Ryk E. Spoor's Blog, page 70

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 9

 

Orphan had a problem…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 9.

     DuQuesne studied Orphan carefully. He’s good at playing the game. But I don’t think he’s doing much of that right now. He means it. “You can’t do this yourself? A one-man ship or something like that?”

 

     As Orphan’s hands flicked outward, Ariane answered. “I don’t think that would be practical – not if he’s going into the, what did they call it, Deeps, the areas away from settled Spheres.”

 

     “Alas, exactly correct, Captain Austin.” Orphan’s tone held sincere regret. “For a number of reasons I would be extremely pleased if I could take this and similar journeys alone, but it is not possible.”

 

     DuQuesne wasn’t really surprised. If you thought about it, given that the Arena-space was filled with air, debris, water, and so on (from the hundreds of billions of Spheres floating in it as well as from whatever unknown source the material and power of the Arena actually originated from), sailing through those mostly uncharted and perhaps almost unchartable areas would be something like a cross between an Age-of-Sail crossing of the Pacific combined with an 1800′s explorer expedition into Africa. Some of the lifeforms that flew or drifted between the Spheres were capable of attacking full-size ships, and keeping track of your course and location would be critical. Get turned off course by an unexpected assault and the one-man expedition could easily become an interstellar Flying Dutchman. “That was a pretty big ship; how much of a crew does it need?”

 

     “That, my friend, depends on the quality of the crew. Not very many indeed, if I can both trust them and rely on their capabilities. In addition to myself, a minimum of three, no more than ten.”

 

     He glanced over at Ariane, who opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, her eyebrows drawing together. Yep, she’s seen it.

 

     She confirmed it by her next words. “Unfortunately, Orphan… I’m not sure we can help you.”

 

     The twin-crested head turned towards her, and the wingcases tightened in the subconscious signal of concern or worry that DuQuesne had learned to read. “Indeed? Have I somehow given you offense? I certainly have not intended –”

 

     The blue-haired Captain waved off that protest. “No, no, Orphan, nothing like that. But… look, you know – none better – how thin we were stretched before. I’d like to say that now that we’ve gotten back home and returned that we’d be in better shape… but I’m not sure we are. In fact, being honest, we’re not, yet.”

 

     The green-black alien sat still for a moment, stroking one crest absently while thinking. DuQuesne was silent, waiting to see if Orphan picked up on things as fast as he usually did.

 

     The sole member of the Liberated did not disappoint. “Ahhh, I see. Your people are, perhaps, not yet united in their vision of how to best emerge into the Arena … and possibly, I would venture, not entirely happy with your position in all this, Captain Ariane Austin.”

 

     Ariane laughed. “You’re a fast study, Orphan. They don’t know everything about that last point yet, but… yes. Which means –”

 

     “—that you have few, if any, more members of your Faction that you could, with your typical honesty and forthrightness, recommend to me unreservedly in this matter.” He bob-bowed slightly. “And perhaps … yes, almost certainly… you have political issues that make it impractical, if not impossible, for three of you to journey with me, let alone four or five.”

 

     “You got it. The group that’s coming after us, led by a guy named Oscar Naraj and his main sidekick Michelle Ni Deng – like Ariane said, they don’t quite know the whole score yet, but they’ve already told us they don’t think we’re the right people for the job, and that we screwed up while we were here.”

 

     “They believe you made serious misjudgments?” Orphan’s stance was disbelieving. “While you certainly seemed… highly risk-prone, I cannot see anything you did that would be a misjudgment.”

 

     “Well,” Ariane said, “the biggest single thing that bothered them was that we’re effectively at war with the Molothos, one of the Five Great Factions, when we haven’t got more than one Sphere to our names.”

 

     Orphan gave a buzz that was translated as a contemptuous snort. “And would they prefer you had left them in control of your Upper Sphere? I admit that perhaps Doctor DuQuesne needn’t have taunted them directly by throwing one of the bodies of their fallen in front of them, but I assure you there was truly no way of avoiding that war. As for the situation with the Blessed, which I presume also disturbed them, there was little chance you could evade the confrontation, unless you were willing to… what was the expression… throw me to the wolves, yes.”

