Chapter 8

With a blast of steam and smoke, the ER15 leapt from the launching ramp with an acceleration that would've crushed a human pilot. The booster rockets flared for less than two seconds before falling away. In that time, the probe was well over Com territory. Com soldiers outside New Glasgow saw it flash over their heads. Everyone knew what it was, but it was an awesome sight nonetheless.

In the command bunker flatscreens flared with the wealth of incoming data. Within a second, the volume of data transmitted back would've kept human analysts busy for a month. Ground penetrating radar revealed a three dimensional view of what lay under the surface to a depth of 20 metres. A city grid like image revealed underground fuel and ammo dumps, power cabling, water mains, everything that could be remotely interesting to Intelligence. Infra Red sensors registered the residual heat of cooling engines - indicating vehicles that had recently been moved - as well as human bodies and cooking stoves. Spectrographs recorded the material composition of objects, despite being well camouflaged, and electronic data gatherers harvested the short range transmitter traffic whether encrypted or not. No sooner did the data flow back, however, it stopped. Com jammers had interrupted the beam.

All this was well predicted by the Caps, of course, and the ER15 continued to store data in its computer memory to be downloaded once it returned.

The ER15's computer decided on its course and speed. Typically, that would be the 'Optimal Efficient Velocity', or about 680kph. It also began to search for threats, noting air defense assets and estimating their state of readiness. It banked left and right, giving the sensor array the widest possible view. It changed altitude at random intervals to confuse tracking. For 2 or 3 minutes there was no response from the Coms - in itself interesting to Intelligence analysts. Then, from a wood, an IR guided quadcannon released a burst of explosive airburst and impact shells in a wide tracking arc towards the drone.

The ER15 registered the stream of shells and, in a nano second, neatly sidestepped it until out of range - potential threat level 'yellow', the lowest.

A minute later, the ER15's sensors noted a flash from the ruins of an abandoned house. A missile streaked into the sky and, calmly, the computer identified the model and calculated the level of threat. It was a 'Firearrow 2' (GAIM422), a well-known and potent weapon. Potential threat level 'orange'.

The 'Firearrow' featured multiple, rotating acquisition sensors that were extremely difficult to disrupt. It prescribed a wide arc - it's typical form of attack - before zooming in on the frequency of the ER15's electronic system. Flares, chaff or radar jamming would be ineffective, the ER15 decided. In a nano second, it chose the best course of action. From near the tail, a bright, violet, super-intense, pulse laser shot out, striking the Firearrow on its guidance and control system and instantly frying the circuits. The missile continued on its arcing course until it's fail safe triggered the auto destruct.

Capitol observers carefully noted the response from the Coms - restrained, half hearted and a token - as they had a good idea of their air defense capability. As beneficiaries of approximately half the assets of the former North American Association they knew Centercity had under its control one 'Curtainfire' air defense system that had every chance of bringing down an ER15. This system co-ordinated a range of short and long range weapons that overwhelmed the defense capability of the drone. The Caps knew 'Curtainfire' was deployed somewhere in the Eastern woods.

The drone vectored back its wings and, in the jargon of the day, 'poured on the coal' and headed for home. At maximum subsonic it shot back over the border to spiral down for landing back at New Glasgow. Ground crew watched as it cut its engine and glided down on the synthetic strip designed to protect the craft's fuselage. The ER15 used a skid for landing - a far simpler, and lighter, method than a wheeled undercarriage. Once it slid to a halt, a tractor was hitched to tow it into its hardened shelter in case of reprisals from over the border. Once there, techs plugged in the umbilical and flatscreens at Intelligence Headquarters came alive with the inflow of data.

'Ambassador' Wilson - 'Wilson of the Blackguard' - was a unique observer to all this. Suetonius had been a difficult customer to deal with as far as the Caps were concerned, being stoic, distant, and unwilling or unable to speak English. Wilson, on the other hand, talked like one of themselves, was urbane, affable, and knowledgeable about military matters. Cap military and political men wanted to know 'what the Ark response would be' to this or that proposal. Although he'd no authority to speak on behalf of Arkady - no-one did - nevertheless he began to be treated as someone who had.

Over the next week, Wilson learned that Cap spy networks reported Com ER15s had been crated up for transport east. He was told of the bolstering of Com air defense systems along the border area. Both Coms and Caps withdrew their armor several clicks back from the border, not for any conciliatory gesture, but to increase the response interval in case of attack. New Glasgow's strike fighters were sealed away in their hardened shelters - it being too difficult to redeploy them someplace else.

But, Wilson noted, there was no follow on force assembled in the rear of the Cap defense line and, besides the few ex regular NAA brigades available to the Coms, the bulk of their forces were part time volunteers or conscripts - the type of troops the Cap armor could punch through in an afternoon. This was no preparation for all out war, but a shadow box, a kind of brinkmanship, designed for political point scoring. Despite the belligerent talk, neither side wanted war for practical reasons.

