Ryk E. Spoor's Blog, page 69

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 19

 

And it was DuQuesne who’d left Wu alone, wasn’t it?

Where was *he* when all this went south?

 

——

 

 

Chapter 19.

     One Sky Gate located,DuQuesne thought in satisfaction. And if we didn’t just get lucky at the opening gun, we might have quite a few Sky Gates leading to a bunch of places.

 

     It was true that there was some danger inherent in that, but overall it was probably a good thing; more options, more possible places to explore. As long as one of them doesn’t lead to the Molothos homeworld or something like that.

 

     He caught one of the elevators without anyone in it. What do you know, a few seconds of silence in the Arena. In that quiet pause, a thought suddenly struck him about the events of the afternoon, and he almost reversed the elevator. No, I’m going to get there ahead of him anyway. I’ll just make sure Wu talks to me before he tells Ariane anything. I think… there’s some strategy to play through here.

    

     The doors opened and he jogged out, looking for one of the floating open-air taxis. But really, do I need to take one? I can walk.

 

     Then one of the taxis went by in the middle distance, and on board…

 

     He wasn’t even conscious of his actions; he just found himself following, having flagged down another of the transports and leaped aboard practically in a single motion. “Come on, hurry up!”

 

     The destination was clear enough, and unsurprising: the Grand Arcade. Anyone new to the Arena would probably go here soon enough. And she hasn’t had a chance to get on her own since she arrived.

 

     His target still hadn’t noticed him, and it was almost impossible to miss her even in the alien crowd with that spectacular head of hair. He came up behind her as she was glancing over the sparkling wares of an Arena weaponsmith.

 

     “Hello, K,” he said quietly.

 

     She jumped a tiny bit – honest-to-God surprised her. Not often that happens. “M… Marc.”

 

     For a moment he just looked at her, remembering how she used to look when ready for action; the straight red hair full and flowing back, down to her waist(damn, she’s grown it out), black shirt tight and smooth, pants with a multiplicity of pockets both visible and hidden for holding almost anything she might need in an emergency – from chewing gum to grenades. That much hasn’t changed, he thought, noting the military gear that she’d somehow re-styled to look … cute, but still retained pouches and bandoliers galore.

 

     And those green eyes haven’t changed a bit. It was startlingly painful to realize that, because he’d thought a certain pair of dark-blue eyes had finally replaced them in his heart. Maybe I was just … giving up.

 

     She hadn’t said anything either, looking back at him almost sadly. And he couldn’t bear that look.

 

     “Why, K?”

 

     She sighed. “As Seaton would’ve said, that’s a dilly of a question. Or a lot of questions, all rolled up into one. Right?” The redheaded woman looked around, gestured. He followed her to one of many side booths where people might sit to rest, eat something bought, or otherwise escape while in the heart of the Grand Arcade.

 

     “Why did I come here, when I wouldn’t come when you called?” she said, picking up the thread of conversation. “Why did I come with Naraj? Why did I just hide away for fifty years? Those whys, or something else?”

 

     He was puzzled, and – honestly – a little hurt by her phrasing. “Dammit, K! Yes, all those, and all the rest, too! I gave you space, I knew how much it hurt – but by Tarell’s own favorite stars, it hurt me too!” He tried to rein himself in. “It… hurt us all. More than some of us could bear.” He remembered the day he said goodbye, and hugged her, and watched her leave… and suddenly he didn’t want to even try holding back. “I loved you, K. I still do, I think, and the biggest why is why you didn’t think we could survive better together than we could apart and alone!” He heard his voice near to breaking, and the clinical part of him raised an eyebrow. Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne, about to lose control over a woman he hasn’t really spoken to in half a century.

 

     Her eyes had widened, and her hand went to her mouth as though to cover up her shock. Then her face crumpled and her head dropped, and he saw two tears drop to the table in front of her, glittering diamonds that spattered and were gone. “Oh, Marc,” she said, and her voice trembled. “Oh, Marc, I’m sorry. I really, really am. I… loved you too. But…”

 

     “But? What possible but could there be, K?” Now that he’d opened the floodgates he couldn’t stop himself. He needed the answers he’d denied himself all those years ago.

 

     “But…” She hesitated again. “Oh, darn, darn, darn…” she dropped her head into her hands and gave a huge, heaving sigh, then straightened and looked directly into his eyes with the air of someone preparing to face an execution. “But… I’m not really K.”

 

     He abruptly realized he must have been sitting, staring at her like a gaping fish for nearly a minute. “Uh… you’re what? Of course you’re K!”

 

     “No, I’m not. Really, DuQuesne. It’s…” She suddenly looked more like a young girl than a woman, lost, confused, upset. “Darn. It all goes back to Hyperion… like everything else…”

 

*****

 

     Oasis looked down at the body, panting, holding the broken butt of her AX-12mm tensely.

 

     But after a few moments it became clear that the dark-haired man in the formerly impeccably-tailored suit would never move again. I didn’t want to kill him!I wanted to help him!

 

     But – like so many of the victims of this place – the sudden breakdown of the simulations had either driven him insane or fit somehow too well with whatever world he thought he lived in. He’d been certain this was some trick by an enemy – she hadn’t quite caught the name, Bluefield maybe, or Specter – and that she was an agent of the other side. And maybe a part of him knew things were much, much worse than he imagined, because he had grown increasingly irrational and paranoid when she tried to reason with him.

 

     And he almost killed me anyway – him with just bare hands, me with my armor, my combat knife, my sidearms, my rifle. She was shaking, and so was Hyperion Station around her. Almost my entire kit’s wrecked. No comm working, no relays… don’t dare try to tie into this place’s automation…

 

     She forced herself upright, feeling the grating of a rib, and she was pretty sure her collarbone was cracked. Maybe internal injuries, too, but I think my medical nanos are on it. No shock. Got to get out of here.

 

     Hyperion Station was huge. When you travelled hundreds of millions of miles in patrol, ten or twenty miles sounded tiny, but in the chaos of its collapse she realized it was almost the size of a world, layer upon layer of secrets and dangers and mazes – some real, some illusion, all deadly.

 

     She pitched a spent cartridge down the hall, noted the curve. Spin like that, so I need to head… this way.

 

     Abruptly the floor tilted under her. She heard the distant moaning scream of metal and composite slowly giving way. This place isn’t going to stay together long, even if the Commander doesn’t give the bombardment order!

 

     She still wasn’t clear on exactly what had happened, or what was happening now; but it was obvious that the internal war the Hyperion… subjects? victims? projects? had begun with their creators, and the creators and systems’ attempts to control them, was tearing the entire gigantic station apart.

 

     A sputtering light caught her eye. A comm station. Maybe I can at least listen in on what’s happening, get an update.

 

     She staggered to the comm station; as she did so, cables suddenly dropped from above and tightened around her. She cursed and tried to struggle, but in her current condition it was hopeless.

 

     The figure of a man, appeared on the console, a fair-haired man in a perfect white suit… with a warm, casual smile that somehow gave her the creeps. “Good afternoon, Miss Abrams.”

 

     “Who…”

 

     “Of course, you are quite correct. I have failed to introduce myself.” He gave a little bow. “I am Doctor Alexander Fairchild,” he said, blue eyes practically twinkling with a good cheer that sent a chill down her spine from the incongruity of his manners with her situation. “One of the unfortunate… creations of the former masters of this station. I require your assistance to escape from here, Ensign Abrams.”

 

     Maybe he’s just desperate. “You hardly needed to tie me up for that. Just tell me where you are and I’ll do my best to –”

 

     He laughed. “Oh, dear. I am afraid you labor under a misapprehension, Ensign Abrams. I am as much… here as I am anywhere, if you understand me.”

 

     Her gut knotted and felt as though doused with ice water. Shit. He’s a feral AI. A feral AI made by these people.

 

     Still… there was no reason not to play along. “Still – I have plenty of storage in my logger unit. If you want to –”

 

     The slight widening of the smile told her it was no use. “I suppose I cannot fault you for trying to carry out your no-doubt precise instructions for dealing with … artificial persons whose origin and intent are unknown. However, your suggestion is unacceptable. You will undoubtedly be scanned carefully and any storage media examined for additional, undesired content.” His smile broadened. “Any storage media but one, that is.”

 

     Another mass of cable fell, shoving her against the comm unit – and the interface socket extruded, directly into her left neural port.

 

     He wants to transfer to me? Even as the horrific idea struck her, she felt the presence of another mind, strong, cold, focused, trying to enter her own. She triggered her shielding protocols, but they were slow, and began to drop. He… he is figuring out the way through the defenses almost as if they weren’t there!

 

     Naturally, Fairchild’s voice echoed through her head. You’re not at all stupid, nor untalented, but I was able to stay a few steps ahead of even DuQuesne, and I am very much afraid you are nowhere near him, child.

 

     Her head felt near to splitting; she tried to scream, managed a sob. He’s… trying to … shove me out!

 

     Suddenly there was another presence, and a voice. “Fairchild! Get the hell out of her!”

 

     A sense of consternation and anger. “Walk along, my dear Kimberly. If you move, you may just live through this.”

 

     Sudden movement – a sense of slashing, of darting speed and edged metal – and agony ripped through her head. But at the same time she felt the pressure on her brain fade, the other presence fleeing in fury and fear.

 

     She opened her eyes, to see another woman looking down at her… one whose hair was her own shade of red, with green eyes not much different from her own. But there was something wrong with her vision… it was blurring…

 

     “Damn him. If he can’t win, he has to poison the bloody well.” The newcomer was kneeling. “Oh, blast it. You’re hurt worse than I thought. And he shut down your medical nanos…”

 

     “I… don’t want to die…” she heard herself murmur.”

 

     “Shit.” The other woman – almost a girl, Oasis thought vaguely, maybe younger than me – looked torn.

 

     Then her face smoothed out with firm decisiveness. “Then you won’t die. Not today.”

 

*****

 

     “So,” Oasis said quietly, “she… transferred me into the only healthy body available. Hers.”

 

     He looked at her in dawning horror. “You mean … K is dead?“

 

     “No, no… Not exactly. She… we’re both here, Marc. But… Oh, damn, this is so hard to do.” Now that he knew what to look for, he could hear faint shifts in cadence, in accent, in the way words were said, and abruptly it sounded much more like K. “Marc, I couldn’t let her die. She’d done everything she could, and it just wasn’t fair. So I let her take her own life back. You knew that Saul helped me fit in…”

 

     He still couldn’t quite believe it. “I didn’t realize … he was helping one of his own soldiers, with the worst case of shellshock ever. He must have convinced her family she had some face and bodyshaping done.”

 

     “With my help,” she said. “And… Marc, we’re not entirely separate any more, either. There’s… a gap, sort of, but we’ve been in the same brain for fifty years. I’m not the woman you knew, exactly… and she isn’t the girl she was, either.”

 

     DuQuesne was, for once, utterly at a loss. What was there to say to this? Who was the woman in front of him – Oasis Abrams, K, or … someone new? How should he think of her?

 

     He didn’t doubt the story. It was so utterly K’s personality that if someone had told him the situation he’d have been able to predict what she would do – save the helpless victim, no matter what it would cost her. Because she could always afford more than anyone else.

    

     With an effort, he smiled. “Yeah, that’s you, all right, K. You could’ve had a clone made, though, given her her own body back.”

 

     She shuddered. “You know we wouldn’t do that. Would you?“

 

     He shook his head.

 

     “See? Anyway, Oasis’ original body was destroyed when Hyperion went up, and there was no way I’d be letting people play with my DNA.”

 

     “No, that wouldn’t be good.” He looked up, studying the branching-leafed tree idly. “I have to say this is a lot more awkward than I thought it was going to be.”

 

     She smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, Marc. I… probably should have found a way to tell you, but…”

 

     “Nah, you were probably right. I don’t think I’d have been rational about it. Not sure I am now.”

 

     Oasis touched his hand. “I don’t think any of us were rational… then.”

 

     Just as he was about to answer, emerald light glowed from the air. “Marc, get back here now,” said Ariane, and the tone of her voice was chilled steel.

 

     “What’s up?” he asked, unable to keep his own tension from his voice.

 

     “Sun Wu Kung, that’s what’s up. Mandallon just told me, and he just confirmed, that he’s gotten into a fight – on the Docks.”

 

     Klono and Noshabkeming! Only the old curses were adequate for the moment. I should have known!

 

     Aloud he said “On my way, Captain.”

 

     He stood, looking down at the redheaded enigma before him. “We’ll talk later?”

 

     She did, at least, give him one of her sunny smiles, driving away a little of his confusion and gloom with the force of her personality. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, no matter what. Of course.”

 

     Better than nothing, he thought. “Then I’d better get moving.”

 

     He headed straight for the Embassy. One way or another that fight will be over soon… and the coal-raking will be happening at home.

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 18

 

Well, we’d heard that Sun Wu Kung had got himself in trouble (is anyone surprised? Bueller? Beulller?); let’s see how, and what kind of trouble it is…

 

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 18.

     “Go enjoy yourself for a little bit, Wu. I’m heading back to the Embassy to give Ariane the good news.”

 

     Part of him wanted to protest that he should probably go back, but… finally on my own in the Arena! So many things to see! So many things to do! “All right, DuQuesne! I am sure she’ll be so excited to hear Simon’s already located one Sky Gate!”

 

     “I’ll bet she will.” The big, dark-haired man grinned back. “Now behave yourself as much as you can, okay?”

 

     I will! I’ll make sure I don’t cause trouble! “I promise!”.

 

     “Good enough. See you back at the Embassy.” DuQuesne waved and then loped down the rampway, quickly disappearing in the distance.

 

     For a few minutes, Wu just stood there at the top of the ramp to the black-sparkling gateway, watching the unending traffic in Nexus Arena. It’s like the Promenade of Heaven, or the entrance to the Celestial Emperor’s palace!

 

     He remembered DuQuesne’s words: ” A place where a thousand races of… of demons and gods walk and speak, where there are worlds floating in the clouds, where you can fly up to touch the suns or sail a ship off the edge of the sea into that infinite sky”, and he laughed aloud. It’s so true! The thousand races of demons were here – the round-bodied, spidery Milluk, the claw-handed Molothos, the moving-tree with its singing spirit-aides that was a Rodeskri, toad-faced Daalasan, three creatures with tri-horned heads that Ariane had called Dujuin, and so many more; he’d seen ships and a distant world drifting in the endless sky through the giant window-room DuQuesne had stopped off in on their way to Humanity’s Sphere; and he’d seen the blazing Luminaire and knew that he only had to fly up and he could touch the sun of the world. Though that would probably hurt!

 

     “Greetings to you, Sun Wu Kung,” a deep, resonant voice said from near his elbow.

 

     He whirled, staff coming up reflexively. I didn’t sense it approaching me! That’s –

 

     The tall figure was dressed in black robes, only a hint of shape, a glint of eyes, showing within the cowl. “Oh, that explains it. You are that wizard that Ariane beat, one of those Shadeweavers.”

 

     A chuckle rolled from under the shadowed hood. “I am Amas-Garao, yes. You are an interesting newcomer. An associate, perhaps a former comrade, of DuQuesne’s, I perceive.”

 

     “We’ve been friends for a long time.” He looked suspiciously at the cloaked figure. “What do you want?”

 

     “At the moment? I merely wished to speak with you, to see you closely. I had observed a few… intriguing aspects of your nature upon your arrival, and speaking with you has afforded me more opportunity to evaluate you.”

