife, his two daughters and his three sons.

The captain knew that, by dint of his coming sacrifice, they'd be taken care of, in this life as well as the next. Whatever else might be said of the Ikhwan Ikhwan, it had to be admitted that it took very good care of its martyrs' dependants, lest the supply of martyrs dry up. One of the things that had hurt the movement, indeed, perhaps that infidel action that had hurt the most, was the sequestration, impoundment, and outright confiscation of funds for just that sort of reward. Living single men were cheap. Weapons and ammunition, even explosives, were cheap. To support the families of the fallen was expensive expensive.

Thank Allah, thought the captain, that the infidel press tipped the movement off to what their governments were doing when they went after the money. What would we ever do without the First Landing Times? I could never take the action I am about to if I could not be sure my family would be cared for. Thank You, too, Beneficent One, for the money given in humanitarian aid that frees up money for the fight and to care for the families of those fallen in Your cause. that the infidel press tipped the movement off to what their governments were doing when they went after the money. What would we ever do without the First Landing Times? I could never take the action I am about to if I could not be sure my family would be cared for. Thank You, too, Beneficent One, for the money given in humanitarian aid that frees up money for the fight and to care for the families of those fallen in Your cause.

The captain looked at the covered switch on his control panel, next to the s.h.i.+p's wheel. It led down to the roughly two thousand tons of ammonium nitrate-fuel oil, hydrazine and aluminum powder mix in the bunkered hold. A second switch in the Hoogaboom Hoogaboom's informal CIC likewise led to the explosive. The captain's executive, a Kashmiri fanatic named Ishmael, controlled that for the time being; later they would switch. Lastly, below the water line and out of the line of direct fire, was a pressure detonator. If every man on the s.h.i.+p were to be killed or incapacitated, as long as the Hoogaboom Hoogaboom was well aimed enough to manage to hit the target or to ground near it, the s.h.i.+p would explode. was well aimed enough to manage to hit the target or to ground near it, the s.h.i.+p would explode.

The captain looked at the chart of the Nicobar Straits that lay on his plotting table. It showed the positions of the major enemy vessel, and of the two torpedoes, the six cruise missiles, and the dozen fast speedboats that rocked hidden in the jungle inlets to either side of the straits. It also showed his own s.h.i.+p, moving, as was the enemy, to intersection with those speedboats.

Turning again and taking a last deliberate look at the sunrise, the captain told his radio man, "Per our contract contract"-which raised a slight giggle from the radio operator-"inform the infidels that we are making our pa.s.sage and should pa.s.s them by within two hours. Don't Don't call them 'infidels' when you do." call them 'infidels' when you do."

BdL Dos Lindas Ash floated on the breeze, some of it still smoldering. Because of that, Fosa had ordered that all refueling and rearming operations take place below, on the hangar deck. There were some obvious downsides to this; for one thing, the s.h.i.+p reeked. But it was just unwise to take the risk of a deck fire from a stray spark.

Fortunately, the Finches had very long legs, tremendous endurance. It was not difficult to keep two aloft continuously, along with another brace of Cricket Bs. The Crickets kept fairly close to the s.h.i.+p, patrolling the edge of the water where it met jungle.

Annoyingly, one of the Crickets hadn't called in in a while and failed to respond to any radio calls to it. Fosa had already given the order to send out another to replace it.

The Finches he had further out, in case a merchant s.h.i.+p under contract for protection should be attacked. Indeed, each Finch aloft was paired with a corvette, operating at a distance of about twenty five miles southeast or northwest of the main cla.s.sis cla.s.sis. Even further away, to the southeast, the Qamra Qamra, formerly The Big ? The Big ?, churned along in leisurely fas.h.i.+on, trolling for pirates. Unfortunately, the best bait, the girls, had to be kept below for the most part. n.o.body n.o.body was going to be nude sunbathing on the deck with all the smoke and ash on the breeze. It would have been inherently suspicious had anyone tried. was going to be nude sunbathing on the deck with all the smoke and ash on the breeze. It would have been inherently suspicious had anyone tried.

Sealed in by thick, shatterproof gla.s.s or not, the reek of smoke still penetrated the bridge. It had to; the Dos Lindas Dos Lindas was not a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p; it drew its air from its surroundings. Fosa was on the bridge, as was Kurita. Both scanned the waters, such as were visible, for threats or targets. There were none, just the enveloping smoke with occasional clear patches. was not a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p; it drew its air from its surroundings. Fosa was on the bridge, as was Kurita. Both scanned the waters, such as were visible, for threats or targets. There were none, just the enveloping smoke with occasional clear patches.

Unaccountably, and unknowingly imitating the captain of the Hoogaboom Hoogaboom, Kurita pulled out a wallet from which he drew a plastic encased black and white photograph. Fosa stepped over to look. He saw a much-a very very much-younger Kurita, in dark naval uniform, surrounded by kimono-clad wife and children. The children were beautiful but Fosa was struck mostly by the wife. He knew the story, of course; Kurita had long before explained that his family had been caught in the nuclear bombing of Yamato by the Federated States near the end of the Great Global War. much-younger Kurita, in dark naval uniform, surrounded by kimono-clad wife and children. The children were beautiful but Fosa was struck mostly by the wife. He knew the story, of course; Kurita had long before explained that his family had been caught in the nuclear bombing of Yamato by the Federated States near the end of the Great Global War.

