Ode To Defiance Chapter 14

9

With Bated Breath

The only winning move is not to play.

—WOPR, the supercomputer in charge of NORAD, in the movie

Wargames

Brilliant fire flashed through the heavens and thunder filled the sky. As the fireball came to Earth, passengers in cars traveling down the Babaei Highway east of Tehran could just make out, in the dawn light, three tall black cylinders above what turned out to be three separate smaller fireballs.

After it settled on the ground, an enormous metal staircase unfolded from the side and a lone figure in a full black burqa gracefully descended halfway down the stairs. If the woman within the burqa felt any of the anxiety appropriate to someone who had just violated Iranian airspace, the garment hid it perfectly.

Soon videos of the ship and the woman went viral across social media, thereby alerting the Iranian military to the invader’s location. Much consternation arose amongst the officers as they realized just how perfectly they had been taken by surprise. Given the last two hours of nail-biting tension, they suddenly understood that had the tech presented by this spaceship been used to deliver a nuclear warhead without warning, the Iranian military could have easily suffered a decapitation strike before the decapitated head realized anything had gone amiss.

The first vehicles to reach the scene were a pair of tank transport trucks dutifully carrying their tanks. Only half the people needed to crew the tanks, however, had managed to scramble aboard before the trucks departed.

Had the woman on the staircase carried one of the BrainTrust’s BT-12 PGM autolaunchers, the men knew full well she could have decimated this first combat unit before they even got their armor onto the ground. But if she were so armed (and she could have been, the soldiers familiar with the BT-12 knew it folded into a pack that could easily fit underneath the burqa), she appeared to take no interest in slaughtering her opponents.

More troops arrived, eventually forming a semicircle around the woman, with enough firepower to turn her and her towering vehicle into swiss cheese.

When Colonel Jafar Papkour arrived, he immediately ordered the troops to fall back—a lot. And safety the weapons. He had the terrible suspicion that if they opened fired from their current positions, the fuel and oxygen tanks of the Black Titan would explode and consume them all, the colonel included. He walked with a military stride to the bottom of the staircase.

He extended his hand, palm up. “Ms., ah…”

“Call me Jam,” the woman said with a decidedly beautiful lilt to her voice. She descended the rest of the steps to reach him.

The colonel felt oddly apologetic despite his unquestionable duty. “I hereby put you under arrest for espionage.”

Her melodious laugh somehow sounded ominous in the context of her capture. “What do you think you have that I could possibly be interested in spying on?”

The woman’s burqa shifted about her, and she held out a box with a label on the top. “Think carefully before you do anything hasty.”

Even from a distance, the colonel could hear machine guns being prepped to fire. He held out a calming hand to his troops. “What’s this?” For a moment his heart leapt with hope.

This woman had clearly come from the BrainTrust. Everyone knew, regardless of what the Americans might say, that the BrainTrust had cured the Blue Rubola. Papkour wondered, could this be… “Is that the vaccine for the Red Rubola?”

The woman sighed. “I’m sorry. Not yet. We’re working hard on it. We will fill boxes like this, however, when we do have a cure. For the moment, this box contains nothing but a promise.”

The colonel raised an eyebrow.

“There’s a homing beacon inside. Put it someplace safe. Not in your home of course—after all, for all you know, this is a homer for a missile attack—but someplace you can get to it easily. When we have a vaccine, we’ll send a drone with a carton just like this one. Vaccinate your family and your troops.”

The colonel hesitated for a long moment. Should he thank her, accuse her of bribery, or accuse her of trying to plant a targeting system in his barracks? He compromised. “Very well.”

The woman turned brisk. “Now, if you please, take me to the Supreme Leader. If you want to save your country from unequaled catastrophe, that is.” She laughed again.

He escorted her to his private armored personnel carrier while calling ahead to see if the leadership wanted to greet her, imprison her, or simply execute her. He argued as forcefully as he could for a greeting. Things were bad enough already without killing an envoy from the one place they knew would eventually cure this plague. Either he was quite persuasive, or they saw the wisdom of bringing her in without his help.