 

     Gives me a chance to evaluate you, too, Wu thought. There was a power about this one, definitely. He wasn’t something you went after casually. And he had the smell of a warrior, someone accustomed to fighting, not one who would retreat from combat. Still, he stood at a short distance, the way of a sorcerer whose battles were fought with spell and fear, not hand and claw. Not far enough to make a difference for me, but maybe he’s not used to people like me. “Well, I hope you see something interesting. I’m just looking at all the people here.”

 

     “It is, in truth, a magnificent and always changing sight,” the Shadeweaver said. “I have spent many hours here, watching the interplay of species and the formation of alliances even in the shadow of the Gates.”

 

     Wu Kung nodded, thinking. “You want me to do something, I guess,” he said at last. “Ariane said you’re always trying to get people to do what you want without telling them somehow.”

 

     Another laugh. “Your Captain is an interesting being indeed. And what do you believe I wish you to do?”

 

     Wu laughed and spun the staff between his fingers. “Oh, I don’t know. Your kind’s always hard to figure out, with plans that twist in on themselves like a badly tied knot. It doesn’t matter – either I will do what you expect or I won’t, but either way it will be what I wanted to do.” He gathered himself and bounded down the stairs. “Bye!”

 

     The Shadeweaver didn’t follow; when he glanced back there was nothing but a quickly-fading mist where Amas-Garao had been. Maybe I’ll go to the Grand Arcade now!

 

     It was easy to get one of the elevators down, and then to head off in the direction of the Arcade. As he was half-walking, half-dancing his way through the crowds, something caught his attention, a small lone figure – even shorter than he was – followed by a much larger group of assorted creatures who seemed to be speaking at him.

 

     The movement … the way the little figure kept walking, straight, tail rippling behind, just a hair too stiff… it was familiar. That… I remember that…

 

     He remembered.

 

     “Monkey!” they called, and laughed at him. Some did not laugh, but looked down, faces filled with contempt and disdain, and sometimes with fear. He was in Heaven but they did not want him there, with his sense of fun and energy; they drove him out and so he played a prank on them, and they did not laugh; only Wu Kung laughed, he and his monkey friends, when he could visit them. So the others, the spirits and gods and functionaries of the Heavens mocked him behind his back, even as they asked him for his strength, and when he retaliated they grew even more angry.

 

And in the end their anger made even Buddha turn his back and he was sealed away for so long that nearly he forgot everything except bitterness, joy fading in darkness… until the stone cracked and an innocent face looked up at him, a face that held no malice or envy or hatred, a face of such purity so that he could not strike her.

 

Sun Wu Kung looked again, and saw them still following the little figure; young, or perhaps not as young as they looked, but though they were a half-dozen different species somehow he knew the expressions. Without even thinking of it, he strode towards the tiny white-and-purple figure walking towards the Powerbrokers’ area. As he approached he could hear fragments of words, and most often repeated was the word “Sphereless”.

 

That doesn’t sound nice at all! Though… Spheres mean something else here. But what does it mean, then?

 

He turned and began walking stride for stride next to the little figure, which was also armored in some enameled white and bronze material. He smells… very angry, barely leashed. “Hi! I’m Sun Wu Kung! Who are you?”

 

A scent of startlement. The small creature looked up. “You do not know who I am?”

 

“No… wait.” He walks like a real fighter. A warrior. Wasn’t that in the briefing? “… are you Tunuvun?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh, wow!” This person was a real fighter then! “I saw your race-battle with Sivvis – not in person, because I wasn’t here in the Arena then, but I watched it! You were amazing!”

 

Another set of insults were hurled from behind, but for the moment Tunuvun seemed more interested in Wu Kung. “Hm. You move as a warrior yourself. I thank you for the compliment.”

 

“Just the truth.” He glanced pointedly backwards. “So what is their problem with you?”

 

“Is it any business of yours?” Tunuvun demanded sharply. Almost instantly he covered his face with his hands and bobbed slightly, a gesture that, with a shift in scent, Wu interpreted as an apology. “I do not intend hostility. You are of the new Faction, yes?”

 

“Humanity, yes.”

 

Tunuvun’s eyes narrowed. “Then you may, perhaps, not understand that to have no Spheres in the Arena is to be no citizen at all. We are of no account except as we may be useful to those above us. There are times I regret any of us being found by the peoples beyond the skies.”

 

“Why are they bothering you, though?”

 

Tunuvun gave a hiss. “Because they hope to force me to lose my temper. To give them Challenge, or a chance for Challenge. I – my people – have now one chance, one chance only, to Challenge and win a world of our own, to no longer be ‘Sphereless’, and I dare not lose that chance. Some of these are just … tzykiss, children of no account, wandering visitors who are amused by bothering me; but others I think are agents of my enemies, and would hope to trap me in some Challenge I cannot win.” Tunuvun gave a hiss that sounded to Wu like the Genasi warrior was spitting on the floor. “And the Arena does not permit me to do violence to them inside Nexus Arena.”

 

“I understand.”

 

Wu whirled suddenly and pointed his staff. “Why don’t you leave him alone?”

 

“Mind your own path!” One of the larger participants – a broad, multi-legged creature like a quadrupedal hippopotamus with an upright torso and massive arms – snapped.

 

“Ha! You cannot make me be quiet either, can you?” He spun about and presented them with his rump, tail whipping about, and let them have a good view, punctuated by what Wu thought was a most satisfying burst of flatulence. “You are all cowards and fools without honor.”

 

“Would you Challenge us over this?” another voice asked. Ha, he sounds like a schemer. The speaker was a tripedal being with three manipulative members atop a circular body.

 

“You are not worthy of a real Challenge,” he answered. “You taunt someone who dares not reply because he has too much to lose. Whose lickspittles are you, trying to trick a Challenge from a being who can give only one?”

 

“Ha, then,” said another – a Daalasan – “perhaps you seek to get us to Challenge you?”

 

“How about a not-Challenge challenge?” he countered.

 

“A… what?”

 

“A bet, a simple wager, no worlds in the balance, no Challenges mediated by this huge Arena, just your group against me and him; I’ll even drop my Staff, just bare hands.”

 

“A fight?” The group of aliens, two dozen strong, looked at him with unmistakable skepticism. “There is no fighting allowed in Nexus Arena.”

 

He pointed past the Powerbrokers to the Docks. “But those are not in Nexus Arena… are they?”

 

Tunuvun had said nothing; he was just watching now, his posture uncertain.

 

“Clarification,” said yet another of the group, this one a low, crablike creature which must have massed five hundred pounds yet moved swiftly on multiple jointed legs. “You propose that the two of you will fight our entire group as a wager. What are the stakes, then?”

 

“If we win, you – and everyone associated with you – stops trying to bother Tunuvun and his people. They’ll give their Challenge soon enough. Don’t try to mess it up for them!”

 

“And if you lose?”

 

Wu realized he was now in a spot that he should never have gotten himself into. But I had to! “Then… then I’ll have to Challenge one of you of your choice, and you get to take Humanity on in whatever challenge you like to put us in.”

 

A murmur went through the group at the mention of Humanity. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

 

“You are mad, I think,” Tunuvun said conversationally, but the tone was both respectful and surprised. “You risk all this for one you did not know?”

 

“I saw your fight. I know your spirit. That’s what matters.”

 

“All right,” the huge multilegged hippo-creature said, and there was an ugly chuckle that rippled through the crowd… a crowd that now looked even larger. They somehow called more people in! “The two of you and all of us, Dock Two. Right now?”

 

“Right now.”

 

News had already started to spread. Wu saw people moving in that direction, spectators, perhaps gamblers wagering on the outcome. As he passed through the doorway to the vast expanse of the Arena and Dock Two, a green ball of light popped up.

 

“Sun Wu Kung,” Ariane’s voice said sharply, “I hope to god that Mandallon had things wrong –”

 

“I am sorry, Captain Austin, really I am, but I’m about to be in a fight, so I will talk to you later! Bye!”

 

The green ball sparkled red, then vanished.

 

Wu gestured to Tunuvun. “Run – let us get space, or they will try to mob us right away.”

 

Even as the larger group poured out onto Dock Two, Tunuvun sprinted with Wu up the hundred-meter-wide Dock; workers and travellers and traders ducked out of the way, running to their ships, clearing a wide space. “I hope,” Tunuvun said dryly, “that you are as good at fighting as with speaking, Sun Wu Kung.”

 

He grinned savagely. “We will see.” He took his staff and put it off to one side.

 

The twenty-nine aliens suddenly charged forward.

 

Tunuvun gave a high, uluating cry and went to meet them; Wu laughed and charged as well.

 

He remembered DuQuesne’s emphatic orders. Must not show them everything I can do. He also remembered how good Tunuvun was. That’s it. I’ll match Tunuvun. If he’s as good as he looked…

 

Both of them were small – Tunuvun a meter and a half high, Wu a scant few centimeters taller – and they used that, ducking under the first wave of assailants, rolling between their legs and grasping members, coming to their feet simultaneously, as though moved by the same thoughts. A spinning whipcrack of white and purple and a Sai’Dakan tumbled limply away; Wu laughed and delivered a hurricane kick to the head of the hippoid creature that made it stagger and go to its front knees. This gave Wu a chance to vault up, bouncing from the creature’s own back above the heads of the crowd, twisting himself around and coming back down atop the crab-thing.

 

Hands grasped and pummelled; some of these people were not amateurs, not in the least, and they evaded Wu Kung’s blocks, caught and hammered him down to the unyielding dock with an impact that drove the air from his lungs, even as he saw Tunuvun fly past, trying to recover from some huge impact.

 

But he could twist around, now, fur smooth and loose and hard to hold, he was free, a knee lock on a neck here, tail grasping another there, pull hard, wham! and two more assailants collapsed to the ground.

 

Tunuvun had just taken the full brunt of a Daalasan’s swing; he just laughed in a high-pitched voice and shrugged the impact off. Great! He’s really strong!

 

Wu ignored the next strikes and punted a Milluk over the heads of the crowd; the creature almost went over the edge of the Dock before spectators caught it. The Hyperion Monkey King could hear the excited shouts, the murmured bets, see the ebb and flow of the crowd. I have to be careful, he thought, sensing a swift-moving strike. I don’t think Tunuvun could avoid that one, so I can’t, either.

 

The kick hit like a runaway cart and as Wu skidded over the Dock, knocking down both opponents and spectators, he realized with surprise that it had been the multi-legged hippo creature. Boy, he’s a lot faster than I thought!

 

Focus, got to finish this! Roll to your feet, they’re coming, the remainder are tough and more organized, maybe eighteen left standing, but they’re not getting in each others’ way now. Tripod-head and a green eel-thing coordinated, moving fast, Tunuvun’s out of the way, kick the tripod-thing’s near leg out from under him and jump out of the way, come down on eel – look out, another behind us, a Salaychen, all armor and edges, bounce off eel, land on armor, punch as hard as Tunuvun seems to, crack goes the armor and it’s in more pain than it can handle, it’s down, ow! Something hit me, got to get up—

 

And suddenly there was stillness, nothing moving around them, just him and Tunuvun standing and a distant clump of spectators whose shouts echoed into the vast beauty of the Arena.

 

Wu realized he was actually breathing faster. Still… not all recovered from my long sleep! I will have to do a lot more exercise!

 

Tunuvun surveyed his fallen tormentors and then turned giving a spread-armed bow to Wu. “We have seen victory today, and I thank you.”

 

“Hey, it was fun!” Wu said.

 

     Tunuvun’s straightening and a baring of teeth was so clearly a smile that Wu laughed. “It was indeed fun, Sun Wu Kung, and in more ways than just the joy of combat! Perhaps you and I will one day meet in combat as well, but for now I am glad that you chose to taunt my own enemies and led them to this battlefield.”

 

     “I look forward to another fight – with you or against you!” He looked at their fallen adversaries, who were slowly rising. “Remember our bet!”

 

     The hippo-like being shook its head slowly. “We… will not forget. The Genasi shall be left unmolested until they complete their single Challenge.”

 

     Sun Wu Kung gave a leap of triumph.

 

     And then the green ball reappeared. “Sun Wu Kung. Get your ass back to our Embassy right now.“

 

     Wu winced. “I think I’m in trouble.”

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 17

 

And now, it’s time to meet up again with another Faction we haven’t seen in a while…

 

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 17.

     “May the Minds show favor on this meeting,” Sethrik said formally, as he seated himself before the conference table in one of the split-back seats designed for his species. “It is a pleasure to meet more of your people, Captain Austin.”

 

     “It is a pleasure to meet with you as well, Sethrik of the Blessed,” Oscar Naraj said, and Michelle Ni Deng echoed the sentiment. Oasis Abrams was not present; the two diplomats had given her leave to spend a day out on her own, and the energetic redhead had instantly disappeared out the door.

 

     Sethrik turned, to indicate one of his companions; this Blessed’s exoskeleton had a distinctive pattern, dark green for the crests and lighter green for the face. “I present to you Vantak, currently my second in command.”

 

     Vantak performed the pushup-bow which was one of the few things shared between the Blessed and the Liberated. “I greet you, newcomers to the Arena. I hope the meeting in peace will become one of many.”

 

     Ariane remembered Vantak without much warmth – her clearest memory of the other Blessed was of him assisting in the humiliation of Gabrielle to sucker her into the challenge of Amas-Garao – but to be fair, he had simply been following his own Faction’s directives. “Our hope as well.”

 

     “It is in fact that very subject which caused me to have Captain Austin invite you here, Leader Sethrik,” Naraj said warmly. “I find it very gratifying and hopeful that you accepted so quickly.”

 

     Sethrik glanced at him, and then back to Ariane. “Clarify, please, what this newcomer’s status is?”

 

     “Ambassador Naraj and Deputy Ambassador Ni Deng are emissaries from the governing body of our solar system. They have been sent to assist us in establishing better relations with the various Factions, among other things.”

 

     “Ah.” Sethrik gave a slightly deeper pushup-bow. “It is more of an honor, then. I greet you in the name of the Minds, Ambassadors.” He looked to Ariane. “Have they… your authority, Captain?”

 

     “If you mean, have I ceded the leadership of our Faction to them, no. Decisions of any import will still have to be cleared through me in the end. However, they are certainly empowered to discuss many things and may arrive at tentative arrangements pending my final approval.” Ariane had given a lot of thought to the situation in the last few days, and the fact was that she had to concede some level of power to the Ambassador, give him some amount of authority, or his reports would – rightly – lead inevitably to the conclusion that Ariane was a potential tin-pot dictator trying to keep all power to herself.

 

     Still, in a sense that conclusion would be entirely correct; Ariane had no intention of giving away Humanity’s current advantage just for the sake of making things more comfortable back home. Thus she retained full authority over any final agreements. If this worked well, she’d have extended her negotiating reach via proxies who understood negotiation better than she did, while not losing the basic power of decision.

 

     Sethrik’s wingcases relaxed fractionally. “Ah, very wise. I would advise against any sudden changes in leadership.” He addressed himself to Oscar and Michelle. “Captain Ariane Austin is an extremely formidable person, and the Arena and its Factions hold great respect for her. Delegation of authority from her shows great trust – and puts a grave burden upon you all to honor her properly.”

 

     Naraj nodded. “I have been learning of this since my arrival, Leader Sethrik. Our initial impressions at home had … failed to grasp the entirety of the situation, but I am coming to understand the magnitude of the… challenges before us.”

 

     “Good. What was it you wished to discuss?”