Your life must have been hard without her, my friend, Fosa thought. Like our Patricio, losing a woman like that is like having your soul torn out. Like our Patricio, losing a woman like that is like having your soul torn out.

As if reading Fosa's thought, Kurita said, "Yes...it was...difficult."

"Well," the captain of Dos Lindas Dos Lindas answered, "perhaps you shall reincarnate together, someday." answered, "perhaps you shall reincarnate together, someday."

Kurita rarely laughed, but at that comment he began first to snicker, then to giggle, then finally was overtaken with belly-ripping hilarity. When he recovered, and that took a while, he explained, "Oh, no, my dear friend. She waits for me in Heaven. You see, when the Federated States decided to drop a nuke, they chose a Christian Christian city. We are city. We are Catholic Catholic."

Which goes to show that I will never never understand Yamato. How does a Catholic believe s.h.i.+ps and swords are alive? understand Yamato. How does a Catholic believe s.h.i.+ps and swords are alive?

This understanding had not been helped by the late night haiku duel he had engaged in with the commodore the evening before over sake sake. The subject had been the great Kosmo crisis du jour, planetary warming. And beforehand, Kurita had warned, after explaining the rules, "Never bring a knife to a gunfight unless you bring a gun, too. Never bring a sonnet to a haiku fight."

Kurita, as the host, had begun:

"Useful idiots Without original thought Believe in the faith"

Fosa though about that one for a moment, before submitting:

"Government money Given for the right viewpoint Keeps Kosmos happy."

It was a weak addendum, so Kurita, always gracious, held himself in check:

"Climate change requires Solar output be ignored Or lose nice funding."

Fosa nodded at that one, sipped at his sake sake contemplatively, then answered: contemplatively, then answered:

"Great fireball in sky, How to explain you away When moons' icecaps melt?"

"Oh, very good good, Fosa-san, Kurita applauded. "You're getting the hang of this." He then declaimed:

"Wondrous hockey stick Replaces Christ's wooden cross Comes from white noise."

White? White? Fosa wondered. Fosa wondered. How to play on that? Ah, sheep are white. How to play on that? Ah, sheep are white.

"Climate change white sheep Hate being out of the flock Lest they be shorn...baaaa"

"Bah! Bah, indeed," Kurita exhulted.

"Great Climate Change!

For heretics, deniers, Jail cells are waiting."

Fosa answered:

"Even Progressives In Fed'rated States Senate Say, 'p.i.s.s on Kosmos!'"

From Kurita:

"Climate change loonies Shriek, 'Heresy! Blasphemy!'

Whenever questioned."

Fosa expanded:

"Gathering firewood To burn up the deniers.

We've seen this before."

After he stopped laughing, Kurita gave:

"Virgin SUV Cast into the volcano As the faithful dance."

At that point, Fosa gave up. The image of ten thousand gra.s.s-skirt clad Kosmos, deep in religious ecstasy, sacrificing an innocent automobile to the dark earth G.o.ds was too much. No doubt much of his mirth was found in the sake sake, not the poetry. Even so, Fosa was rolling on the floor laughing when, to cap his victory, Kurita gave his last recital:

"High Kosmo leeches Attend luxury conference Always fly first cla.s.s."

Fosa's reminiscences were interrupted by the sudden arrival of a Cricket on the flight deck. With a plane needing as short a landing run as the Cricket, and landing into the wind, to boot, all arrivals tended to be very sudden.

No sooner had it landed, and the pilot killed the engine, then that pilot was out the door and racing racing across the flight deck to the tower. He disappeared from view, only to emerge on the bridge moments later. across the flight deck to the tower. He disappeared from view, only to emerge on the bridge moments later.

"My f.u.c.king radio went down, Skipper," Montoya announced, even before formally reporting. "I'd have come back right away but there was something odd, a boat, I saw hidden in the jungle."

"Odd?" Fosa asked.

"Three ways, Skipper. One was that it was pretty well hidden. Another was that it looked fast, what I could make out of it. The last was that there were armed men aboard, and they didn't didn't shoot at me." shoot at me."

Kurita's finger beat Fosa's to the alarm: Battle stations, this is no drill. Battle stations, this is no drill.

Lovely word, 'karma,' the the Naquib Naquib thought. thought. Pity we don't have quite the equivalent in Islam. But it was karma, or Allah's will, that the infidel aircraft spotted us. Maybe I should have ordered that aircraft engaged. Maybe I did right in not ordering it engaged. I'll never know in this life. What I do know is we must attack now, even though the enemy is not in the optimal position for our ambush. Pity we don't have quite the equivalent in Islam. But it was karma, or Allah's will, that the infidel aircraft spotted us. Maybe I should have ordered that aircraft engaged. Maybe I did right in not ordering it engaged. I'll never know in this life. What I do know is we must attack now, even though the enemy is not in the optimal position for our ambush.

One hundred meters up a half choked inlet, al Naquib al Naquib's boat wound its way through the maze of fallen logs and sand bars. To either side, he heard the distance-dissipated roar of large marine engines coming to life and doing likewise. He could not hear the motors of the half dozen boats on the other side of the Straits. Yet his chief a.s.sistant had told him they were likewise on the move.

Unseen and unheard by al Naquib al Naquib, crews for the cruise missiles and torpedoes were frantically unmasking, activating their guidance systems, and preparing to fire. Hopefully they would launch in good time.