Jik Dain Bedlip
Dawn seeped into the caldera. Dain sauntered through it, savoring the symbolism. He would fly to
his destiny during the sunrise of a new day. Bathed in Nature's renewal, he would course over The
Edge of the World and regain humility from it one more time.
Of course, that meant he'd had to stanch his heat last night, heat well-earned from JDB's victory
over Thy and his over JDB. It had also meant one last night of solitude before returning now to
his complete responsibility and authority over the ollomani and through them, over the continent.
Sobered — and elated — by that charter, Dain mounted his aircraft and told it where to take him,
a plain set of coordinates off to the north. Without Kär to interpret, he bent to the foilscreen
to carefully specify the initial route, then he settled back in the bubble canopy, completely
exposed to present and future, sucking perspective from one to ordain the other.
After a short roll, they reached smoothly skyward and cleared the brash, young volcano that
shielded the Inn. Sudden sunlight flooded over him from the obedient suns as they cracked the far
horizon. The craft banked into that streaming brightness, then swooped down to skim the veldt.
Dain searched ahead for The Edge of the World. He ignored filter-tek, chose to reveal himself to
the far-traveling solar light, though he had squint against its glare.
There: the same wavering line, a physical and philosophical edge between the valley's
entropy-defeating Life and the bleak Death far below. Dain leaned forward, holding his breath,
anticipating the neat package of insight that Nature had always delivered to him here.
It didn't arrive.
Effortlessly, he sailed past the edge of everything and felt nothing, not even a bump as he changed
cushions of air, from a mere ten to a mind-expanding thousand meters. Riding the morning calm, he
just scooted beyond The Edge of the World, and it meant nothing to him.
He twitched his head toward looking back, but didn't. He lifted a finger to order the aircraft to
go back around, but he didn't. Instead, he gazed out at the land that humbly spread beneath his
feet, land that included, but did not end with, Ganj Dareh, land that he could, would, and should
dominate.
When last here, or rather, back there, standing before The Edge, he'd still needed Le Coeur to
accomplish his goals. He'd labored to keep their confidence and worried over his role as one of
their chief executives.
No longer, Dain said to himself as his aircraft laid in its own course and swooped north, surging
toward maximum speed. He barely noticed. Instead, he marveled at his own state of mind, single
and singular, connecting, merging, blurring past, present, and future.
Past: in one of his yesterdays — which one didn't matter now — he'd appropriated the
ghost-troops, the only part of Le Coeur's strength that mattered, the kind that enabled him to
dominate physically. Indeed, he had once rejected this, the means Thy had recommended and
provided, but now saw it as the purest, most direct means to reset the continent to its proper
course. Along the way, he'd abandoned the rest of the organization, scattering it into a history
no one would ever discover. Not that he regretted those tangents; they had been necessary steps to
climb, a path from far past to near past, but now that he had passed them by, they were, oh, so
obsolete.
Present: this very day, he would consolidate his control over that strength. He would arm his
ghost-troops, sending squads to the weapons caches, knowing they would trigger alarms, but also
confident that the Yojin Suru would be too slow in their reaction, as they had been twenty days
before. Such incompetence! No wonder Norma quit paying their fees.
Plus, these so-called world policemen would probably just use Chief Klintzich to vett the report,
as obliviously as before. Too slow and oblivious to challenge me. Yet, he realized, Yet, it means
Le Coeur is not obsolete after all. Good that I left those executives undisturbed, oblivious in
their own right about how I have left them behind. One more proof of his genius.
And when his tens of thousands of ghost-troops arrived to apply those weapons to the Collective of
Ganj Dareh? Even then, the Yojin Suru would hang back, unable and unwilling to enforce the
planet's embargo. For they could not, by contract, act until Heejanus herself asked for their
help. She never would, at least not as long as the Propaganda Combine kept her obsessed with
protecting Ganj Dareh herself. That part of Le Coeur de la Patrie, also, he had left undisturbed,
just headless. Pleased with this choice as well, Dain predicted that, without Lugar to command
them, the five Rollkeepers would assume separate authorities, would never agree how to carry out
their mission, would apply their katas in different ways, and thus further complicate the
harassment of Ganj Dareh. Besides, how could Heejanus even call for help with the gleest droppings
he'd left behind thrashing the Em-Deh around her. Completely isolated in mind and body, Heejanus
will lock her combine and collective into place until I take them away from her.
As though commending him, the aircraft hefted Dain gently with negative-g-forces and swept in over
the non-stop woods of the Missouri River Valley.