Either way, in moments they had departed for the capital. He asked her one more question before they reached Tehran. “Do you have any more of those homing beacons with you? You really can’t bring them into the presence of the Supreme Leader.”

She laughed once more. “Fear not, Colonel. I am now wholly disarmed.”

Hmm… Before they reached the House of Leadership, he’d have a woman check to make sure she wasn’t carrying any weapons.

From what he’d heard about women like this on the BrainTrust, he seriously doubted even that would leave her disarmed, however.

Dash’s greeting in Israel differed considerably from Jam’s greeting in Iran. For one thing, her Titan had no stealth coating, and the Israelis watched it on radar like hawks. Many fingers twitched in itchy urgency on Iron Dome counter-missile buttons. But they did not shoot her down.

For another— ”Dash! It’s so good to see you!” Toni squealed as she ran up the staircase to meet her before she’d even descended halfway to the ground. Dash found herself in a hug that made breathing difficult.

Dash managed to get out a strangled, “We should probably be going.”

“Of course!” Toni practically skipped as she led Dash to her Humvee. “We have a lot to talk about, but I guess it will have to wait.”

“I’m sorry.” As the Humvee bounced out to the road, Dash was already pouring over new data on her tablet as it reconnected with the scientists on the

Chiron

.

It took some finagling to get the wallscreen in the Prime Minister’s conference room to sync with the wallscreen in the House of Leadership. It took even more finagling to persuade the Prime Minister and his top advisers to let Dash do the talking, even though the justification was sensible. “You are all too angry to speak wisely. In Tehran, Jam is making the same demand of Iran’s leaders.”

When Toni’s father argued with increasing heat that Dash was unqualified, Toni whispered in his ear, “See? You’re getting angry already.” She let him stew on that for a moment before reminding him, “Remember, this is Colin’s plan.”

Dash fought down mild irritation at that description. Dash had had significant input too.

For over a year, Dash had been building a model of Colin’s behavior in her mind. Her first successful use of this small but nonetheless productive simulation had given her the idea to give Jam stealth copters so she could retrieve Gleb’s family so they could release Gleb from the brig.

In the current instance, Dash’s most important contribution had been suggesting—well, demanding—that she go to Israel rather than Colin.

She had expected him to fight her over it, but contrary to her Colin-simulation’s prediction, once she gave her justifications, he just smiled and told her to get ready. Indeed, he reacted as if he had hoped for, and planned for, her forceful recommendation. Her model of his behavior clearly still needed refinement.

Eventually the leadership of Israel, the leadership of Iran, and the comms systems connecting them were properly engaged. When Dash’s screen first hooked into Tehran, a woman buried in the shapeless covering of a burqa filled the wallscreen.

Dash smiled brightly. “Jam! I’m so happy they didn’t execute you on the spot.”

“So am I, though honestly, I think they would have found that more difficult than they appreciate.” A hand peeked out of the burqa and waved the matter into the past. “OK,” Jam said in a louder voice, meant for both the people behind her and the people with Dash. “Let’s get clear on everyone’s status. Here in Iran people are dying from a measles-like plague clearly engineered as a bioweapon.”

Dash interrupted, “Definitely designed and manufactured by the same people who released the Blue Rubola in America.”

The head of the black burqa shifted as if the person inside were nodding. “Supreme Leader and councilors, forgive me for not having introduced my friend already. This is Dr. Dash, who led the BrainTrust team that developed both the vaccine and the cure for Blue Rubola.”

She spun and addressed the Supreme Leader’s team more directly. “So just to be clear, if you drop a nuke on Tel Aviv at this moment, you’ll kill the person most likely to save your people.”

Dash turned to the Prime Minister. “And similarly, if you attack Tehran at this time, you will be murdering my friend.”

The Prime Minister scowled. “Congratulations. I think you’ve just extended the current unspoken truce indefinitely. At least until you leave.”

