Termination Shock

“Here, let me hold that for you.” Carmelita picked up a flashlight that Rufus had balanced on a rock and angled it into the control unit of the earthsuit to give him a better view. He had a big magnifying glass that he used to work on tiny components and was putting it to good use now.

“What are you going to do about the drones, Red?” That was Thordis talking. She and the others had now formed a little circle around the table. Piet came up behind him, stood a little too close, and peered over his shoulder. He was meticulous, on the spectrum, one of those guys who’d figured out by trial and error that he got along better with critters than with people. “Guess you might as well take notes, Piet,” Rufus suggested. “Maybe we can come out of this with a procedure. Or at least a list of what not to do.”

Piet didn’t say anything, but Rufus could hear the click of a ballpoint pen and the rustle of pages in the little graph paper notebook he always carried in a certain pocket.

“You didn’t answer Thordis’s question,” Carmelita pointed out.

“We’ve been up there watching,” Thordis said. “Whoever those people are—”

“India,” Rufus put in.

“They must have hundreds of drones. And I don’t know how many people.”

“Very few, would be my guess,” Rufus said.

“Anyway, the drones have guns on them. And who knows what else.”

“I figured the same, Thordis.”

“There’s no cover out in that desert. The drones will see you coming a mile away.”

“Well, I can and will go alone,” Rufus said. “Someone got to be Hector in this Iliad.”

“Hector?”

“The opposition. Someone gotta play defense. Staff at Pina2bo gonna be neutralized, rounded up, just like those ones down on the mesa. But they probably don’t know about me, coming down the back way from the old marble mine. That won’t be in their plan.”

“You’ll go alone if you have to. Is that what you’re saying, Red?” Carmelita asked. “And those drones will fuck you up. But if we’ve got your back—”

“How do the eagles fare in the heat of the day?” Rufus asked.

“They ride the air to where it is cold,” Tsolmon said. Her first and quite likely her final contribution to this conversation.

“Thing is,” Rufus said, “whatever these guys are gonna do, they got to get it done quick. Electronics might be on the fritz here at the ranch. Giving them the upper hand. But—”

“There must be some safe radius outside of which everything will still be working,” Piet said.

“Yeah. And so the cavalry will be on its way tomorrow. Bad guys know this. Maybe they can use hostages to delay the inevitable. But they gotta do something tomorrow, something big to justify all this. I do mean to be there. You want to bring the eagles and join the party, be my guest. We got all night to get the meefs fixed,” he concluded, using the inevitable slang term for “Me-Frigerator.”

He got to his feet and lifted the meef from the table. During the last few minutes he’d identified what he believed to be its on/off switch: a pair of valves, electromechanically actuated, that controlled the circulation of fluids through the plumbing circuits. He had teased the wires free and hooked them up to new leads in a simple circuit consisting of a battery, a switch, and a resistor. When he flicked the switch he could hear the valves moving. He was pretty sure he had just turned the unit on. There was an easy way to find out. He carried it over to the campfire, which had developed a nice bed of coals. He turned the unit’s hot plate—just a flat expanse of bottomless black—toward it, using his hand to verify that it was getting warm. A watched pot never boils, so he waited for a minute. “Y’all are the custodians of those beautiful birds,” he said. “Y’all can decide.”

“The drones they’re using might be big ones,” Thordis pointed out.

“Go for the little ones first,” Carmelita suggested. “The video drones. Peck out their eyes.”

Thordis didn’t seem mollified. “The real question is, why are we doing it? Why go to war for T.R.?”

“We’re going to war for Red,” Tsolmon answered.

“Why are you doing it then, Red?”

“You mean, other than the fact that T.R. has been paying me to look after his property?” Rufus asked, looking Thordis in the eye. But he already knew that an argument of that type wasn’t going to cut much ice with her. How impossibly old and out of date he was, making decisions based on some frontier notion of honor. And she was right, in a way. All their vehicles and comms were down. They could all just stay put right here and wait for the cavalry and T.R. wouldn’t think less of them.

Rufus was debating whether he should just come out and tell them the real reason: Saskia was down at Pina2bo. He’d heard the news over the Black Hat comms network before everything had gone down yesterday afternoon. She was probably being menaced by those drones. And a certain atavistic logic dictated that he must, therefore, ride to her rescue. But he wasn’t sure how that was going to play with this crowd.