Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was, beyond any doubt, a human arm. One of the fingers even wore a ring that no one had bothered to remove;. The filthy hunched figure with the highspikes and bone earrings dragged it from the fire, oblivious to the fact that it was hardly cooked, and, juggling the hot meat from hand to hand, began snatching bites from it. The way the creature's teeth flashed in the firelight suggested that they were made of stainless steel. The Minstrel Boy stared in horror as blood and grease dripped down the thing's chin.

'They've sunk to cannibalism.'

Reave took hold of his arm. 'Just walk on slow and don't look surprised at anything.'

'That's easy to say.'

'Our lives depend on it, so walk on.'

A second figure lurched up to the one crouched over the arm and tried to grab it from him. They scuffled together, grunting and cursing. In front of a nearby tent a human head had been set up on the end of a spear. The face was bloated and unrecognizable, but the spear looked uncommonly like the ones used by the Palanaquii hoplites. Beyond the tent two vulture bats, the kind that the DNA Cowboys had first seen in Santa Freska, were picking at something in the grass.

'What the hell is happening to humanity?'

Reave could scarcely repress a shudder. 'I'm damned if I know, buddy. I'm damned if I know. It's like we're on the fast slope all the way down.'

They walked slowly on through the camp, avoiding the large knots of men. As far as Reave could estimate there were about 150 in the force, heavily armed, about the same mixture of shootists, Margin boys, and neoprimitives they had seen atKrystaleit. They were in very bad shape. The only things there seemed to be plenty of were guns, ammunition, and rotgut booze. The soldiers looked ragged and haggard, and the whole camp stank of filth and unwashed men. The stink alone was a major shock after the perfumed courtyards and splashing fountains of Palanaque. The small army looked to be starving, and it was altogether possible that the cannibalism Reave and the Minstrel Boy had witnessed was a matter of necessity as well as calculated depravity.

The entire area was a picture of demoralization. As Reave and the Minstrel Boy had skirted the lake, taking advantage of the darkness, they had encountered no guards, patrols, or pickets. The raiding party clearly realized that it had little or nothing to fear from the army of Palanaque, but at the same time, it did not seem ready to launch an assault on the city. The men appeared to be resting, gathering whatever strength they had left.

'What do you think happened to these guys?'

'It looks like they recently took a bad beating. They're a mess.'

They passed another head on a pole — it was still wearing its plumed helmet and was definitely one of the company from Palanaque. Reave and the Minstrel Boy no longer looked too hard at what the figures beside the fires were doing. A line of tethered lizards made a sorry sight. They looked as though they had been ridden long and hard. Their necks drooped, their skin hung loosely on their bones, and every rib was visible.

Beyond the fires and the circle of dirty tents, two bulky objects were secured with guy ropes and covered in plastic sheeting.

'What do you think those things are?'

'Beats me.'

'Does it occur to you that they might be a couple of aircraft?' the Minstrel Boy suggested.

Reave nodded. 'It does, indeed. Let's drift casually in that direction and take a closer look.'

'After that, can we get out of here? I feel like we're pushing our luck already.'

'Nobody's given us a second look so far.'

'It only takes one. I don't particularly care to be some degenerate cannibal's breakfast. Besides, we're too damn clean and well fed. We stand out.'

'We'll take a look at those things, over there, and then we'll melt away.'

They started walking slowly in the direction of the plastic-sheathed objects. They were just passing through the circle of tents when Reave froze. Three men had emerged from a nearby tent, the largest in the camp.

'I don't believe it.'

Reave quickly turned on his heel and walked off in the opposite direction, head down and hiding his face. The Minstrel Boy quickly followed him.

'You know those men?'

'Vlad fucking Baptiste! He's still alive.'

'What?'

'That's Gord, his driver, and the Old Metal Monster walking with him. They're all alive. This must be all that's left of his army.'

'How in hell did he manage to survive?'

'He must have somehow gotten out of Krystaleit before it blew.'

'And we've got to get out of here right now. There's bound to be others here who can recognize you.'

' You 're not kidding.'

