Carnifex. Part 45

"s.h.i.tting you about what, Top?" Carrera asked. "You and I are just simple soldiers. This kind of thing-an airship honeymoon to tour all of Colombia del Norte-seems too much to us. But she she is...was Miss Balboa and she will, by G.o.d, have a honeymoon to set the continent wild." is...was Miss Balboa and she will, by G.o.d, have a honeymoon to set the continent wild."

McNamara scoffed. "T'at ain't it, you sneaky b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I know you. You ain't t'at nice. What you're doing is sending us on a whirlwind recruitin' tour, ain't you?"

Rather than deny it, exactly, Carrera answered, "Siegel's going with you as a sort of aide de camp. You and he and Arti are going to entertain every G.o.dd.a.m.ned General Staff in Colombia Latina on your trip."

"T'at's nonsense, boss, no offense. T'ose arrogant a.s.sholes won't even talk to no non-com. Not even one wit' Miss Balboa on his arm."

"Who says you're a non-com?" Carrera asked. He pointed at Siegel, standing not far away. Siegel came running bearing a carved silverwood box about two feet in length and perhaps four inches on a side. Siegel, wearing a huge smirk, stopped, standing at attention and holding the box out. Carrera opened it and drew from it a baton, about eighteen inches in length and an inch in diameter. The baton was gold colored, as were all sergeants major's batons. This one, however, was encircled by harpy eagles spiraling down its length. They looked like, and were, solid gold. There was a jewelry store in Ciudad Ciudad Balboa that Balboa that really really wanted to keep in the Legion's good graces. wanted to keep in the Legion's good graces.

The crowd hushed. Rumors had suggested something like this. At the central reviewing stand Tom Christian announced, "Attention to orders."

"You see, Top," Carrera explained, "there was was such a thing as a praetorian prefect. Then, too, the origin of your rank, back on Old Earth, was "Sergeant Major- such a thing as a praetorian prefect. Then, too, the origin of your rank, back on Old Earth, was "Sergeant Major-General ..." ..."

What was probably the most finely tuned, spotlessly clean armored vehicle not merely on this world, but on two worlds and in the history of two worlds, pulled up by the gazebo. The band picked up the Wedding March again while Mac and Artemisia, both still in white, walked to it. They were pelted by rice and chorley seed the entire way.

At the tank, McNamara put his hands on Arti's still-narrow waist and lifted her to a cushion thoughtfully placed behind the turret. He then scrambled up to stand atop the tank where he bent to lift his new wife to her feet. Gently-no mean feat given the nature of Volgan-built tanks-the armored vehicle trundled off to just underneath the airship. There, they dismounted in reverse order and began to ascend the gangway the airship had lowered. They stopped twice on the way up, Artemisia with tears in her eyes, to wave to the crowd.

Waving back, crying, Lourdes whispered to her husband, "Weddings do something to me. They make me h.o.r.n.y. Take me home and f.u.c.k me. Now."

"Orders are orders," Carrera answered, reaching over gently to wipe away the tears flowing from Lourdes' huge brown eyes. "And those orders, my lovely wife, are always a joy to obey."

5/7/468 AC, Quarters Number One, Isla Real Hamilcar had inherited the huge size of his mother's eyes, along with a blend of color from both parents. His were a brilliant green with the same dark circles around the iris that gave his father's such a frighteningly penetrating quality. He turned those big green eyes up at his mother and said, "Mama, can I ask you for something?"

Lourdes, puttering in the kitchen, stopped what she was doing, looked down at her eldest and said, "Yes, of course, baby. What is it?"

"When daddy goes back to the war...Mama, I want to go with him."

Christ, no, not my baby, too.

"You're too small," she answered. "You're only four. When you're a grown man of five we'll discuss this again."

"Does that mean I can go when I'm five?"

"No, it means we'll discuss it. Then. Not before."

This was not an entirely satisfactory answer so Hamilcar upped the stakes. "Mama, if you don't tell me I can go when I'm five...I'll go over your head." He heard someone or another of his daddy's soldiers use that expression. He was pretty sure he understood what it meant.

Lourdes did did understand what it meant. He'd go to his father to ask permission. understand what it meant. He'd go to his father to ask permission. Which Patricio just might give. And what objections will I have? I kept Hamilcar in the war zone for almost two years when he was a baby, just so I could be with my husband. I Which Patricio just might give. And what objections will I have? I kept Hamilcar in the war zone for almost two years when he was a baby, just so I could be with my husband. I can't can't object to him being there now that's he's past being a baby. object to him being there now that's he's past being a baby.

"Do you want to break your mother's heart, Ham?" she asked.

"No."

"Then please don't 'go over my head.' Wait until you're five and we will will discuss it." discuss it."

Five is not so long a wait. "All right, Mama. But if you don't let me go then, I'll go over your head." "All right, Mama. But if you don't let me go then, I'll go over your head."

