Broken (20 page)

Sarge nodded and sat with his compatriot far away from Wayne, conversing in low tones.

 Michael barely needed to use his talent. Their decision was plain on their faces. They’d never do what Wayne wanted. He tried to catch Wayne’s eye, but the “Colonel” wasn’t looking at him.

The next delegates came in. They were three women in light blue outfits, not quite uniforms, but chosen carefully to give that impression anyway.

"Who let these scum in?" Sarge growled.

"Hey, ladies, don’t mind Sarge there," Wayne said.

"I don’t like being in the same room with you, either, Brezhinsky," one of the women snapped. Michael glanced at their eyes.

—"We’ll go," the woman said. "Time to get some of our own back."

—The desert. "Let them kill themselves," one woman said to the other. "Let’s get out of here."

Wayne looked at him. Well, he wanted to know the vote, right? Why tell him the rest? Michael nodded. Wayne grinned.

Finally, a group of six dark-skinned men and one grey-haired, bedraggled white woman, all dressed in black from hats to boots, sauntered in, laughing and joking with one another. "Eey, Wayne!" called a green-haired man. "Nice place!"

"Well, well," Sarge taunted. "It’s the Nigger Army."

"Fuck you, old man," snarled Green Hair.

"Come on, gentlemen, no fighting in here," Wayne said nervously, clearly unaccustomed to keeping the peace. But both sides took their seats.

Wayne looked at Michael. He glanced over at the group.

—"Hell with it," said one. "We’re not going."

—Another walked through a strange jungle. The sky was a deep green.

—The third drove down a highway in a mag-van. Police were behind him.

—The fourth was having hot sex with the third.

—The fifth was sitting on his bed, reading a magazine. He missed the old days.

—The sixth sat in prison, wondering if anyone would ever come for him

—The last flew through the skies of Valen.

"Broken," he whispered. She glanced at him and smiled, giving him a little wave. What was she doing here? She seemed very pleased with herself.

He looked back at Wayne and shook his head
no
. Wayne’s brows creased.

"Let’s get started, then," he said.

The introductions took some time. It turned out that the old men in U.S. Army uniforms simply called themselves "The Corps," and were a hardcore separatist group. The women were militant supporters of the UNP, recently driven into the murky grasp of the underground. The men Broken was with were called the "North Jersey Anarchist Force" and seemed to be pretty easygoing, for anarchist revolutionaries. It was a bizarre mix.

Wayne started talking. "Friends, the time for action has come."

A few grumbled, but most paid attention as Wayne rose and paced around the room. His eyes were bright as he spoke. Michael wanted to shrink back from his sheer intensity, but dared not move.

"Comrades-in-arms, we have a purpose that we need to fulfill. We all know the crimes the government has committed on our beloved country. And now the government is fighting itself—"

The old man called Sarge stood. "I’m gonna talk," he growled. Wayne stopped mid-sentence, and sheepishly sat down, cowed by the grizzled soldier. "All right. This used to be a great country. America. That flag up there meant a lot of things to a lot of people. But the illegal 'United Nation' government has
sullied
what it once stood for!" He marched over to the three UNP women, who stared defiantly back at him. "Thanks to the Confederation, this is now one of the poorest, most backward places on the planet. Ever been to Australia? I have. The people there live lives of luxury, surrounded by shining technology. They refuse to share it! Dune Coons in Arab-Land get better junk than we do!"

 The North Jersey Anarchist Force had a few things to say about his use of the term “Dune Coons,” but the old man shouted them down. "I’m not finished! You can talk later! I’m not
finished, damn it!" He huffed and puffed as his face turned a glorious shade of crimson. Michael hoped he might have a heart attack. "We used to have the best tech, the strongest army, the smartest men and the best government on the planet! What the hell happened?"

"The Last War, idiot," retorted one of the women. "President Greenleaf went crazy. Remember?"

"You’re damn right I remember!” Sarge shouted in her face. She flinched. "I was there. I
fought
in that war. You weren’t even a dirty thought in your old man’s head yet! But I was there
,
I
know
. Everything they say about that war is a
lie
. We had to fight because Europe and China were ganging up on us! We had to protect freedom and democracy! And look what’s happened since we lost! Crazy UNPers and aliens have been setting policy for the entire world, that’s what!"

"A crazy man," one of the anarchists said, laughing.

"Shut up!" screeched Sarge. "Now it’s time for us to get some of our own back, while the Confederation is busy eating itself! The Second American Revolution is on! We gotta take to the streets and recruit as many able-bodied young men as we can, right now! Then we gotta go back to the hills and strike ‘em every day until we’re a free nation again!"

The other old man clapped. Everyone else rolled their eyes. Wayne cleared his throat. "Sarge, we’re here today to talk about taking the fight to the Confederation. If we bring down the government, we’ll all be free! Right?"

"Right," echoed a few of Wayne’s men.

"I ain’t done yet!" Sarge bellowed. "I ain’t done."

They waited. "America!" he said, pumping a fist in the air. Then he sat down, winded.

"I guess he’s done," said an anarchist. His group giggled.

"So," said one of the women. "Australia. Are we going?"

"Let’s talk about it," Wayne said.

"Let’s not," the anarchist leader replied. "We’re staying put."

"Then why did you come to this meeting?" Wayne asked icily.

"Wanted to meet everybody,"  the green-haired anarchist grinned. "Maybe find some new trouble to cause. But Australia? No way. Dangerous."