They walked as quickly as they dared toward the edge of the camp. It began to look as though they were going to make it — until a figure lurched drunkenly out of a clump of bushes where it had been relieving itself. To turn back could have been too obvious, so Reave pulled his hat down lower over his face and decided to brazen it out. As the drunk stumbled past them, he eyed Reave and the Minstrel Boy with a total lack of curiosity or even interest. Then, suddenly, he beamed.

'Hey, Reave Mekonta! You're looking good, boy.'

He stumbled back toward the fires. The Minstrel Boy turned and watched his staggering progress. He slid a knife out of his belt.

'He's drunk, but he's going to realize at any moment.'

The drunk stopped. He seemed to be thinking. He slowly turned. The Minstrel Boy held his arm loosely at his side.

'Here we go.'

The drunk's voice was an incredulous croak. 'Reave Mekonta?'

The Minstrel Boy's hand flashed in an underarm throw. Theblade caught the drunk square in the throat. He let out a surprised gurgle and collapsed. The Minstrel Boy ran to the body and retrieved his knife. As an afterthought he took the beat-up SG from the dead man's belt and hung it on his own.

'Now can we get the hell out of here?'

'What say we grab a couple of lizards and make a run for it?'

'Let's go.'

They unhitched a brace of the exhausted reptiles and led them quietly off into the darkness, away from the camp. Once out of sight, they swung onto the animals' backs, not bothering with saddles. It took a number of kicks to get the beasts moving, but finally they set to lumbering up the hill that lay between the camp and the stretch of river where the boat was waiting.

At the top of the hill, the Minstrel Boy wheeled his horse and looked back at the camp. 'There doesn't seem to be any kind of alarm.'

Reave pulled up beside him. 'They probably won't find him until morning.'

'If the vulture bats leave anything.'

Reave turned his lizard's head. 'Let's get going.'

The Minstrel Boy hesitated. 'I've got an SG.'

'I know you have.'

'I could beat it into the nothings.'

'Are you going to?'

'We could ride back into the camp and get another one.'

Reave shook his head. 'I don't think so.'

The Minstrel Boy raised an inquiring eyebrow. 'You don't?'

'I'd feel bad running out on the others.'

The Minstrel Boy did not say anything; he just sat motionless on his lizard.

Reave looked at him questioningly. 'So are you going, or what?'

The Minstrel Boy avoided Reave's eyes. He did not answer.

Reave glanced back. 'Don't fuck around, man. Just go. I don't blame you.'

The Minstrel Boy viciously spurred his mount. The reptile reared and wheeled on its hind legs, croaking in protest. He kicked it again and plunged back down the way they had come, running for the nothings.

Reave sat and watched him go. He slowly shook his head. 'I guess that's the end of that.'

Reave kicked his own lizard and started down the other side of the hill, toward the river. There was already the ghostglow of pseudodawn beyond the mountains. He was halfway down the hill when the shooting started. At first there was just the sound of a sudden firefight. On the far side of the hill the quiet of the night was shattered by the angry ultrasonic hiss of particle beams and a series of impact bursts. After a couple of seconds there was the pumping chatter of an automatic weapon that could only be the Minstrel Boy's AK. Reave reined in and stared back, drawing one of his pistols. His first instinct was to charge back to the Minstrel Boy's aid, but he resisted it.

'Fuck him. He was the one who ran out.'

He did not, however, move on. He sat gun in hand, leaning on his saddle. Not for long, though. The Minstrel Boy crested the hill with energy flashes bursting around him. He was flattened along the back of his galloping mount; the strap of the AK was cinched around his shoulder so that he could use it with one hand, and he was firing wildly behind him. Reave's lizard skittered nervously, but he kept it on a tight rein and held his ground. The Minstrel Boy pulled up beside him.

Reave grinned. 'You're back.'

The Minstrel Boy was out of breath. 'I got to be insane.'

A half dozen riders came over the top of the hill. Reave stuffed the lizard's reins into his mouth and returned fire with both pistols. The riders scattered for cover. Reave put the spurs to his mount.

'Let's get out of here!'