 

“Which would’ve had a whole bunch of other negative consequences anyway,” DuQuesne said. “Right. And believe you me, they’re not going to be at all pleased when they find out that the Captain’s basically in charge of the Faction unless she steps down – which she is not doing unless and until we’re sure the right person’s going to step up and take the job for her.”

 

     Orphan stood and began pacing in a rather human-like way. “Oh, no, certainly not. And given your extraordinary successes early on, I would be most loath to change the leadership at this stage, even if –” he held up a hand towards Ariane, “—as I suspect from the way the Captain was about to speak, you were to protest that it was as much luck as skill.” For a moment he stood still, gazing intensely at them both, and DuQuesne found his stance curiously hard to interpret; there was something more behind his words. Then Orphan continued pacing. “I can, of course, put off this journey for some time… given where I wish to go, one day or even month more or less probably makes little difference. But I cannot put it off indefinitely, or even for much longer.”

 

     “What’s the urgency? Where are you going?”

 

     The seven-foot alien paused, studying them, then gave a buzzing-bob combined that DuQuesne thought was an ironic smile, confirmed by Orphan’s translated tone in his response. “Ahh, now, I must take care. I had no intention of revealing any more until we were aboard the Zounin-Ginjou and out of all reach of Nexus Arena and her politics.” He seemed to ponder for a moment, then brightened. “If I were to tell you that it has a connection with a certain… trinket which I once used to your benefit, would that be sufficient?”

 

     Oh, yeah.

 

     “You mean… when you came back to help us against Amas-Garao,” Ariane said slowly. Orphan gave a tiny handtap of assent. “Yes… that would be sufficient to explain why it’s so important – and why you don’t want to say any more about it.”

 

     DuQuesne grunted. “Yeah. And it also puts a different face on the whole question. The Arena’s built on secrets, advantages, alliances, betrayals, aces in the hole. Getting any more information on something like that – something that isn’t Shadeweaver or Faith but could play their kind of game… that’s something you, personally, need badly, Captain, and as a Faction, Humanity needs any advantage it can get. Orphan’s over a barrel here – he can’t do it alone, and he’s got almost no one he can trust with something that explosive.”

 

     Ariane looked thoughtful, then chuckled. “And it’s another reason you couldn’t take in Maria-Susanna. As things stand, you can go anywhere you want by yourself – as a Faction of One, you’re not restricted by the rules about leaving people on your Sphere. But if she joined, you would be. Which could end up worse for you.”

 

     “Hmph.Not quite, though in essence true. That is, until I reach a certain number of members – which, I will reveal to you, is four – the Faction of the Liberated needs not remain in any location.

 

     “The problem, as I am sure you see,” Orphan continued, “would be that if I had accepted her as a true member of the Faction and left her behind, she would have full access to my Sphere, our Embassy, a fair amount of power to negotiate… or even trigger Challenges, as technically I would still be in the Arena, while if I brought her with me she would learn much of this secret. Either way, even with her capabilities and the information she could provide, it would be a considerable time before I could reasonably extend her such trust – yet if she is a member of a two-member Faction, I cannot reasonably not extend her such trust.”

 

     “Good call.” DuQuesne said. “Knowing her, she’d have figured out some angle to make herself head of the Liberated by the time you got back.”

 

     “Dr. DuQuesne, I am hurt that you think so little of me.”

 

     “More that I know her all too well, and I wouldn’t bet against her doing something like that to me.”

 

     “Then, knowing your own extremely formidable talents, I withdraw my complaint,” Orphan conceded. He glanced at Wu Kung, who had been wandering around the room, studying the carvings and ornamentation, and looking restless. “You are rather silent, I notice.”

 

     Wu grinned and did a bounce-flip in the air to land closer to Orphan. “I’m just a bodyguard, they didn’t choose me to do their talking. Though I hope we get out more, the Arena looks fascinating and all this talk-talk-talk is making me itchy, and no one’s tried to kill the Captain yet!”

 

     Orphan gave a subdued buzz-chuckle. “One would almost think you want her to be attacked.”

 

     “Well, of course! What use being a bodyguard if you never actually get to do any WORK?”

