The Caryatids

sensors, databases, de­fensive and security architectures, and through the scanning of bodies, these running dogs export the state’s architectures of control.”

Sonja nodded. “I see. That’s all very clear.”

The general blinked, once. “You can follow our reasoning?”

“Yes I do. I know what you were doing when you tried to kill me, and the Badaulet. You wanted to kill our love.”

Cao Xilong said nothing.

“You didn’t need to kill me personally. I’m a former holy terror, but I’ve done nothing to you. You didn’t need to kill him, either. He’s just another cannon-fodder hero. But you did need to kill the pair of us, at the same blow, because we are together. You wanted to kill our love for each other, to keep us separate and polarized, because our love is dan­gerous to your plans. That’s why we had to die.”

“Bourgeois sentiment of this sort does not clarify the strategic situa­tion.”

“Maybe it’s a woman’s way to put it, hero, but you knew that we were together. You knew. How did you find that out? You’ve got spies, in­formants in Jiuquan? Oh: I know. You’ve got a correlation engine!”

“Of course we exploit the best intelligence methods available, al­though those must remain confidential.”

“Listen—young genius—I’ve been working around the military for years. You don’t scare me with your homemade grassroots rebellion. I know we’re both clones, you and me—but to Red Sonja, you’re just an­other tribal bandit who climbed out of a hole in the ground. You want to kill the men who love Red Sonja? Why don’t you kill him?”

Sonja shot a sideways glance at John Montalban, who was standing and watching them debate, with his arms politely folded, and a look of intense pretended interest on his face. “He loves me fanatically, and while the Badaulet and I were in peaceful Jiuquan sharing a water bed, he was already here in the midst of your camp and he is buying you. You think you’re a tactical genius? You are finished already! You are done.”

“That would all be true,” said Major General Cao Xilong, “except for one important factor which you have failed to grasp.”

“And what ‘factor’ is that? Please do tell me.”

“The Earth is doomed. The sun is proving unstable. And a giant vol­cano is on the point of eruption. The carrying capacity of this planet’s biosphere under those conditions will fall by ninety-five percent. That means that, in fifty years or fewer, there will be only two kinds of society possible on Earth. The first is nomadic like ours, and runs lightly on the surface of the Earth. That society will survive.

“The second kind lives sealed inside technical bubbles, and they will go insane. Because that kind of life is a traumatic horror and it is an evil lie. So: This choice is not your choice, your weak and sentimental choice between your former lover and your current lover. Tomorrow’s choice is between us and Jiuquan.”

“You believe you can defeat Jiuquan? They are much more advanced than you are.”

“I do not claim that we will defeat them immediately. At this mo­ment, we could merely use our thousands of light aircraft to mine their roads, blow up the single points of failure in the electrical and water sys­tems, and terrorize their population with mass slaughter of random civilians. They do already pay us tribute—to be frank, yes, they pay­—but now you must imagine us attacking them from every point of the compass, around the clock, while the sky is black with volcanic ash. Of course we will win that battle. Because the world of tomorrow is hideous and we will own it. We will own the smoking ruins of the world. No one else. Us, and those we force to become like us. That is our great purpose.”

John Montalban spoke up. “He just said ‘world of tomorrow’! I don’t know much Chinese, but I heard that. I’m very glad to see you and Major General Cao Xilong debating matters so cordially. That sounded like a fruitful exchange of views.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not surprised you would empathize so strongly with these strange and unfortunate people, Sonja. After all, their life experience—their sheltered upbringing, that traumatic exposure to the outer world­—you can understand all that. You’re a healer. I’ve seen you grasp the distress inside people, and change them for the better.”

His fatuous words brought her nothing but pure dread. For all his tireless global meddling, he was from California, a place where people believed that the future was golden. While she was from the Balkans… a broken place, the cockpit of empires where the lost chickens pecked each other’s eyes out…

The world to come was so much worse, so much more direly threat­ened than she had ever let herself believe…

But at least her mother was dead. No matter the city-killing look in the eyes of that nomad general—at least she had that transcendent joy to fully treasure. It was all she could do not to laugh in his masked, car­nivorous face.

She suddenly broke from the general and strode into the middle of the tent, her ribs heaving.

Montalban followed her, touched her shoulder. “These people here… they’re not beyond hope! They’re just another runaway experi­ment.” John rubbed his temples, suddenly weary. “I have so many col­leagues working on ‘Relinquishment’ issues—colleagues in both the Dispensation and the Acquis… ‘Relinquishment,’ that’s what we call it when we cram those techno-genies back into their bottles… ‘Relin­ quishment’ is difficult-to-impossible, and this next stunt I hope to pull—­it’s beyond me. It does not walk the Earth, it is literally out of this world.”

Lionel spoke up. “I could make a good case that you’re the best Re­linquishment activist of all time, John. You have no peer in that work.”

“Oh, come now.”

“It’s the truth! How many is this? Seven big projects defeated? Eight? You’re doing the seventh and the eighth Relinquishment at the very same time!”

“Oh, it can’t possibly be eight. I’m only thirty years old.”

Lionel was cheering his older brother through his moment of doubt. “There were the hypervelocity engines. That was the first project you killed off.”

“That wasn’t ‘Relinquishment.’ Those were commercial competitors to our family’s launch sites.”

“There were those German tissue-culture labs.”

“I was only tangentially involved in that scandal. Besides, there’s tissue­-culture practice all over the Acquis nowadays, so I sure wouldn’t call that a victory.”

“You knocked a huge hole in the genetics industry with that intellectual­-property battle over DNA as an interactive network instead of patentable codons.”

“That was all science paperwork! That was just about hiring smart lawyers and printing some letterhead. I didn’t lift a finger.”

“They lost billions, though. Interms of damage to hostile technologies—­that was your best spanner thrown in the works, ever.”

John Montalban was rallying. “Well, maybe. Maybe you’re right about that one.”

“Last summer you chased those neural fanatics out of the Balkans practically single-handed.”

“They’ll be back. Those boneware people are like mice. You chase ‘em out of one spot, they pop up in a hundred other places… How many wild stunts does this make out of me? You’re tiring me.”

“There’s our hosts here. They’ll sure need some taming.”

“’Constructive engagement.’ Simple diplomacy. They just need to be brought around to the world system, taught what side their bread is buttered on. Anyone could do that.”

“But you spotted their hidden tomb, John. Tons and tons of burned machinery. The backup records of the Chinese state. That’s gonna be the biggest archaeological discovery since the First Emperor of China burned all the books.”

“No it won’t. Bandits have been raiding that tomb for years now. There’s probably some idiot raiding it right now. I had my informants, I had researchers, I even had inside help… and, hell, Lionel, the chances are really great