They ran for the boat as fast as they could. As they galloped side by side, Reave yelled across to the Minstrel Boy. 'What happened back there?'

'I started wondering if I was doing the right thing, and while I was wondering, this bunch who were out drinking or jerking each other off or whatever, away from the main camp, spotted me and opened up. It was lucky they were too drunk to shoot straight.'

When they reached the river, the boat was still moored in midstream. Reave jumped from the saddle and yelled across to those on board. 'Throw down a couple of lines. We'll swim out. Get ready to go.'

He dived straight into the cold, dark water. The Minstrel Boy groaned, then splashed in after him.

The return to Palanaque was a headlong flight. The overseer used the lash unsparingly on the rowers, who stroked at a furious, heart attack pace. At one point Renatta drew the Minstrel Boy aside and questioned him about the SG hanging on his belt.

'Why the hell didn't you get out while you could?'

The Minstrel Boy, who was still in his wet clothes, drying off his knives, gave her a cold look. 'I just couldn't stay away from you, baby.'

'You're crazy.'

'Probably.'

After Reave and the Minstrel Boy had both given their accounts of what they had seen in the raiders' camp, the condition of the men, and the size of the force, there was a lengthy discussion not only about what might be done to protect Palanaque but also about how Baptiste had managed to escape the destruction of Krystaleit. It was quickly decided, much to the horror of the young ensign, who believed that he was hearing blasphemy, that the city was doomed unless it immediately revised some oiks fundamental religious beliefs and took account of the ways of the real world.

On the matter of Baptiste's survival, Renatta came up with one of the most convincing theories. 'You think it could have been that, after the capture of Krystaleit, the warlords fell out and started fighting among themselves? You said that Baptiste's men looked like they'd been on the losing end of a fight. Maybe they were run out of the city before whoever it was pulled the plug on the main generator.'

Reave nodded. 'Could be. Those kind of guys will have a falling out at the drop of a hat.'

The discussions on the boat were nothing compared with the talks that went down once they were back in the city. As soon as they landed, they were immediately escorted by Dass-el-Hame and a troop of soldiers to an audience with Parshew-a-Thar in the throne room of the Great Pyramid. It was there that the major frustration started to set in. The beloved Master seemed to have great difficulty grasping the real danger of his situation. He sat twisted in the lapis and gold throne with handmaidens at his feet and nefrites behind him waving ostrich-feather fans and did nothing but seize on irrelevancies.

'Couldn't we negotiate with this Baptiste? Offer him money to go somewhere else? There are always ways around these situations.'

The throne room did little to aid the visualization of the danger that lay at the other end of the settlement. Nothing could have been farther from the horror and squalor of Baptiste's encampment. Surrounded by such dazzling perfumed splendor, it was hard to believe that the filthy tents and wild-eyed cannibals hunched over the fires could exist in the same world. Anyone approaching the throne had to walk between twin lines of carved and gilded lotus pillars and across an elaborate marble and mosaic floor depicting the creation legend. Behind the dais that supported the throne, columns of scented vapor rose into the air and were crisscrossed by decorative lasers. Beyond the pillars, to the left of the throne, a knot of gaudily dressed courtiers, including the pair with the tall Aztec- style headdresses, watched the audience in silence while a vibra trio played a slow, soothing twelve-tone canon. To the right of the throne a squad of immaculate soldiers stood at attention, their spears at parade rest.

Reave slowly folded his arms across his chest. He was determinedly standing his ground at the foot of the dais, feet planted firmly on the mosaic sun mother and coiling snake. The Minstrel Boy stood slightly behind him and had so far let Reave do most of the talking. Both men were doing their very best to ignore the surroundings.

'I don't think you're quite grasping the situation.'

The beloved Master twitched angrily. 'Don't tell me I'm not grasping the situation.'

Reave went on regardless. 'These raiders are starving and desperate. They can't be bought off. They may not even have the option to go somewhere else. They're going to fall on this city like a swarm of heavily armed locusts and strip it bare. The only thing they aren't short of is firepower.'

'There has to be a way to reason with them, to appeal to their logic.'