 

     Orphan stared at Wu Kung for a moment, then looked at DuQuesne. “Is he… serious?”

 

     DuQuesne snorted. “Yeah, that’s Wu, all right. His idea of being a bodyguard is having top-rank assassins trying to kill his client every step of the way. We’ve given him a pretty damn boring job so far.”

 

     “And I’m just fine with that,” Ariane said pointedly. “I’m sorry if you’re bored, Wu, and we’ll see if we can give you a break from time to time, but I’d much rather NO ONE has to get hurt over me. Right?”

 

     Wu looked slightly abashed. “Sanzo always said the same thing. Said I thought too much with my fists. Sorry, Captain.”

 

     DuQuesne slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry about it, Wu. You also think with your heart, and usually that doesn’t take you too wrong.”

 

     The flashing, slightly-fanged smile was bright. “Okay, I won’t. Thanks, DuQuesne!”

 

     Orphan had watched the byplay, DuQuesne noted, with an analytical eye that the Hyperion remembered from prior interactions. The sole member of the Liberated had not survived three millennia without being able to learn an awful lot by just observing, and DuQuesne wondered exactly what Orphan was seeing now. The alien’s face revealed little, and his body-language was quite controlled, but Marc C. DuQuesne was suddenly very sure that Orphan had come to some kind of important decision or realization, and it bothered DuQuesne that he hadn’t the faintest idea what that important realization was.

 

     “Well, then,” Orphan said, “it seems we have a rather interesting problem.”

 

     “Sorry,” Ariane said contritely. “Didn’t mean to divert everything. Yes, we do. Can I ask… you must have actually quite a few allies you’ve gained over the years, even if never nearly enough to be able to take on the Blessed. Why us, the clueless newbies of the Arena so to speak.”

 

     “Ah, Captain Austin, it is in a way the fact that you are ‘clueless newbies’, if the meaning has been properly translated, that makes you the only candidates for this job. Or rather, the fact that you have that status and have proven yourselves honorable, courageous, and resourceful… and been willing to treat with one such as myself even when you had certainly some reason to mistrust me.” He reached into an unobtrusive cabinet and brought out a bottle from which he filled three glasses. “I realize I have been remiss in providing refreshment for you as well.”

 

     Ariane reached for a glass; DuQuesne grinned as it was plucked smoothly from her hand by Wu Kung, who sniffed at it, ran a scanner over it, and poured a drop onto his tongue before he let her take it; DuQuesne raised an eyebrow as the Monkey King did the same with DuQuesne’s glass.

 

     “Oh, excellent.” Orphan snapped his wingcases and buzzed in what was obviously something like applause. “Extend the hand of friendship… but watch where the tail lies carefully. I approve of your bodyguard, Captain. Though others might find this offensive.”

 

     “Let them.” DuQuesne said at a glance from Ariane and Wu Kung. “In our own Embassy we’ll relax a bit, but nowhere else.”

 

     “Perfectly correct.”

 

     Ariane, meanwhile, had taken a sip. “Oh, this is excellent, Orphan!”

 

     DuQuesne agreed. It was some kind of juice, he suspected, with a tart, sweet taste something like gooseberries crossed with carrots and maybe a hint of ancho pepper in the background. No alcohol, but there was a faint, faint tang which made him suspect a mild caffeine-like stimulant. “I’ll bet you got this from Mairakag.”

 

     “He and a few others advised me, and it was of course certified by your own Dr. Canning.” Orphan bowed to them in his fashion and then raised his own drinking globe. “I believe this is an appropriate use of one of your customs when I say ‘To alliances.’.”

 

     “To alliances,” DuQuesne echoed with Ariane, and took another sip.

 

     “Good! I had hoped I had that correct. To the subject at hand… Captain, you are new-come to the Arena. I have been present essentially throughout all of your most important events, save only,” he glanced with undisguised curiosity at DuQuesne, “the impossible victory Dr. DuQuesne and Dr. Edlund managed against the Molothos.”

 

     DuQuesne grinned darkly but said nothing. That was in some ways one of the most private moments of his life – the moment that he and Carl had been cornered and faced with death or worse and he had been forced to unleash the Hyperion, the “Marc C. DuQuesne” that he’d buried inside himself half a century before so he could forget what had been, and become a part of the civilization around him. He’d saved Carl, but had to give up any hope of going back to being anything other than what he now was.