Dash projected her voice for everyone. “Neither of us will be leaving until the vaccine is ready.”

She spoke more softly for Jam. “So, are the Iranian scientists on their way?”

Jam turned and addressed the Iranian team. She turned back to Dash. “Enough for a quorum, anyway.”

“Excellent.” Dash turned to the Prime Minister. “Please bring your scientists in as well.”

Soon the screen and the room were filled with new people, all a bit bewildered to be there.

Dash spoke comfortingly. “Welcome. I am now going to bring you all up to date on the BrainTrust’s progress on Red Rubola.” She prayed no one would ask her how the BrainTrust had gotten Red Rubola samples since it had involved the Mossad. “I shall first give you all a summary, which the leadership of both countries may find informative. After that, Prime Minister, Supreme Leader, you may depart. I promise you will not find the rest very interesting. However, after we are done, I do urge you to speak with your scientists. I think you will all find that, above all things, you want to facilitate our efforts on your behalf.”

Jam left the conference room, along with the Iranian leadership, the Supreme Leader, and Colonel Papkour. “Again, I urge you, if your scientists come out of this meeting as enthusiastic and hopeful as I expect, to send them to the BrainTrust. We have far superior equipment for dealing with this kind of thing, a staff that now includes all the leading experts from America, and a proven track record. We all believe your people can maximize their effectiveness by working with our people.”

The colonel responded with a wry expression. “I presume your Dr. Dash is making the same pitch to the Israelis?”

Jam chuckled. “Of course. Except they should be easy. Toni Shatzki, the Prime Minister’s daughter, is a student in our university. I suspect the Israeli scientists will depart for the BrainTrust as soon as Dash has finished the update.”

Papkour led her to a lavishly furnished suite. “These will be your rooms as long as you’re here.” He departed.

Jam pulled off the burqa with a sigh of relief. She spoke for the bugs her hosts had surely planted in her room. “I feel like the proverbial man who just stepped off the roof of a twenty-story building. As he passed the tenth floor, his comment was, ‘So far, so good.’”

Dash accepted all the thank yous from the scientists assembled on both sides of the conference with a humble nod of the head. She could see they were all leaving with their heads higher and their voices more excited and full of hope.

Toni brushed past the last of them on her way in. “Cool, girl. Now you have to come with me.”

Dash felt the first soft tentacles of exhaustion coiling about her. “What? Where?”

Toni grabbed her shoulder and shook it. “We’ve got to get you home. Back to the BrainTrust, so you can get back to work.”

Dash shook her head. “But I gave my word that—”

“Yes, yes. You’re our human shield. But let’s face it, you’re more important as a scientist than as a hostage.”

Dash looked stubborn for a moment, then started to wilt.

Toni exploited the advantage. “Look, eventually my dad will tell the Iranians that in order to speed the development of the vaccine they need, he kicked you out of the country. Think about it for a moment: the Supreme Leader will be

delighted

that we forced you out.” She gave Dash a short laugh. “It’s true, you know. You don’t have a choice. I’ll bring in armed guards to drag you out of here if I have to.”

That got a laugh out of Dash. “I can’t take the Titan. It has to stay here so it can deliver the vaccine.”

“Which is why you’re going with me. I hope you enjoyed your last flight in my F35, because that’s how I’m getting you home, or at least to the Global Express spaceport ship off the coast of France. Hopefully this trip won’t be quite as exciting as the last one.” Toni wrinkled her nose. “Besides, we don’t want another rocket ship landing here now. You have no idea how nerve-wracking it is to watch a missile with people on board come down when you’re expecting a missile with a nuke on board to come down at any time.”

As Toni hustled her along, Dash offered one more objection. “What if the Iranians find out I’m gone before this is all resolved?”

Toni raised an eyebrow. “Are you planning to tell them?”