Interlude

7/9/49 AC, Balboa Colony, Terra Nova In the thick Balboan night, with monkeys and antaniae and even the occasional trixie filling the air with sound, with the steady drone of mosquitoes in their ears, the Gurkha Rifles and the Sikh Pioneers bivouacked close together and well away from the ad hoc OAU infantry battalion. Frankly, while the Gurkhas and Sikhs got along just fine, neither could stand the undisciplined rabble from the OAU. Less still could Majors Dhan Singh Pandey and Amita Kaur Bhago stand the...

"Overbred, cowardly, stuffed shirt, little boy bunging, limey b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Duff-McQueeg," as Amita usually phrased it.

"Please, Amita, be charitable," Dhan chided. "After all, we don't know know he's a coward. Personally, I think he only stays with the OAU troops for the little boys they keep for him." he's a coward. Personally, I think he only stays with the OAU troops for the little boys they keep for him."

"We'll see about that when the fighting starts," the Kaur answered, automatically killing a mosquito that had landed on her wrist.

"I don't know fighting ever start," said Company Sergeant Major Rambahadur Thapa, of Pandey's company. "We are end of supply trail, sahib sahib. And jungle boys pretty good at keeping away."

That was true enough; Pandey's shrug admitted it. So far into the jungle and so far from any road was the task force that resupply depended on helicopters and shuttles. But the force was literally at the maximum distance the helicopters available could support. Another kilometer and the excess wear would begin to overwhelm the maintenance staff.

"We could drive twice as far or more without the OAU acting as a dead weight," Amita said. "Though in that case the task force commander would have no little boys. Worse, he'd be with us."

Dhan Singh Pandey opened his mouth to speak when the jungle erupted in heavy automatic fire coming from the direction of the OAU bivouac. He was about to call for his radio bearer when Amita held up her hand.

"I didn't hear anything," she said. "Sergeant Major?"

"Not me."

"Sir, call from the OAU," the radioman announced.

Pandey thought about that for half a second and said, "I'm sure you're mistaken, Naik Naik."

Belisario hadn't rushed it. New weapons were fine. New weapons his men didn't know how to use were just expensive clubs. He'd spent a month just in training with the new rifles and machine guns and another two weeks in feeling out the enemy. In the process, he noticed something interesting. The Gurkhas would come running to help the Sikhs, and vice versa. But when he probed the OAU, or someone sniped at them, both Gurkhas and Sikhs indicated a profound disinterest.

This night, he'd decided to risk an attack. A full full attack. attack.

In the privacy of his tent Duff-McQueeg held a local boy, down on all fours, firmly by the hips while moving his own in a steady, rhythmic stroke. He was suddenly interrupted by the sound of heavy gunfire. He was tempted to ignore it, but then Warrant Officer Bourguet ripped open the tent flap and announced, breathlessly, "Sir...sir...the enemy..."

A large red stain suddenly blossomed on Bourguet's t-shirt, visible through his unb.u.t.toned uniform jacket. Wordlessly, the warrant officer crumpled to the ground. His hands remained gripped to the material of the tent, which followed the heavyset warrant to the ground. Duff-McQueeg, and the boy, were trapped underneath. By the time Duff-McQueeg could extract himself from both the boy and the tent, he emerged to find a smoking muzzle pressed to the side of his head.

"Senor Carrera, aqui!"

"Bring him out, Pedro," Belisario said. He was almost embarra.s.sed for the prisoner when he smelt the odor of s.h.i.t. Then he realized the man had not shat himself and sympathy changed to disgust.

The tent material wriggled and distorted.

"Whoever you are, come out," Pedro ordered.

The boy emerged, pulling his threadbare trousers up.

"Chico, Belisario asked, "were you with this man by your own will?"

The boy spat at Duff-McQueeg and said, "They stole me from my village."

Belisario nodded grimly and said, to Pedro, "Get a rope."

The boy, with a look of utter hatred in his eyes asked, "Can I have a gun?"

Chapter Eighteen.

There is no love untouched by hate No unity without discord There is no courage without fear There is no peace without a war-Cruxshadows, Eye of the Storm Eye of the Storm

8/7/468 AC, Runnistan, Pashtia Rachman was terrified; Tribune David Cano could see it in his eyes. Yet the fierce Pashtun would rather die in horrible agony than ever admit to feeling the slightest fear.

And why the h.e.l.l shouldn't he be terrified, Cano thought. Cano thought. Poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d's never been up in a helicopter before. He's never even flown before. If I were him, I'd be s.h.i.tting myself. What a Poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d's never been up in a helicopter before. He's never even flown before. If I were him, I'd be s.h.i.tting myself. What a great great people these are. What a formidable people. people these are. What a formidable people.