'These are degenerates. You can't reason with them because they're almost certainly not sane. They don't operate according to logic; they're running on some murderous feral instinct, and you can't negotiate with bloodshot psychotics. You either kill them or get out of their way.'

'I can't accept that.'

'You'd better accept it, man. You'd better wise up to the facts, or you're going to find your city burning around your ears.'

The beloved Master turned puce and half rose from the throne. 'I will not be spoken to like that.'

He was about to order his guard to arrest Reave, but then he thought better of it. Despite all of Dass-el-Hame's protests, Reave was wearing his pistols openly displayed in his belt. Even Parshew-a-Thar was not going to risk bloodshed in his own throne room. Reave, who had figured that out from the start, made one final attempt to get the beloved Master to see sense.

'There is only one way to save your city, and that's to repeal this moronic prohibition on advanced weapons. You have a comparatively large army, and properly equipped, their numbers could make up for their inexperience, but they have to be armed.'

The beloved Master was shaking his head. He looked like a fat, frightened baby bird. Finally he clapped his hands over his ears. He was losing what small cool he had left.

'I won't listen to this. I've already told you how that subject is not open to discussion. General Zeum will take care of the defense of the city. I trust General Zeum. He doesn't upset me. You have upset me, and this audience is at an end.'

Reave finally lost his temper. 'You're a fatuous idiot.'

Parshew-a-Thar still had his hands over his ears.'I can't hear you.'

Reave gestured to the Minstrel Boy. 'Let's get out of this insanity.'

They turned on their heels and marched stiffly out of the throne room. The beloved Master was out of his throne and shouting at his guards.

'Stop them! Arrest them!'

Two of the guards approached Reave, who stopped them with a furious glare.

'I wouldn't try it if I were you.'

They didn't. Outside, in the first antechamber, Renatta, Blaisdell, and a somewhat groggy Billy Oblivion were waiting. They had heard a good part of the proceedings.

'I take it it didn't go well.'

'It's goddamn lunacy.'

Reave rounded on Billy. 'Where the hell have you been?'

Billy shook his head. 'Damned if I know.'

Dass-el-Hame came hurrying out of the throne room. 'You've done a terrible thing. The beloved Master is beside himself with rage.'

Reave snarled angrily at him. 'Terrible? You think that's terrible? When Baptiste gets here, you're all going to have to revise your definition of the word "terrible."

Renatta interrupted the exchange before it could go any further. Reave was starting to look as though he might hit the courtier.

'More to the point, what are we going to do now?'

Reave calmed down a little. 'We're going to see Showcross Gee. If nothing else, he can release us from our contracts. We can't be ordered into a situation that is plainly suicidal.'

Showcross Gee appeared to be expecting them. It was the first time any of them had been in the section of the Great Pyramid that had been taken over by the metaphysicians. It was another shiftspace, an internal area that was much larger than the external dimensions would logically allow, much like the one Reave had seen in the ziggurat in the little settlement that had been the target of his final raid with Baptiste. It had the same pyramid-shaped space, with a square floor and triangular sides that leaned in to a central apex point. A larger but otherwise identical pyramid-shaped block hung in the air with no visible means of support. Unlike the starkly bare chamber inside the ziggurat, this one seemed to be undergoing some kind of highly technological construction. Cables and glowing plasma conduits snaked across the floor, and a towering rack system housed a complexly sophisticated biode. A large disk-shaped object some thirty feet across was being assembled in sections directly beneath the floating pyramid.

Showcross Gee's only companion in the chamber was Stent. It was starting to look as though the metaphysician was using the metal man as a permanent bodyguard. Reave was curious to know what the man thought he had to fear. There was no sign of any of the other metaphysicians, and it had to be assumed that this chamber was not the only space they occupied in the Great Pyramid.

'I understand that you have seen the enemy.'

Reave looked slowly around the chamber and nodded.'That's right. We went to their camp.'

'And I also understand that the beloved Master is having a little trouble discarding his illusions.'

Renatta regarded the metaphysician with deep suspicion. 'You seem very well informed.'