 

     Orphan, after a miniscule pause, continued, “Because of this, I know all of your alliances. I know those you call friend, those who see you as enemies, I know how you treat with both friend and enemy and potential allies. Do you not see that I could not say the same about any of the other Factions? With their uncounted billions or even quadrillions of adherents, with their dozens, hundreds, thousands of Spheres and thousands of years of Challenge, negotiation, expedience, betrayal, secret friendships hidden within public animosities…” he flicked his hands outward emphatically. “Nowhere in the Arena could I possibly find allies whose only unknown motivations lay in their own Sphere, who could – to put it simply – be nothing more or less than exactly what they appeared to be.” This time he did not bob-bow, but dropped to the floor in the full pushup-like pose that was a deep and formal bow. “In all the universe, in fact, there are none like you, and once your people have become established – a few fleeting decades, no more – there will be none like you again, until another species of First Emergents appears.”

 

     He sure knows how to speechify, as Rich Seaton might’ve said, DuQuesne thought cynically. And he knows how that’s going to affect the Captain. But being fair, I think he means it.

 

     Ariane had risen in surprise, and her smile looked somewhat sheepish. “That’s… pretty extravagant praise, Orphan. But I understand where you’re coming from.” She frowned. “And the longer we wait, the more chances there are for the alliances to start tangling us up.” She nodded decisively. “We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how, just yet,” she admitted, “but you have my word we’ll figure out some way to get you a crew you can trust.”

 

     Orphan bowed again. “Then, Captain Austin, our bargain is done; you shall have those vessels and you will one day soon find a way to give me a crew. I have no doubts on that score, for the very body of Amas-Garao can testify how well you keep your word… even when all possibility seems against you.”

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 8

 

Well, they’d gotten a call from Orphan, who made a most interesting statement…

 

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 8.

     “Welcome back, Captain Austin, Dr. DuQuesne,” Orphan said expansively as she and Marc entered, Wu Kung just behind her. Simon was visiting Relgof and the Analytic, starting discussions to find out about the Sky Gates, while Gabrielle and Carl were moving their merchandise from the Grail to the Embassy; Laila Canning was currently at the Embassy in case others came to call.

 

Orphan’s hard, chitin-like exterior seemed glossier than ever, the deep green and black like an exotic uniform as he completed a deep push-bow, then turned to their third member. “And a first welcome to you…?”

 

     “Sun Wu Kung. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Orphan!”

 

     Ariane couldn’t restrain another smile. Whatever else he can do well, he’s made me smile more in the last few days than I’d ever have believed.

 

     Orphan’s translated voice, too, held a note of humor. “No honorific, please. Just Orphan. It is my name and my condition. I welcome you, Sun Wu Kung. And you? No title? No honorific?”

 

     “None, or far too many,” Wu Kung answered, staring around at the mysterious patterns ornamenting the entrance of the Liberated’s Embassy. “I am the Captain’s bodyguard, and for that I need no title at all; elsewhere I have many titles but they are of no matter here.”

 

     Orphan’s face was not as mobile as a human’s, and the twin crests of green-black on his head did not move. But Ariane had learned to interpret quite a bit of the semi-insectoid alien’s body language, and the scissoring of the black wingcases and shift in posture showed his surprise. “A bodyguard, you say?” He glanced to DuQuesne, clearly trying to read him. “I hope you take no offense at my saying that I find it hard to think that you would be as … effective a bodyguard as she might need, if she fails to be able to protect herself – which failure, in itself, would be no small feat, as I have seen her in battle. Dr. DuQuesne, for instance, would be more what I would have envisioned.”

 

     Wu’s smile showed his sharp canines, and DuQuesne chuckled. “Orphan, you remember back when we had to fight Amas-Garao together?”

 

     The sole member of the Liberated vibrated in a way that even an untutored human would have recognized as a shudder. “I could hardly forget it,” he said, with an uncharacteristic tension and nervousness in his tones, his hands making an abortive gesture outwards which would mean no.

