Fire With Fire

Great. And since Bisacquino’s transfer wasn’t mentioned in Caine’s mission packet, it meant that his briefing materials were so outdated as to be almost useless. But Brinkley-garrulous and incautious-showed every sign of being precisely the sort of unwitting intelligence asset who would fill in all the relevant blanks-if given the chance to talk. So Caine urged him to continue: “Do you know if they have any zoologists where I’m going?”

“Up there? Don’t know. Doubt it. The Euros have left most of the science and infrastructure to us, I’m afraid.”

“I thought you had a good relationship with the European Union settlement.”

“We did. Well, I guess we still do. But they grabbed a second site that the international survey posted as off- limits. Prime real estate, too: big island, nice sheltered valley with a deep river opening out into a long ocean inlet. Great weather up there in the northern archipelago: more moderate than down here. That island was our first choice, you know, but the Colonial Authority put us here, instead.”

“And then the European Union just grabbed the island?”

“Yeah-well, no, not exactly. Their first settlement is just a few dozen klicks south of us here. Nice facility they were building there.”

“Were building?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s still there, but then CoDevCo got involved. When they arrived, they were already partnered with a new EU administrator, and ran their own survey. After that, it was like the EU forgot those poor folks down in Little Leyden even existed. All the Euro supplies are earmarked for Shangri-La, now.”

“Where?”

“That’s the name-well, the nickname-they gave to the island that they claim-jumped. Our pilot should have you up there by nightfall-and you can depend on him: he’s had ‘special passengers’ like you before.” Brinkley actually winked. “Hey: you’ll also be the first person from here to see their new airstrip, expanded for spaceplanes. I tell you, CoDevCo’s going to out-build us one day, despite our-”

“Mr. Brinkley.”

“-uh, yes?”

“Why have we stopped?”

“Oh. Right. We’re here. Let me show you around. Hey, you’re going to need a hat. Do you have a hat? I’ve got an extra. You can even borrow it for your trip.”

“Thanks, but-”

“Don’t mention it. My pleasure. Now, before you go, let me show you around Downport. It’s not your average colony town-and do you know why?”

Caine did not know why. But he was quite sure he was about to find out.

In agonizing detail.

Chapter Four

ODYSSEUS

Rocking in unison with the wind-shear chop, Caine’s borrowed slouch hat flopped up and down against his upper back, the rawhide chinstrap tugging at his throat in time with the drumming downdrafts.

“Sorry about this, Mr. Riordan,” the pilot called over his shoulder into the payload bay. “We’re over the coast and hitting some thermals. We should be out of it soon.”

“Not a problem. How long to Shangri-La?”

“Instruments are telling me five minutes, maybe a few more.”

“What does human experience tell you?”

“Nothing, sir: only made this run once before, about a year ago. Then, no more.”

“What happened a year ago?”

The vertibird shuddered, pitched down and sideways, righted. “CoDevCo came in, took over all the runs to and from the downport. Not real friendly about it, either. This is the first time they’ve let one of our planes into their airspace in six months.”

“That’s a violation of the colonial ‘equal-use’ policy, isn’t it?”

“I’m no lawyer, but it sure seems that way to me. If you’re done checking your gear, I’d recommend you strap in. We’ve got a few more-”

The deck dove away from Caine’s feet at the same instant that the ceiling struck a quick downward blow: the impact against the top of his head made a sound like an iron hammer hitting an anvil. Felt like it, too.

“Shit. Sir, are you-?”

“I’m fine,” Caine lied, staying on hands and knees as he moved forward into the cockpit, letting the pulsing spots-and the dull hum between his ears-subside. He half-slid, half-crawled, into the copilot’s chair.

The pilot stole a sideways look at him. “You sure you’re-?”

“I’m fine.”

“I really am sorry, sir. I should have warned you that-”

“Listen: it’s my fault. Wasn’t like I needed to check the lashings on my gear a fourth time.”

“What is all that stuff, anyway?”

“Research materials.”

Another sideways look from the pilot, skeptical this time. “Really? What kind of research do you do with a trail kit and a rifle?”

Caine smiled. “Field research.” Caine wondered if the pilot had noticed any of the other unusual items. Besides the predictable collection of rations, salt pills, water purification tabs, and personal medkit, there were the less standard items: thermal imaging goggles, a multi-spectrum sensor kit, high-end photographic gear, a binary- propellant NeoCoBro machine pistol with heterogeneous clips that alternated between discarding sabot and expanding rounds, and a sealed gray-green canister covered with indecipherable abbreviations and acronyms-all stenciled in the dusty yellow block letters favored by the USSF. Well, if the pilot had seen the last two, it meant he had X-ray vision: they were buried under the mundane gear in the A-frame backpack.

The pilot was still considering Caine’s explanation. “Field research, huh? Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for-before it finds you.” He looked away with a small, tight smile.

Me, too. Hell, I just wish I really knew what I was looking for. “Is that the valley?”

The pilot craned his neck to look further. “Yup. It’s pretty wide here; gets narrower, the further up you go.”

The chop had subsided and the pilot banked to angle onto the valley’s southwest-to-northeast centerline, following a glittering blue ribbon that preceded them. Thick swaths of green hemmed it in its course, worked away from the river and up the sheltering slopes. Which grew steeper as they flew. Caine checked his watch; they were right on time. “Nice country.”

The pilot nodded. “Seems so-but I’ve never had a chance to get out and see for myself.” He glanced at the dense jungle canopy scudding beneath them. “Not too safe on your own, even if you’re well armed. We can digest the flora and fauna here, so it only makes sense that they can return the favor. And from what I hear, some critters are pretty enthusiastic about doing so. The ones here in Shangri-La haven’t learned to fear guns yet, so shoot to kill: they won’t run away.”

“Thanks. That’s good to know.”

“You shoot much?”

Caine shook his head, thought he saw a hint of right angles distressing the landscape up ahead. “Some. Not too often.”

“Well, you might want to get in a little time at the range before you go into the bush. Adjust the sights, get a feel for the-”

“Already did it, before we took off from Downport.”

“Oh. I thought you said you don’t shoot much.”

“I didn’t-until this afternoon.”