Karr tensed, hearing noises in the corridor outside—Captain Wen and his squad.
He took a small device from his belt, cracked its outer shell like an egg, and threw the sticky innards at the far wall, where it adhered, high up, out of reach. He pulled the door open and stepped outside, then pulled it closed and locked it. His face plate still lit up, he smiled at the soldiers who were hurrying down the corridor toward him as if greeting them; then he shot Wen twice before he could say a word.
The remaining four soldiers hesitated, looking to the junior officer for their lead. Karr stared from face to face, defying them to draw a weapon, his own held firmly out before him. Then, on the count of fifteen, he dropped to the floor.
The wall next to him lit up brightly and a fraction of a second later, the door blew out.
Karr got up and went through the shattered doorway quickly, ignoring the fallen men behind him. The cell was devastated, the outer wall gone. Bits of flesh and bone lay everywhere, unrecognizable as parts of living men.
He stood there a moment, looking down at the thermometer on the sleeve of his suit. The temperature in the room was dropping rapidly. They would have to address that problem quickly or the generators that powered the pumps would shut down. Not only that, but they would have to do something about the loss of air pressure within the station.
Karr crossed to the far side of the room and stepped outside, onto the sands. Debris from the blast lay everywhere. He turned and looked back at the devastation within. Was that okay? he asked silently. Did that satisfy your desire for vengeance, Li Shai Tung? For the T'ang was watching everything. All that Karr saw, he saw— the signal sent back more than four hundred million li through space.
He shrugged, then tapped the buttons at his wrist, making contact with the pilot.
"I'm on the sands to the west of the pipeline, near where the explosion just happened. Pick me up at once."
"At once, Major."
He turned back and fired two warning shots into the empty doorway, then strode out across the sands, positioning himself in a kneeling stance, facing the station.
Part of him saw the craft lift up over the massive pipeline and drop toward him, while another part of him was watching the doorway for any sign of activity. Then he was aboard, the craft climbing again, and he had other things to think of. There was a gun turret built into the side of the station. Nothing fancy, but its gun could easily bring down a light two-man craft like their own. As they lifted he saw it begin to turn and leaned across the pilot to prime the ship's missiles, then sent two silkworms hurtling down into the side of the dome.
A huge fireball rose into the sky, rolling over and over upon itself. A moment later the blast rocked the tiny craft.
"Kuan Yin!!" screamed the pilot. "What in hell's name are you doing?"
Karr glared at the young Han. "Just fly!"
"But the station . . ."
The big dome had collapsed. The two nearest domes were on fire. People were spilling from the nearby buildings, shocked, horrified by what they saw. As Karr lifted up and away from the settlement, he saw the end of the fractured pipeline buckle and then lift slowly into the air, like a giant worm, water gushing from a dozen broken conduits, cooling rapidly in the frigid air.
"Ai ya!" said the young pilot, his voice pained and anxious. "It's a disaster! What have you done, Major Kan:? What have you done?"
"I've finished it," Karr answered him, angry that the boy should make so much of a little water. "I've ended the War."
FOUR hundred million li away, back on Chung Kuo, DeVore strode into a room and looked about him. The room was sparsely furnished, undecorated save for a flag that was pinned to the wall behind the table, its design the white stylized outline of a fish against a blue background. At the table sat five people: three men and two women. They wore simple, light-blue uniforms on which no sign of rank or merit was displayed. Two of them—one male, one female—were Han. This last surprised DeVore. He had heard rumors that the Ping Tiao hated the Han. No matter. They hated authority, and that was good enough. He could use them, Han in their ranks or no. "What do you want?"
The speaker was the man at the center of the five; a short stocky man with dark intense eyes, fleshy lips, and a long nose. His brow was long, his thin gray hair receding. DeVore knew him from the report. Gesell was his name. Bent Gesell. He was their leader or at least the man to whom this strange organization of so-called equal individuals looked for their direction.
DeVore smiled, then nodded toward the table, indicating the transparent grid that was laid out before Gesell. "You have the map, I see."
Gesell narrowed his eyes, studying him a moment. "Half of it, anyway. But that's your point, isn't it, Shih Turner? Or am I wrong?"
DeVore nodded, looking from face to face, seeing at once how suspicious they were of him. They were of a mind to reject his proposal, whatever it might be. But that was as he had expected. He had never thought this would be easy.
"I want to make a deal with you—the other half of that map, and more like it, for your cooperation in a few schemes of mine."
Gesell's nostrils dilated, his eyes hardened. "We are not criminals, Shih Turner, whatever the media says about us. We are Ko Ming. Revolutionaries."
The Fifty-Ninth Stone 9
DeVore stared back at Gesell challengingly. "Did I say otherwise?"
"Then I repeat. What do you want?"
DeVore smiled. "I want what you want. To destroy the Seven. To bring it all down and start again."
Gesell's smile was ugly. "Fine rhetoric. But can you support your words?"
DeVore's smile widened. "That packet your men took from me. Ask one of them to bring it in."
Gesell hesitated, then indicated to the guard who stood behind DeVore that he should do so. He returned a moment later with the small sealed package, handing it to Gesell.
"If this is a device of some kind . . ." Gesell began. But DeVore shook his head.
"You asked what proof I have of my intentions. Well, inside that package you'll find a human ear. The ear of the late T'ang of Africa, Wang Hsien."
There was a gasp from the others at the table, but Gesell was cool about it. He left the package untouched. "Half a map and an ear. Are these your only credentials, Shih Turner? The map could be of anything, the ear anyone's."
He's merely playing now, thought DeVore; impressing on the others how wise he is, how cautious. Because he, at least, will have had the map checked out and will know it is of the Security arsenal at Helmstadt Canton. Likewise with the ear. He knows how easy it is to check the authenticity of the genetic material.
He decided to push. "They might. But you believe otherwise. It must interest you to know how I could get hold of such things."
Gesell laughed. "Perhaps you're a thief, Shih Turner."
DeVore ignored the insult but stored it in memory. He would have his revenge for that.
"The ear is easy to explain. I had Wang Hsien assassinated."
Gesell's laughter was harder; it registered his disbelief. "Then why come to us? If you can have a T'ang murdered so easily, what need have you for such"—he looked about him humorously "—small fish as we Ping Tiao?"
DeVore smiled. "I came here because the War has entered a new phase. And because I believe I can trust you."
"Trust us?" Gesell studied him closely, looking for any trace of irony in the words. "Yes. Perhaps you could. But can we trust you, Shih Turner? And should we even consider trusting you? I mean, what are your real motives for coming here today? Is it really as you say—to ally with us to bring down the Seven? Or do you simply want to use us?"