 

     “No, I would guess not. But you admit we worked well together.”

 

     The wingcases relaxed slightly and the richer tones of Orphan’s voice showed that he was back to himself. “Indeed, I would. A terrifying battle, but a transcendant one in its own way, and ours was a marvelous dance with death.”

 

     “Then maybe, in a couple of days, you’ll come over to our Embassy and we can do some sparring. With Wu.”

 

     Orphan bowed. “I would be honored. I sense that you will be showing me the error of such simplistic assessments. It should be… entertaining.”

 

     “It will be that.”

 

     The alien drew himself back up dramatically. “But I did not call you here merely to meet your mysterious new – and, I note, tailed, which does not appear to be the norm with your people – bodyguard.”

 

     “No, you said you had both some news and a proposition for us.”

 

     “Precisely so.” Orphan led the way to one of his own embassy’s meeting rooms, where human-style chairs were already extruded from the floor and one more suited for Orphan’s tailed, winged form rose up as he approached. “As I said, that most charming renegade of yours, Maria-Susanna, approached me the second day of her presence here.”

 

     “Used that name, did she?” DuQuesne said.

 

     “She did indeed.”

 

     “How did she approach you?”

 

     “Oh, quite directly. She came to this Embassy and requested an audience, which I naturally granted her as I am always interested in those with a personal approach, and she was, apparently, a new member of your faction, and your people are still quite something of a novelty.

 

“She then got straight to business, as one might say, stating that she had a great deal of sympathy for the cause of the Liberated and that she was considering joining my Faction, if that were possible. A most… startling and emphatic opening move.”

 

     “And you turned her down?” Ariane was somewhat surprised.

 

     “Oh, hardly so swiftly as that, I assure you. Indeed, I was most flattered and at first very much interested. The Liberated cannot afford to turn down any applicants unless there is truly an overriding reason to do so. And she offered a great deal of value.”

 

     DuQuesne grunted. “Like all of the secrets of humanity on a plate.”

 

     “On a plate… yes, I grasp your idiom, and it’s quite a useful one.” Orphan looked momentarily pensive. “You know, this once more gives me pause to wonder how it is that the Arena will decide to translate versus transliterate. There are clearly times it translates one concept to another, while at other times it appears to merely translate the words into the nearest reasonable equivalent.” He gave the wing-snap which signified a shrug, and continued. “Yes, but then again, not nearly all, at least not to begin with. Clearly she was far from foolish; she wanted to offer the minimum of information which would be worth admission to my Faction, and hold the rest for later bargaining – with me, or with others outside of the Faction.”

 

     “So,” Ariane said when he paused, “what made you turn her down?”

 

     Orphan stroked one of his headcrests thoughtfully. “A number of things, really. She – quite wisely – was forthcoming about her legal status in your home system. This of course presented me with a problem which is, alas, vastly more important for me than it would be for Selpa, Nyanthus, or most other leaders of other factions.”

 

     “Got it,” DuQuesne said, nodding. “With your role as gadfly to the Blessed, you’ve got damn few allies, even personal ones. Selpa hasn’t had to rely on humanity to bail the Vengeance out, old Nyanthus doesn’t need us to support him in a pinch, the Analytic don’t have to worry that we might dump them, and it’s hard to imagine any of them ever would. You’ve had to rely on us, and might have to again.”

 

     Orphan’s wingcases scissored in the pendulum-like motion that indicated either reluctant agreement or a “yes and no” state. “I would perhaps not have put it quite so bluntly. Yet… yes, I suppose there is no better simple way to say it. Despite certain temporary conflicts of interest, I have, I hope, been of signal service to Humanity, and in return you have assisted me in regaining much… face, would be the correct way to put it, as well as in truth showing me much of myself. While these debts are mostly even, still I am not so unwise as to sacrifice one alliance for another single individual. At the same time, that was not all.”

 

     “Oh, really?” DuQuesne looked interested.

