Children of God

Which was true, but nothing went as pla

"SIGNORA," CARLO INSISTED THREE DAYS LATER, "I ASSURE YOU, THEY are at the rendezvous coordinates you gave us—"

"They’re not there," Sofia repeated, cutting Carlo off. Her voice was clear and hard, despite the huge storm system over Gayjur, which made her transmission pop and hiss. "The escort reports they have located the site. Signor Giuliani, my people say that the camp smells strongly of blood, but there are no bodies."

"Oh, my God," John Candotti whispered, hugging himself and pacing along the bridge bulkhead. "I knew we should have gone back down!"

"Let’s not panic, ace," said Da

"Signora, our entire party has subcutaneous GPS implants," Carlo said, having taken this step to avoid the fate of the lost Contact Consortium party. He watched as Frans Vanderhelst brought up the readouts from the global positioning system. "We are checking the position data as I speak, but there is no reason to believe—"

"What the hell…?" Frans said.

Carlo swore briefly. "Signora, we show three GPS transmitters at the coordinates of the rendezvous. But the implants haven’t moved for sixty-eight hours—. That doesn’t make sense. We heard from the ground party last night. Wait. There is a fourth trace showing a position approximately two hundred and forty kilometers northeast of the landing site."

"Whose trace is still active?" Sofia asked tightly.

"That’s Sandoz," Frans reported.

There was a moan from John and something near a growl from Sofia Mendes. Carlo cut in, still studying the GPS data. "Yes. Definitely. Sandoz started moving north almost three days ago."

"He’s been taken hostage. The others are dead—or worse!"

"Signora! Please! They—"

"Why didn’t you cross-reference the GPS locale with the origin of the radio transmissions?" Sofia demanded. "You should have realized days ago that something was wrong!"

"Never occurred to me," Frans said defensively. He was already pulling up the transcripts to see if there was something he missed, some clue… "Everyone sounded fine!"

"Signora, please! You are assuming your conclusions," Carlo cried. He was hardly one to dither, but Mendes seemed to leap out ahead of everything that was said. "The ground party checked in last night!"

"Have you spoken to all four of them?"

"Yes, at one time or another."

"Then obviously they have been reporting under duress," Sofia snapped, furiously impatient with their slowness. "The GPS implants have been ripped out—"

"Signora, how would anyone know—"

"— which is why there’s been no movement for three days. Someone has managed to take Sandoz’s with them and they’re—"

"One of my men is still down there," Carlo said, trying to slow her down. "Nico has orders to protect Sandoz in particular. If Sandoz were in danger, Nico would have told me."

"There was blood at the campsite," Sofia reminded him. "Signor Giuliani, they’ve been taken hostage. There are renegades in the northern mountains. We’ve never been able to root them out, but now—. This ends," she said almost to herself, her anger like the thunderheads in Gayjur’s sky, whose lightning made the radio crackle and spit. "This ends. The raiding, the theft, the lies. The kidnapping, the murders—it all ends now. I will get our people back and, by God, I will put a stop to this. Signor Giuliani, I am going north with troops to intercept them. I’ll want a continuous monitor of your GPS trace and all radio contacts with the ground party, is that understood? We are going to track those djanada bastards to their lair and finish this, once and for all."

EMILIO SANDOZ WAS THE FIRST TO NOTICE THE TRAVELERS APPROACHING the campsite on foot from the west. All four VaRakhati wore the robes and boots of urban Runa traders, and he had no reason to doubt their identity. "Visitors," he a

He held out both his hands, palms upward in the Runa ma

Turning to Sean and Joseba, he smiled at their dumbstruck immobility. "The two in front are women," Emilio told them. "The ones hanging back may be males. Sometimes they prefer to let the ladies do the honors. Say hello." When the greetings had been exchanged, he continued as though he had never been away, "Such a long journey you have had! We would be pleased to share our meal with you."

He saw the two people in the back look at each other, and it was then that he stopped breathing, and stared at the smaller of them. Not a Runao, but someone Emilio Sandoz had seen in all too many nightmares: a man of medium stature, with violet eyes of surpassing beauty that met and held his own with a gaze so direct and searching that it took all his strength to stare back, and give no ground.

It can’t be, he thought. This ca

"You are-you must be the son of Emilio Sandoz?" he heard the man ask. The voice was different. Resonant, and beautiful, but different. "I’ve seen your father’s image. In the records…"

At the sound of the K’San language and the sight of the Jana’ata’s carnassial teeth, revealed as Rukuei had spoken, Sean backed away. Nico drew his weapon, but Joseba stepped up swiftly and said, "Give it to me." He flicked off the safety and with a Basque hunter’s reactions, turned and fired at something snuffling piglike in the bushes nearby.

The gunshot and death squeal set off an explosion of reaction among the wildlife, and the VaRakhati staggered back, eyes wide and ears clamped shut. Joseba handed the pistol back to Nico, who trained it on the Jana’ata who’d spoken, but kept an eye on all of them—now frozen and visibly frightened. Walking to the carcass in the ensuing silence, Joseba bent and lifted the body by one leg, letting its blood drip educationally. "We have no ill will toward you," he said firmly. "Neither will we permit you to harm us."

"Well put," said Emilio. He was breathing hard, but Carlo was right: bullets worked. "I am no one’s father," he said, staring at Rukuei. "Rather, I am the one you have named: Emilio Sandoz. At my word, this man Nico kills anyone who threatens us. Is that understood?"

There were gestures of assent from all four VaRakhati. Dazed, Rukuei said vaguely, "My father knew you…"

"In a ma

The Jana’ata’s ears folded back slightly and there was an embarrassed shuffling among the others as he said, "I am freeborn. My mother was not a woman of standing. If you please: Rukuei Kitheri."

"Christ Almighty," Sean Fein gasped. "Kitheri?"

"You are son to Hlavin Kitheri?" Sandoz asked, but there was no doubt in his mind. The stamp of the father was clear, and the son’s chin lifted in confirmation. "You lie. Or you are a bastard," Sandoz snapped. The challenge was deliberate—a testing of response, a probing for flashpoint, knowing that Nico was at his side. "That Kitheri was Reshtar, and had no right to breed."