They reached the airfield without incident. As Dash pulled on her flight suit, a sudden sharp realization struck her. “This was Colin’s doing, wasn’t it? He told you to send me back as soon as the Iranians were convinced I would stay.”

Toni chuckled. “Who else?”

Dash sighed. Another missed prediction. She clearly had a long way to go before her mental model of Colin was up to snuff.

Several nail-biting weeks later, Captain Levinsky, who had received much ribbing for his bad luck in being the one to engage the Palestinian

First Chance

, was told to expect a ship from the BrainTrust. He checked his watch again, keeping his arm up to block the wind sweeping across his ship’s deck and prevent it from burning his eyes.

The BrainTrust ship was supposed to be here now, but his men couldn’t see a blasted thing on the radar anywhere as far as his ship could search, meaning the BrainTrusters were going to be execrably late. Very angering, considering that everything he’d heard about these people suggested they were competent and prompt.

It was especially angering to learn their reputation was overblown when promptness was so necessary to the survival of his nation.

His radarman shouted, “I’ve got something.” His voice turned puzzled. “It’s really close. How’d it get so close?”

Levinsky, suddenly alarmed, shouted for General Quarters. As his men moved smoothly to battlestations, he looked wildly around in search of the object the radar had detected.

A whale breached the surface a hundred meters from the ship. Except, as the breach continued and the full shape of the breach became evident, Levinsky saw it was no whale at all. It was a blasted submarine.

Well, Levinsky presumed it was a sub. It had no sail, i.e., no large fin on the top. It presumably had some other means not in evidence for maintaining vertical stability.

Levinsky had studied modern submarines. Even disregarding the missing sail, this seemed different: non-cylindrical, almost triangular in its beam. Overall, it seemed narrower than the biggest modern subs, but at least as long, maybe longer.

His radioman interjected, “They’re contacting us. It’s the BrainTrust ship. They’re asking us to come aboard.”

By the time his people had secured from General Quarters, they’d come alongside the sub that dwarfed his patrol boat.

He wound up taking the RHIB from his ship to the sub and clambering up a series of ridiculously awkward handholds across the soft, presumably sonar-absorbent, skin.

A lone man waited for him and his inspection team. “Captain Levinsky? I’m Captain Samuels. Welcome aboard the

Alcyone

.”

After shaking hands, the captain led him down into the sub. Levinsky looked around, puzzled. “This seems a lot smaller on the inside than it is on the outside.”

Samuels chuckled. “Your normal sub is constructed more or less as a single cylinder. On the BrainTrust, the largest cylinder we can manufacture as a single piece is seven meters wide.” He patted the curved arch by his shoulder. “The Alcyone has three such cylinders strapped together and interconnected in a triangle. As you can see here.” He pointed to one hatch that descended to the right, and another that descended to the left. “We made some different tradeoffs, obviously.”

As they clambered down through the port hatch, Levinsky asked the critical question. “I presume all these boxes everywhere are filled with the vaccine?”

Samuels nodded. “We have the boat stuffed to the gills.”

Beside them, a crateful of boxes sat on top of a device Levinsky guessed to be a 3D printer. Samuels reached into an open crate and pulled out a smaller box, easily held in one hand. “That’s fourteen hundred doses right there.”

Levinsky whistled. “How many total?”

“Almost one hundred eighty million. You can vaccinate everyone in Iran and everyone in Israel, and still have over half left over to vaccinate anybody else who needs it.” He frowned at Levinsky. “But you have to deliver the vaccine to Iran, or you’ll lose more people in a nuclear war than you’d probably lose to the rubola.”

Levinsky took a deep breath. “Don’t worry, we get it.” He waved his hands. “This whole ridiculous dance wherein you deliver it to us so we can deliver it to them—I presume there’s some silly political reason for it? Otherwise you would’ve just sent the vaccine direct.”

Captain Samuels gave him a wry smile. “That’s the kind of absurdity you get when you let a bunch of game theorists into the negotiation. Don’t ask me what the purpose was.” He forced the carton he still held into Levinsky’s hand. “Take this back to your ship. Make sure everyone gets injected.”