 

     “Quite so. You see, I of course conducted quite a long interview with her. There is a phrase the Faith often uses, todai miriola in the language of their current leader, which is best translated as ‘the Way of Spoken Warfare’…” he paused, chuckled. “And there again is that question of translation! Ahh, I have not thought about these things in centuries! But where was I? Ahh, yes. For the Initiate Guides who travel to new worlds, meet new species, this is meant as the description of how you defend and advance the Faith’s belief in the face of ideological opposition, but todai miriola is more often simply a reference to a conversation which is a genteel battle between two who seek to gain the better of the other in the discussion. And indeed was my interview with Maria-Susanna such a battle. I sought to discover more of her, her motivations, her long-term goals, her relationship with all of you, her history, as well as information about Humanity. She was after more information about me, of course, my resources, my goals, and so on.” The wingcases tightened and released. “I pride myself on being a master of this form of warfare, but I found that in this woman I had met my equal. I am honestly unsure if she learned more of me than I did of her.

 

     “But I did learn some interesting facts; that she has some connection to you, Doctor DuQuesne, and that she is very reluctant to reveal more of this background, which still disturbs her; that she is a criminal of your people, apparently sufficiently so that there is no real safe haven for her in Humanity’s home system; and that she has spent a long time operating alone.

 

     “The latter, combined with other indications, was what finally decided me. Someone with her advantages – and, if my assessment of human behavior and appearance is anything close to correct, she has many advantages – who could not, or dared not, have any aides, allies, or close friends, is someone with a secret I cannot afford to bring into my faction, not in my current position.”

 

     DuQuesne nodded, as did Ariane. Once more she was impressed by the way Orphan operated. He had reached an accurate conclusion about Maria-Susanna with minimal information, deducing from what he knew about a species he’d only met for the first time a few months ago. “Well, I have to say I’m very, very glad you turned her down. Not that I’m happy to, once more, have no idea where she’s gone, but…” She paused, not quite sure how to say what she wanted.

 

     “I think what the Captain wants to say is that despite knowing you’re generally an opportunistic bastard out for your own goals, we like you way too much to want to have that kind of wedge driven between us.”

 

     Orphan laughed, translated as a deep booming laugh but with the buzzing undertone of the actual sound. “Ahh, Doctor DuQuesne, truly you know how to make me feel appreciated! And I for my part simply did not trust her. I trust all of you, more in fact than I do many other long-standing residents of the Arena. And that,” he said, picking up a drinking globe from a nearby table, “is why I have a proposition for your Faction.”

 

     “What kind of proposition?”

 

     “As your people are just emerging into the Arena, and have, shall we say, had some unfortunate encounters that add a bit of urgency to your next few months, it occurred to me that the Liberated happen to have some resources which are going quite unused, and barring a miracle will remain unused for a long time to come, and which we would be willing to loan to Humanity. Specifically, a number of Arena-capable vessels.”

 

     Ariane sat forward involuntarily. “You’d lend us spaceships? Arena-tailored ones? What type? How many?”

 

     “Ahh, Captain, I see that your friend and advisor Dr. DuQuesne wishes you had kept something more of … oh, what was that phrase Dr. Franceschetti once used… ah, yes, more of a poker face. Too much enthusiasm and I know my bargaining position.”

 

     Ariane blushed, but DuQuesne grinned. “Yeah, well, she’s a pilot, not a professional politician – which we thank the Gods for every day. Since she’s gone and made it obvious we like the idea, let’s move on. We’re working on building our own Arena vessels, but I’m pretty damn sure that our first efforts are going to be not even close to optimal, no matter how many SFGs they get involved; there’s just too many little things we probably don’t know.

 

     “On the other hand, ships made for your people aren’t going to be optimal for us to use, so there’s that little issue.”

 

     Orphan bob-bowed but with an energy and tilt to his body that implied he’d already thought of that. “Which is why these vessels would already be modified for Humanity’s needs.”

 

     Ariane raised an eyebrow. “How would you – “

 

     DuQuesne snorted and shook his head, looking chagrined. “Of course. Another reason Maria-Susanna couldn’t tempt you so much.”

 

     “Precisely correct, Dr. DuQuesne. Humanity spent some not inconsiderable time as guests of my own Embassy, prior to obtaining your own, and I naturally gave you permission to modify the quarters as you saw fit. Equally naturally, while I did not directly spy on you, I was able to examine, observe, and record every change you made or requested of the automation. Thus I know, I believe, far more about Humanity than any other native of the Arena – in some ways, I would expect I will still do so even after your renegade finds some safe haven, as your Maria-Susanna is of course going to dole out information very carefully indeed.”

