The visors on the Authority Enforcers’ helmets bore little resemblance to the gothic iron masks that dominated the first fifty years after the Change. Those were molded into likenesses of human faces to protect the wearer’s identity and intimidate any they approached. These new versions were plain shovel blades of polished steel-their surfaces broken by a thin eye-slit of bulletproof glass. An Enforcer sat on either side of him. Their protective body armor wedged him uncomfortably into place. His hands were cuffed in his lap. The transport was lightly armored and offered windows on either side. The drivers were hidden away behind a heavy door.
Stoneworthy had stolen away from the Army of God about an hour before. His heart was sick with guilt at ignoring Updike’s assertion that it was too late for parley. But the minister could not ignore the lessons he had learned in battle. War was too easy-and the doubt in the faces of the men he had killed begged discussion. Sinners they were; animals they were not. Men of God had to allow their enemies time to repent. They could die later if need be.
Fifteen minutes had passed since his capture. The darkness had provided him cover from his own advance scouts after slipping into the shadow while thousands of tireless workers cleared the highway. The infantry and mechanized units would move forward soon after.
Stoneworthy found his walk immensely fulfilling. There were few sounds: wind pulled at the odd tree, ruffled grass; rain pattered in fits and starts. The relative silence encouraged a contemplative state in him and he remembered his time in the wilderness so long ago, when he learned of his mission to build the Tower. Even though he had been naked against the night, the time seemed somehow simpler.
He knew he was doing the right thing. Gabriel had commanded an Old Testament style Holy War, and Stoneworthy believed in the cause, but he could not entirely set aside the teachings of the New Testament. Truly just men could not forget the lessons of Christ.
City Defender scouts had called out to him before he stumbled upon their position. They were frightened and Stoneworthy hoped he had not underestimated their terror. They jammed their gun barrels into his face and brutally pushed him to the ground, the whole time bolstering their courage with the derogatory names: “Fucking zombie!” They kicked him numerous times. “Coming after our brains!” The soldiers laughed and dragged him to his feet before knocking him to the ground again. “It ain’t your world no more bone-bag!”
They delivered him to a forward command post where a surprised Colonel Menedez recognized him from police reports. “It is a pity, Reverend Stoneworthy. You have done so much for this City.” A military man, Menedez could not forget his fallen comrades. “But you picked the wrong fucking side!”
Menedez contacted City Authority. Enforcers had been placed in the ranks of the City Defenders-as acting Military Liaisons-and a pair of them whisked him away in a speedy transport.
The sky was dark as they approached the City-and as always, Stoneworthy was impressed with his accomplishment. He had to crane his neck to see Archangel Tower flying free of the City’s Carapace almost half again as tall. Neighboring structures were dwarfed by its size. How often he had wished to see the Tower’s pinnacle in full sunlight. It was a dream that he hoped parley could make real.
The transports approached the City’s western gates on Level Zero. They had to negotiate enormous barricades of concrete slab and sandbags. Two mammoth doors swung open with ominous silence. In all the history of the City they had never been closed and locked. Overhead, another highway exited through the wall with gates of its own, and another soared over that.
As they passed through, Stoneworthy saw twenty tanks and support troops clustered around the open space inside the wall. And as the doors swung shut behind him, the minister caught the first hint of a dilemma.
It was unlikely that he’d be allowed to leave the City now that he was privy to some of its defenses. The idea held no anxiety for him. He expected to be treated as a prisoner of war and allowed the basics despite his dead state. And such a setting would allow him to spread the word. His guards said little to him for the remainder of the trip and rather than draw conversation out of them, he used the time to collect his thoughts.
When he had first approached the City Defender scouts, he had asked to speak with Mayor Barnstable-perhaps naively. He had been a humble minister so long that he didn’t quite fathom the size of the applecart he and Updike had upset. When the transport roared past City Hall, the minister understood that he had grossly underestimated the situation.
Stoneworthy had met the Prime on a number of occasions, he worked in the same building after all-though the Prime was said to spend a good deal of his time in seclusion, or traveling back and forth by airship to Europrime and the other more distant nations where meetings between ruling corporations took place.
By manipulating an International Credit Co. grant that would finance the final construction of the Tower, the Prime had secured the top Sunsight floors for Central Authority Headquarters. They already controlled most of the Tower office space from Zero to Level Two, so it became a sore point for the minister, though he had tried to look at it philosophically. Archangel Tower was completed and the arrangement had worked well enough for the past few decades. It also allowed him to keep a wary eye on the politicians. He had been disturbed by some of the design alterations ordered by the Prime, but seventy-five years of Tower building left the minister anxious to finish.
The Prime was a large man who wore a straight bang of black hair over a heavy-set face that was predisposed to blotching and blushing. The man was intelligent, and had an orator’s gift for communication. Stoneworthy often found himself caught up by his broadcasts. His message was usually about keeping Westprime safe from foreign influence. He railed bombastically about the citizen’s duty to stand against the mystery of the Change. Despite his patriotism, the minister always felt uncomfortable around him. Perhaps it was his skin-that had a pale oily look to it, or it might have been his anxious restlessness-the Prime had a shifty frenetic quality that belied his bulk.
As they rumbled up Skyway Three and drove onto Tower Avenue, Stoneworthy glanced out at pedestrians. There were fewer than usual for neighborhoods this far downtown, and those he did see scurried between City Defender checkpoints. They had a stooped frightened look to them that caused embarrassment to burn his cheeks. He was partly responsible for their fears.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked, already guessing the destination.
“Prime wants you,” the Enforcer on his left said. His voice sounded mechanical.
Stoneworthy didn’t like the idea of the Prime “wanting” him, but he did know the man personally if not well. The top was the best place to start a dialogue. And then he flushed again. What was he saying? The street was the best place for the Word to be spoken. The average man’s soul needed to understand the Army of God. Hadn’t he started building the Tower on these very streets? Hadn’t he first met Karen there? Then he thought of his friend and closed his eyes in prayer.
It was too late to take the message to the street. Perhaps, this was the example of the necessity of leadership. The people already knew the message, now they needed to be led. If only the Prime could be made to understand. He had authority to countermand the mayor’s orders-even Central Authority rulings. Speaking to him would have the greatest impact. The Army of God was poised to strike. He couldn’t delay.
Stoneworthy had felt somewhat remiss that he and Updike did not bring the ultimatum to the Prime in the first place. But the preacher told him that their issue was with the City not all of Westprime and approaching the mayor would not be seen as an open challenge to the Prime’s authority. Stoneworthy wished the ultimatum had been better received. The Prime was a shrewd businessman and politician though. The army at the gates would get him to deal. And it was the only way he could hang onto any of the wealth he had.
The transport approached the high Tower Wall and passed the spear-point gates that protected the grounds. The soldiers were dressed in the livery of Central Authority. A wide circling drive guided them to one of many official entrances. Stoneworthy stepped out after his guards and looked up. The height was dizzying. Even against the gray concrete of the level overhead, the Tower was beautiful.
“There you are.” His voice was choked with emotion. “I’m home.” His breath sat heavy in his chest.