 

     “First – do you require any refreshment?” the Ambassador inquired, and made sure that appropriate materials were provided; Sethrik took a drinking sphere such as Orphan often favored, while Vantak sucked or nibbled on a sticklike confection which Ariane thought was his equivalent of potato chips or similar snack foods. “Excellent. Now, from what I have heard of you, Leader Sethrik –”

 

     “No need of the honorific. You may call me Sethrik, if I may address you by one of your names.”

 

     “But of course, Sethrik. Call me Oscar or Naraj, as you would.” Oscar did an excellent bob-bow, showing he had studied the movement and probably practiced it multiple times. “As I was saying, from what I have heard you would appreciate directness, so I shall try to be as direct as possible.

 

     “You must of course be aware that we have already managed to offend the Molothos sufficiently that we are at war with their faction.”

 

     A whistling sound overlaid with a chuckle showed the Blessed Leader’s amusement. “Easily accomplished.”

 

     “So I have learned. But I am also aware that Humanity has – sometimes inadvertently – offended the Blessed To Serve, and I would like to present apologies for any such offenses, and hope that we can move forward to a common ground and perhaps partnership.” The Ambassador smiled. “After all, we are a new, and small, faction and could use all the friends we can get.”

 

     Sethrik leaned back , then bowed. “Your apology is accepted. As Leader of the Blessed to Serve, I in fact declare that any prior offenses are forgiven – if our own are forgiven as well.”

 

     Sethrik was, of course, referring to that setup which had not only injured Gabrielle but nearly gotten Ariane killed, and which had not reflected well on the Blessed. Oscar looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Ariane smiled. “We spoke at a certain party afterwards, but I suppose it was not a formal forgiveness. So yes, Sethrik, any offense both personal and Factional is forgiven.”

 

     “Excellent,” Sethrik said, and she thought there was a note of genuine gratification in his voice. “Your approach, Oscar, is well-timed. For you should know that the Minds themselves, upon reviewing our encounters with Humanity, directed that we seek to lay aside even the natural opposition due to your alliance with the Liberated, and instead try to convince Humanity that the Blessed are worthy allies.”

 

     That was something of a surprise. The super-AIs which ran the entire civilization of the Blessed were one of the more frightening things they had yet learned about, especially from the point of view of a humanity which had yet to give AIs the full rights of living people. I wonder what they’ve seen in those interactions that makes them willing to even ignore the fact that we’re obviously pretty much committed to our alliance with Orphan and the Liberated, their archenemy?

 

     She made a mental note to go over this with DuQuesne at first opportunity. And maybe Orphan himself, too. Aloud, she said, “That’s wonderful news, Sethrik.”

 

     “I am glad you accept this news in the spirit it is given, Captain Austin –”

 

     “You can call me Ariane, if you’d rather.”

 

     Sethrik laughed. “Indeed. Then I am glad, Ariane. And in that spirit, Ambassadors, I would encourage negotiations of trade and knowledge. As any agreements will of course be subject to the ratification of the Leader of each faction, allow me to suggest that such negotiations be carried out by you with Vantak, who – while not given precisely the same title – holds a position of power very similar to your own.” He turned to Ariane. “I have a few things to discuss which are, however, only the business of the Leaders.”

 

     Oscar stood immediately. “Then – if it is agreeable to you, Vantak – I would continue our discussions outside, perhaps while travelling about the Grand Arcade. I must confess,” he said with a more open smile than his usual controlled expressions, “I am still enjoying the spectacle of Nexus Arena enough that I prefer being outside of the Embassy.” Left unsaid was the fact that Ariane would not leave the Embassy without Wu Kung.

 

     “I have no objection, Ambassador,” Vantak said, sounding slightly nervous – second in command suddenly stuck with what could be a delicate duty, I’ll bet – but not reluctant.

 

     After the other three had left, Sethrik vented air with a whistle that was overlaid with a sigh of relief – exactly in time with her own sigh.

 

     The two looked at each other and burst out laughing. “What the heck have you got to be nervous about, Sethrik?”

 

     Even though his face was virtually immobile, something in his posture, the way he leaned forward, gave her the impression of someone grinning. “Captain… that is, Ariane Austin… I was not exaggerating about the Minds’ directives. While I believed you held no grudge directly, you are of course still allied with Orphan and the Liberated, and we had performed a … quite offensive set of actions in order to entrap you at Amas-Garao’s direction.” He looked towards the door. “And I suspect you have had additional pressures since last we talked.”

 

     He is very good. “You guessed, did you?”

 

     The same assenting handtap that Orphan also used was the reply. “Your people were… an interesting assortment. But not one of you intended for a first contact of any type. Yours, then, was not a vehicle intended for long travel, but a single jump, a test of a drive system and a return. Common enough in history, but it meant that if your people had leaders that – almost certainly – none of them were represented in your little group. While the Blessed have… a rather unique position in that sense, we are of course not at all unable to understand what might follow in that situation.”

 

     “So we’ll talk as Leaders, and you’ve shuffled my problems off onto your second in command.”

 

     “I see you understand perfectly!”

 

     She laughed again, then grew serious. “What did you want to talk about with me?”

 

     “I am unsure as to how much you know about a particular… individual who has recently arrived –”

 

     “Maria-Susanna?”

 

     “Yes.”

 

     “I know a fair bit about her – in some ways much more than you, I’m sure – but we don’t have much information as to what she is up to right now.”

 

     Sethrik paused, obviously considering what to tell her – information being, naturally, the greatest source of value in the Arena. “Well, I can tell you how she has been living thus far. She is… shopping, I suppose you might say… for an appropriate faction. This allows her to go in and out of various Faction Houses or Embassies and avail herself of various conveniences as she does so. She has also sold some valuable items of Human workmanship and has thus sufficient vals to keep herself comfortable for, I would surmise, a considerable time.”

 

     “Did she approach you?”

 

     “No, she has made no overtures at all to the Blessed.”

 

     Not surprising, thought Ariane. Product of the Hyperion Project that she was, Maria-Susanna would almost certainly have an aversion to AIs that controlled other people’s lives.

 

     Sethrik went on, “I know for a fact she has visited at least four other Factions and possibly as many as twice that. What can you tell me about her? I am curious, as she is obviously a human being, yet is clearly operating separately from you.”

 

     Now it was Ariane’s turn to consider what she could afford to tell – and possibly what she should tell for the sake of political advantage. “She is an extremely capable and wanted criminal in our solar system, responsible for murdering dozens of people.”

 

     “By the Minds!” murmured Sethrik. “And you have been unable to catch her?”

 

     “As I said, extremely capable. She is also apparently very good at giving a good impression – she’s demonstrated the ability to convince other people of almost anything, according to what I’ve been told.”

 

     “Most disturbing.” Sethrik paused a moment, then gave a handtap of decision. “I had occasion to exchange information with the Minds just a short time before our meeting – Vantak travelled directly to the home system and back to convey the situation and their directives, in fact – and they provided their own evaluation of her behavior.

 

     “In their opinion, this ‘Maria-Susanna’ has a specific faction already in mind; she is negotiating with other factions both as a backup and as a confusing tactic, and also to give her time in negotiations with the target faction.” He looked at her, dark eyes difficult to read in the nearly-human face. “They do not say which faction is her target, but it is clear that she had this intent from the beginning – which, I would suspect, would strongly limit the likely targets.”

 

     It certainly would, Ariane thought grimly. There wouldn’t be enough information to make a decision like that on anything except… the five Great Factions, the Shadeweavers, the Powerbrokers, and maybe a couple of the minor factions we had gotten good info on. With the Blessed and the Liberated out of the picture, the choices are pretty narrow… and none of them would be good for us. “I thank you for this information, Sethrik.”

 

     “You are welcome, Ariane,” he said, “And – I mean this without any trace of irony – we are extremely familiar with the potential damage a single renegade can eventually produce. I hope that this will not be the case for you.”

 

     He’s talking about the Liberated… and yeah, something like that would be a disaster. “So do I, Sethrik. So do I.”

 

     Abruptly a green sphere of light shimmered into existence above the table. “Ariane Austin of Humanity!”

 

     The voice was Mandallon’s, the young Initiate Guide. His tone was tense.

 

     “What is it, Mandallon?”

 

     “I am unsure exactly what his purpose is,” Mandallon said, with a tone that sounded nearly apologetic, “but… your new member, Sun Wu Kung… I believe he has somehow gotten himself into a duel!”

 

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 16

 

Time to be out and about a bit…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 16.

     “Are you sure this is okay, DuQuesne? I mean, I really really want to go with you, but you want me to guard Ariane, and—”

 

     “Relax, Wu,” DuQuesne said, smiling. Already talking a mile a minute. “We all agreed you needed to be able to get out and about.”

 

     “Quite so,” agreed Simon absently, as they made their way along the broad corridor towards the elevator to the Outer Gateway. Low, flat tracks of shaped superconductor now lay along the entire length of that corridor, and also to the Inner Gateway, allowing magnetic levitation to be used as a support and guide for cargoes. In this case, both Simon and DuQuesne were drawing large cases along behind them.

 

     “And Ariane’s agreed that she’s not leaving the Embassy whenever you’re gone. Anyone wants to see her, they have to go in our territory.”

 

     Wu grimaced. “I’d still feel better if you were with her right now.”

 

     DuQuesne shrugged. “I don’t expect direct assassination, to be honest. The Arena clamps down pretty hard on anyone who initiates violence, unless the Shadeweavers or – I’d guess – the Faith mess with that.” There was a faint sensation of acceleration as the elevator doors closed and the room shot up towards the Outer Gateway. And if the geometry of the Sphere is anything like we’ve guessed, we’re actually accelerating at a lethal pace. We’ll cover a couple thousand kilometers from down here to the top in about five seconds. Something like thirty thousand gravities – hell, that wouldn’t be too shabby even from the old Skylark‘s point of view.

 

     Almost before he had finished thinking that, the chamber slowed and the doors opened. They were now in what Gabrielle, if he remembered right, had christened “the antechamber” to the Upper Sphere.

 

     But things were very different from the first time. Now, the superconducting tracks continued all the way to the huge doorway, and the whole area was covered by simple automated weapons emplacements, with storage areas for needed items and materials… and tracks and marks showing how much traffic there had been over the past few months. Carl, Tom, and Steve have been busting their humps over this, that’s obvious. “Open Outer Gateway,” he said.

 

     The great door – made of the same “coherent quark composite”, or CQC, that appeared to be the Arena’s preferred structural building material – rolled effortlessly aside, and a blaze of golden sunshine poured in, along with the warm fragrance of a living world.

 

     “Wow!” exclaimed Wu, and bounded out before DuQuesne could stop him. His voice came immediately from outside. “It’s beautiful! And there’s a waterfall over there – and look, something’s flying way, way over there, like a bird, but not quite!”

 

     The tracks cut back from the Gateway and headed up the ridge from which the Gateway projected. “Ah. This road must lead up to the river, just above the falls.”

 

     “So I am given to understand,” Simon said. DuQuesne noticed that he was not spending much time looking around – which was not characteristic of the usually highly attentive and aware scientist. Simon drew ahead of DuQuesne, because DuQuesne had to wait and catch Wu’s attention. “This way, Wu. Yes, this way! We’ll go over and look at the jungle in a minute, just hold your horses!”

 

     The Monkey King bounded back towards him, then stopped at a gesture. “What is it?”

 

     “First, I’ve got some things we need to get straight. You heard the lecture on the Challenges, and I know you read the accounts of what we went through here. I want you to be double careful, Wu. Yes, I know, there’s probably still not much here that could beat you, but this isn’t your world, remember, and you can’t just bust heads whenever people piss you off.”

 

     Wu looked slightly hurt. “I know that! I wouldn’t… I mean, I never just break heads because… Well, almost never… unless they’re really mean… or…”

 

     “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve got to think, just like if Sanzo – or Ariane – were holding the charm to make your headband go crunch, got me?”

 

     Wu Kung nodded, red-black hair tumbling over his face in emphasis. “I got you, DuQuesne. Think before I fight.”

 

     “And about fighting – it’ll probably come to that, sooner or later. But I want you to hold it down, hold way back unless you’ve got no choice (like, for instance, Ariane’s life is in the balance).” He glanced, saw that Simon was still moving along towards the crest of the hill, grinned at Wu. “These people still don’t really know what we can do, you see… and I don’t think that even the best of them can match us.”

 

     “I thought you said that you were beaten by this wizard, this Amas-Garao.”

 

     “Well…” DuQuesne shrugged. “He’s a tough customer, no doubt about it, and he can cheat in a way no one but another Shadeweaver can. But truth? Wu, I spent fifty years shutting myself down, and even with active resistance clothing to keep me sort of in shape and a few other tricks, I just wasn’t anywhere near up to top form. I’d been … awake, I guess you’d call it, for only a few weeks when that happened, and to be honest? I think I was fighting at best at about eighty percent. Which means that they don’t know what I can really do when I’m pushed, and they sure as hell haven’t a clue as to what to expect from you.

 

“So remember, we need diplomacy and sneakiness here. I don’t want them getting any idea just how much tougher and faster you are than me. Except – just a little bit – Orphan, because I think he’s guessed it and we did imply we’d show him. Even then, though, I want you to baffle those jets way down.”

    

     Wu grinned, showing his fangs. “Until there’s no choice – and then I have surprises!”

 

     “Exactly.”

 

     Wu looked more serious, and DuQuesne followed his gaze. “He’s … not happy, exactly,” Wu said.

 

     Yeah, I knew it. “How do you mean?” he asked aloud.

 

     “He smells… nervous. Upset. Confused,” Wu said after a moment. “Not about what he’s doing now – he’s pretty sure about that. But something else – maybe related to it, maybe not – that’s bothering him.”

 

     Wu’s senses were always the best. “Noticed it myself. But he hasn’t decided to talk about it, and I’m not quite ready to force him to talk.”

 

     Cresting the hill, they could see the broad, swift-flowing river flashing in the light as it ran from the mountains which lay to the east (figuring apparent sunrise as “east” and sunset as “west”) and then plunged straight down thousands of feet. The rumble-roar of the shimmering cataract was clearly audible.

 

     Just before the river plunged into air, there were new, rough-looking structures, erected on each side. Our first native generators; thank the Gods for people like Tom and Steve and Carl. Together they got this stuff going with nothing but one AIWish unit and a lot of personal sweat. And not a minute too soon – we’re going to be getting new potential colonists any day, maybe any minute now.

 

     Simon looked around. “This should be as good a place as any. Marc –”

 

     “On it.” He unslung his own pack and started setting up the control relay set. Have to hope it works. “Wu, hold on, would you? Once I’m sure this is all working I’ll show you some of the sights.” Damn but I’d forgotten how it’s like babysitting a toddler sometimes. I don’t suppose I should really worry right now; there’s not much he can hurt wandering around here, and there’s sure as hell not much here that could hurt him.

 

     Still, he wanted to make sure he kept an eye on Sun Wu Kung; getting into trouble seemed to be his tradition.

 

     “Seems like a beautiful day for this,” Simon said, sounding more relaxed than he had been. “Hardly a breath of wind.” He squinted into the distance. “I see some clouds off to the horizon, but nothing worrisome.”

 

     DuQuesne glanced upward. He suspected that what he saw was somewhat different than what Simon saw; to DuQuesne, the alien shadows behind the deceptively-normal blue sky were clear and ominous, the echoes of a universe that violated every law DuQuesne had thought he understood. But I’ve figured out tougher puzzles in stranger worlds, he thought wryly. Even if the worlds were simulated, I didn’t know it at the time.