In a few minutes, Levinsky’s inspection team had done a hasty survey. Levinsky addressed Samuels. “Let’s get you on your way. People are dying while we stand around here chatting.”

Samuels nodded. “And are your people ready to let a full boatload of Palestinians on board after we’ve offloaded?”

Some of Levinsky’s superiors objected to this free flow of potential terrorists from Gaza, but Levinsky was fine with it. And the members of the leadership who knew just how close a call they’d just had wanted no hiccups. “It should all go smoothly, Captain.”

“Thank you.”

Levinsky stood by his XO, watching as the sub cruised off towards the shore. The XO observed, “It’s a beautiful ship in its own way.”

Levinsky nodded. “I’ve been wondering what it’s for. I mean, it’s not a military vessel. And while it’s big by normal sub standards, it’s dinky by isle ship standards.”

The XO thought it over. “It seems to be working quite well for hauling sensitive and urgent cargo, presuming it’s as much faster than a normal cargo ship as I suspect. But I see your point. That’s hardly a compelling reason to build something as expensive as that sub.”

Levinsky shivered. “I think I may know why they bothered. It’s an oceanic disaster bunker.”

The XO looked at him in puzzlement.

Levinsky smiled. “This is the second militarized epidemic in three months. What if one of them succeeds? Unless I miss my guess, they’ve made that sub capable of building agricultural reefs, manufacturing bots, and remaining totally self-sufficient for years. If things go badly enough, the

Alcyone

could wind up being all that remains of humanity.”

The XO stared in the direction in which the sub had disappeared. “And until the sub gets back to the BrainTrust, it’ll have no one on board except Palestinians. If the whole world died except the

Alcyone

, would that qualify as a Hamas victory?”

Captain Levinsky grimaced. “I sure hope that vaccine works.”

A week after Red Rubola vaccine landed in Tehran, the Empress of Benin found herself pushing her jeep north at a maniacal pace from the Porto Novo Highlands. The surroundings grew ever more dry and ever more desperate. She spoke to her companion in the passenger seat loudly enough to be heard over the wind across the open-top vehicle. “Road trip! Thank you again for taking time out from your busy schedule of negotiating treaties to end nuclear wars.” She smiled mischievously. “It’s always great adventuring with you.”

Jam gave her a wan smile. “I’m glad to be here too, though we both know why I had to come.”

Ping’s voice took on a sour note. “Joshua talked with you too, I take it.” Taking Jam with her any time she went into a situation that might involve violence had been one of the conditions Joshua had laid upon her.

Jam laughed musically. “I’ll do it, you know.”

Ping already knew the answer but asked anyway. “Do what, exactly?”

“Stop you.”

A loud snore arose from the back of the jeep. Ping reached behind and smacked Benin’s retired Beloved Advisor for Life on the leg. “Quiet back there.”

Jam frowned. “Did we really need to bring him with us?”

Ping’s voice turned cheery. “Oh, yes. He’s my negotiator.”

Jam stared at her. “But—”

Ping shook her head. “You’ll see.” After a moment, she went back to the earlier conversation. “You won’t have to stop me. I’ll never do to anyone else what I did to him.”

Jam grunted again. “We certainly agree on that.”

Ping offered another assurance. “I’ve got full control of myself now.”

Jam raised an eyebrow. “Well, I see we don’t agree on everything quite yet.”

The drone that had been flying just behind them whirred past to check out what was over the next ridge.

Jam observed, “Looks like we’re coming up on our first customers.”

As Ping watched the drone go by, her voice turned irritated. “I think we’re too well-equipped here. I don’t suppose we’ve lost our entourage yet, have we? I’ve been trying to ditch them for miles.”

Jam twisted to look behind them. She didn’t speak until the road curved slightly, letting her get a view far behind them that was clear of their own dust cloud. “Still there, both the full truck and the empty one.”

Ping growled. “Argh.”

