John Barnes - Daybreak Zero

If there was any consistent pattern in tribal attacks, she thought, it had to be that they were always bigger and sooner than anyone might reasonably have expected. She scrawled a note to Leslie, her librarian for intelligence reports, asking for the action reports on tribal attacks in the last ninety days. I suppose I’ ll be able to put Arnie on that one. Poor bastard, Mota Elliptica was such a good project for him, and now… well, poop. We had a solid five companies protecting it and we probably needed ten or fifteen. But it’s gone now, and God knows how many things we really needed with it.

She had pinned in more red cards, yarn, and construction paper blocking the DEFEAT MOON GUN path, and she had emphatically moved TRIBAL ACTIVITY way up on the priorities. Looking things over, she thought, Well, I had been thinking we needed to assert ourselves somewhere; Arnie tells me public opinion won’t stay with us if we don’t obviously do something to stand up to some bad guys. I was thinking it was time to move against the Castles, but we’ d better make it against the tribes. Her eyes fell on a deep red slash running across the chart. Now if Larry will just uncharacteristically call in and coordinate, and we get some cooperation from Olympia, I see my next move, plain as day.

With the choice made, she felt as if some hand had uncorked her head and poured a bucket of sleep into it. She barely made it back to bed before she was out for the night.

“’Bout eight o’clock behind us,” Ryan muttered to Larry. He fiddled with the harness on Mortimer, the most placid mule. “At least two.”

They’d been shadowed most of the day. Bambi must still be alive and negotiable-for; if she were already dead and war under way, they’d have shot Larry, Ryan, and Micah from cover and then taken their mules and gear.

The ground was dry, the afternoon was warm, and the little creek running through the meadow ahead of them was inviting. “Let’s let’em graze and drink a little,” Larry said. “We’ve got plenty of daylight left.” Give the other side time to decide to show themselves.

They unburdened the mules, tied them where they could reach the creek, and sat down to a late lunch on a big, comfortable, sun-warmed rock. They had just finished when the woman stepped out of the trees, her hands up.

“I make it three of them covering her,” Micah said, softly, looking down at the ground.

“Four,” Ryan said, behind his hand. “Bet you missed the one in the tall grass behind that stump. Mister Mensche, what do you want to do?”

Mensche shrugged. “I’m going to walk forward and talk to her. If they start shooting, shoot back and run. Count me dead unless I catch up with you. If any of the hidden ones move suddenly, give me a long whistle. Anyone acts like they’re about to use a weapon, shoot, but I think it’s going to be all talk for a while.” He stood slowly, raising his hands over his head, and walked toward the woman.

In my FBI days, I was assigned four different hostage negotiations and two ransom turnovers. Carlucci said he gave them to me because I moved slow and looked trustworthy. Hope I haven’t lost my touch.

When he and the woman were a few yards apart, Larry said, “My side won’t fire if you lower your hands.”

“Neither will mine if you do.”

They relaxed. Larry said, “I’m a Federal investigating agent; you can call me Agent Mensche, Mister Mensche, or Larry—any of those is fine. I’m here to inquire into the disappearance of a mailplane and its pilot, Bambi Castro.”

“I’m Helen Chelseasdaughter, it’s polite among our people always to use both names, and the Blue Morning People sent me to guide you to the place where we will negotiate. We are a people who think long before acting; there will be no quick response.”

“Then I won’t expect one, Helen Chelseasdaughter. Is it far? Our mules are tired.”

“About an hour’s walk,” Helen Chelseasdaughter said. “May I signal the people with me to come out of cover and join your party, Agent Mensche?”

“That will be fine, Helen Chelseasdaughter.”

She raised her arms and waved twice; six tribals broke cover quietly, with hands over their heads. At Larry’s signal, Ryan and Micah set their weapons down.

As the Daybreakers and Larry’s party continued up the road, no one seemed to have anything to say.

Wow, their weed sucks, Larry thought, taking the required fourth hit off the peace pipe. The council fire had been built in the trail ride center’s fire pit; Larry, Helen Chelseasdaughter, and Michael Amandasson were sitting in a row on what must have been the performer’s bench, and three hundred or so members of the Blue Morning People were facing them from the bleachers. I feel the strangest desire to start talking like a crusty old character to the little buckaroos.

The deal was done; now the tribe was having fun holding ceremonies. Larry was getting good at emphasizing the quality and wonders of the four hundred blankets, two hundred steel hatchets, three hundred pairs of new moccasins, and five hundred sweaters, every time his turn came up—the tribals always applauded. The peace pipes out there must’ve been being passed along pretty regularly.

When there was only about an hour of daylight left, Larry said he needed to see the plane and Bambi. Michael Amandasson led Mensche to the guarded guest cabin.

Bambi said hi and jumped up and hugged him, giving him cover to compose himself from the shock: the other prisoner in the cabin was his own daughter, Debbie.

When they let go of each other, he had his game face on again. He asked Bambi the basics (was she unhurt? could she fly the plane home if they fueled it? was she sure she had room for a takeoff from US 95?) while he rested his hand on her arm, squeezing in Morse:

2moro eve b ready sunset

Bambi squeezed back QSL (message received).

QRV 2 run? (Are you ready to run?)

C. (Yes).

QSO deb. (Relay this to Debbie).

C.

Larry had learned squeeze code back in the ’90s when he’d just been starting with the Bureau, and later taught it to Debbie back when she thought that her dad being in the FBI was cool and she’d been preparing to be rescued by her dashing dad from terrorists or a serial killer. Whenever he or Debbie hugged, they’d squeeze and tap didit, didahdidit dididah didididah, dididah— i luv u .

After Daybreak, as the most experienced intelligence/law enforcement agent Heather had recruited, Larry had taught it to everyone.

Thirty years and this was the first time he’d ever used it. Just goes to show there’s no such thing as unnecessary training.

It was lousy tradecraft, but he decided he’d have to be human. “And what are they holding you for?” He reached forward, as if brushing the hair from Debbie’s eyes.

From the door, Michael Amandasson said, “She’s no concern of yours. She’s a slave.”

Mensche turned, letting his hand fall onto Debbie’s. “She is not a slave. She’s on American soil and we have the Thirteenth Amendment.”

“That doesn’t apply to the Blue Morning People. Come with me now, Agent Mensche.”

Mensche fixed his gaze on the tribal’s face as if contemplating arresting him, and kept holding Debbie’s hand, squeezing i luv u . u 2 dad.