Джек Макдевитт - Cryptic - The Best Short Fiction of Jack McDevitt

“I hope.” A bomb hit maybe fifty meters away. Deafened me. Covered me with dirt. But nobody got hurt. “Close one.”

“ My God, Art. Get out of there. ”

“Nowhere to go, Cath.” I was scared and felt good at the same time. Don’t ask me to explain it. “I had a visit earlier today from McCarver.”

“ Are you okay? ”

“I’m fine.”

“ How about him? ”

“Don’t know.”

“ You’re not coming back with him? ”

“You could say that.”

I could hear voices in her background. They sounded excited. “ From here it looks as if they’re raising hell. We count nine bombers. ”

“I can see four of them.”

“ Where is he now? Paul? ”

“A few blocks away, I hope. With Hassan.”

“ He let you go? ”

“Not exactly.”

“ Okay, tell me later. Go hide somewhere. ”

When it was over, I watched emergency vehicles charging through the streets. Several buildings along the perimeter of the park had been hit. They were carrying victims out into the street. Some were dead. Others were packed into ambulances and taken off.

When I’d had all I could stand, I called George in and climbed into the lander. “ Lot of excitement out there, ” he said.

“They bombed the city.”

“ I know. Everybody’s favorite dictator probably made it through. ”

“I’m sure. He’s got a rally tonight. He’ll use that to tell everyone it’ll be a long haul, but they’ll come through victorious.”

He was silent. Then: “ You’re out of rations. ”

“I know. We’ll be going back tonight.”

“ You’re going to turn yourself in? ”

“I’m not sure I see an alternative.”

“ Then why not go back now? You must be pretty hungry. ”

“I’ve something to do first.”

“ What’s that? ”

“I want to make a permanent impression on the Beloved Leader.”

He hesitated. “ How are you going to do that? ”

“You’re going to help. I’ll need the lander’s commlink.”

“ What for? ”

“Does it have a power supply of its own?’

“ No. ”

“Can we equip it so that it will?”

“ I’m not much on improvising. ”

“Can it be done? Do we have a power supply available?”

“ We have power cells, yes. Where did you want to put it? ”

“In Pierik’s quarters. And I’ll need some duct tape.”

I called Cathie. “Can you talk?”

“ Sure, ” she said. “ It’s the middle of the night, but I’m not really doing anything. ”

“Oh.” It was easy to forget something like that when, where I was, the sun was shining. “Sorry.”

“ It’s okay. What do you need? ”

“I’m going back to Sunset House.”

“ Paul will be furious. ”

“He’s already pretty unhappy.”

“ Why? ”

“I guess because I’m not taking direction well.”

“ I mean why are you going back? You should stay out of that place. What happens if you get caught? ”

“I’m going to plant a commlink.”

“ What’s the point? ”

“After Paul and Hassan haul me away, maybe somebody will listen to what goes on and eventually decide to put a stop to it.”

“ Okay, ” she said. “ You’re going to do what you want regardless of what anybody says. I think it’s crazy, though. ”

I think I wanted to hear her try harder to talk me out of it. But she said nothing. “We’ll be able to talk to him, too, if we want. Make him feel haunted.”

The rally was to be held outdoors in a concrete square festooned with flags and bunting. Banners displaying the dictator’s spruce tree were everywhere. The audience was herded in about an hour after sunset. While they waited, they were treated to music by a military band. Nok auditory sensibilities are different from those of a human. People listen to Nok music and hear only a lot of jangling and banging, with abrupt halts and starts. It was one more reason to smile condescendingly at the Noks. I didn’t know the details—still don’t—, but I was aware the range of sounds they heard was different from ours. Higher pitch or something.

A stage had been erected, lights brought in, and flower petals handed out to young females. An honor guard lined a walkway leading from a parking area to the stage. Eventually, three black military vehicles arrived. The band switched to a different piece of music and got louder. Aides jumped out of the cars. One opened a door for the Beloved Leader, and the others formed an escort. Pierik stepped out onto a gravel walkway, waved to onlookers, and mounted the stage to raucous applause. (Noks don’t clap, but they do a lot of yelling.)

There was no introduction. He simply walked out onto the stage and took his place behind a microphone. The applause intensified. He raised one hand and they fell silent.

Before saying anything, Pierik seemed to recognize someone in the audience. “Hello, Kagalon,” he said, covering the microphone but raising his voice to be heard. “How are you doing?”

Kagalon waved back, said something I couldn’t make out. The friendly dictator. The crowd loved it. They cheered, and Kagalon, who looked pretty much like everybody else out there that evening, held up his hand.

Pierik adjusted the microphone, signaled he was about to speak, and the crowd quieted. “Kaburrati,” he said, using the term which his people applied to themselves. People of Kaburra. “Hello, my friends,” he said.

And they roared back, “Hello, Kabah!”

More applause.

He laughed and waved them again to silence. “Thank you. I love to come here where I can be among my brothers and sisters.”

They cheered again. It went on like that for about ten minutes. I’ve never heard such enthusiasm in an audience. And I wondered, did I have it wrong somehow? The sentiment seemed genuine. The crowd loved him.

The energy built and crackled around the stage like electricity. He told jokes, he brought news from the war zones, he delivered reassurance. “These are hard times,” he said, “but together we will get through them.”

Somebody came out and presented him with an award. More cheering. I was struck by Pierik’s platform skills. In front of his audience, he was all showbiz.

“And now,” he said, “I know you didn’t come here to see me. Let’s bring out the troops.”

The lights blinked a few times and went off. The square was plunged into darkness, except for a flickering in back. It was a troop of Nok soldiers, shirtless for the occasion. They entered and came up the center aisle, carrying torches. They’d poured something on their upper bodies so they glistened. Pierik saluted them and they kept coming. The audience went crazy, cheering and yelling. Fireworks exploded overhead. The band started to thump and bang.

The soldiers stopped when they got to the front, where they paused, looking up at their leader. Then, in perfect synchronization, they lifted their torches to him.

When they’d gone, and the lights were back on, Pierik looked out across his audience. “I’ve one more thing to say to you. You’re aware that our treacherous enemy bombed us today. Killed some of us. Maimed others.” He paused, fighting down his emotions. “I want you to be aware that our forces have already responded to the attack. We have carried the war deep into the Agani homeland. We have imposed heavy losses, and we are still striking them even while I speak. In your name, my brothers and sisters, we have taken a terrible vengeance.” The audience was absolutely silent. “Soon,” he said, “we will end this war, and we will travel together through the sunlit forests into a far better world than we have ever known.”