 

     “What are you doing?” Wu asked, having bounded back nearby. “I mean, I know you’re looking for these Sky Gates, but how?”

 

     “Well, that’s… fairly simple and complicated at the same time,” Simon said, smiling. “The simple explanation… we need to search a large portion of the sky over our Sphere to find the Gates. I’ve…” DuQuesne caught the slight hesitation, “made some quite sensitive instruments that should be able to detect a Gate if they get within a reasonable distance of one. The problem is that the Gates are … well, out of our gravity well, so to speak. Just above the region where gravity ends, much as I hate to use such a term.”

 

     “Accurate here, though. Border’s just about as sharp as a knife from everything we’ve seen; goes from no gravity to full in maybe a few meters.”

 

     “But that’s a really long way up, isn’t it?” Wu asked. “I mean, way higher than even the Mountains of Heaven!”

 

     Simon’s smile returned at that. “Yes, much higher.” He glanced at DuQuesne. “Is he exaggerating himself for me?”

 

     Wu snorted and looked slightly embarrassed. “There’s your answer. Look, Wu, I know your personality. You don’t have to go making yourself look stupider than you are around Simon. Or me, or Ariane, for that matter. Other people, yeah, but the core group – the eight originals? Be yourself, but no less than yourself.”

 

     “All right! You’ve caught my tail fairly.” He bowed apologetically to Simon. “So, that’s a long way up – thousands of kilometers, yes?”

 

     “About twenty thousand above the Upper Sphere, and extending about five to ten thousand kilometers to the sides of our Sphere, yes.”

 

     Wu thought. “You came here with DuQuesne before, a couple of days ago, while I was out with the Captain, right? So you started it… hmm… Ha! Balloons!”

 

     Simon laughed. “Not a bad idea, but I’m afraid too slow. At any reasonable ascent rate a balloon would take on the order of a month to get there, and we have something of a time pressure involving our friends the Molothos. But your general concept is right. DuQuesne and I sent the instruments up in what amount to heated-air ramjet drones manufactured by Tom according to my specifications. They used the majority of the energy in their coils climbing, but in the weightless environment above they should be able to recharge from the sunlight provided by the so-called ‘luminaire’ above our Sphere, and they won’t need nearly so much power to maneuver.”

 

     Wu squinted up. “So that is not really a sun at all?”

 

     “Nope,” DuQuesne said. “It still isn’t small, of course – not in any way. We’re pretty sure it’s at an altitude just a little ways outside of the gravity area, which would make it about a hundred, hundred and ten kilometers wide.” He remembered the lighting shifts and grinned. “The Arena also does some kind of lighting tricks with it so that you get sunsets and night pretty much like at home… though you’ll be seeing something other than stars in the night sky.”

 

     “Hm. You know, I hadn’t thought about that, Marc,” Simon said, “but that’s yet another of those subtle but impossible effects we keep coming across. In an atmosphere that extends so far, the light should be more diffuse, and there should be no true night.” He shrugged. “Now, if we could finish getting set up…?”

 

     A few minutes sufficed to get all the equipment assembled – and pitch a tent nearby. “You’re sure about this, Simon?”

 

     “It’s almost like camping in the backyard, Marc. Someone’s coming up here at least once a day, and as I understand it the first group of newcomers will be arriving tomorrow or the day after. I’ll be fine.”

 

     “So your probe-things are already up there in the sky?”

 

     “They should be, Wu. We’ll find out if they all made it and if they’re all ready in a moment.”

 

     “How many did you make?”

 

     Simon bent over the console and pulled out a hardwired interface connection, locked it into the connector port at the base of his skull. The system went live; while DuQuesne could see displays on the field controls, he knew Simon would now be seeing much more. “Fifteen units – as many as Tom could manage in two days with the materials input we could scavenge from Holy Grail.” A pause. “I am getting operational responses from twelve; number six probe is at altitude but the instrument package is showing no operation, and two others are simply not responding.”

 

     “Is that enough?”

 

     “Oh, I think so. Lined up side by side, I’m confident they can each cover a hundred-kilometer radius, so together they cover the equivalent of twenty-four hundred kilometers of the projected area in a sweep. A few weeks, perhaps a month or two at the outside, should give us contact with most if not all of our Gates.”

 

     “How about knowing where they go?” Wu Kung asked sensibly. “It will be fine to have many doors in the sky, but you would like to know what waits on the other side.”

 

     “Oh, most certainly. Tom is making some additional probes for that; once we locate the gates, two-stage probes will be sent up. The second stage will enter the gates, and each will have enough energy for a double jump at such a small size. They will jump, take readings for a few seconds, and jump back, relaying the data back here.”

 

     “You’re going to check all of them?” DuQuesne asked.

 

     Simon seesawed his hand. “Maybe, maybe not. The goal, after all, is to find out if we have a Gateway to Nexus Arena. So I will send probes through until either I have found Nexus Arena on the other side, or I have run out of Gates to check. I would prefer not to send probes through the others if I could avoid it, as we have no idea what might be on the other side – including a hostile Molothos colony.” He tapped controls on the console before him. “That may seem improbable in the extreme… but I think we can all agree that the improbable has become the commonplace for us here.”

 

     “Amen; I read you to nine decimals on that. Find Nexus Arena and then stop until we have ourselves set up, courtesy of Orphan.” He saw Wu starting to follow the river. “Okay. You set for now?”

 

     “Marc, go,” the white-haired scientist said with an honest grin. “I may look like an academic, but I am not entirely unable to survive outside of the laboratory for a few moments. It will be a novelty, at least for a while, and if I find it wearing the elevator is, what, fifteen minutes’ hike away.”

 

     DuQuesne chuckled. He does have something bothering him, but this isn’t the time to push. “Okay, then, I’m off. Let us know as soon as you find something.”

 

     “I assure you, I will sprint home with that news.”

 

     By the time DuQuesne caught up with Wu Kung, the Monkey was hanging over the side of the waterfall. “Wow! This is almost as far as Seven Devils’ Torrent!”

 

     He thought back and managed to remember that part of Wu’s own world in Hyperion. “Yeah, just about. Seven Devils would’ve been maybe thirty meters higher.”

 

     “It’s really beautiful. The color of those plants is so bright – and different!” Wu let go, slid down the sheer cliff face so quickly that DuQuesne found himself frozen, reaching out for a figure that had already dropped far out of reach. Clawed hands contracted, dug indestructible claws in, found purchase in stone. The Hyperion Monkey King now dangled by one hand from the cliff-face, sniffing at a flower that grew from a blue-green clump of leaves in the middle of an otherwise barren span of rock. He sneezed. “Spicy! I’ll bet you could use that as a flavor.”

 

     “We’ve barely begun categorizing stuff here, Wu.” Not that warning him would do any good, but he had to try. “So anything could be poisonous or –”

 

     “Worry worry worry, you haven’t changed, DuQuesne! I will know if these are dangerous!”

 

     Utterly hopeless. Why am I even trying?

 

     As he watched Wu Kung swing himself back up to the top of the cliff and then start running precariously along it, back the way they’d come, he answered himself with a smile. Because he’s one of the few good things from my old life, and I want those things safe.

 

     “Ah! There’s that path down!”

 

     Naturally, Sun Wu Kung didn’t actually run back to the beginning of the path; he just dropped down twenty or so meters to the place where he’d noticed the path on the cliff-face.

 

DuQuesne swore good-naturedly. “Hold on, Wu!” I am not letting him drag me into some show-off “follow the leader” just so he can find out how out of shape I am even now.

 

Wu didn’t exactly wait, but he did slow down enough so that DuQuesne nearly caught up to him before he reached the winch that led to the forest below. “Oh, wonderful!” he exclaimed, and swung himself out and over, sliding down the cable that disappeared into the forest below.

 

“Dammit. Sun Wu Kung, I am going to…”

 

An explosion of colorful, glittering wings showed that Wu had just annoyed a stagfly nest – the giant insectoid things that DuQuesne had encountered on his first trip down. They weren’t dangerous to someone in armor, and that meant that Wu probably wouldn’t even pay them much mind, but there were other creatures down there…

 

Oh, stop worrying. You sound like my mother, Marc! He heard Seaton’s voice, with that humorous tone that always took the edge off the corrections or remonstrations when Marc DuQuesne found he wasn’t handling the situation as diplomatically as Seaton thought he should. A whole assault force of Molothos wasn’t enough to stop you, do you think there’s anything down there he can’t handle? No.

 

“Actually,” he muttered to himself, “I’m more worried about the native lifeforms.”

 

He could manage the slide down the cable too – his hands were, naturally, much tougher than any ordinary person’s – so down he went.

 

As he reached the bottom, having batted the odd stagfly aside, he heard burbling screeches some distance away. The sound was familiar from a recording. Carl called them splaywolves… Pack hunters, not top predators maybe but not harmless.

 

He jogged up cautiously. Sure enough, Wu was standing in a small clearing, ten or fifteen creatures with the sinuous bodies of weasels or ferrets circling him, running like lizards on wide-set legs. The heads were long yet flattened, almost crocodilian in a way, but covered with a ruffled material – something like scales crossed with hair; the same material covered the entire body in a close-woven pattern of pale browns and muted blue-greens. Each of the things was six feet long and stood a foot and a half off the ground at the shoulder.

 

One scuttled toward Wu, leaping slightly, snapping with backward-jagged teeth. Wu dodged effortlessly and smacked the creature on its rump, evading what looked like a bladed tail. The splaywolf gave a cooing shriek and fled to a distance of ten or fifteen meters. The others echoed the sound and shifted their patrol pattern slightly.

 

DuQuesne checked around to make sure there weren’t any of the predators trying to sneak up on him. No, not at the moment. But they’re pretty bright; they’re trying to adjust tactics, figure out this new animal.

 

Then Wu dropped to all fours, spun around on his hands and feet in a similar manner, and gave vent to a burbling call of his own.

 

What the…?

 

The splaywolves froze. Then one answered, this time with a threatening call; Wu responded even more threateningly, and the largest of the group gave an unmistakable snarl, baring all its teeth, claws extending on the feet.

 

Wu did not move.

 

DuQuesne stayed where he was, unable to believe what he was seeing. It can’t be.

 

The large splaywolf leapt forward and Wu met it halfway, boxing its head like a punching bag. A cry of pain and shock, and the creature spun again, trying to catch Wu, but this time Sun Wu Kung bounded over its snapping, clawing attack and landed squarely on its back. The creature tried to claw and bite, but Wu shoved its head down to the ground and ignored the attacks.

 

A moment later the creature gave a whining sigh, and Wu immediately let it go. The splaywolf backed up, head down, whining, and Wu bobbed up and down, giving another burbling call.

 

Immediately the whole pack moved in and rubbed around Wu in an unmistakable greeting.

 

My … God.

 

He knew what had just happened. But… “Wu!”

 

“Oh! Hi, DuQuesne! Caught up as I was making some friends! They aren’t quite like the monkeys, but they aren’t completely stupid.” The splaywolves were backing up, showing their teeth as DuQuesne moved into view. Wu shook his head. “No! None of that! This is DuQuesne. He is my friend. You go, smell him, know friend!”

 

And as the creatures followed Wu Kung’s instructions, he had to accept what he saw. It shouldn’t be possible. But it is. What’s the Arena up to now?

 

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 15

 

Both the reader, and our new arrivals, need a bit of a briefing…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 15.

     “Challenges,” Carl Edlund said, “are the heart of Arena political maneuvering.”

 

     The entire group was gathered in one of Humanity’s briefing rooms. Well, DuQuesne thought to himself, everyone except Tom and Laila, who’re on the Sphere because someone’s got to stay there, and Simon, who thinks he’s close to finishing his design so he’s not letting anyone interrupt. Something else was bothering the physicist, DuQuesne could tell, but he hadn’t said anything about it and DuQuesne was reluctant to pry. Not like I never had secrets.

 

     Carl was giving the lecture – mostly targeted towards the newcomers – because he’d spent a lot of time while they were gone learning about the mechanisms and approaches of common Challenges.

 

     Carl nodded at them. “Those of us who were here understand that in our gut. There is nothing more important in the Arena than someone issuing a Challenge to another faction, and you newcomers need to really get that through your heads. Almost everything of importance either gets triggered by, or settled with, a Challenge. There’s some exceptions, but not very many.”

 

     “My general impression of these Challenges seems… rather primitive for a civilization so advanced,” Oscar said slowly. “Trial by combat as a – even, perhaps, the dominant – negotiation tool?”

 

     Carl laughed. “Combat and physical prowess did seem to feature highly in our experiences, yes. But there are plenty of Challenges which turn out to be focused on things a lot less flashy. Admittedly, those are the type of Challenge that don’t get very many spectators unless the spectators are involved in the outcome – I’d be pretty riveted watching the equivalent of a game of chess if our homeworld was in the balance, but otherwise I don’t think I’d be much into it.

 

“The big, flashy Challenges serve multiple purposes, and a smart Faction understands that your Challenge performance isn’t just important for that particular Challenge – it’s important for how everyone else views you, it draws attention to your Faction, it gives you good, or bad, publicity, all sorts of things. This part should be familiar to most of us; that’s not all that different from things back home. We all know how the Interest vector’s one of the most tradeable – and volatile – units of value, and how even a single spectacular event can drive interest sky-high – or drop it in the toilet, if the spectacular involved failure.”

 

     Images materialized over the table; DuQuesne and Carl facing the Molothos, Ariane in the Skylark, Sivvis with Tunuvun dangling from one arm, and Amas-Garao towering over a stunned Ariane. “The Challenges we saw – either by being a part of them, or watching them – in our first time here actually provide us with a good introduction. ” The first image swelled. “The very first Challenge we faced actually is one of the rare ones that the Arena calls a Class Two Challenge. Class One Challenges are initiated by mutual agreement in the Arena, and are basically more-or-less formal affairs. In effect, one way or another an authorized member of a Faction says ‘I challenge you!’ and another authorized member of the Challenged faction accepts the Challenge.” He nodded to DuQuesne, who was assisting him in the presentation.

 

     “Class Two Challenges are a whole different can of worms,” DuQuesne said. “They’re events that take place outside of Nexus Arena but that have a major impact on a Faction or Factions, and that stem from a direct conflict between the Factions in one way or another. In this case, we humans were newcomers who just happened to have the bad luck to have the Molothos land a survey and initial colonization party on our Upper Sphere. In a sense, of course, that was also bad luck for the Molothos; normally they either wouldn’t encounter any significant resistance landing on an Upper Sphere, or the Sphere would be inhabited and there’d be obvious civilized presence there.

 

     “For a big Faction, the Molothos landing on one Sphere wouldn’t be a big deal – potential interstellar incident, yes, but nothing of great import to the Faction as a whole. But for us it was absolutely crucial we get them off our Sphere pronto. If the Molothos controlled our Upper Sphere, we’d be pretty much crippled until we managed, somehow, to get another Sphere of our own and thus access to Sky Gates and Straits that wouldn’t be watched and guarded by our enemies. So from the Arena’s point of view, that was a Challenge, and by our managing to defeat the entire invading force and prevent a direct counterstrike by Blessing of Fire, we won the Challenge. Other examples of Class Two Challenges might be an actual war, or simultaneous landings on an uninhabited Upper Sphere, things of that sort.”

 

     “So these… impromptu external Challenges would be triggered only by events of considerable importance to the relevant Factions, then?” Oscar asked.

 

     Carl nodded. “As far as I can tell, yes.” He grinned nastily. “That’s not the case for Class One Challenges. You can issue Challenge for an awful lot of things if you’re authorized to do so.”

