Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys

The communications center was another part of the fantasy. It was a cool, austere underground bunker that looked more liice a burial chamber than a vital link with the outside world. Its equipment was faced in ivory Bakelite with very few visible controls. It relied almost totally on prox panels that were activated by passes of the hands, which gave the normal working of the place a quasi-magical air. Even the screen in front of them was an oversized approximation of the traditional crystal ball. The Minstrel Boy hated the whole setup. He felt that only those who were spiritually insecure in the extreme needed to cloak honest hardware with mysticism.

In addition to Palanaque's religious hierarchy, Showcross Gee and three other metaphysicians also waited and watched. They looked almost as concerned as the Palanaquii, and their anxiety was a little more understandable. Having had one city shot out from underneath them already, it was hard for them to maintain the face of tranquillity when an unidentified something appeared in the nothings.

'So what is your considered opinion?'

Reave and the Minstrel Boy turned and faced Showcross Gee. 'It's not much to go on.'

'But you must have some ideas as to the nature of this object.'

'We have a couple of guesses, nothing more.'

'So tell us your guesses.'

The Minstrel Boy looked to Reave to do the talking, but Reave deferred to him. 'You're the one who knows all about this shit.'

The Minstrel Boy took a deep breath and faced the preposterous gathering. 'The way that we see it, it's most likely a mass of people, all with synced individual stasis generators, either moving on foot or riding lizards.'

Parshew-a-Thar's voice practically squeaked with anxiety. 'Isn't that the way the raiders travel?'

The Minstrel boy nodded. 'It is.'

'You think these are raiders?'

The Minstrel Boy shrugged. 'There's no way of telling. I tend to doubt it. We have to assume that the large force was destroyed when they blew up Krystaleit. It seems unlikely that another force could assemble so quickly.'

That did not do much to allay their fears.

'But it could be a raiding force?'

'Anything's possible.'

'What can we do if it is a raiding force?'

'Off the cuff, I'd say that we were screwed.'

The beloved Master looked as though he were going to explode. As a demigod, he was not accustomed to the MinstrelBoy's direct approach. He was aflutter with bird gesture; 'What did you say?'

There were angry murmurings among the courtiers.

The Minstrel Boy raised his hands. 'Let's all calm down a minute. All that's happened so far is that we've spotted an object in the nothings. For all we know it's a party of harmless refugees.'

Parshew-a-Thar was petulant. 'There is no room here for refugees.'

'That's hardly the point.'

'What is the point?'

The Minstrel Boy was becoming a little impatient with the beloved Master's falsetto voice and patent stupidity. 'I think that the point is that you need to stop panicking and make some preparations to deal with the arrival of this object, whatever it might be.'

Showcross Gee attempted to restore some measure of reason into the meeting. 'Do you have any specific suggestions?'

The Minstrel Boy glanced at Reave, who took over.

'The obvious first move is to put your military on some sort of limited alert. I assume that you have a functioning militaiy over and above the ceremonial guard.'

Parshew-a-Thar was taking serious exception to the manners of the outsiders. His baby face was a mottled purple, and he seemed to be having difficulty restraining a temper tantrum. 'Of course we have a military. I will relay your suggestion to General Zeum.'

'They'll have to be armed with something a bit more substantial than oversized pool cues.'

Parshew-a-Thar glared venomously at Reave and the Minstrel Boy. 'Since you seem to have such little confidence in our capability to defend ourselves, I see that I will have to arrange a demonstration for you and your companions. I will order General Zeum to parade the entire Grand Army at high noon tomorrow in full battle array.' He turned to a nearby courtier. 'You will implement that immediately.' The courtier produced a scriber and tablet. He made a quick note and then hurried from the communications center. Parshew-a-Thar glanced back to Reave. 'Is there anything else?'

'Nothing else we can do except keep monitoring the progress of whatever this thing is.'

The beloved Master made a dismissive gesture. 'In that case, this audience is at an end.'

He waved for his nefrites. As he was borne away in his litter, Reave muttered under his breath, 'Yeah, it's been real.'

The following high noon found the seven out in the bright sun, on the flat, glaring white roof of one of the twin gate towers. They were dressed in their freshly cleaned travel clothes, and their weapons were held in plain sight. Even Lister Stent had made some effort for the martial occasion: All through the night a half dozen house girls had climbed all over him, sanding and polishing his ancient armor to the point where he gleamed in the sun. The seven were accompanied by Dass-el-Hame and a number of his aides. Showcross Gee and the other three metaphysicians who had been present in the communications center were there, too. They seemed to constitute the committee that dealt with the outside world while the other twenty-three were holed up in the Great Pyramid doing their mysterious research work. General Zeum was also on the roof. It was hard to gauge the metal men's response, but the remainder of the seven took an instant and open dislike to the general. General Zeum was a tall, smugly good-looking man decked out in a white tunic and cloak and gold Romanesque body armor. He appeared to be so fundamentally pleased with himself that he was totally impervious to outside suggestion. His response to all comment was to flash his perfect teeth in a slightly patronizing smile and assure whoever had spoken that they had nothing to worry about.

A wide, straight palm-lined boulevard led from the city gates directly to the base of the Great Pyramid. The Grand Army had been assembled at the foot of the pyramid. From there, they would march in formations down the boulevard, out of the gates, and on to the flatlands beside the river, where they would perform simulated combat maneuvers. The term 'Grand Army' was an unashamed exaggeration, considering that the force was little more than a thousand strong, although it did seem perfectly in keeping with what the seven had observed of the characters of General Zeum and the beloved Master.

A braying fanfare of trumpets and a thunder of kettledrums announced the opening of the show. The Grand Army started down the boulevard in half-time lockstep. The crowds that thronged both sides of the route had brought flags, bells, and noisemakers, almost certainly left over from the Cha'a festivities, and they made an atonal counterpoint to the slow crash of drums. As the ranks of white tunics came closer to the gates, looks of complete disbelief came over the faces of the seven. Billy, Reave, and Renatta hurried to where Zeum was standing, looking proudly down at his men. Reave faced him angrily.

'What the hell is going on?'