It had been this way since he'd first been a.s.signed to the Pashtun scouts. Everything Everything about them impressed Cano. Everything about them he liked. Were they rough men? Yes and so was he. Were they crude and uncultured, ignorant and savage? about them impressed Cano. Everything about them he liked. Were they rough men? Yes and so was he. Were they crude and uncultured, ignorant and savage?

Well, what was I but an ignorant ridge runner before the Legion picked me up and sent me to school? My only skill was riding a horse. But these people aren't stupid, no more than I was. They're just uneducated...and that can be fixed.

Cano had the oddest feeling, in accompanying Rachman and a hundred and nineteen of his fellow tribesman going to their home villages on leave, that he he was going home as well. He'd fit in so well with these men, enjoyed their company and their comradeship so much, that he just was going home as well. He'd fit in so well with these men, enjoyed their company and their comradeship so much, that he just knew knew he was going to belong, and perhaps better than he'd ever belonged anywhere before. he was going to belong, and perhaps better than he'd ever belonged anywhere before.

He felt Rachman's fist pounding his shoulder and looked over. The look of fear in Rachman's eyes had disappeared as the Pashtun gestured enthusiastically at what appeared to be a nothing-much village a few thousand feet below.

"Home," Rachman announced over the thrum thrum of the Volgan-built IM-71. And again, with a mix of satisfaction and exuberance, "David, we are almost of the Volgan-built IM-71. And again, with a mix of satisfaction and exuberance, "David, we are almost home home."

8/7/468 AC, BdL Dos Lindas, Hajipur, Sind The moons Hecate and Eris were high, the former full and the latter in three quarters. The bay of Hajipur was bright under the light of the moons.

In the bay, surrounded by her escorts seaward and her infantry force on the dock, with sailors and Cazadors manning the guns, Dos Lindas Dos Lindas sang with the ring of the hammers and the rushing crackle of the welding machines. She sang, too, with the sing-song speech of the local shipfitters who still swarmed her like industrious bees. sang with the ring of the hammers and the rushing crackle of the welding machines. She sang, too, with the sing-song speech of the local shipfitters who still swarmed her like industrious bees.

"She be good as new, soon, Skipper" said the master of the shipfitters. "Better den new."

Fosa knew it was true. Not only had the local boys, and a few girls, patched her up, they'd identified weaknesses and worn spots in the hull, seen a few places that wouldn't be the worse for a little extra bracing, and fixed all that as well. The laser topside, blown off by the near miss of a cruise missile, was replaced, as was every wrecked forty- and twenty-millimeter cannon, and .41-caliber machine gun. Even the lost crew, aviators and Cazadors were up to strength, though there had been an awful price to pay back home to do so.

All that was needed now was the rear elevator. And that was coming soon, this very night, in fact.

We shall see home again, you and I, Fosa thought as he stroked a railing atop the tower rising high above the flight deck. Fosa thought as he stroked a railing atop the tower rising high above the flight deck. We could fight even as we are. Yes, we could not launch aircraft half so well, but we could still fight, we could still avenge our fallen comrades. We could fight even as we are. Yes, we could not launch aircraft half so well, but we could still fight, we could still avenge our fallen comrades.

But we'll have our elevator, my dear ship. Tonight it comes to us. And a new sister to fight at our side. And then we go back for revenge.

Fosa looked up at a bright flash at the entrance to the bay. A split second later came the report of a large caliber gun. This was followed, thirty seconds later, by another flash and another boom boom. Again: flash... boom. boom. It went on through twenty-one blank shots, a custom that had followed man to the stars. It went on through twenty-one blank shots, a custom that had followed man to the stars.

The speakers on the bridge barked, "Barco del Legion Dos Lindas, Dos Lindas, this is BdL this is BdL Tadeo Kurita Tadeo Kurita. We're escorting your elevator. And we've got ten six-inch guns. Let's get you up to one hundred percent. And then, then, let's go hunting." let's go hunting."

10/7/468 AC, Wilc.o.x's Folly, FSC Micah Fen was fat. That was the one thing everyone everyone noticed about him. Indeed, it was the one thing impossible not to notice about him. At least, it was the one thing impossible not to notice until one came close. Within ten feet, perhaps even twenty-five if downwind, one was subjected to the foul odor of obesity necrosis that hung about him like a cloud of gnats about a dead dog's a.n.u.s. noticed about him. Indeed, it was the one thing impossible not to notice about him. At least, it was the one thing impossible not to notice until one came close. Within ten feet, perhaps even twenty-five if downwind, one was subjected to the foul odor of obesity necrosis that hung about him like a cloud of gnats about a dead dog's a.n.u.s.

Khalid had spent, oh, a lot lot of time on the GlobalNet researching his targets. of time on the GlobalNet researching his targets. And I never suspected how much the filthy swine would just plain And I never suspected how much the filthy swine would just plain stink. stink. I wonder if his mind is half so rotten as his skin. I wonder if his mind is half so rotten as his skin.