And tomorrow? Dain returned to contemplating himself as the center of his universe. Tomorrow, the
very day, all zhuhndí, no poetry, tomorrow, I take Ganj Dareh physically, logically, and
virtually. Insight — of his own acquisition, not driven by anything, or anybody, else —
blazed through him, replacing the mellowed suns swallowed by the unstoppable sky. Just as I have
integrated myself, just as I merged Le Coeur's troika, just as I blended past, present, and future,
so I shall also consolidate reality.
Physical: control the paths with my ghost-troops.
Logical: replace with the Collective with me. I decide; they obey.
Virtual: depose Ganj Dareh's infraware, nay, its very existence within the Mirnaya Direvnya, with
my own cyberspace.
And cerebral? Yes, cerebral reality is the most important of all. The people of Ganj Dareh will
love me as well, as do the ollomani. I will see to that.
Mirroring his delight, anxious to begin Dain's new realm, the aircraft dove. It aimed itself at
his coordinates, filling his view with an ocean of leaves, thick and restive and overwhelming the
land. Levelling out, the craft worked like a hungry hawk, seeking a way through the dense cover,
spiralling its destination more and more widely until finally, a narrow lane opened up. It dropped
into the opening and stopped. Dain bounded from his throne, down the ramp, and out toward his
ghost-troops.
They surrounded him. Already, they had detected, reacted, and surrounded him! Dain halted, drew
himself up, and waited their acknowledgment.
Not an instant later, the three ollomani snapped to attention. Their chivero bowed her head,
flashed a hand-sign that told the other two to change their Kata-for-Guarding, and announced,
"Governor Pi, welcome to Bivouac à. Allow me to guide you to our Rollkeeper." She pivoted smartly
and trotted away.
As Dain followed, the other two charged up the ramp to secure the aircraft and move it into
hiding. Delighted, Dain stepped clear and noted two other triads fading into the trees on both
sides, returning to their duties. So alert, so quick to react. Thy appeared to have done a
wonderful job with the Power Combine. He sprinted away to keep up with his guide.
In a moment, tree branches curtained the sky. They invoked data about themselves, data he'd
tricked Thy's coag into divulging, data that just piled on more appreciation of her work.
Reminiscent of the banyan tree, the strangling fig from-Benghal, but called "fey-banyan" to
distinguish its otherworldliness, this one organism could cover kilo-hectares, dropping slender
trunks in clusters to the ground from limbs that just kept twining and reaching. Only mountain
ranges and broad rivers like the Missouri and the Usuthu limited their spread. Thus, three of
these singular forests met at Ganj Dareh, beaten back only slightly by the direvnya's intrusion, in
accordance with Yeibichai's Pattern Language. In fact, Thy had compared the town to a caesarean
scar writhing through pubic hair, invoking a time when human surgeons actually dared carve bodies
themselves.
Only a splash of resistant soil — ancient lava? pulverized meteor? — kept the multi-tree at bay
in Ganj Dareh's northeast quadrant. This flat space enabled a drome, one of the factors that put
Ganj Dareh at this place. It also set the one gap in the ghost-troops' close, but invisible — so
far — cordon of the direvnya. In her notes, Thy still puzzled over that gap.
The fey-banyan — and the patterns that preserved it — gave them easy access, completely covered,
to Ganj Dareh, but if it had not existed, Dain was sure, Thy would have found some other way to
deploy and conceal her — No, mine! — ghost-troops.
Dain had of course seen the fey-banyan from the air on his various trips around this part of the
continent, but he'd never learned of its nature, nor looked underneath it as he did now.
He slowed his pace to appreciate this gift of nature and to adjust to the dimness under the
fey-banyan cloak, but the chivero drew him on. They passed one checkpoint, the guards quick to
challenge, but just as quick to recognize and salute their Governor. They trotted some more as the
woods spread out around them. Like a massive warehouse very much in keeping with the pattern
languages for architecture, the fey-banyan offered broad, winding channels under a single roof,
interrupted and supported by clusters of thin trunks, all soaked in yellowish-green light. On the
ground, low succulents and bushy fungus dotted a soft chaos of humus and leaves not yet rotted. A
faint path twisted through this otherwise pristine undergrowth.
Just past a second checkpoint, however, tents large enough for three ollomani sprouted like
another, secret forest. Quickly, Dain started to count the tents, and just as quickly, gave up.
He knew the numbers for this one of three identical bivouacs — twenty-four thousand, five-hundred
thirty-three — and recognized how cleverly that many ghost-troops prepared themselves without
possibility of detection by Beobachtung, aircraft, or even the slim chance of a hiker getting away
to report anything. Once again, he acknowledged Thy's brilliance.