'We loosed a few snoopers into the environment of this pyramid. These people have no means of detecting them, although why they should even bother is debatable. They are incapable of keeping secrets.'

'So you only use the snoopers for a little electronic early warning?'

Showcross Gee nodded. 'Exactly.'

'Then you most probably heard what we were discussing in the anteroom.'

'We cannot release you from your contracts at this time.'

Blaisdell gave him a hard look. 'You can't expect us to simply stay here and die.'

Reave glanced at Lister Stent. 'Where do you stand in all this? Still just carrying out orders?'

The metal man inclined his head slightly. 'Quite the reverse. I'm with you in this. I cannot see how we can legitimately be ordered to remain here under the current situation. We have the right to protect our own lives in a set of circumstances that are quite beyond our control.'

Showcross Gee looked from one contract warrior to the next. 'Your lives will be preserved. You have my guarantee.'

Reave did not look as if he believed a word of it. 'You seem to be hanging on to a few illusions of your own. That's Vlad Baptiste up at the other end of the settlement. He's pathological about you people, and he isn't going to stop until you're all dead. We have no way of protecting either you or ourselves unless the Palanaquii wise up.'

Showcross Gee waited a full ten seconds before he spoke. He slowly extended a hand in the direction of the half-completed disk. 'All we need here is another forty-eight hours to finish our work.'

Billy Oblivion swayed. 'What the hell is that? An old-time flying saucer?'

Showcross Gee ignored him. 'When our work is done, there will be a unique escape route for all of us.'

Reave was unbending. 'This city won't hold for forty-eight hours. There's a chance that Baptiste may have a couple of aircraft.'

That was obviously news to the metaphysician. He was silent and thoughtful. 'It would be a mistake to leave here at this time.'

'It'd be suicide not to.'

'I've already told you that we can take control of the Great Pyramid and seal ourselves in.'

Reave was shaking his head. 'I don't know.'

'Consider this. There is one thing that could make Baptiste negotiate with the beloved Master.'

'What's that?'

'Us.'

Reave knew that he should have thought of that himself. It was glaringly obvious.

'You think that Parshew-a-Thar would ask Baptiste to spare the city if he turned over the metaphysicians?'

Showcross Gee half smiled. 'The metaphysicians and their seven mercenaries.'

'Okay, everyone's ass is on the line.'

Having made his point, Showcross Gee went on. 'I think it's almost a certainty. The court of Palanaque may be blinkered and stupid, but they're clutching at straws. It's bound to occur to them. It they don't think of it, Baptiste certainly will. You've described how his men are close to exhaustion. He may see it as a way to avoid an immediate direct assault on the city himself.'

'He'll never keep his word.'

'Of course he won't, but the Palanaquii will want to believe him so badly that they'll go along with any nonsense. Once he's disposed of us, he can destroy the city and its population at his leisure.'

'I still think our only practical option is to leave immediately. '

Showcross Gee was being unusually patient. 'Let me make a suggestion.'

Reave raised an eyebrow. 'An offer?'

Showcross Gee looked at him coldly. 'A suggestion.'

Reave sighed. 'Okay, a suggestion.'

'You will hold to your contract for two more days. Military contact with Baptiste's raiders will be strictly at your own discretion unless we are directly threatened. Your only duties will be to protect us in any situation where our lives and liberty are at risk, regardless of whether the threat comes from Baptiste or the Palanaquii. The moment the situation in the city becomes untenable, we will retreat in here and seal the pyramid.'

'All of us will retreat into the pyramid?' Renatta asked.

Showcross Gee eyed her curiously. 'You don't trust me at all, do you?'

'Should I?'

'I'm afraid you may have to before this thing's over.'

'So do we all get into the pyramid?'

'If it is humanly possible. You have my word.'

'And once inside you will include us all in this mysterious way out?'

'That's correct.'

'Do you want to explain this escape route to us?'

Showcross Gee shook his head. 'Not yet.'

'Just another item that we have to take on trust?'

'For the moment.'

Reave turned to Stent.'How does all this sit with you? You're the one with the fine-tuned sense of duty.'

Stent raised a metal hand. 'Under the terms of our contract, it sounds like a legitimate request.'