For the first several months in the Federated States Khalid had done nothing but research and planning. He already had hit plans for most of his potential targets at obvious places, their homes, their offices, their lovers' homes. He still worked on those, but spent more time now looking for the excuse to execute the hit and leave the blame on the Salafis.

I'd really never expected this one to come up within my hit parameters. Fen's been so consistent in his support of the Salafi Ikhwan, so thoroughly in their camp, I just never imagined he'd do something that would-Il hamdu l'illah-allow me to actually kill him.

It would have been better, of course, if Fen had brought his busload of gays to a mosque rather than a Nazrani Nazrani church church, Khalid thought. But that, I suppose, would have been asking for too much. After all, if nothing else, Fen can hardly have risked exposing the gays to the 'righteous, G.o.dly wrath' of the Salafis he wants them to support. So...a Nazrani Nazrani church it had to be and a church it had to be and a Nazrani Nazrani church will have to do. church will have to do.

Besides, Khalid thought, even if imperfect it's still worthwhile even to just suggest to the gays here who support Fen that they're supporting a man who would turn them over to people who would crucify them. even if imperfect it's still worthwhile even to just suggest to the gays here who support Fen that they're supporting a man who would turn them over to people who would crucify them.

Khalid liked all the targets he'd been a.s.signed, qua qua targets. Even so, it was especially pleasing, much more so than his usual hit, to be a.s.signed to take out Fen. targets. Even so, it was especially pleasing, much more so than his usual hit, to be a.s.signed to take out Fen. Who, after all, encouraged the people who blew up my family, who murdered my mother, my brother, and my angel, my poor innocent little Huriyyah. Who better deserves to die? Who, after all, encouraged the people who blew up my family, who murdered my mother, my brother, and my angel, my poor innocent little Huriyyah. Who better deserves to die?

"You never really thought about it, did you?" Khalid asked. "You never realized that, if terrorism works, it can work on you and yours?"

Fen said nothing. He couldn't; his mouth was duct taped closed even as his wrists and ankles were duct taped to the heavy chair on which he sat. Nonetheless, his piggish eyes were full of pleading terror.

Only fitting.

"You really never had a second thought for your safety, did you?" Khalid asked. "However much you lambasted your country in film and print, however much you lied, however many people you caused to be killed by encouraging their murderers, you never thought that any of it could ever come back on you you?

"Sure, I understand," Khalid said, genially, removing a small roll of duct tape from a satchel and placing in on a table near Fen. "You're Micah Fen Micah Fen, star. Retribution is for little people. You only kept a bodyguard to keep away your adoring fans."

"It was easy, you know," Khalid continued, as he checked his digital camera once again. "Get on the GlobalNet, find your touring schedule, check for chartered flights, watch for the press throng, spot you, and then follow you to your hotel. You've got security at home, and you do travel with a bodyguard." Khalid's head inclined towards the cooling corpse of Fen's bodyguard, spreading crimson on the suite's thick carpet. "But outside of your coc.o.o.n, you were really very vulnerable."

"I put on a service staff uniform I took from a hotel storage closet and checked with room service to see which room had ordered the most grotesque quant.i.ty and quality of food. That had to be you. I came to this floor and bludgeoned a maid-she'll be fine; don't worry-then hid her in a closet and took her a pa.s.skey.

"With the pa.s.skey, I just entered your suite and shot the bodyguard, twice in the chest and once in the head, with a silenced .45. By the time you woke up, you pustule, your mouth was gagged and your arm twisted behind your back. I doubt you would even have woken up if I hadn't dragged you to that chair you're taped to by your arm and s.h.a.ggy hair. You would like to know why, wouldn't you?"

Glaring at Fen's piggish face, Khalid removed from his pocket a wallet containing a family photo. He opened this and showed it to his victim. "This little girl was my sister, Huriyyah. You praised and encouraged the men who murdered her. That was enough. I'd have sucked Fernandez's d.i.c.k for the chance to kill you, but he-fine man-gave me the chance for free."

Fen shook his head emphatically. Khalid paid no attention. Instead, he put away the photo and wallet and drew from his pockets a clear plastic bag, a nail and a press release concerning Fen's pro-gay activity. Khalid had scrawled a message in Arabic on the press release. He'd use his pistol to nail the press release to Fen's forehead after the fat f.u.c.k was dead.

With the camera, Khalid took a photo of his victim, bound and gagged. He then put the camera aside and pulled a couple of inches of the duct tape roll free.

"This is really going to suck suck," he said to Fen, happily. "It's going to suck for you, I mean. I, on the other hand, am going to really really enjoy it. Take a deep breath, why don't you? No sense in making this too quick." enjoy it. Take a deep breath, why don't you? No sense in making this too quick."