Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys

Reave was moving toward him. 'Not now, pal. Don't thousand-yard us. It's not the time for it.'

The Minstrel Boy looked Reave straight in the eye. 'Just the three of us left. You, me, and him. How is it that we always make it through? Because we're the flicking DNA Cowboys? Is that why they're dead and we're not?'

He swung around and hurled the AK angrily away from him. It hit the floor with a crash and skidded across the smooth, polished stone.

'Why the fuck didn't they get me, too?'

He was bitter and close to hysterical, but he seemed to have come out of the shock.

Showcross Gee was suddenly there, although no one had seen him step out of the darkness.

'When you gentlemen are through with your emotions, perhaps you would follow me?'

It was hardly a surprise that humanity ended in the way that it did. It had been trying for long enough. It was also probably a very good thing that they finally succeeded. If they'd ever managed to reconstruct their reality, the trouble that might have caused could have been of truly cosmic proportions. I am well aware that there are those among the New Generation who argue that we originals, who made the step into this afterlife, must have brought at least a vestige of humanity with us. This is a fundamental error. The final discorporation purged all humanity from us. After our departure there was nothing but the Cataclysm.

— Pressdra Vishnaiia

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Showcross Gee extended an arm, inviting the DNA Cowboys to enter the strange shiftspace room.

'Right now we are powering up for the final transference.'

All signs of construction had gone from the place. The disk on the floor was fully complete and was suffused with a strange radiant energy, like a shaped block of marble in which colored veins pulsed with iridescent light. The underside of the floating pyramid rock was mirroring the glow. The other twenty-six metaphysicians were standing in a circle around the large disk. Their eyes were closed, and they seemed to be locked in deep concentration.

'It will be a half hour before we achieve full power and are able to make the crossing.'

Showcross Gee had still not adequately explained exactly what the crossing was. The Minstrel Boy had folded into himself, but Billy leaned close to Reave.

'What do you figure this rig is? Some sort of matter sender?'

Reave shrugged. 'I'm damned if I know. Apart from maybe Stuff Central, I never heard of anything that could beam matter through the nothings.'

'Maybe they cracked the secret.'

'Maybe. All things are possible.'

Showcross Gee caught the end of their conversation. 'Please be patient, gentlemen. I have to concentrate for the power-up right now, but all your questions will be answered when the time comes. Perhaps, for the moment, you should simply observe how Baptiste is treating his newly found city and be thankful that you are not still out there.'

A pseudosurface on one of the triangular walls of the chamber showed multiple images from the snoopers that continued to move around the city.

The Minstrel Boy eyed Showcross Gee coldly. 'Some of our number are still out there.'

'That was unfortunate but unavoidable.'

'You could have let us into the pyramid a whole lot sooner.'

Showcross Gee was equally cold. 'I can't discuss this right now.'

The Minstrel Boy's lip curled. 'Yeah, right.'

Baptiste was treating Palanaque little better than any other settlement he had conquered. The bodies of the beloved Master, Zeum, and most of the court, including Dass-el-Hame, were already dangling, faces blue and tongues protruding, from ropes beneath the archway of the main gate. Their frantic last-ditch bargaining had not saved their lives, after all. The DNA Cowboys observed them with the grimly sick satisfaction of men whose worst fears had been confirmed. Zeum had gone to his death calmly, keeping his military bearing to the very end. Parshew-a-Thar, on the other hand, had kicked and screamed until the very moment he was dropped into empty air.

As it turned out, Baptiste was not actually razing the city. His men were going from block to block looting and raping, killing any citizens who got in their way or protested. There were also many citizens put to the sword simply on a whim or for the amusement of individual raiders. The Old Metal Monster was leading his usual band of torturers. There was, however, a certain restraint in the destruction and slaughter. The buildings were not being torched, and the slave class — the stepfords and the epsilons — were being noticeably preserved. Also, no one as yet was being eaten.

'It really does look as though Baptiste's getting himself a city.'

'He's welcome to it.'

'Can you imagine what it's going to be like after he's been running the place for a couple of weeks?'

By some unpleasant synchronicity, the moment Billy spoke Baptiste's name, his image appeared on the pseudosurface. A snooper seemed to be homing in on him. He was standing on the roof of one of the taller buildings in a characteristic pose, legs spread, shoulders hunched, and hands clasped behind his back, watching his men going about their business. Every now and then he would stare thoughtfully at the pyramid. The snooper was getting closer and closer, until it had the warlord in a tight profile close-up so that every dirt-encrusted line in his face was shown in detailed relief.

'If that thing doesn't back off, he's going to see it.'

And see it he did. He moved like a striking snake, trapping the small cylindrical snooper in one glovd hand. His eyes were hidden behind the black goggles, but he was clearly looking into the sensor jewel.

'I suppose this is one of your toys, Showcross Gee. How long do you think you're going to be able to remain shut up in that pile of stones?'

Reave turned. Showcross Gee had left the circle of metaphysicians and was staring at the image of Vlad Baptiste.

'He knows your name?'

Showcross Gee nodded. 'Of course he knows my name. He knows the names of everyone here.'

Baptiste had raised the snooper close to his face. His huge image filled the wall. There was something both bizarre and unnerving about the way that, while the silent circle of metaphysicians focused their most intense concentration, the hugely magnified features of their greatest enemy loomed over them.

'Unless you choose to remain in there until you starve to death, you will eventually have to come out. I will be waiting, Showcross Gee. You can count on that. You will have to face me.'

Reave felt a chill. The only consolation was that Baptiste had no idea what was really going on inside the pyramid. If he had, he would probably have set the unfortunate Palanaquii to tearing it down stone by stone. Not that Reave could take much comfort from that thought. He had no guarantee that the weird device was going to really get them out of there. They were still taking the metaphysicians absolutely on trust simply because there was no alternative.

The image of Baptiste abruptly vanished. He must have crushed the snooper in his fist. Showcross Gee turned away from the pseudosurface and addressed the DNA Cowboys.

'Observe the disk.'

The disk had started to revolve slowly. It also appeared to be sinking into the floor of the chamber, except that "sinking" was not the right word. It was certainly moving downward, but the floor of the chamber was curving to accommodate it. The previously solid stone was forming a shallow but rapidly deepening conical bowl. Matter was actually being bent.

'When your name is called, you will step out onto the disk.'

Reave stepped in front of Showcross Gee. 'I think it's time you told us where we re going.'