Any war was bound to use up a lot of fuel neither side could afford. On the Com side, an infrastructure to support a modern military had to be built from scratch and it was still in its infancy. There was a lack of arms and munitions factories, transport and maintenance facilities and training camps. The Caps were aware of the waste of precious resources as well at a time when a lot of money was needed to develop cityplex.

Several offers were made to Wilson by the Cap generals, the most interesting being co-operation in injecting Special Operations Units into Com territory from along the long border. This interested Wilson in a number of ways. For a start, it acknowledged the Arks had a border and the Cap military needed Ark permission to use Ark territory. Once those facts were established it was easy to fix the precise position. The border between the Ark preserve and Com territory was far longer than that between Coms and Caps giving Cap Special Ops more opportunities. But such a long border needed high tech surveillance sensors to preserve its integrity - sensors the Caps had aplenty but were relatively rare in Arkady. Wilson suggested a price for co-operation and the Caps were only too willing.

A joint base to enable the Cap teams to work up with their Black Guard counterparts was necessary. Wilson thought of the perfect place, NAS West Floral, and the perfect man to run it, 'Captain' Harry 'Hap' Arnold, Suetonius's 'Napoleon.'

Meanwhile, at Iberica, Secoweya wandered the dusty streets alone. This was a different Iberica than the one she first encountered. Instead of the drunken youths accosting her at every opportunity, these same boys were polite, sober and busy. Most of the Travelers and roving bands were preparing to leave - back to their small holdings, forage sites or just exploring the wilderness. Teams of draft horses were being hitched up to 'vans and battered old vehicles fueled up from whatever synthetic gas was available. Many of the engines ran on practically anything that could burn - some even featuring charcoal burners - and efficiency wasn't necessarily the name of the game.

Supplies of every description were being piled into the overloaded wagons. Bakhunin, Kropotkin and Makhnovistan horsemen were gathering herds to be driven back to their pastures having done deals with each other on bloodstock. Secoweya stopped to admire the fine boned, Sibirsk/Arab horses and the athletic young men who, conscious of their pretty audience, showed off their riding skills and control of the spirited mounts.

Secoweya needed time alone to think of the past week - away from Hap, Moira Lys and Mirri, who made things sound so simple and easy. But, she felt life was never simple, despite Moira Lys insisting choices were 'as difficult as you want to make them.' As long as other people were involved choices were never that easy to make.

They did, though, help her to admit she hated her grandparents and never wanted to return to Missouri Village and subservience. That said, Hap and Moira Lys conspired to send Tetonka and Haudenotsee packing, loaded with gifts of autorifles and hooch for the tribe. Hap had produced a treaty and contract - all neatly printed, care of Connolly craftsmen - guaranteeing possession of their lands, autonomy in their affairs, and an undertaking to find a 'husband of status' for Secoweya to seal the bargain. All of it, of course, was bullshit as no-one, including Hap, had no authority from anyone to make such an agreement. The old boy wasn't fooled, Hap mused, but a dozen high tech guns and enough booze to take them through the Winter was far too attractive an incentive to pass up. Hap added a portable still to their supplies with detailed instructions on how to distill overproof spirits. He told Moira Lys not to expect too much trouble from these 'retread Injuns' in times to come.

Hap had told her some of the real history of the Sioux, of the plains culture, and of the depredations caused by contact with white men during the 1870s. He explained the Sioux people had been a patchwork of bands and tribes united only by language and some common culture. The Yankton lived in forest land, for instant, and were constantly in conflict with their cousins the Minneconjou, Hunkpapa, and Oglala who lived on the plains. 'Sioux' wasn't a Lakota word, he explained, but Chippewa/French and unflattering in meaning. The political disunity of the Sioux had contributed to the destruction of their way of life.

The loss of the Black Hills had taken the heart out of Plains culture. The Black Hills were the dwelling place of the spirits. The Plains people had lived off the millions of Bison who roamed the land and the destruction of the herds by white hunters had destroyed their livelihood. Despite sporadic resistance, the destruction of the Plains people had been relatively swift and there were important lessons to be taken from that.

But Secoweya's people, Hap had told her, had revived a mere shadow of Sioux culture. The Missouri had been one of the great rivers of the North American continent, but now, renamed the Floral, like the Indian, was a memory of what had once been. Another, the Mississippi, was a now a chain of fetid swamps inhabited by snakes and alligators. Climate change had decimated the people as well, forcing them out of their homes to move North. The struggle for common survival had pushed cultural distinctiveness into the background. In a hundred years people had evolved a new culture out of the many ashes.