 

     “Hold on, Carl,” Ariane said. “I don’t remember authorizing people to issue Challenge, exactly, and it seemed to me that any of us were in danger of getting Challenged or inadvertently issuing one.”

 

     “An artifact of our being a brand new faction with a tiny number of members in the Arena,” Carl said. “Basically, those who are part of the main Embassy staff are the most subject to issuing or receiving Challenge. There’s some complicated details – like how a Leader can partially reduce the exposure to Challenge while they’re away, but how that reduction can be nullified, mostly to prevent a Faction like the Molothos from basically having their Leader go home and the rest be able to act like total… jerks to everyone else with impunity.” He looked over at Oscar, Michelle, and Oasis. “That means you people are definitely in that class, and so you need to walk carefully.”

 

     “Hm. Yes, I understand,” Oscar said slowly. “I recall the other complication – that you can refuse Challenge twice, but you must accept the third or immediately default, and defaulting is the same as losing a Challenge.”

 

     “Right.” Ariane pointed to the racing image. “I was trying to second-guess that bit when I accepted the Challenge from what turned out to be a proxy for the Blessed To Serve. Now that turned out okay – because I figured out a way to win it at the last moment –”

 

     “—because you’re more than half crazy,” put in Carl.

 

     “Well, maybe.” A grin flashed out.

 

     “And you always have to remember the key point,” Gabrielle spoke up. “Like in many old Earth duelling traditions, it’s the one being Challenged who gets to set the conditions. So the other big tactic is to try to get someone to Challenge you when you’ve got a plan on how to beat them.”

 

     “And work through proxies is a big part of that, too.” DuQuesne found himself, like Ariane, looking at the image of Amas-Garao. “That gives you a huge advantage. The other guy doesn’t realize who he’s really Challenging, and may even think he’s trying to maneuver your proxy, rather than being played himself.”

 

DuQuesne looked around, suddenly grimly serious. “But before you start thinking this sounds like some fun game to play, remember this: these guys are all Big Time Operators. Even the smaller Factions, the younger species, they’ve been here for thousands of years. We’ve been lucky as hell so far and we’ve managed to pull off a couple of honest-to-God miracles, but we can’t expect that to keep going. Even the guys that seem nominally on our side, like the Analytic and the Faith, they’re playing the game ten layers deep and we can’t count on not being a pawn on their board.”

 

     “On the positive side,” Carl said, pointing to the image of Sivvis and Tunuvun, “not all Challenges are the product of hostile takeover attitudes; for instance, the Powerbrokers’ Challenges pretty much have to be accepted, but they don’t actually care about the prize per se from winning the Challenge and so the general tradition there is that their chosen champion gets to take the prize home.”

 

     “I found that challenge very interesting,” Oasis said seriously, pushing one of the long ponytails back out of her way. I have to get a chance to talk to her alone, but that’s going to be a problem as long as they keep her nearby as a bodyguard. She went on, “I mean, the idea that we were already able to Challenge as soon as we showed up, but this native race gets nothing? That doesn’t seem fair.”

 

     “Sure doesn’t!” Wu agreed emphatically. “They were born here, they should have –”

 

     DuQuesne laughed. “That’s the other thing to keep in mind. It isn’t fair, except by the rules of the Arena – and we still don’t know all those rules. Maybe nobody knows all those rules except the Arena itself. It’s not set up to be nice and even-handed to each and every person and species, it’s set up by these Voidbuilders – whoever and whatever they were – to accomplish… something. And since we don’t know what that ‘something’ is, plenty of what goes on here is going to look arbitrary, maybe even cruel, and sure as God made little green apples it’s not going to look fair.

 

“We don’t get to set the rules. We don’t get to change the rules. We generally won’t get to argue the rules. No one does. The Arena says how things get done, and we can either take it, or try to pick up our marbles and go home. But that won’t stop the Arena’s people from butting in on our turf eventually, so even that isn’t really an option.”

 

     Wu Kung frowned rebelliously, and DuQuesne didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what was going on in Wu’s head. Arbitrary godlike rules chafe on the Monkey King, and I’m gonna have to sit down and try to pound sense into him real soon, before he tries to do something perfectly in character but disastrous.

 

     “So,” Michelle Ni Deng said after a moment, “You’re basically warning us that all of us here are in the line of fire, and we need to be careful.”

 

     “And open to opportunities,” Carl emphasized. “We want to avoid getting screwed… but we also can use the Challenges to our advantage. You can’t, in general, Challenge away your home Sphere; the closest I know of would’ve been if the Molothos had kicked our asses and taken the Upper Sphere, but even then we’d still have the Inner Sphere and Gateways.”

 

     “I see. And the prizes of a Challenge are proportional to the resources of the participants,” Oscar said.

 

     “Exactly. Which means that as a new, tiny faction, we can generally stand to gain a hell of a lot more than larger factions can from us.” He grinned. “And politically we’ve gained a lot from the Challenges. Yeah, okay, we’re at war with the Molothos, but –”

 

     Oscar bowed from his seat. “—But I have conceded that, given the circumstances, there was indeed no way to avoid that outcome, based on what I now have seen of those enemies. I hope to find the Blessed at least somewhat more amenable to discussion.”

 

     “Right. What that means is that we’ve got great publicity and public image – and recognition – right now. The shiny new coolness will wear off eventually, but not yet, and right now we’re the brand new kids on the block who managed to outfox the two scariest Factions when we first showed up, then whip the biggest bullies around as an encore. That’s the advantage of the spectacular Challenges. “

 

     “And – pardon me for asking you to repeat yourself,” Ni Deng said, “there is no actual limit on what the Challenged party can put forth as a Challenge?”

 

     “Well… there are some. You can’t for instance Challenge someone to a water-breathing contest when you’re a natural water resident and they’re only an air-breather, so to speak. There has to be some reasonable way that both of you can participate in the Challenge, and the Challenge itself can’t assume proxy use by either side. Other than that… no.” Carl grinned. “And they can be all sorts of mixed-mode kinds of things. For instance, the one I was watching with Selpa a while back? That one was called ‘Racing Chance’, and it combined a sort of combat maze-race with a gambling game.”

 

     DuQuesne raised an eyebrow. “How’d that work?”

 

     “Pretty neat, actually. Each side had a racing individual and they ran through a mostly parallel but sometimes intersecting maze. The contestants couldn’t directly interact with each other but they could try to mess up the course for the guy behind them, and they each had to deal with combat threats along the way. Meanwhile, each side also had a couple people playing a game that was sorta like poker, and you could spend the points you won in the game to up the challenges put in front of the opposing guy’s racer.”

 

     Ariane nodded, smiling. “That would be… pretty exciting. Strategy, luck, and combat all in one package; let your chips ride so you could put down a devastating opposition toward the end, or spend them right away so that you can’t lose them to a bad hand, things like that – plus choosing the right racer. And I’d guess they might have something to do with agreeing on the racecourse, too.”

 

     “Probably.” Carl looked around. “That’s mostly it, I think. The thing to remember is that Challenges aren’t casual. We can’t back out of them without forfeit, and they will cost us to lose or to forfeit – but at the same time, we can gain a hell of a lot if we take and win them.” He looked seriously at the three newcomers. “We can’t keep you out of that part of the game, Oscar, Michelle, Oasis – not and let you guys do anything useful around Nexus Arena. So you may find yourselves in the position of having to decide whether to accept a Challenge – or, if someone’s clearly pushing on you, whether you need to issue one. We can’t reject them all, but we sure can’t afford to just accept them or issue them blindly… because what we do here could affect everyone.”

 

     Oscar nodded, and so did Michelle and Oasis. “Understood, and this little session has helped make this clear to me.”

 

     “One more thing,” Steve said. “Carl mentioned that almost everything of importance gets settled by Challenge – but that almost is important. The last maneuver that the Molothos tried on us was deliberately not a Challenge; they learned stuff about us, made some guesses, and set up a plan that was in no way directly confrontational which would – if they guessed right – deprive us of our Arena citizenship and negate the victories we’d already achieved.”

 

     “Worse than that,” DuQuesne said. “I thought about that scenario right after you,” he pointedly indicated Steve, who gave a slightly embarrassed but proud grin, “saved our asses at the last minute, and I got cold chills. If we were deprived of our citizenship like that – we might not have been able to go back to our Sphere at all. We’d have become like the natives of Arenaspace, at least until someone else from Earth came through and re-started the whole thing. I’m not sure exactly what would have happened, but given what we already know, I’d have to guess it would’ve been worse than just being sent back to square one, at least for those of us stuck on this side.”

 

     “So,” Wu said, “that means that there’s real Challenges, and then little challenges – that might not be so little – and we have to look out for both.”

 

     “Exactly right, Wu. The ‘real’ Challenges may be the usual way of doing business, but as Steve and the Molothos showed, the stakes can get plenty high without being in an official face-off.”

 

     The meeting broke up then, and people filed mostly out of the room; Ariane, along with Wu, hung back. “So… do you think they understand, Marc?”

 

     “Oscar sure as hell does,” he answered. “Ni Deng… yeah, probably. She’s maybe not as experienced as Oscar Naraj, but she’s probably smarter. You can bet Oasis gets it – and she’ll be real careful.” He frowned to himself.

 

     “What is it, Marc?”

 

     He knew there were at least two levels of inquiry there… and he wasn’t ready to address the second, at least not until he got a chance to talk to Oasis privately. “I… dunno, really. We had to tell them about Challenges, they’ve got to understand how much rides on them… but that also makes them real players in the Arena now, and there’s no way to stop it.” He looked at the now-empty doorway. “I just hope I’m worried over nothing.”

 

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 14

 

Let’s get out and about in the Arena, shall we?

—–

 

Chapter 14.

     “I thank you for being so open-minded, Captain,” Oscar Naraj said to her with a more genuine smile than he had given in the first few hours after learning the truth. A couple of days to look at things and mull it over has at least given him some perspective… I hope.

 

     “I won’t say I’m open-minded on this subject, Ambassador – actually, I’m pretty certain I know exactly what’s going to happen – but I’m willing to let you and Deputy Ambassador Ni Deng try anything as long as one of us is there to keep anything Arena-related from going wrong.”

 

     The Grand Arcade was the one truly neutral location in the Arena – and thus the only place Ariane would let them try to meet the Molothos. All the Factions traded here and no matter their attitude towards other creatures, that included the Molothos – perhaps even more than many, since as a Great Faction they had a huge need for trade.

 

     This also allowed her new guests more chances to become used to the strangeness of the Arena and see the thousands of other species that Humanity would have to interact with in one way or another.

 

     Ambassador Naraj stared in wonder at the immense expanse of open-air and enclosed markets, stalls, restaurants, amusement centers, and other things possibly less identifiable. Ni Deng’s expression was awed, perhaps a touch frightened at first, but it swiftly became more chagrined. “I admit… this is somewhat overwhelming, Captain,” she said finally. Her eyes tracked a large, multi-legged lizard-like creature with an upright torso – a Daelmokhan, Ariane thought, One of Sivvis’ people – walking alongside a Daalasan and carrying on an animated conversation, while another creature of unfamiliar species – some sort of strange floating gasbag – drifted next to them, occasionally flickering and gesturing.

 

     “That’s an understatement,” she said with a smile.

 

     “I think it’s exciting!” Wu said, then looked somewhat contrite. He really was trying to manage the silent stoic bodyguard approach, but sometimes…

 

     “Oh, it is certainly that, Wu Kung,” Naraj agreed. “But overwhelming… yes. I admit I have had relatively little experience in more fantastic simulation areas – not my preferred sort of game – and perhaps that might have prepared me a bit better. I understand you, Captain Austin, were quite the aficionado in such games.”

 

     She nodded, grinning. And that saved my ass in ways you can’t imagine. “True enough – but believe me, you two are doing humanity proud, as Gabrielle might say. We were still pretty much gobsmacked after this long, and we’d at least spent time working our way through our Sphere before we got here. You’re doing just fine.” She pointed. “Here, let’s get a little something to eat. Hi, Olthalis!”

 

     The blue-green jellyfish-like alien was behind his usual stall near one of the main thoroughfares of the Arcade, moving on tendrils too delicate to support him in Earthly gravity; Ariane knew that the Arena provided each visitor to Nexus Arena with its own proper environment so that all were on equal footing here. Olthalis waved a pair of tendrils in a complex pattern. “A pleasing sight always, that of a customer and leader! Ariane Austin of Humanity! The currents flow well today?”

 

     “Well enough, Olthalis. Ambassador Naraj, Deputy Ambassador Ni Deng, this is Olthalis of the … Dispersants, is that correct?” At Olthalis’ back-and-forth affirmative gesture, she continued, “of the Dispersants of the Chiroflekir. Olthalis was the first merchant with whom we dealt and he’s been very helpful in helping us get supplies and learn what we can and can’t eat or drink here, along with Mairakag Achan – you’ll meet him later.”

 

     “It is an honor and pleasure to meet you, Olthalis,” Oscar Naraj said cheerfully. “We very much appreciate your assistance. ‘Dispersants’… would that be a particular, oh, political group of your species, then?”

 

     The same affirmative gesture, followed by a negative one. Yes and no? “The Dispersants travel the currents, journey to the far reaches, return to the seas and join the Contemplative. Within the Contemplative there are political groups.”

 

     “Ah!” Ni Deng said, brightening. “An intelligent species with at least two lifecycle stages, then?”

 

     “Exactly,” Olthalis agreed. “The Contemplative remain in one place but are much larger, much wiser as they learn and exchange thoughts with many others. But not all agree on all things, so where their Dispersants go, this varies much.”

 

     “So,” Ariane said, “You’ll have to return eventually to your home planet and become one of the Contemplative?” She seemed to remember there were some creatures on earth, maybe a kind of jellyfish itself, that went through a similar lifecycle. Have to mention this to Laila, if she hasn’t heard about it herself; she’ll be fascinated.

 

     “Eventually,” Olthalis agreed, while opening one of the panels of his shop-stall. “But enjoying this time and not ready to go; a Dispersant does not have to return until they feel ready, and I have much to see yet!” The creature flickered with cheerful bioluminescence. “Especially with your people to provide more entertainment.”

 

     The two ambassadors chose something from Olthalis’ collection of human-certified foodstuffs; Ariane got one of the red nidii for herself. Wu Kung bounced forward, sniffed at the various offerings, and grabbed a pair of things that looked like blue cinnamon sticks coated in a rippled glaze. “How much?”

 

     “Three point seven vals, Captain,” Olthalis said.

 

     Gabrielle’s foresight is paying off big time, Ariane thought as she reached into the pouch to get out Olthalis’ payment. She caught sight of the blonde doctor just entering one of the larger shops, carrying several wrapped packages with her. Gabrielle had already exchanged several pieces of unique human artwork and cultural pieces for a lot of “vals” – short for simply “value units” – which were the common currency in Nexus Arena.  Until now we’d been relying on Steve’s big winnings from our early days here. Now… now we all have money for regular outings and reserves in case we need to buy bigger things. Such as recharges; we could afford to just buy a recharge from the Powerbrokers now, if we had to.

 

     After the incredible lengths they’d had to go through to get that recharge the first time, that thought felt extremely good.

 

     “How is Dr. Sandrisson’s work coming?” Naraj asked, even as he continued watching everything around him.

 

     “He thinks the designs he’s working on now, with Steve, Carl, and Marc, should allow us to locate the Sky Gates,” she answered.

 

     “Excellent news.”

