Release it, Aleph. We’ve got to hit the road.
Acknowledgement from below and she was alone on the rooftop, all dressed up for a party that was already over.
31
As Begay had promised, the run through the Tir was easy. Except for the border crossings, they had traveled by day, which gave Sam a chance to see some of the magically restored forest. Beautiful as the Land was in its natural state and vigor, the thought that powerful magics had made it so disturbed him. It was still more evidence he could not deny. As lush and cool as was the forest, Sam seemed to notice only the pools of shadow and the dark spaces under the trees, as though some danger or precarious instability hid within the leafy canopy. Or was it only his doubts?
Begay assured him that travel by day was a practical matter rather than for sightseeing purposes. Less local wildlife was active with the sun high in the sky, he said, leaving Sam to ponder what kind of animal could threaten a panzer. An Begay would tell him was to watch the target screens, which he did, though his datajack connection to the sensors brought on the usual headache. Strain, he told himself. Magic had nothing to do with it.
Once through the Tir, they traveled by night. “Sure, the IR signature’s easier to spot,” Begay said, “but watching an IR screen is like watching any screen. Ain’t easy to do for long. People get tired and forget to watch their screens.” Sam trusted his judgement. After all, Begay was the professional.
Crossing through what used to be Idaho, they had a run-in with a Salish-Shidhe helicopter, but Begay found a hiding place in the canyons along the Snake River. After that, he launched the T-bird’s remotely piloted ultra-light aircraft to fly overwatch so that it might spot any telltale activity. Later, while pulling the RPV back as they bivouacked for the day, the rigger’s control panel blew a chip, sending the aircraft crashing out of control at the edge of the river. They lost half the night salvaging the wreck, for Begay wouldn’t leave without it. “Too fragging expensive,” he said.
It was near dawn when they pulled into the shanty town on the Dworshak Reservoir. Begay turned the Thunderbird toward a dilapidated barn where a bunch of the locals were lounging. As the panzer neared, however, they sprang up and opened the barn doors for the T-bird. The panzer tucked itself in and settled to rest.
From what Sam could see, the interior of the barn was at odds with the exterior; the floor was concrete and the walls some kind of solidified foam material. Benches, power tools, vehicles, boxes, and crates were scattered about in haphazard array. Overhead, a heavy-duty crane held what looked like an engine within a net of braided wires. The locals, most of them Orks, closed the outer doors and moved toward the Panzer. Sam was still trying to understand what was going on when Begay popped the driver’s auxiliary hatch and crawled out.
“Fill her up.”
“You want your oil checked?” asked an Ork in grimy coveralls.
“I’ll let you check the oil the day I own a well, Thumper.”
“Ya got no faith, Begay.”
“Your dipstick’s too short.”
“Man’s gotta stay in the biz.”
“Got that right.”
To Sam, the exchange had the ring of an old routine. Climbing out himself, he saw the two exchanging handshakes, and knew they were old buddies. Begay waved him over.
“Twist, want you to meet Thumper Collins, best panzer mechanic in the west.”
“Second best,” the Ork contradicted. “Don’t believe everything the Injun tells ya, kid. Willy Stein’s still working with the Cascade boys.” Collins held out a hand. “Pleased to meet ya, Twist.”
Sam took the callused hand. Collins’ grip was so strong that Sam got the impression that the Ork could crush the bones in his hand with only a fraction of his strength; ridged muscles made the Ork’s already blocky frame more massive. Introduction over, Collins turned his attention to the rigger.
“Real mess you got in the starboard carry slot.”
“Drek, yeah. Blew a chip on recovery.”
“I can patch the R-P today, but the chip…” Collins shook his head, making reflections dance on his bald pate. “Ain’t got nothing like that on the shelf and ain’t nobody this far out can cut you one.”
“Frag it. I need that bird.” Begay spat on the floor and stared at the star pattern the spittle made on the concrete floor.
“Begay?” Sam waited until the Navaho looked up. “It looked like your aircraft had manual controls.”
“Yeah. Used to be a spy dropper before I put in the rigger controls. Left them manuals in, ’cause I thought I might want to take up flying someday.”
Collins snorted. “He means it was his backup getaway.” Begay gave the Ork a snarl, but there was no real heat to it. Sam realized the drone’s use as an escape vehicle must be an open secret, but the rigger needed to establish that it was his secret to share.
“Begay, I used to do some small-craft piloting. My old Mitsubishi Flutterer was something like your ultra-light. I think I could fly it if you really need a recon.”
“You’re full of surprises, Twist. Next you’ll be telling me you’re a magician.” Begay laughed. “You aren’t a witch, are you, Twist? ’Cause if you are, you’re walking from here.”
Sam said nothing. The left side of his mouth twitched into a nervous half-smile. He was saved from the need to reply when Collins stepped into the silence. “If the kid was a skinwalker, Begay, he wouldn’t need to ride with you in the first place.”
“What would you know about it?”
The two old friends started wrangling over who knew more about magic and the ways of magicians, giving Sam the opportunity to slip away. He didn’t want to get drawn into a discussion that might end up with Begay living up to his threat to leave him stranded here in the wilderness. Sam didn’t think of himself as a magician, but he didn’t know what Begay’s standards were. Had the Navaho seen Sam scanning the chips the professor had given him? Was that what really motivated the seeming joke of a question? Feeling quite alone, Sam found a dark corner and sealed in to watch Collins’ crew service the panzer.
Boise belonged to the Salish-Shidhe Council, but it was different than the towns Hart knew from the coast, where the influence of the Northwest Coast tribes was strong. The flavor here was of the Plateau and Plains tribes, a lot more like the Ute Council burgs. That wasn’t too surprising; Ute territory started just to the south beyond the Snake River. Still, it was the biggest settlement around and well situated for a move on the panzer while it crossed the Snake River Plains. She had picked it as a likely choke point once she’d found a street snitch who pegged the panzer’s destination as Quebec. It had taken only minimal bribes for clearances and a place on the regular shuttle to put her here ahead of her quarry.
That was what she had thought on the flight here. The shadow underground wasn’t very developed in Boise, but she made a few connections and learned enough to know that she had guessed wrong again. By pretending that she was looking for a panzer runner and needing to know the itchiness of local enforcement, she had found out that all was quiet. All of the-admittedly limited-excitement was to the north where, yesterday, a Council copter had reported contact with a panzer headed north along the river. The chopper pilot had lost the panzer in the canyons. No surprise there. Any good panzer runner could ditch a general patrol.