Dain also liked the easy recognition and acceptance extended him by the men and women bivouacked
here. They all seemed to know who he was, acknowledged him with deference, but continued their
duties with no more than the slightest pause. It was barely past dawn, yet every ghost-trooper
worked to set things right before they came together for drills. He had to give Thy credit for
that as well.
At a major intersection of paths, the chivero turned toward a large tent. A Rollkeeper waited at
its entrance, a small, reddish band around one shoulder the only difference between his uniform and
the chivero's. Otherwise, they both wore tight trousers and shirts made from a smooth, grayish,
stretch fabric, no insignia, and heavy boots.
"Governor Pi, I am 1'Shuvuu. Recce Governor Nu?"
"She has been delayed," Dain said. Still I perpetuate the old structure, ride its inertia toward
my goals, but soon, I will abandon it to a heap of forgotten data. In the meantime — Part pique,
part discipline, he barked, "Do you recognize my authority?"
"I heed, Governor!"
"Are you ready to deploy against Ganj Dareh?"
"With rollick, Governor! When gander Governor Nu?"
Dain swatted away the continued impertinence. He advanced on his goals. "Are your
aircraft ready to fly?"
"With rollick, Governor! Each bivouac heeds its Kata-for-Deployment: its short-hop freighter
re-assembled and rumble-ready; its pilot cocky and fit. Alas, Rollkeepers non-canny any mission
for them to heed. Governor Nu reveal?"
The return to Thy irked Dain, and the patois chafed it even more, but he so wanted to speak his
next question, so long practiced. He rolled it out of his mouth, "Are you ready to use firearms?"
He savored the Rollkeeper's reaction.
"With rolli — Governor?" The olloman surrendered to surprise, then awe dawned on his from-Italia
face as the implications sank in.
Dain let his pleasure spread his arms. "It is time to arm your ghost-troops, Rollkeeper, yours and
those in the other bivouacs." Dain nearly smirked, but diverted his face to a fatherly smile.
"The Governors have always known that you would secure victory for us, and we smuggled in weapons
for you from off-planet, the latest model of slug-throwers. Select twenty triads to assist your
pilots in fetching the weapons from our secret caches. Contact the other Rollkeepers and set up a
meeting/database so that I can impart coordinates to your aircraft.
"Pistols, Rollkeeper! Are your ghost-troops ready to attack with pistols?"
1'Shuvuu quailed. "Alas, Governor Pi. We have heeded the Kata-for-Firefights and the
Kata-for-Sniping, yet no weapons boon our heed." His body quivered with obedience. "Instanter
such a boon — no later than dawn tomorrow — we will heed completely!" But then his face collapsed
into a stubborn frown. "Governor Nu arrives when?"
Like lightning, anger struck through Dain's omnipotence, smashed his pretense. "I killed
Governor Nu last night, Rollkeeper." Like lightning, anger vanished, leaving thunder in Dain's
ears, the stink of ozone in his nose, an electric taste in his mouth, and threat in his posture.
The olloman sagged under the news.
Dain relished the anger, glad for the words it had driven out of him. It clamored now to glory in
his conquests, to strike this pet of Thy's with shouts and blows, to prove his dominance over the
other Governors, Lugar and Thy, both now dead at his hands.
But he needs me! And I need him. Besides, replacing 1'Shuvuu now would disrupt tomorrow's
attack. Thrill died before imperative. But after tomorrow ..., Dain placated himself, then
straightened into dignity. He climbed once more to his accustomed pinnacle. "I am your Governor,
1'Shuvuu. I will solve your problems."
"Very well, Governor Pi." 1'Shuvuu relaxed his stance and his patois, much as Thy would have.
Obviously, a man well-chosen for his job, but is he too smitten with his 'Governor Nu?' Well, I
know everything Thy knew. Cyber-memory of Thy's coag simmered inside him, ready to answer. I will
tolerate his misplaced loyalty for now.
"Problem One," the Rollkeeper continued as requested, "the most significant threat: Ganj Dareh's
Em-Deh has stabilized."
Dain caught his surprise, suppressed it. Why didn't I know that? Because I have been busy
with other things. That's one trouble with an integrated ego: I have to do everything.
Instantly, riding the hacking whine of his medulla modem, Dain caught the Em-Deh signal that
drenched Yeibichai's surface and surfed it to Ganj Dareh's virtual location. Instead of the
heaving chaos he'd left behind, he found a calm lagoon. Annoyed and puzzled, he bucked to dive
beneath its surface, but his promise to 1'Shuvuu stopped him. Instead, he lashed at Thy's coag
with queries, to no effect.
So he asked the Rollkeeper instead, "Why do we care? We out-number the anshin and will overwhelm
them with firepower."
"The anshin will be able to target their tanglefog once again. In the closeness of Ganj Dareh's
paths, tanglefog will jeopardize our superiority."