 

     “And you can refit them on your own?”

 

     “Recall that nanotechnology works, at least to some considerable extent, within one’s own Sphere. Yes, I can bring the vessels into my Harbor and have them refitted. I have in fact done so in anticipation of this time.” He gestured and an image appeared of multiple vessels – two, three dozen of them – arranged in a conical formation. “Several of these are warships, which may at least give you some peace of mind against accidental discovery – although they will be utterly inadequate if and when a major force finds your Sphere.”

 

     “But how will we GET them there?” Wu Kung put in. “Sorry for jumping in, but if I remember the briefing we don’t know anything about where your Sphere is compared to ours, or compared to the Nexus, so we could be next-door neighbors or light-years apart even here in the Arena.”

 

     “That is a slight problem,” Orphan conceded, “but one that – I would hope – may be remedied shortly. If your negotiations with the Analytic proceeed well, they should be able to offer you the technology or designs necessary to locate your Sky Gates, and there is a very good chance that one of those Gates leads here, to Nexus Arena. One of the Liberated’s Sky Gates leads here as well, so if you are not terribly unfortunate, all that will need to be done is to bring the fleet here, and then send it to your Sphere. Even if negotiations with the Analytic fail for some reason, I would not be surprised if your Dr. Sandrisson could determine the basic nature of a Gate Location analysis machine on his own.”

 

     “Well,” Ariane said after a moment, “I have to say it’s a very attractive and generous offer, Orphan. So what’s the catch?”

 

     “The … catch? Ah, yes. What do I get out of the bargain that I have not yet stated. You recall, Dr. DuQuesne, the time I very nearly showed you over my favorite ship, the Zounin-Ginjou, which I keep docked at Nexus Arena?”

 

     “Heh. Yeah, you’d just gotten us up to its berth when Gabrielle called to let us know that the Captain had just challenged the Blessed. Pretty ship, from what I could see.”

 

     “Pretty? Yes, I would agree; a pleasing symmetry and color-pattern; and also one of the most advanced we own. I have just recently had it overhauled by my Tantimorcan allies.” Now it was Orphan who leaned forward, a startlingly humanlike gesture. “The catch, my friends, is that I want you to provide me with a crew. For I have somewhere I must go, and no other way to reach my destination… and no others anywhere in the universe that I dare trust.”

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 7

 

They’d just sat down to discuss their problems…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 7.

     “Well, that does seem to rather complicate things,” Laila said, pushing her own bobbed brown hair back with a distracted air. Ariane noted that she seemed to have absorbed the data-dump more easily than Carl. Not surprising – she was used to having three fully-active AISages before we came here, and losing them nearly killed her. If anyone can handle immense amounts of data in one shot, it’s Dr. Laila Canning.

 

     “Yeah. Whoa.” Carl blinked, shook his head. “Ouch! You know, Ariane, every time you go somewhere you seem to pick up more trouble along the way.”

 

     “Don’t I know it.” She looked at both of them. “Now you’re up to speed on what happened with us – how have things been here?”

 

     “Mostly fairly quiet, actually. Everyone knew you were gone for a while, and aside from the Molothos trying a couple of times to annoy one of us into initiating a Challenge, everyone seemed perfectly happy to wait for a while. Your friend Relgof,” he nodded at Simon, “still drops by fairly often to check on things; the Analytic’s clearly really interested in getting us to either join their faction or at least get some formal alliance going, maybe get some human members.”

 

     “Mandallon, our appointed Initiate Guide, is also a frequent visitor; he sometimes escorts me to view some of the Faith’s rituals,” Laila said. “Both he and Relgof volunteered information on how to customize our Embassy further, and Steve followed through on that – very well, I think.”

 

     “I thought I recognized Steve’s touch. So you’ve been trading off duties here?”

