Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys

'Looks pretty busy down there.'

'Oh, sure, they know how to party in Palanaque. Only trouble is everything has to have some bullshit religious significance. Gets in the way of old-fashioned material fun.'

Billy continued to stare out of the gallery windows. 'So where do you think we're going to land this thing?'

The answer came from behind. 'We will put it down right in front of the pyramid.'

Everyone turned in surprise to see Showcross Gee standing there with the other metaphysicians in back of him. Reave wished that they would not sneak around the way they did.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Isn't that a little aggressive?'

'We have to exact our due respect from Great Master Parshew-a-Thar and his people.'

'Exact? We're refugees. Do you really think we should be exacting anything?'

'We are the twenty-seven metaphysicians of Krystaleit.'

'So we drop in on them like gods from the skies.'

'That is an exaggeration.'

The PA intrupted the exchange. 'Reave Mekonta?'

'Yo.'

'We are receiving electrical radio messages from the ground. Do you wish to answer them?'

'What do they want?'

'They wish us to identify ourselves. They seem to fear that we have hostile intent.'

Reave looked at Showcross Gee. 'You want to handle this?'

Showcross Gee shook his head. 'You are the bodyguards. This is your responsibility. We wish to set down exactly in front of the Great Pyramid.'

Reave sighed. 'Whatever you say, boss.' He turned to Billy. 'You come with me. The rest of you stay here.'

In the control room Reave was handed an antique microphone. A voice was coming from an equally ancient speaker.

'Palanaque ground to unidentified airship. You have violated our reality and airspace. Please identify yourself.'

'We are Airship R1009 out of Krystaleit.'

'Please say again, R1009.'

Reave repeated it. 'I say again, we are Airship R1009 out of Krystaleit.'

There was a long pause. When the radio voice came back, it was flat and hard. 'Krystaleit is no longer.'

'We were the last ship out.'

'To whom are we speaking?'

'I am Reave Mekonta, Master of Arms on the R1009.'

Reave had remembered Blaisdell's warning that they might have to do some fast talking if they wanted to keep their weapons. It was never too early to start laying the groundwork.

'Who else is on the ship?'

'The twenty-seven metaphysicians of Krystaleit.'

'We cannot allow you to land.'

'Why not?'

'It is inauspicious. We are in the middle of the Cha'a festival.'

That certainly did not sound like the tolerance Showcross Gee had talked about. Billy grimaced.

'Maybe the top banana here doesn't want any competition. That's often the way of it among the devout.'

Reave covered the microphone with his hand. 'Any ideas?'

'Tell him the ship's busted, and if we don't land, we'll crash into the pyramid.'

Reave spoke into the mike. 'Our ship has been badly damaged in an encounter with a disrupter. We have to land. I say again, we are damaged and have to land.'

There was another long pause. Then the reply came. 'R1009, you have permission to land.'

'Thank you, Palanaque ground.'

Reave grinned and handed the mike back to the nearest crewman. 'Take her down, right in front of the pyramid, if you please.'

The R1009 slowly circled. The four underside-mounted spotlights that were still intact probed down into the Palanaque darkness, crossing lush parkland and the roofs of geometric single-story buildings, and closed on the Great Pyramid with a definite inevitability. In front of the pyramid there was a wide area of hewn white stone, a plaza with more steps of its own leading up to it. One of the crew members glanced at Reave, and Reave nodded.

'That looks like our spot.'

Unfortunately, the plaza was crowded with people, presumably out celebrating Cha'a.

'Just float overhead, holding a steady position. I'm afraid we're going to have to break up the festivities.'

Close up, the pyramid proved to be exceptionally large, the equivalent of fifty or so stories. The R1009 hung over the plaza at about half its height, a giant, battered silver cigar with four beams of light stabbing down. At first the people on the plaza just stared, as though mesmerized by the visitation. It did not seem to occur to them that the ship might be preparing to come down.

Reave looked down at the situation and then turned to the crewman who was waiting on his orders. 'Start slowly taking her down. Let's show them what we mean to do.'

The R1009 started to descend. The people on the plaza seemed to get the message, and those directly beneath the ship began to back away.

The radio crackled into irate life. 'R1009, this is Palanaque ground. You cannot land at the point you are approaching. I repeat, you cannot land at the point you intend.'

Reave held out his hand for the microphone. 'We're coming down. We have no more power. R1009 out.'

A phalanx of soldiers or militia in white kilts and tunics and carrying long batons cut through the crowd and then formed a square in the center of the plaza. The square quickly expanded to become a growing cordon, herding the celebrants away from the area where the airship would touch down. When everyone was clear below, one of the crew members cut in the mooring beams; like radiant, green fingers, they drew the R1009 to the ground.

Reave hurried back to where the others were waiting. 'We seem to have gained ourselves a reception committee. They don't look to be anything more than spear throwers, but it's good to be careful. We haven't endeared ourselves to anyone here so far. What I suggest is, as soon as the ramp's down, we walk out with our weapons in full view in a discreet show of force.' He glanced back to where Showcross Gee still waited with the other metaphysicians. 'If, of course, that meets with your approval.'

Showcross Gee nodded. 'I see no harm in an initial show of force if Palanaque is being difficult. There must be no violence, however. No violence, under any circumstances.'

'If we're attacked, we reserve the right to return fire. I think you'll find that in the contracts.' Reave was getting heartily sick of Showcross Gee and his detachment.

The ramp lowered, and the main port slid open. By the time the ship touched down, the seven contract warriors were ready. They stood in the port bay with their weapons either cradled in their arms or down at their sides. As soon as the port was fully open, they advanced with purposeful strides and grim expressions. But the soldiers of Palanaque did not look like any particular threat. They were built more for ceremony than for speed, their short, pleated kilts and sleeveless tunics as spotless as the metaphysicians' bodysuits. Their only weapons were polished ten-foot batons, like double-sized pool cues. They might be good for crowd control on a religious holiday, but Billy's multiplex alone was capable of taking out the whole phalanx in under a minute. Stent, in his battle suit, could probably do the job in half the time.

The seven halted at the bottom of the ramp. They had taken only one step out onto the stones of Palanaque when what wasclearly an authority figure pushed through the cordon of soldiers with the attitude of a man who liked to be obeyed. His costume was a more lavish version of that worn by the soldiers with the batons. His kilt reached to his ankles, and instead of the simple sleeveless tunic, he wore a long white surcoat with sun and moon symbols worked into the fabric in gold. It was unclear whether he was a priest or a military officer. For all Reave knew he was a combination of the two.