Dain patronized 1'Shuvuu with a broad smile. "Give me a moment." He closed his eyes for show and
resumed his place in virtual Ganj Dareh. Yesterday, he had left the standard and redundant
connections between global and local cyberspace in disarray and saturated with his droppings to
combat the Em-Deh's built-in rejuvenation. He dove now, clear and deep, to see how they had been
repaired.
But they hadn't. If anything, the mouths of the huge conduits lay even more buried in brown slime,
rippling occasionally and turgidly with diagnostics. Dain whirled away and dashed up through
currents of data traffic, flowing swiftly once more. He tasted routing vectors, sniffed out
administrative packets, let these tidbits guide him toward ... a single, but enormous tunnel of
bandwidth. Filters and baffles shielded the mouth, their surfaces contorted in ways he'd never
seen before. =jDub?= he asked to make sure, but silence echoed from his own depths, empty of
answers. Virtual and logical Ganj Dareh had been locked away from him by someone ... different.
Only through physical reality could he restore his control there.
Dain opened his eyes. 1'Shuvuu and the world around him had taken a step back, retreating, it
seemed, out from under his thumb. But I will attend to that. Aloud, he said, "I will bring down
the Em-Deh once more, as I did before, by the dawn," then despite the weakness the words betrayed,
he added, "I promise you."
"I heed, Governor."
Why do I hear doubt in those words?
1'Shuvuu continued, "Problem Two: the mission against Ganj Dareh's drome succeeded. Our advance
agents need new targets. We also found out that the anshin shut down the Propaganda Combine.
Nearly all were arrested. That's why these agents used Governor Nu's hotline." He closed his
mouth and waited.
Again, Dain slashed through Thy's coag and revealed no mention of a hotline or such a mission.
Futility recoiled back along with his queries' negative results. Its crude blows rattled the
foundation of his future like potent temblors. He could ask his underling again, but singed by
1'Shuvuu's attitude, he sought data elsewhere. With a thrust of his virtual hips, he buggered
Ganj Dareh's will-hear. Deep inside, he tripped over reams of gloating about the anshin victory
over so-called gangsters — and caught the wash of an even greater fear as the Collective recoiled
from death and destruction at the drome. At a lesser level of regret, they bemoaned the loss of
the drome itself and access to the rest of the world.
Begrudgingly, Dain commended Thy once more. Projecting alternate futures well beyond the
contingencies of Le Coeur's plans. Choosing among them and preparing. Reacting and enacting harsh
measures, only too relevant in the gleam of a very real present. And concealing these twists of
ambition from her partners even into death. If called now, Yojin Suru could not access Ganj Dareh
physically. Plus, Heejanus' victory on one hand had been overwhelmed and set aside on another, all
the while sealing the one gap in the ghost-troops' assault. What else did Thy prepare? Perhaps
1'Shuvuu knows.
So he threw it back at the Rollkeeper. "What do you suggest?" he said brightly. Then, before
1'Shuvuu could reply, he found himself saying, "Never mind. I'll go assess Ganj Dareh myself, in
person."
Surprised by the inspiration, but pleased with it, Dain continued, "I will go ahead and prepare a
way for you into Ganj Dareh. I will remove the threat of tanglefog — and tangle the anshin with
their own fears and losses. I will send our advance agents into the core of the Collective's
failing confidence and ruin it completely. Meanwhile, you just fetch the weapons I have provided
for you and learn how to use them." He put out one finger and punched it into 1'Shuvuu's chest.
"Understand?"
The Rollkeeper flinched as his eyes lost their bravado. Loyalty filled in. Obedience resurfaced
and gave him voice. "I heed, Governor!"
Dain granted his underling a final, wintry smile. "I'll be in touch," he said, then spun away.
Marching toward action felt good, especially after the wobbling inflicted by Thy — long-dead —
and her minion.
Instead of striding into Ganj Dareh at the head of his ghost-troops, he would pave their way. For
one, he would deal with Heejanus directly. He would face his enemy's leader, as lords of old did
— mano a mano, like he had trained his ollomani — and defeat her, decapitating her forces. He
would fire the first shot of victory himself. He had stored Thy's weapon securely in his aircraft
for just such an eventuality.
Thank you, JDB, for these skills of the physical, last night and today. Thank you, jDub, for your
skills of the virtual. And thank you, Thy, for your good work with these ghost-troops. Too bad I
could not absorb your mind as I did all my other allies'.
Like raindrops caught by re-emergent suns, doubts lifted away from him, evaporated by direct
action, fading along with everything else that had lapsed. Only his future remained, a future that
lay before him, its succulence spread wide, begging him to come inside.