 

     It was good news – great news, really – but Simon had been astonishingly quiet about it, almost withdrawn, and she didn’t understand why; obviously his negotiations with Dr. Relgof had gone spectacularly well, as Simon had informed them that he was now able to visit the Analytic’s Archives any time he wished for the next year and a half; yet he’d come back seeming… disturbed about something. If this keeps up I’ll have to try to yank whatever it is out of him, but I just haven’t had the time yet.

 

Naraj was continuing. “As I understand it, that will give us a direct route to Nexus Arena from our own Sphere, correct?”

 

     “That’s not guaranteed,” she said cautiously. “According to what we’ve been told, it’s a very good chance that one of the Sky Gates from our Sphere will lead here, but there is a small minority which don’t have a direct connection. While the latter might be preferable for some security applications, overall I’d much rather we had such a connection.”

 

     “As would I,” Naraj agreed.

 

     “Hey, over there!” Wu Kung broke in.

 

     Following his pointed finger, they saw a group of four Molothos, the crowds giving the all-hostile aliens a very wide berth. Ariane squinted, bringing up vision enhancements. Yep, that’s the pattern. “Well, here’s your chance, Ambassador. That’s Dajzail himself, Leader of the Faction.”

 

     She allowed Naraj and Ni Deng to lead the way, though she and Wu Kung stayed close. She wasn’t sure whether to smile or tense up; violence rarely went very far in Nexus Arena, as the Adjudicators would show up out of nowhere to intervene (barring direct interference by the Shadeweavers or, she presumed, the Faith), but with the Molothos you could never quite be sure…

 

     Oscar Naraj placed himself directly in front of the advancing Moloths, but at a considerable distance, so that it became clear that he was waiting for them when he remained still and the rest of the crowd began moving away. “Dajzail of the Great Faction of the Molothos, might we speak for a moment?”

 

     Dajzail slowed and halted, tilting the crested, lamprey-mouthed head slightly; its wraparound yellow eye glowed faintly. “Ariane Austin of Humanity, is this one of yours?” he rasped, ignoring Naraj for the moment.

 

     “He is an ambassador of my people, though I remain Faction Leader. Dajzail, this is Oscar –”

 

     “I care not for your names,” Dajzail said, cutting her off. “Nor for ‘ambassadors’ from enemies of the Molothos. What words would matter?”

 

     “I was hoping, perhaps,” Naraj said, unfazed, “that we could recognize that while our initial contact has been unfortunately hostile, the crew here was not intended to speak with and establish relationships with other species.”

 

     One of the other Molothos started forward. “You waste our time on –”

 

     To Ariane’s surprise, Dajzail flicked a claw backwards, silencing the other instantly. “Go on.”

 

     Naraj glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, then turned back. “While our emergence into the Arena has been quite successful, we are still a small and new faction; I was hoping there is some way we can find to eliminate what, as I understand it, is a virtual declaration of war from one of the most powerful factions.”

 

     “Not virtual. There is no such thing. Either it is war, or it is not. Molothos have declared war on Humanity,” Dajzail corrected, “and even now our ships seek your Sphere. Perhaps have already found it.” He groomed his claws in a manner similar to a praying mantis. “Still,” he said finally, “we have many wars and goals to pursue, and much effort may be wasted in this search. As Leader of the Faction of the Molothos, I am empowered to make peace when necessary, even with inferior species.”

 

     Which includes everyone who isn’t a Molothos, of course. She could sense Wu Kung standing,tense as a bowstring, at her side.

 

     “Of course you are, sir. So I ask you if there is in fact anything we might be able to do in order to make peace with your people?”

 

     Dajzail groomed again. “I can see three such paths before us, Ambassador,” he said, and Ariane did not like the suddenly-silky tones. “The first, and simplest, is that your Faction voluntarily ceases to be, by becoming a vassal of the Molothos. We do not make war on our own, and even lesser species can be of great use. As few join voluntarily, you would be accorded greater status among the slave species.”

 

     Oscar Naraj maintained a pleasant smile, though Ariane thought it must have been something of a strain. “I… see. The second?”

 

     “In the interests of being reasonable,” the Molothos leader went on, and something about the tone and posture was like a mocking grin, “we could also be satisfied with your ceding your Upper Sphere to us. Our people had landed upon your Sphere and claimed it, so I would be… willing to end the declaration of war if you were to give us that which we had fairly claimed.”

 

     “I can understand that position,” Naraj said, still with a pleasant, neutral tone. “And your third offer?”

 

     “While my prior offers are most generous for the Molothos, we are often … accused of being both hostile and unreasonable,” Dajzail answered, and his tone was almost unctuous. “So, in the interests of … fostering a more cooperative atmosphere with others and showing how … willing we are to enter the greater Arena community, we will be satisfied with a much less expensive act – even, I would say, a mere symbolic trifle, given the injuries we have suffered.” His voice suddenly shifted back to the rasping screech she expected from Molothos. “Give us Marc C. DuQuesne and Stephen Franceschetti. Let us kill them with our best executioners over a period of two weeks. We will even allow you to take back the bodies when we are done.” He spread his claws in a grotesque parody of open-armed welcome. “A fair bargain indeed, would you not agree?”

 

     DuQuesne threw one of their bodies down right in front of them; Steve … Steve was the one who figured out how to get past Dajzail’s blockade of Transition, when we were about to lose our Sphere by default.

 

     “Certainly a vastly more… diplomatic and reasonable offer than the others, Dajzail,” Oscar said slowly. “I will… think about these offers.”

 

     “Yes, do that, Ambassador,” Dajzail hissed silkily. “And while you do, ask of news of the Randaalar, who rejected similar generosity a thousand years ago. The head of the last survivor is mounted in my council-chamber.”

 

     The Molothos swept forward, and Oscar and the others drew back, letting them pass. After a few moments, Naraj spoke again. “I shall think about these offers, and how they show that there truly exist monsters with whom negotiation is not possible. My apologies, Captain; if that is what they have chosen as the leader of their entire species – which if I understand aright will have thousands or tens of thousands of Spheres… well,” he smiled wryly, “we have no use for diplomats in that particular case. I will so report as soon as possible.”

 

     “Will you have to go back for that report?” It’d be nice if they’d be leaving the Arena periodically.

 

     “Oh, not at all,” Naraj said. “A message … torpedo, I suppose you could call it – supplied with Sandrisson coils and sufficient charge to travel back and forth – will allow two-way communication. The first of these should be ready by now, in fact, and I would expect more ships will follow very soon.” He smiled broadly. “You did say we would have to establish a larger presence, didn’t you?”

 

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 13

 

It’s time to check back in with our party’s head scientist and see how he’s doing…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 13.

The room stretched away in front of Simon, and to both sides, to such distances that he momentarily groped for a true sense of scale. Bakana, he thought. It simply cannot be this large.

 

But it was. The ceilings, set with arched windows from which streamed beams of what seemed pure, natural sunlight (though, perhaps, by the tint, not Earth‘s sunlight), rose one hundred meters or more; yet it was low, almost oppressively low, compared to the extent of the room it covered.

 

Shelves kilometers long dwindled, perfect perspective lines, so far that the clear air began to soften the edges like the peaks of mountains on the horizon. And on those shelves…

 

Soft laughter penetrated his stunned consciousness, and he looked over to see Relgof with an expression and pose that Simon recognized as mirth. “Ahh, my friend, it is always a reward to see the reaction of a first-time visitor to the Archives of the Analytic.”

 

“My… God,” Simon said, and for once he meant the reverent tone. “This… this really is…”

 

“… the collected knowledge of the Analytic, in the original form – paper, electronic, carven in ancient tablets found on Spheres where no living being had walked in a million years, written upon metal sheets, absorbed in scent-matrices, recorded on nanotechnological writing pads or as patterns of light deep within crystals, written words and spoken, holographic images of motion and thought, all of them here, all studied, categorized, and preserved, the thoughts and hopes and fears and learning of a million worlds across a million years. Yes, it is, and it is my pleasure to welcome you here, where very few save our own Researchers have ever stood.”

 

Simon stood for a few more moments, just staring in awe. He could see some shelves built for things rather like Earthly books; others with row upon row of recording media; yet others that were more supports for huge monoliths of stone or steel; and still more holding less-identifiable objects that hummed or sparkled or flickered.

 

Enough rubbernecking, as DuQuesne might say. I have work to do. “Why here on Nexus Arena? You have many Spheres of your own.”

 

“Many thousands of Spheres of our own, yes. Yet… where else, Simon? No other place is so central, and – you can understand – no other place is even imaginably so safe. A Sphere can be lost in a Challenge, or – though rarely – by direct conquest from without. But nothing can challenge Nexus Arena, nothing can conquer it or force its way in, unless it were something that could shake the foundations of the universe itself. And here, in one of the Great Faction Houses, we have room almost beyond limit.”

 

He nodded. “Of course. I had suspected as much, but it was worth asking. Then the information I seek is, obviously, somewhere here.”

 

“Undoubtedly.”

 

Simon noticed movement, and saw a Researcher of a semi-ceratopsian build climbing into one of many half-egg shaped objects scattered about the Archive. The polished white and silver egg rose and flew silently down the rows, carrying the Researcher with it. Well, that answers one of the questions I had. Fifty meter high shelves and many kilometer long aisles could have defeated me before I started. “And I can stay here…?”

 

“As long as you like, Simon. We were agreed on the value of your gift, and now that you have read its text to us, it is now part of our knowledge – and absolutely fascinating, I will add.” Relgof’s filter-beard flip-flopped in happy excitement. “You may return any time over the next year and a half, and spend as much time as you wish.”

 

“That is… extremely generous, Head Researcher.” Simon was astonished. Being allowed unlimited access to this facility for a year and more? Even with the relatively limited hardware I can use in the Arena, I can learn so very much in that time… “Where is the… index, reference work, whatever you might call it, that I would use to find my way around this paradise of knowledge?”

 

Relgof paused and tilted his head. Oh-oh. I know that pose. Something both serious and amusing.

 

     “It may be, my friend, that you will not find our gift quite so generous as you think at the moment – although I believe in the end you will still see it as more than fair.

 

     “Still, you understand that knowledge is our currency. The discussion was… heated as to exactly what to give, and how to give it. I am Head Researcher, but that position can of course change, so I am obligated to satisfy at least some of the demands of my colleagues. Some of them… have interests and alliances of their own which may not be aligned with yours, I am sorry to say. I could possibly have gotten you the precise information you asked for, but nothing else – and it might have been in a rather limited format.”

    

     I see.“And…?”

 

     “And so I allowed them to argue me into what they found a rather amusing yet, they felt, ultimately useless generosity. Namely, you have full access to the Analytic’s Archives… but no access to the Indices of Knowledge, which only a full Researcher may have.”

 

     Simon realized his mouth had dropped open and he was simply goggling at Relgof, who at least had the decency to restrain his mirth after a single chortle. “I… what? This entire library of the gods and I won’t even know what’s where?” He felt anger rising and didn’t bother to hide it. “Head Researcher, I can’t even imagine what in God’s name possessed you to ‘allow’ this? What possible –”

 

     “Simon, please. I understand your anger, and it’s quite justifiable… for the moment. But the fact is simply this: I was.. making a wager, a wager with myself against their assumptions.”

 

Simon looked at him. “A… wager? On what?”

 

“The group which were being obstructive,” Relgof said, “were interested in granting you as little as possible while gaining your prize in return. This struck them as an ideal method – giving you everything you asked, and more, but removing your chances of finding the key facts, leaving them as a single rope hidden in a forest of kelp. But I felt they were missing a key element: that you, yourself, conceived, built, and tested the Sandrisson Drive, the first of your people to do so, one of only a few thousand such in the history of the universe. Even if you cannot find your answers to the Sky Gates here, I believe – I absolutely believe – that you can derive an answer yourself.

 

“So I took a risk, yes. A risk that you might possibly not be as capable as I believe you are, against the ability for you to sample the knowledge of the Analytic freely, for the space of a year and a half.”

 

     Simon looked around again. For a few moments, his anger only increased, along with a feeling of overwhelming futility. It was an impossible task, and even finding anything useful in that nigh-endless Archive…

 

     But Relgof’s tone penetrated, finally. Those were not the words of someone who had managed to put one over on a sucker, but… “You have that much faith in me?”

 

     Relgof spread his arms and bowed. “Have I not been at the side of Humanity almost since its arrival? Have I not watched you all closely? You chose your crew, Doctor Sandrisson, no one else, and that crew has done extraordinary things. I have faith that the man who brought them here is at least as extraordinary.”

 

     Simon looked up at the towering shelves; but now he felt a tiny shift within himself, a feeling of stubborn certainty. I am standing within the greatest repository of knowledge in the entire universe; even if I pull out books and records at random I cannot imagine I would fail to find something interesting.

 

     He turned back to Relgof. “I … thank you for your faith, Rel. Really, I do.” He surveyed the nigh-endless expanse. “I just hope I can live up to it.”

 

     Relgof bowed again. “I thank you for your understanding… and I wish you good luck.”

 

     Simon watched his friend – and he is my friend, I think, and a good one – leave through the door they had entered by, and then turned to face the Archives. Once more their infinite expanse nearly daunted him.

 

     Yet…

 

     Yet…

 

     There was something almost … familiar.

 

     That makes not the slightest bit of sense, you know, he thought. You’ve never been here, and not a bit of this is actually familiar. I’m not even sure I’ve seen anything vaguely like this place, even in a simgame.

 

     The feeling refused to go away, however, and he found himself walking swiftly along, jumping into one of the egg-shaped craft and urging it forward. He did not quite understand how he knew how to operate the thing so well, but even that thought was distant.

 

     Another part of him was simply growing more confused. He wasn’t sure why he was going in this direction, or where this feeling of certainty came from.

 

     A flicker of memory came… a surge of energy, of Shadeweaver and Faith working together desperately, trying to contain the power that Ariane Austin had neither the knowledge nor training to control… The floor heaving, contacts broken, all the power of both … and perhaps of Ariane herself… momentarily focused through him…

 

     He couldn’t remember that moment clearly; it had blurred, faded, and he realized that he had in fact avoided thinking of it since shortly afterwards. But I think I took down notes just afterwards… I have to read them. I think… something happened.

 

     The silver and white egg had stopped, and his hand reached out, grasping a jointed object like a foldable piece of parchment. He looked on alien script written by a species he had never met, one perhaps a thousand years or ten thousand or a million years gone, and there was no translation, none of the Arena’s usual tricks…

 

     Yet Simon realized he did understand, that it made sense… and even as a surge of triumph went through him, Simon Sandrisson felt the chill breath of fear.

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 12

 

So, our expected… guests… from Earth system had arrived…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 12.

     DuQuesne grinned as he saw the three figures crowding together – just as he, Ariane, and Simon had the first time they’d stepped through to Transition. Nothing really prepares you for that. Not when it’s real. Oh, sure, simgames have stuff just as impressive in its own way, but you always know in the back of your head it’s just a game. Somehow I even knew, in the end, about Hyperion.

 

     But this is no game.

 

     Ariane led the way; Wu flanked her just to the left, DuQuesne on her right, and she was moving fast. The crowds of Transition, however, parted before her; Kekka was not the only one who recognized Ariane Austin.