Rubinelle had insisted that a truck of Amazons follow her on this expedition. Actually, Rubinelle had first tried to insist that it was a matter for the Amazons to deal with, but at that Ping had played the empress card. They had compromised. The truckload of troops followed as far behind as possible while still being close enough to assist in an emergency.

So now Ping and Jam led a crazy-quilt expedition into northern Benin to negotiate with the more egregious of the thugs there.

Ping looked once more into the sky. As the jeep tried to swerve off the road without her attention, she muttered, “I still can’t see the dirigible.”

Jam didn’t even bother to look up. “Of course you can’t see it, silly. It’s too high, and it’s sky-blue besides.”

Someone from Ping’s team from the first incursion into Djeregbe had apparently mentioned to someone else her fantastical story for the local thugs about a dirigible, too high to see, maintaining constant surveillance. That someone had apparently mentioned it to someone else, who’d mentioned it to Ted Simpson.

Ted had concluded it sounded like a good idea, so he had taken the design for the hydrogen dirigibles used by the BrainTrust to deliver hydrogen for power and water generation to San Francisco and upgraded it. He’d powered the new ship with a beta battery, and hooked it up with a dehumidifier to extract water from the air, and then electrolyzed the hydrogen from the water. So even though hydrogen balloons necessarily leaked the energetic little hydrogen molecules from their bags, Ted’s new design constantly replenished the hydrogen. The thing would never have to land.

Ping acknowledged grudgingly that for a country like Benin with vast expanses of land where warlords and other thugs could roam, it wasn’t a bad idea. But did Ted really have to give her one for her birthday?

Anyway, the dirigible had videoed a number of roadblocks set up by small groups of entrepreneurial bandits to extort money and worse from unwary travelers.

Jam pointed ahead. “There’s the first one now.”

Half a dozen young men in disheveled military fatigues, casually carrying AK-47s as if they were golf clubs, appeared before them, lounging around a pair of trucks parked sideways across the road. A couple of the hooligans knelt and pointed their guns more or less in the direction of the Jeep.

Ping slammed on the breaks and skidded sideways to a halt. The apparent leader of the bandits, holding only a sidearm, waved them forward. “Come ahead. We won’t harm you. You just have to pay the toll.”

Ping dialed her phone.

Ciara answered, “Ping. You guys ready?”

Ping answered. “Whenever you say. You getting good data?”

“I and my trusty Dark Alpha 43 were getting good data before you even showed up. Ted’s surveillance dirigible is just glorious.”

This made Ping grumpy again. “So, is that guy waving us forward the leader?”

“Yes, based on a study of the body language and the facial microexpressions. As I’ve said before, the microexpressions aren’t reliable in this hookup, good as the video is the resolution still isn’t perfect for this application. Anyway, he’s the boss.”

Jam interrupted. “I’m guessing he’s not half as nice as his friendly invitation would make it seem. Right?”

Ciara replied approvingly, “Quite right. We’ll know more in a few minutes, but right now, I think a sweeping regime change for this gang of kids is in order.”

As this conversation went on, Ping climbed out of the driver’s seat and lifted out a piece of equipment sharing the back of the Jeep with the ex-Beloved Advisor. “Clumsy thing, this.” She started setting it up behind the Jeep, invisible to the men manning the roadblock.

Meanwhile, the young fellow whose fate was being discussed took a few more steps forward, frowning. “Hey, I said come up here.” He stared at Ping as she rose out of the Jeep. The light of recognition shown in his eyes. “Empress Ping?” His frown changed into a wicked smile. “Oh, my. I think the toll just went up a lot.”

He barked at his men. “Boys, keep them covered!” He pointed at the ground in front of him. “And you, Empress, get over here now.”

Jam murmured, “Now would be a good time, Ping.”

Ping grumbled, “Hold on. I’m trying to work a catapult here.” She shook her head. “A catapult in the twenty-first century. Ridiculous.” She finally got it set up and loaded with a large rough-surfaced ball that hummed like a swarm of buzzing bees.