Reave scowled. 'And if it was couched as a direct order, you'd be compelled to enforce it.'

Stent reluctantly half bowed, his armor making a soft, sad squeaking noise. 'I'm afraid that I would.'

Reave faced the metaphysician. 'It looks like you have your two days.'

Showcross Gee laid a calming hand on his arm, 'You shouldn't take it all so personally, Reave Mekonta.'

Reave's shoulders sagged. He was suddenly very tired. Although he hated to admit it, the metaphysician was right. The man was doing the best he could according to his own weird priorities. 'All we can hope is that Baptiste takes his time coming.'

As it turned out, Baptiste took a day and a night to reach the city. There was plenty of warning of his approach. General Zeum had organized a system of signal fires all along the river, starting just a few miles below the rapids. As Baptiste's force was sighted, the fires were lit and those who had been keepingwatch made themselves scarce. From the intervals at which new fires flared in the dark, it seemed that the raiders were moving very slowly. The moment the first signal was sighted, Reave, along with the Minstrel Boy, who also seemed unable to sleep, climbed to the same vantage point on top of the gatehouse from which they had watched the parade of the Grand Army. They stared silently at the pinpoints of flame in the dark. The beloved Master had ordered the pseudostars extinguished for better visibility, and the night beyond the lights of the city was black as pitch. Reave could imagine the line of ragged men with their cruel, hard faces and worn-out mounts. In his mind's eye he could see the drooping necks of the spavined lizards as they dragged themselves toward yet another slaughter.

'This has got to be the end to it, one way or another.'

The Minstrel Boy, who was watching from farther along the parapet, straightened up and looked at him. 'You say something?'

'Just talking to myself.'

'Just as long as you ain't talking to one of those gods they're so strong on around these parts.'

Reave laughed despite himself. 'You know me better than that.'

A sudden burst of music cut through the night air of the quietly waiting city, complex cascading figures from a chromacon played by an expert.

'Clay Blaisdell.'

'Grandstanding as usual. Trying to make it into history.'

Reave smiled, but he could not shake the oppressive melancholy. The music only made it worse. 'You think we'll hear him play that thing again?'

The Minstrel Boy looked at Reave in shocked surprise. It was not like Reave to give in to that kind of pessimism. 'Will you put a cover on that talk?'

Out of the flatland, beyond the city walls, other lights were moving. Zeum's preparations for repelling the invaders were in full swing. Reave had to admit that even though it was a suicidal fantasy, it was also a textbook defense. Neat shield squares were positioned in staggered rows, taking maximum advantage of the contours of the ground. If Zeum had been expecting three hundred Spartans, he would have been in fine shape.

The raiders came across the horizon just as the first gray ofdawn flashed gold with the coming sun. Just as Reave had imagined, they were strung out along the riverbank, black shapes plodding through the early morning ground mist like a dejected wolf pack, dispirited as men can be when there is no alternative except to perpetuate the horror. Reave could feel it as strongly as if he were down among them.

In comparison, Zeum's troops were magnificent. Their white tunics and scarlet plumes were dazzling. The sun flashed from their armor, and the horses of the small cavalry unit pranced eagerly. Reave turned away. It was too depressing to watch. They were quite insane.

The Minstrel Boy yawned. 'So now they're here, what do we do?'

'Absolutely nothing. I'm going to stay right here and observe.'

The Minstrel Boy looked curiously at Reave, who seemed to be in the grip of a grim fatalism. It was probably time to start getting everyone drunk. It might be the only way to get through the day.

The engagement started painfully slowly. At the same plodding pace, the raiders turned inland from the river. The Minstrel Boy noticed that there were no armored vehicles with the column. It was possible that they had no more fuel. They crossed the top end of the flatlands until they were spread out in a loose skirmish line — and there they stopped. They did nothing except lean on their saddles and wait. They reminded the Minstrel Boy of a flock of vultures waiting for a death in the herd.