 

     He kept his eyes on the three figures. Naraj was already straightening to his full height of well over six feet, stepping slightly forward, his deep blue and gold outfit contrasting well with his mahogany-brown skin and black hair. Michelle Ni Deng was a contrast herself; a woman of sharp angles and light-boned body, her resemblance to a wading bird emphasized by the biomod of featherlike hair that bobbed in white and blue waves over her head. Just emerging from behind her was–

 

     For just a split second even the speed of his Hyperion-born thoughts was not enough to cope. That red hair… done in that style… those eyes, I can see them from here…

 

     But he was lucky twice. First, she was emerging to the right side, which meant that he got the first glimpse one tiny fraction of a second before Wu Kung; and second, the two of them were behind Ariane, and not in front. His hand lashed out and he gripped Wu’s arm in an unmistakable warning.

 

     The Monkey King’s emerald-touched golden eyes glanced at him, surprise and joy fading to puzzlement, then understanding. He nodded, just enough for DuQuesne to see, and DuQuesne let go.

 

     Of all the … He looked at Naraj, remembering, judging. No, there’s no way he could know. He set his jaw. Focus. You can’t afford to let Naraj’s lucky break distract you from the main event.

 

     Ariane reached the base of the ramp and started up. “Ambassador Naraj! A pleasure to see you here so soon.”

 

     Good move. Acknowledge his title – in fact, give him the title in public. He’ll have to accept it at this point.

 

     Naraj’s smile was, possibly, just a fraction off, but only for a moment. “Captain Austin, good of you to meet me so promptly. I suppose I have Doctor Wolfe to thank for that?”

 

     “She did pop over here briefly to make sure you got a good reception,” Ariane said, shaking his hand.

 

     Michelle laughed; it was, DuQuesne admitted, a very nice laugh, gentle and lilting. “I did think she seemed a little out of breath; now I know why! Walking all that way… she must have run in both directions.” She turned. “We all know each other, but I should introduce our own security expert –”

 

     “We’ve met,” DuQuesne interrupted, stepping forward. He could feel Ariane’s curious gaze. “Hello, Commander Abrams.”

 

     “Doctor DuQuesne.” They shook hands, hers gripping as strong as he remembered, and he waited, wondering…

 

     And the pixie-cute face suddenly broke out in a broad smile and she threw her arms around him. “Long time, sir, a long time!”

 

     He relaxed fractionally, hugged back. “Has been, hasn’t it?” Releasing her, he turned. “Ariane, this is Commander Oasis Abrams.”

 

     A grin returned to his face as Ariane shook hands with the newcomer, trying to size her up. He knew what she saw; a young woman who didn’t look any older than Ariane herself, with flaming red hair so long that, even done up in four separate ponytails, it trailed well past her waist, whose military accoutrements were distributed in such a way as to make her appear to be dressed for some sort of exotic masquerade. Not exactly what I’d expected, he heard on their private frequency.

 

     DuQuesne gave a silent laugh. Don’t be fooled by that perky can-do exterior, he replied via the same frequency. That’s former Ensign Oasis Abrams of the Third Recon Platoon of the First Combined Battalion under Commander Saul Maginot. He sensed her sudden understanding. Exactly. And she’s tough. She’s the only trooper who took out one of us pretty much by herself, the only survivor of her entire company, and she was about the age then she looks like she is now. She’s a friend and someone you can count on… but she’s also got some goals of her own right now, and she’s hired on to work for Oscar and Michelle, which isn’t good.

 

     He was glad to see that Wu had got the message, so he simply bounded up and gave her a hug. “I’m so glad you got out okay!”

 

     As she returned the hug, Oscar nodded. “I had wondered if the implied events in her resume had happened. I see now they must have. Excellent.”

 

     The words reassured DuQuesne. If he knew the real score Naraj would either say nothing or he’d be asking questions – really pointed questions.

 

Oscar Naraj turned to Ariane. “Captain, since you have come all this way, I presume you’re here to show us to the Embassy?”

 

     “Exactly, Ambassador. I want to bring you up to speed on the current situation and see if we can arrange for you to meet some of the people you undoubtedly wish to speak to as soon as possible.” She turned. “Please, follow me.”

 

     Naraj followed, trying to look confident and at ease. And could be you’re fooling Ariane – though I doubt it – and  maybe even yourself, but you sure ain’t fooling me. The eyes darted to the sides just a bit too often, Naraj – and Ni Deng – turned subconsciously as creatures of bizarre and often frightening aspect approached.

 

     But Naraj had viewed all the recorded data they’d turned over, as had Michelle Ni Deng, and the two adjusted almost frighteningly quickly. By the time they reached the elevators, Oscar Naraj’s pretense of relaxation was fast becoming reality. They’re both real, real good, DuQuesne thought grimly. I’d hoped he just wasn’t really up to the challenge – God knows we haven’t needed any real politicians much in the last couple of centuries – but I’d hoped wrong. He’s a genuine Big Time Operator, and he’s ready to start his operations real soon now.

 

     This isn’t good. Simon’s private chat with Researcher Relgof had shown that Maria-Susanna was somehow managing to send out feelers to the various groups (after being rebuffed by Orphan), yet no one knew exactly where she was. She’s the kind of spanner in the works we really don’t need. Might not hear from her for years, or she might pop up tomorrow, but whenever she does make her move…

 

     He shook his head. One thing at a time. Right now, it’s our new guests who are the immediate problem.

 

     With the help of one of the floating taxis the six of them soon arrived at the Embassy of Humanity. Michelle gave an approving nod as they entered. “Oh, very nice. I was afraid we’d still have the rather… utilitarian look that was visible in the recordings. My compliments to the designer.”

 

     “That would be mostly Steve; remember to tell him yourself the next time you see him.”

 

     “Oh, I certainly will, Captain.”

 

     “Now,” Ariane said, “would you like me to show you to your rooms? I see you have only a small amount of luggage with you now, but –”

 

     “Oh, no, no, Captain,” Oscar said firmly. “I am quite rested, I assure you – it was early morning when the Duta departed from Kanzaki-Three and so I’ve only been up a few hours. Why don’t we have lunch and I’ll tell you how I would like to proceed?”

 

     He could see Ariane stiffen and take a slow breath, like a diver nerving herself to take a plunge into murky water. “We can certainly do that, Ambassador.”

 

     “Don’t look so nervous, Captain. I have no intention of just shoving you out of the limelight – or letting you run off, even if you prefer being out of it. Your advice and help will be invaluable initially,” Naraj assured her. “And yours, Doctor DuQuesne. Indeed, I will be relying on the entire crew of Holy Grail initially, as we have a great deal to accomplish.

 

     “The Space Security Council and the Combined Space Forces have empowered me to act as Ambassador for Humanity, at least in these initial months.”

 

     “A shame, that,” DuQuesne said, cutting him off before he could continue.

 

     Naraj looked disappointed. “I expect rather more than cheap shots from someone of your stature, Dr. DuQuesne.”

 

     “Not a cheap shot; honest assessment. It’s a shame you wasted all that time ramming that authorization through when it’s useless.”

 

     “I beg your pardon?” Oscar looked completely at sea.

 

     “I’m afraid he’s telling the truth,” Ariane said; her voice was calm and businesslike, but she stood stiff, nervous, and she swallowed hard before straightening and continuing. “You see, neither the SSC nor the CSF – or both of them together – are empowered to make that appointment.”

 

     “I… see. And just who is? A vote of all the citizens of the Solar System?”

 

     “No, Ambassador,” she said, and he felt a tiny bit of relief, because that tone was returning to her voice, the tone that she got when she’d made up her mind and was ready to take whatever bull was in front of her by the horns and throw it. “No, Ambassador, even that won’t work.

 

     “That decision and appointment can only be made by the Leader of the Faction of Humanity… which just happens to be me.”

 

     DuQuesne caught a flash of mirth from Oasis Abrams – just a moment of a crinkle of laugh-lines around the emerald eyes, a quirking upward of the corner of the perfect lips.

 

     The other two did not seem so amused; in fact, it was nearly a minute before – to his surprise – Michelle Ni Deng spoke. “You are the Leader of … the Faction of Humanity.”

 

     “I am.” Ariane managed a sour smile. “I didn’t ask for the job, I didn’t know I was in line for it, but I’ve got it – and before either of you says anything, I am not handing that authority over to anyone unless I believe my successor understands what he or she is dealing with, and can handle it well enough so I don’t need to worry about it any more.”

 

     Oscar Naraj had an expression of equal parts outrage, puzzlement, and sympathy – an impressive combination, DuQuesne had to admit. “I do not mean to sound… stupid, Captain Austin, but, just to clarify… from the Arena’s point of view, you, personally, are the leader of the entire human species?”

 

     “Yes.”

 

     Naraj muttered something in an Indian dialect that DuQuesne couldn’t quite catch. “And would you mind,” he said, and now his voice was hard, edged with annoyance and some lingering disbelief,  “explaining to me, then, why you did not include this – I would think absolutely crucial – piece of information in your summaries?”

 

     “Do you want the truth, or the excuse?”

 

     Naraj blinked. Then he smiled briefly. “I think I will take the truth, even if you think it so unpalatable.”

 

     “All right, then.” Ariane looked up and away for a moment, as though seeking support from the very cause of the problem. “Simply? What would you people have done if I had told you?”

 

     “Well, we certainly wouldn’t have just come charging out here without having the authority to negotiate!” Ni Deng said frostily.

 

     “Right,” Ariane agreed, and her tone brought Michelle Ni Deng up short. Full-blown Captain mode, “look of eagles” and all. “You would have insisted I – and perhaps my entire crew – stay back home unless and until I turned the leadership over to someone more suited, or at the least until I delegated authority to you. As I stated,I have no intention whatsoever of doing that until I’m sure the person taking the job has, as DuQuesne would say, the jets to swing that load, and no one will have that who hasn’t already been here, and learned the ins and outs.

 

“So we would have been stuck arguing for weeks, maybe months longer, while the Molothos methodically search for our only Sphere so they can put a whole invasion force on the surface instead of a scouting party. Not happening while I am in charge, Ambassador. And I am in charge here, and I will do my best to make sure that we don’t get blindsided by those monsters – or,” she looked pointedly at both of them, “anyone else.”

 

“Are you –”

 

Oscar Naraj gestured and Michelle Ni Deng cut her outraged protest short. “I … see.” He frowned, obviously thinking. And that’s dangerous, but other than just shooting him there’s no stopping him from thinking. “Then should I simply take my people and leave?”

 

Ariane sighed, and looked – just slightly – less intimidating. “I’m not saying that, no. You both have skills and experience no one on Holy Grail had. And I don’t have any objection to you talking to people – as long as I know about it, and as long as you’re willing to listen when someone who’s experienced explains the pitfalls – especially how you might get goaded or tricked into a Challenge. Understand, we cannot afford a Challenge we have not extensively planned for – and even then, it could really go completely wrong.

 

“And obviously if I want to ever get rid of this ridiculous position as Leader of Humanity, I need people who come here and become familiar enough with it to replace me. So no, Ambassador.” She gave a professional smile, but there was some warmth behind it. “I would very much like you to stay and help. All of you.” The smile turned rueful. “God knows we’ll need all the help we can get!”

 

Naraj allowed a chuckle. “Very well. Then shall we have lunch, and you shall tell us how you would like to proceed?”

 

Ariane’s smile grew more natural. “I think that is an excellent suggestion, Ambassador.”

 

Not bad, Ariane, DuQuesne thought as she led them to one of the dining areas. But don’t you start relaxing now.

 

Because they sure aren’t.

 

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 11

 

Now Ariane has some difficult questions…

 

 

—–

 

 

 

Chapter 11.

     “Arena,” Ariane said to the empty air of her own room in the Embassy of Humanity, “I have serious questions with respect to the operation of a new Faction, and it would seem unwise to trust other Factions for the answers. Will you speak?”

 

     She knew from experience that the Arena – or whatever intelligence controlled it – would rarely speak on its own, and even if addressed directly would only speak if the request fit whatever unknown, mysterious set of rules that guided its behavior. She waited, tensely, for an answer that might not come.

 

     A moment passed. Two.

 

     “Speak.” The voice was quiet, yet something about it echoed and resonated like a shout.

 

     Well, at least I know it heard me. Aloud, she said, “Is it possible for my people to force me to abandon the position of Leader – I mean, in the sense that they could pass a law or something?” She winced. What a marvelously well-spoken leader Humanity has! ‘Pass a law or something’? What are you, ten?

 

     The Arena’s voice did not show any particular reaction, neither of annoyance nor of amusement, to her clumsy phrasing. “No. If you do not wish to relinquish leadership of the Faction, no political mechanism may remove you from that position unless you, personally, have agreed to that mechanism.”

 

     “Besides my deliberately relinquishing my leadership, what general ways are there which could remove me from that position?”

 

     “Death,” the Arena replied immediately. “The leader of a Faction must be a living being; no symbolic leaders, no religious symbols with no living manifestation, or other substitutes for an individual are permitted.”

 

     “You mean that each Faction has to have a single person in charge? Not a, say, committee?”

 

     “That is correct. They may be selected by various means, but at any given time there is a single leader.” As she digested that and its implications, the Arena continued. “Besides death, any event which makes the leader effectively dead; brain-death, for example. Joining another Faction automatically negates leadership. If a specific procedure has been established for a Faction, there may be mechanisms to remove the Leader from power.”

 

     “Can I designate an… heir, so to speak, if I get killed or as good as dead?”

 

     “No.”

 

     Ariane froze, mouth open in what would undoubtedly have been a hysterically funny double-take if anyone else had been there to see it. She had been so certain the answer would be yes… “No? I can’t? But I thought I could step down for anyone I chose?”

 

     “You may make your final act as the Leader of the Faction to be the selection of your successor,” the Arena said, “but if you are already dead your orders have no force. Nor do the orders of others.”

 

     “So DuQuesne was right,” she muttered. “It’ll chose the new leader, and we have no way of knowing who that is.” She sighed. So much for the easy route. I’m stuck with this position until we can actually get a method for picking a new Leader of the Faction in place! “Arena, I –”

 

     A green comm-ball popped into existence. “Ariane! DuQuesne!” came Gabrielle’s voice, a little breathless. “They’re coming! You’ve got maybe half an hour at the outside!”

 

     “What?” Dammit! “I thought we’d have hours of notice!” We set the Holy Grail to detect the flare of entry, and the radio relays should have let us know –

 

     “So did I, Ariane.” Gabrielle’s voice was chagrined. “The Duta transitioned in moving faster than we were on our first trip. I left while it was still en-route, but Steve’s guess was it’d take about fifteen minutes to reach the dock.” Ariane knew that Gabrielle would have had to run from the Guardhouse, all the way down the corridors to the Inner Gateway and take it through before she could make the call. Which would have taken about fifteen minutes, meaning that Naraj and his party were already getting out of their ship…

 

Gabrielle was continuing, “Now, Steve and Tom might be able to delay them a little –”

 

     “But Naraj obviously wants to catch us off-guard,” came DuQuesne’s voice. “He’s a hell of a lot of things, but as my friend Seaton would’ve said, stupid sure ain’t one of them.”

 

     “On my way! I’ll meet them at Transition!”

 

     “Got it. I’m going back.” The ball disappeared.

 

     She leapt up from the desk, which folded up and vanished into the wall, and yanked on her most Captain-like jacket.

 

     Sun Wu Kung leapt to his feet as she charged out the door. “What’s wrong, Captain?”

 

     “They’re on their way. We want to get to Transition before they do.”

 

     Wu didn’t ask questions; he followed like a shadow.

 

     DuQuesne joined them as they exited the Embassy. “Carl and Laila will hold the fort here,” he said. “Simon’s gone over to the Analytic to talk with Relgof and a couple of the other Researchers – hopefully we get good news there.”

 

     “Four days, Marc. It only took them four days.”