Jam hopped out her side of the Jeep and yelled at the bandits, “Technical difficulties. We’ll be with you in a minute.”

The boss was getting increasingly angry. “Hurry it up!”

Ping sighed. “Here goes. Good thing I practiced a lot before we came out here.” She flipped a lever, and the ball flew across the intervening space to strike one of the trucks. It broke apart.

The humming the ball had offered earlier grew so loud they could hear it even at their considerable distance as a small army of hornets arose like a thick cloud from its shattered core.

Ping and Jam had stopped far enough away that only a decent marksman could have reliably hit them. The few shots the bandits let off while being attacked by the hornets were not even pointed in their direction. The gunfire was more of a futile attempt to make the hornets back off than anything else. They managed to shoot two of their own men.

The boss, just far enough away to escape the wave of angry hornets, started running toward the Jeep, waving his gun. “Stop it!” He paused for a moment to point his gun.

Jam pulled out her own gun, muttering, “I probably should have brought a taser.” But just as she set up for the shot, the leader slapped at his neck and started dancing around, waving his gun at the hornets. Soon he slumped to the ground, not exactly unconscious but not noticeably connected with reality.

All the bad guys were now laid out on the ground, trying to crawl dizzily in different directions.

Ciara observed through the speakerphone, “Well, that went pretty much the way Shura said it would. The hornets’ venom has been genetically engineered so it’s just as painful but less toxic. And it’s loaded with Rohypnol.”

Jam asked, “Rohypnol?”

Ping answered, “A date-rape drug. Ironic much?”

A hornet flew up to Ping to start circling around her head. She waved it away. “Looks like the cream she gave us to keep the hornets off is working too.” She looked into the back seat of the Jeep. “You OK, Chief? Anything stung you yet?”

The ex-Beloved Advisor shook his head.

Jam watched the hornets scatter across the landscape. “And Shura swears they’ll all die a couple hours after being released?”

Ciara replied decisively, “Oh, yes. That was the first thing we tested.”

The Amazons’ truck rolled up, and a bright young woman snapped off a salute. “Empress, shall we collect them?”

Ciara answered, “Empress, with your permission, I’d suggest taking the leader into custody.”

Ping winced when Ciara called her “Empress” but said nothing. She supposed it was just as well for Ciara to use her ridiculous Benin title when the Amazons were listening, but she knew the real reason Ciara did it was for the entertainment of irritating her. Ping would have to figure out a way to get back at her someday.

Ciara continued, “I’m sending you a picture of the one with the best combination of leadership skills and–just maybe—a decent blend of ethics and integrity. He’s the one you should work with.”

The Amazon lieutenant had her women throw the ex-leader into the back of the truck that had, until now, been empty.

An hour later, the designated new leader came around enough to have a serious talk with the Empress. All the bandits’ guns had been confiscated, and the new leader was strapped spread-eagled across the front of the Jeep with half the Amazons pointing their firearms at him like a firing squad. The other half kept watch on the other bandits, crowded together in a small cluster as they watched their new leader.

Ping spoke to him. “Relax, all the guns are safetied.” She raised an eyebrow at the lieutenant, who rolled her eyes before waving to her troops to safety their weapons.

The Empress then walked up to him. “Let me explain the new rules. You and your guys can do anything you want as long as you don’t kill, kidnap, rape, steal, threaten, or hurt anybody who lives around here or anybody traveling through the area.” She pulled a second phone from her pocket, stuck it into his shirt pocket, and patted it. “You and your guys will study the educational software on this phone, and my people will see if there are any jobs you’d be good at in town or in one of our new factories. Or as one of the members of the new road-blockade-busting police force. It may take a while, but eventually we’ll find something for you. Deal?”

The young man nodded vigorously.

Ciara interrupted. “Uh, he’s probably convinced, but he may waver after you leave.”

Ping smiled at Jam. “You wondered what we brought the Beloved Advisor for?”