The herd, or to be more precise, the leader of the herd, did not seem content to let death come in its own sweet time. General Zeum, followed by his aides and executive officers, clattered out of the gates below Reave and the Minstrel Boy on a huge black charger with a blond mane and tail. He cantered past the series of squares, doffing his plumed helmet and accepting the organized cheers of his legion. When he reached the last square, the one closest to the line of Baptiste's raiders, he reined in the charger. He was too far away for those on the gate tower to actually hear the order, but the intention was plain.

'I see it, but I don't believe it.'

Of all the stupidity Reave had witnessed since he had arrived in Palanaque, Zeum's act had to be the crowning folly. With a crash of drums, the square nearest the line of raiders advanced.

Close-ordered and in half-time lockstep, they moved on the enemy, spears advanced, banners spread, maintaining a perfect formation. It took just five raiders to cut them to pieces. They slipped from their saddles, took a couple of paces forward, and, without the slightest pretense of taking cover, raised their weapons just as though they were shooting at targets on a range. The casual way they opened fire was nothing short of insulting. Taking their time and picking their shots, they gunned down every one of the hundred men in the phalanx. The bloodily bizarre part was that the hoplites did not falter. They stepped over the fallen and just kept going. Even when there was only a handful of them left, the Palanaquii made no attempt to halt their advance, let alone run away or otherwise try to save themselves. At no time did the hoplites attempt to throw their spears: That would have been a breach of discipline. As the smoke drifted away from the litter of bodies, the raiders holstered their weapons and climbed back on their mounts. One at a time the Palanaquii squares moved up and changed position, filling the gap left by the massacred hundred.

The Minstrel Boy sighed and shook his head. 'I guess this is going to be repeated over and over until there are none left.'

Reave turned and leaned against the parapet. 'I won't be sticking around to watch it.'

The Minstrel Boy was looking toward the river. 'I think something else is about to happen.'

An armored car was racing along the riverbank, leaving a cloud of dust. Reave turned and looked. 'That's Baptiste himself.'

'And what's this?'

There were a pair of specks in the air above the horizon, leaving white contrails against the blue of the sky.

'Oh, shit, they do have aircraft.'

The specks were growing rapidly bigger and taking on recognizable shapes.

'A pair of box-wing deltas. I wonder where the hell Baprtiste recruited them from.'

The two identical dark blue needle-nosed aircraft with strange box-kite wing formations were coming in fast and low. They swept over the line of raiders in a roar of rocket motors. Their nose-mounted cannons began to flash and stammer. They roared over the Palanaquii squares little more than ten feet off theground, strafing as they went. While the dead fell and the dying kicked and screamed, the survivors rigidly held their position. Again there was no attempt to find cover, and no order was given to do so. As the leading plane approached the city wall, it lifted. The Minstrel Boy sprang at Reave and pushed him down into the shelter of the parapet. A line of small explosions stitched their way across the gatehouse roof. They lay huddled beneath the wall as the second plane followed the first. When it passed, the Minstrel Boy scrambled to his feet.

'WeVe got to get down from here before they come back.'

The two planes screamed on across the city, following the path of the main central boulevard. Halfway to the pyramid the first aircraft loosed the rocket that was slung beneath its fuselage. The rocket hit the pyramid about two-thirds of the way up in a burst of red fire and black smoke. The targeting of the Great Pyramid might have been a fine piece of symbolism, but for tactical effect it was a complete waste of ammunition. The marble surface was burned and shattered, but the underlying stone structure was virtually indestructible. Before the second delta could fire, there was the roar of a third motor.

'What the fuck does he think he's doing?'

Jet Ace was rising straight up into the air, his dorsal rocket firing at full power.

'Does he really believe he can take on both of them?'

'He's always wanted to be a hero.'

The deltas had spotted the flying man and were turning to meet him. The leader opened fire, but Jet Ace executed a quick forward loop. He extended his right arm and loosed a massive focused heat blast. It struck the first plane directly in front of the rocket housing, and the delta blew apart like a bomb going off. Debris spiraled down over the city. Watching the spectacle. Reave and the Minstrel Boy completely forgot about their own safety.

'He got one! He goddamn got one!'

'Watch out for the other one, Ace! He's above you!'

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.'