Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys

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.'