 

     “Yeah, and they must’ve spent a day or more doing some quick mods.”

 

     She glanced up at the olive-skinned face; DuQuesne’s expression was not comforting. “Why?”

 

     “The Duta‘s design. I glanced over what we had on it, and it didn’t have the bunkerage for the reaction mass necessary to brake down from what must be around ten kilometers per second.” He shook his head. “They must have done calculations for modified Sandrisson coils that let them take disposable reaction tanks; it’s the only explanation that fits.”

 

     Ariane gestured and one of the hovering taxis slowed to a halt near them; Wu leapt in to do his quick survey. “But you can’t change the shape of your ship and still use your Sandrisson coils! I know that – we had to chase down the broken drive spine because of that, back when we first got here.” She got in at Wu’s gesture and ordered the vehicle to head for the Elevators to Transition.

 

     “Right,” DuQuesne said as he sat down. “My guess? They’ll have to spend some time fixing up the coils to make them work to go back, but they probably designed them to make that as easy as possible. Worth it to get the advantage of surprise.”

 

     Calm, she reminded herself. If I let this agitate me, they’ve really got the advantage. This isn’t a race, it’s not that time critical. A few seconds here or there make no difference. “Is it really that much of an advantage?”

 

     “From their point of view? Probably.” DuQuesne’s head turned, watching the Embassy area streaming by. “Naraj’s been playing these games for a long time. Keep the other guy off-balance, distract him, really get him worked up and he’ll make a mistake.”

 

     She smiled wryly up at him. “Then you’d better make sure I don’t make any mistakes.”

 

     As they got into the elevator, she focused on the task at hand. Time seems to crawl by with this much urgency; so make use of that. Remember all the contingencies we discussed. Remember what you know about Naraj. Be ready to adjust depending on who and what’s around when they come through.

 

     Transition loomed up before them, a kilometers-wide room filled with almost uncountable numbers of Gateways. “Great. Which one?” she heard herself mutter.

 

     DuQuesne shrugged. “No telling. If someone isn’t maintaining a connection, they go inert and wake up for whichever is the next incoming or outgoing signal. They could come through that one in front of us, or one of the ones in the far corners.”

 

     “All right, there’s three of us,” she said. “I’ll watch the center area, you watch to the right, DuQuesne, and Wu, keep an eye on the gates off to the left, okay?”

 

     “Yes, Captain.”

 

     Once more time seemed to crawl by. Other creatures of a hundred different species moved around them, sometimes glancing curiously at the three humans just standing still in the midst of Transition.

 

     “Apologies for distracting you?” came a buzzing voice, accompanied by just a hint of a sharp chemical smell.

 

     The voice sounded… very young, and she looked down to see a small Milluk – the same species as Swordmaster First Selpa’a'at – looking up at her from the glittering eyes set slightly above the midline of the spherical body. The creature was very small compared to the others she had seen, about half the height or less of Selpa and far less massive, with smaller defensive spines and less decoration. A child?

 

     She realized now that Wu had already watched its approach and had his staff casually ready, but he, also, did not seem terribly worried. “Apology accepted. What can I do for you?”

 

     “I must inquire – are you the human Captain Ariane Austin?”

 

     “I am,” she said. Still no sign of Naraj.

 

     The voice shifted slightly, to a more exited tone. “Oh, wonderful! Builders be praised!”

 

     A member of the Faith? She wondered for a moment why that seemed wrong, then realized the answer was obvious: Selpa, the only Milluk they’d had any real contact with, was the head of the Vengeance and didn’t trust or like the Faith.

 

     But the little creature was continuing, harvestman-like set of legs rising and falling, making the spherical body bob like a beachball in a choppy sea. “I am Kekka’a'shi,Captain Ariane  Austin! I have wanted to meet you for many days!” Kekka’a'shi produced a strange triangular object; Wu stiffened slightly, then relaxed as the creature pulled on one point and the object folded back, revealing itself to be some kind of a three-sided book. “I was hoping… would you possibly…?”

 

     She was puzzled. “Would I…?

 

     Suddenly she was aware that DuQuesne was chuckling. “What are you laughing at?”

 

     “You don’t know what he’s asking, do you?”

 

     “No, I—” she froze, then looked down. “You… want my autograph?”

 

     “Your personal mark identifier, as signifying I have met and spoken with you! Yes!”

 

     She laughed. Hardly the first time I’ve been asked, but I had actually thought I’d left that behind. “If you’ll explain to me how this little thing works so I know how, yes. But why me?”

 

     “Oh, you’re famous already in the Challenges, Captain!” Kekka said enthusiastically, the translation making him sound so very like a young sports fan meeting one of his idols that Ariane had a momentary pang of longing for her days as a racing pilot. It’s only been… not even a year, but it seems three lifetimes ago. “You beat the Blessed in a sky-race, and then you beat Amas-Garao. No one’s beaten a Shadeweaver for centuries.” He held up a sticklike object. “How it works? Some will touch it with their manipulators and generate a unique scent, others impress their nose-prints on them material… the pages are made to accept all sorts of impressions. You can use the stylus to make marks, too.”

 

     She took the stylus and smiled. “I’ll do it the way we do at home.” She thought a moment, then wrote quickly and handed the book back.

 

     Even though the creature was almost completely alien, of armored legs and spherical body, with manipulative tendrils and lacking anything ordinarily considered a face, there was somehow something about the young Milluk’s posture and movement as he took the signed book and studied it that conveyed the same awed excitement she’d seen in thousands of human fans. “What… does it say? It is language, yes?”

 

     “Yes, it is,” she answered with another smile. “It says , ‘To Kekka’a'shi – My first fan in the Arena, where I didn’t know I had fans. Thank you! – Ariane Austin.’”

 

     “Wow,” he said. What the original expression, or even sound, was, it didn’t matter; the Arena’s translation had perfectly conveyed the reaction. “Your first fan here?”

 

     “You are indeed,” she said. “And –”

 

     “Ariane!”

 

     She looked where DuQuesne pointed, and saw three clearly human figures standing on one of the Gateway platforms about three hundred yards distant.

 

     The real game’s begun.

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 10

 

We haven’t checked in with Simon’s point of view in a while…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 10.

     “Doctor Sandrisson!” Relgof Nov’ne Knarph strode from one of the shining metal and glass doors opening from the immense silver-and-marble appearing lobby of the Embassy of the Analytic and embraced Simon, to the human scientist’s momentary surprise. He returned the hug, however. Either they have similar gestures, or he has carefully studied ours and knows that to adopt them will make him seem closer to us.

 

     Not that he really needs to do that, Simon thought, stepping back and smiling. “Researcher Relgof, it is a pleasure,” he said. The Analytic was one of two factions that supported us throughout our first trip – and the only one that did so without any argument or prompting.

 

     “As always, as always,” rejoined the tall, humanoid creature with its beard-like filter and crest of pure white feathery stuff that always looked to Simon like a sweep of white hair that seemed ready to fall over one great eye in dramatic fashion. “But no more of the formalities, my friend Simon. I am glad to see you have returned, and that in hours only after the return you have chosen to come here.”

 

     “Thank you, Relgof,” said Simon. “Although I cannot pretend it is merely a social visit.”

 

     “Of course – and in truth, I would be disappointed if it were! You have so much to learn, as do we, and to waste that time merely on formalities? So tell me, what brings you to the Analytic so swiftly?”

 

     “The Sky Gates.”

 

     Relgof inclined his head like a bird studying a nearby object. “Oh, naturally. You have a Sphere, you have your Inner and Outer Gateways, you can now use the Straits, yet where shall you then go? Immense possibility lies beyond the unknown Gates in the Sky; of course you must find them immediately.”

 

     Simon nodded. “And it seems obvious to me that the Analytic must know the best ways to locate such Sky Gates.”

 

     “There have been many methods developed indeed, and we know them all – or, at least, so we believe. It is always possible that someone has, or shall have, devised a new method.” Relgof’s filter-beard flip-flopped in a pensive fashion. “Yet – as I am sure you understand, Simon – this is valuable knowledge, and while I hope you recognize our prior generosity towards your faction, this is not something which may be simply given away. Even gaining access to the records of the Analytic is something usually reserved for full members of this Faction.”

 

     He suddenly stiffened, a wading-bird spotting a possible meal. “Now, if you have come to join the Analytic –!”

 

     Simon laughed and shook his head. “No, no, I cannot leave my friends like that – certainly not for some long time yet, anyway.”

 

     “A shame, my friend. But then might I expect you have been given some authority and resources to negotiate, or were you hoping to impose upon my goodwill for this information?”

 

     “The latter would certainly be preferable,” Simon said dryly, “but I think we’ve relied upon your goodwill – and that of the Analytic – quite sufficiently for now. Yes, I’m authorized to negotiate, and we’ve brought a few things I think may be worth negotiating for.” He looked sideways at Relgof. “If, of course, you are empowered to negotiate with me?”

 

     The laugh from Relgof was a hearty one, with a faint whistling, chirping undertone that probably came from the actual sound of the Wagamia’s laugh. “The Convocation elected me Head Researcher for this period, so indeed I am so empowered, Simon.” He gestured for Simon to follow. “Let us go inside, then, for other guests,” he indicated the far doors to the outside, which had just opened to admit a pair of three-horned creatures, “have no need or right to observe what we bargain with, or for.”

 

     The small meeting room Relgof led him to was … interesting. Until now, we’d only seen him in public areas – even when I visited before, I was only shown to obviously “general public” regions, with information which was available to any inhabitant of the Arena. Relgof’s chair had a bowl-shaped depression in the table before it, with a stream of water running through it from a channel that was cut into the table for a short distance before going somewhere inside. The water obviously drained down through one of the table supports; the room itself smelled of an ocean, with strange spicy notes to the scent that hinted of alien seas. There were other peculiar arrangements in front of other chairs, while still other chairs – such as the one Simon selected – faced flat, smooth sections of table.

 

     “Would you like something to eat or drink, Simon?” Relgof asked.

 

     “Yes, please – I presume you’ve seen to the safety of such things. I see you have your own already to hand… or mouth, as the case may be.”

 

     “There are advantages to being a Researcher of standing, yes.” Relgof gestured and the wall near him opened, revealing a surprising array of bottles, vials, and packages of various sizes and colors. “Hmm… ah, here, I believe this should be satisfactory.”

 

     Simon could see markings on the bottle, one of them a stylized human figure with lettering underneath. “Water with human-compatible flavorings. Your Laila Canning said this was quite pleasant.”

 

     Simon took a cautious sip. Definitely flavored… something vaguely like lemon. Not my favorite taste, but certainly quite drinkable. “Thank you.”

 

     “My pleasure.” They took their seats, Simon finding that it was becoming easier, with practice, to do that despite the sword on his hip. DuQuesne insists we be armed, and I can’t entirely blame him.

 

“Now,” Relgof said, “I already know what you want from the Analytic. What might you be willing to offer us that we do not already have?”

 

     “That was something of an interesting question,” Simon admitted. “Of course what you want – besides one of us as a member of the Analytic – is information on Humanity. At the same time, the more people we give that to, the less valuable it becomes, so we must be cautious.”

 

     “Naturally.”

 

     Simon thought back over his many prior interactions with the Analytic scientist and decided to play a hunch. “But it also occurred to me, Rel, that in our conversations you have always seemed… well, enthusiastic in your interest in the specifics of people and things. That is, that an individual thing is itself of interest to you, even if you know much about that general type of thing. So I wondered… might you also be a collector? One of those who likes to gather true, authentic collectibles?”

 

     Relgof was in the midst of filtering some delicacy from the water, but his beard went momentarily slack and the plankton dissipated into the water before he recovered and took what remained. “Hmph. Simon, you surely are one of us no matter your allegiance. I am a collector of various things, yes.”

 

     “And as you are a great scientist, one of the best Researchers of the Analytic, I thought those things would be scientific things.” Simon reached into the bag at his side. “Something, perhaps, like this.”

 

     On the table he placed an old, old book – one that Gabrielle had found for him once he realized what she was up to. “Let me offer you this, Relgof. Both a unique, unduplicated, original artifact of Earth… and one that reveals something that I think you will find both personally and professionally interesting.”

 

     Relgof wiped his filter clean and leaned forward, reaching out a hand to reverently touch the book’s cover gently. “A… collection of records?”

 

“A book from our past – from before the era of electronic reading.”

 

Relgof squinted at the symbols. “Hmm. Translation for your writings has not truly begun, yet. We do not understand you enough for that, I suppose. What is this book about?”

 

     “Do you remember our first conversation, as we traveled to Orphan’s Embassy?”

 

     Relgof laughed. “It would be hard to forget it! My first meeting with a First Emergent – and one of them the inventor of the Sandrisson Drive.” As always, the words “Sandrisson Drive” were overlaid with dozens of other phrases and names.

 

     Simon still felt slightly embarrassed by that being made such a big deal, but he went on. “Yes, exactly. You were very much interested in the specific research paths that took us to the invention of the drive.” He touched the book and ran his finger along the title. “So… How Science Grew is a book for adolescent children, that covers the development of scientific knowledge on our world from its pre-history all the way through roughly the early twentieth century – a few hundred years ago. It lacks much context for you; it won’t explain events or references that assume you are a human, that you are a part of a particular culture; and it gives you no idea of how our technology has advanced since that time.”

 

     “And yet,” Relgof said, with an unmistakable longing in his pose as he touched the book again, “vastly more about your people – how they thought, how they found their way through the confusion and distractions of the real world to find the truths behind them – than anyone else has or could possibly have at this time.” He bowed. “A very strong offering – except that I cannot read it. And – as you may have discovered – mere recordings of speech made by another species are not comprehensible unless you have some knowledge of their language to begin with.”

 

     Simon grinned. “But what if I, or another human, were to read it to you?”

 

     “You understand the Arena’s tricks already, I see. Yes, in that case our recording devices would record what we hear, because it is being read by a conscious mind whose meaning provides the translation; we understand what we are hearing, and thus the translation will be recorded.” Relgof leaned back. “A… very good offer, Simon. I confess to being entirely impressed by your understanding of my personality as well as the Analytic’s interests. You strike to my own heart as well as that of the Analytic.” He laughed. “A true Researcher indeed! You observed, you deduced, you hypothesized, and here you have put your hypothesis to the test and it has proven well-founded.”

 

     “Is this sufficient, then?”

 

     “Hmm. It is certainly enough to move some distance forward on. I must consult with at least a reasonable number of the Conclave… but I believe that, at the least, we shall be able to give you access to some portion of that Analytic’s records – a relevant portion, of course, to your inquiries.”

 

     “Thank you, Rel! When do you think –”

 

     “This very evening I shall call for responses; I would expect… a day or two.”

 

     “That will be fine,” Simon said, and rose. “I suppose I should let you –”

 

     “Oh, don’t start running off now, Simon!” Relgof said. “Come, we may not be able to discuss more of your science or our secrets, but there’s plenty of gossip to catch up on since you’ve been gone – some of it might even interest you.” The glance he gave Simon sent a jolt through the white-haired scientist. It looked… mischevious?

 

     “Really?” He sat down slowly.

 

     “Oh, indeed. Various things about the Shadeweavers, the Vengeance, several of the other factions – oh, you have sent great turbulence through the waves, I assure you, and things are not settling out any time soon; one hears the most amazing things at times. Why,” and the gaze was now definitely on the devilish side, “I have even heard a rumor about a new human in the Arena…”

 

     Simon let himself settle deeply into the chair. I have a feeling… I may be here a while.