"The fight is here," Sarge said, still breathing hard. "You should join up with us."

"You gonna call us ‘coons?'"

"Naw, I save that for Ay-rabs only," he replied.

The anarchist leader shrugged. "All right, sounds like fun."

"Hang on!" Wayne said. "Hey. Hey, we need to go to Australia. I got transport and guns and everything. A bunch of other organizations are going, too! We’re all going to land north of Terra City and march down there to take it over."

"How do you know other organizations are going? You talk to other people?" the UNP leader asked.

"No, I saw it on the Net," Wayne said. Everybody groaned.

"You idiot," Sarge said. "The Net is monitored by the government!"

"The Net is
run
by the government," one of the UNP woman said scornfully. “I should know. I used to work for them.”

"Not
this
Net," Wayne said proudly. "It’s something new. No one knows it exists but us."

"So how’d you find out?" an anarchist asked.

Wayne’s smile drooped. "The original Net. But this is the real deal!"

"Government can and does monitor all communications off or on a network," Sarge said. "The UNP did that. Lieberman Act, 2062."

"That was to help find Rogarian spies!" the UNP leader exclaimed.

"Yeah, well, that’s what
you
say," Sarge growled.

"It would require millions of people looking through an unbelievable amount of information to look at
everything
," she insisted.

"You don’t know shit
.
Why do you think they got big, fancy computers?"

"Look, look, just trust me... trust me, this is going to happen," Wayne said frantically. "We all have to go. There’s going to be an army of tens of thousands!"

"ConFedForce has what, twenty million troops? Great plan!" laughed an anarchist. A few of his friends started clapping. Broken grinned and giggled.

"We expect support from the Army," Wayne said. "A lot of their generals used to be UNP."

"True," said the UNP woman. “That's the first reasonable point I've heard here.”

"If we link up with them, we’re unstoppable. Terra City isn’t defended at all, so it’ll be easy to take. Come on, are you all afraid of a fight?" Wayne asked.

"What?" howled Sarge, leaping to his feet. "I’ll break you, boy, for saying that about me!"

"Well, are you coming?" Wayne taunted. "Or what?"

"This is insane," said an anarchist. "I ain’t going."

"They
stay
, coward," hissed Wayne. "And you too, old man! I’m going to Australia
tonight
to fight for freedom!" He pounded on the table. "I’m going to go fight for your freedom, you cowards, and you won’t come with me!"

Sarge rose and advanced on Wayne. He stood toe to toe with him, staring him right in the eyes.

"Go get killed," Sarge recommended. "Do us a favor." With that, he and his buddy stormed out of the room.

"Well," the UNP woman sighed. "We might as well go with you. We have pretty good support down there; we ought to be able to at least link up with them. Better than staying here."

"How about you?" Wayne asked the anarchists.

 Their leader shrugged,.

 "Nah, we’re staying here. I said that. But we’ll drink with you before you go, all right?"

Wayne smiled. "Yeah. That’d be nice."

—He had stolen all the anarchists’ weapons and plunked them down in the hopper’s hold. The anarchists were cussing him out from the tree to which they were tied.

"Not a bad idea," UNP woman said.

"Thanks," Wayne replied.

Michael wondered if he ought to warn them. Maybe later.

[CHAPTER 20]

S
ky Ranger’s comm chimed. He sighed and toggled the switch. A man with an extremely thin face and a bent nose stared, vulture-like, back at him.

"Sir," Sky Ranger greeted him, automatically rising to his feet.

"I’ve located the boy," the thin-faced man said. He had a slight Australian accent. "He is with a specific-contact prescient and a speed-healer. They’re in the woods of New Jersey."

Sky Ranger scratched his head. "Is this the same boy who you said—"

"Yes. I’m sending precise coordinates. Go alone."

"Another LED member ought to—"

"No. You alone."

Sky Ranger nodded. "Got it."

"And wear your new uniform."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

The anarchists popped opened a few beers with the UNP women and the American Liberation Army, and everybody sat around for an hour or two bitching about the government. Michael watched, transfixed, as they all slowly descended into drunken stupors. Wayne cursed and threw a few things, but overall he seemed to be feeling pretty good. Amazingly, Broken hadn’t touched a drop, although she laughed and joked just the same as everybody else. She held a beer , but  she never seemed to actually sip from it.

 When they seemed out of it enough, he signaled subtly to her. She caught it on the first try, and nodded. He rose, praying that he was inconspicuous or they were too drunk to care, and edged slowly towards the door to the basement. No one stopped him as he opened the door and slipped into the stairwell. A moment later, Broken joined him.

He gave her a hug. "Good to see you. I knew you’d get out alive."

"Yeah," she said simply.

"Nice outfit." She was still wearing the black clothes the anarchists had given her; they set off her silver hair to stunning effect.  She smiled. "Ian and Monica are downstairs." He led the way. Banner was sitting outside the door, looking very bored.

"Hey, Banner," Michael said.

"Hi, Mike," Banner replied. "Who’s your friend?"

"Just someone I know. So, Banner, we need to get going."

"Oh. I thought you were under arrest."

"Well, not anymore. Can you open it up for me? Monica and Ian are coming, too."

Banner’s eyes narrowed. "Says who?"

Michael sighed, and thought of ways to reason with him.

 Broken put a pistol to his head.
Where’d she get that?
Michael wondered. "Please," she said.

Banner stared down the barrel of the gun for a full thirty seconds. He seemed to enjoy being right on the edge.