Ping walked around to the back of the Jeep. “Time to earn your salary.” With uncharacteristic gentleness, she helped the man out of the vehicle and led him around to the fellow strapped to the Jeep.

She spoke with quiet sincerity to the new boss. “This is the old Benin Beloved Chief Advisor for Life. He was the last guy who crossed me. He will now negotiate with you.”

The Beloved waved his arms and shouted in inarticulate efforts to express his outrage and give orders.

The boss stared at the Beloved’s gesticulating limbs, then stared at his mouth. “His tongue?”

Ping brandished her chura. “Nope.” When the new leader looked away, Ping reiterated, “Deal?”

The young man, looking rather older and much more tired, nodded. “Yes, Empress. Deal.”

Ciara assessed his new agreement. “And…that’s a wrap.”

The lieutenant stepped up and saluted. “Empress, forgive me for making a suggestion.”

Ping smiled at her. “You’re always welcome to make suggestions.”

The young woman did not smile back. “Thank you, Empress. I cannot help thinking that if we canvassed the local villages, we would find evidence that the old leader we have in the back of our truck has committed grievous acts of violence worthy of execution.” She shrugged. “It would simplify our logistics if we could just bury him here.”

Jam turned away, covering her mouth in a failed attempt to muffle a chortle.

Ping’s smile stayed affixed to her face, frozen in place. “Thank you, Lieutenant. As I said, recommendations are always welcome. However, this is one recommendation we shall not follow through on. Is that clear?”

The lieutenant saluted again. “Yes, Empress.”

As Jam turned back to face her, Ping observed, “You may need to watch over our lieutenant here more than me.”

Jam shook her head. “Oh, but Empress, it is so educational to watch you work.”

Khalid was packing for his next trip when Uwais and Sabaah came back from theirs and offered him an update on events in Iran and Israel.

Not for the first time, Khalid wished he could put up wallscreens in their home in the caverns, but considerable work would be required to fix the rock walls before they could do so. Both bringing in men to work on the walls and transporting the wallscreen elements would have left too many people in possession of Khalid’s laboratory’s location. Instead, they made do with a number of large freestanding displays.

Khalid listened to his men’s reports while studying the data they’d brought him and finished summarizing the events of the past few weeks. “So, that’s where we stand. Any questions?” On his upcoming trip Khalid would be incommunicado, except for a half dozen innocuous code phrases he could post through his FB account. If they had any concerns, he needed to address them now.

Uwais shook his head. “I don’t know about you, but it looks like just about every part of the plan failed. I can’t believe how quickly those BrainTrusters developed a vaccine.”

Sabaah defended Khalid’s results. “But this version of the virus really did spread more aggressively. And the mortality rate was about twenty percent, almost twice what the first version got.”

Uwais looked at Khalid. “Which brings up an interesting question. You didn’t think it would be any more lethal. Any idea why it worked so well?”

Khalid shook his head. “It doesn’t surprise me, although I continue to doubt that the virus was actually more lethal. The United States has always been a black hole for infectious diseases, dating all the way back to the SARS outbreak that started in Hong Kong. People did fly to America with the disease, but it snuffed out without any secondary infections at all. If we released Red Rubola in the USA, it probably wouldn’t fare any better than Blue Rubola did.”

Uwais went back to his original point. “So that didn’t go any better either, really.”

Khalid just shrugged and gave him a small smile.

Uwais pressed on to the most important hiccup. “And to top it all off, now everybody’s going to the BrainTrust. All the top scientists from all over the world. While it’s humorous to think about the Iranian and Israeli scientists working shoulder to shoulder—surely one of them is going to kill the other one, praise Allah—with all the best and brightest gathered in one place, their response time to the next epidemic is going to be incredible. They’ll have vaccines on the scene before the first person with a rash gets to the hospital. It’s a disaster.”

Sabaah looked stricken.

Khalid’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, yes. How satisfying. All according to plan.”