 

     “Yeah, just like you said; make sure we all keep in touch, cycle those on duty,” Carl confirmed; then he grinned, the smile lighting up his narrow, sharp face. “We didn’t just hide out in the Embassy, either. I did go to another Challenge – two minor factions contesting over some offense – with Selpa’a'At.” She nodded; one couldn’t easily forget the strange spidery Swordmaster First of the Vengeance. “There’s more than a professional interest there – Selpa’s obviously a fan of the Challenges as sport, so I learned a lot about Challenges listening to him. Recorded, of course – I’ll give you all that.”

 

     “Good work, Carl,” DuQuesne said. “We’re walking a fine, fine line here, and anything that gives us better relationships with the other factions without giving away the store is great.”

 

     “Thanks, but honestly, I didn’t need much arm-twisting to go. It’s a dozen sports all in one, with real stuff at stake.” He looked over at Ariane. “I wasn’t your main mechanic in the Unlimited just for the tech challenge, after all.”

 

     “Can’t blame you,” Gabrielle said. “Though I could sure do without any more heart-in-my-mouth Challenges like the one that almost got Ariane killed.”

 

     “Yeah,” agreed Carl. “So anyway, that’s about it – we’ve talked with some of the others off and on but nothing of substance.” He raised an eyebrow. “So… what now?”

 

     Everyone was looking at her now. You’re the Leader of the Faction, Captain Austin. You don’t like it, you don’t want it – even less now – but it’s your job for now, so suck it up and get moving. Though she would ­much rather have left it to DuQuesne or someone else, Ariane straightened and tried to look properly Captain-like.

 

     “Honestly, I had hoped to return with a lot more people to help us get things done here. Instead, as Carl points out, I seem to have managed to return with no more people but a lot more problems. We need to address all of those problems, and the others we already knew about.” She looked at Simon. “Dr. Sandrisson, in your best estimation, how long will it be until the Duta and Mr. Naraj’s people join us here in the Arena?”

 

     Simon frowned, pushed the round-lensed glasses that were one of his affectations up his nose slightly, then leaned back, obviously thinking. “It’s somewhat difficult to say; the Duta is a larger vessel and the design is quite different when compared to the Grail, and they will be getting their own cargo together. However, they have many more people working on this…” Another pause. “No less than three days, no more than a week, I would say.”

 

     Damn. I had hoped for more than that. “All right. So we need to decide how we’ll deal with them when they arrive. Our other problems… Dr. DuQuesne, how would you rank them?”

 

     “Hard to say, Captain. Leaving aside Naraj, Ni Deng, and whoever they bring with them – and let me just say that even if they only bring one or two, that’s going to be a royal pain to watch with only eight of us – our other major problems are the Molothos, possibly the Blessed, getting ourselves ready to defend our Sphere, figuring out how to expand our territory – we have got to get at least one more Sphere – and of course our unexpected visitor Maria-Susanna.” He paused, a brooding expression on his face, before continuing. “We’ve got to increase our ability to project our presence in the Arena, which means we have to get those Sky Gates they talk about up and running. We need ships that will work in the Arena proper; I think the Duta is being designed with that in mind, but…”

 

     “But,” Ariane finished, “we can’t build or buy them here without resources.” She looked around. “We may have to send one or two of us back to get some kind of ship built back home that we can use.”

 

     DuQuesne winced, and she shrugged. “I know, Marc. I hate the idea myself – we honestly can’t spare any of us. If I have to I’d probably have to send Steve and Tom – Steve oversaw the Holy Grail’s construction, Tom did the maintenance, the two would have all the right knowledge.”

 

     “But without them, work on our Sphere installations will slow way down,” DuQuesne said. “I guess a lot will depend on how much we can get for the cargo you brought, Gabrielle.”

 

     “I’d guess, yes,” Gabrielle said. “I’ll go back shortly and get it unloaded and bring it back here. We want to get first on the market, before Duta gets here. I’m pretty much certain, Arrie, that some of the pieces I couldn’t get were ones the SSC already had put an option on. But if we start selling ours first, we get the initial interest spike.”

 

     “Okay, Gabrielle.” Ariane felt a quick, small spark of satisfaction; Gabrielle had remembered that Arena residents were interested in real, non-nanotech manufactured products from new worlds and had gathered a surprising cargo while they were away. One positive thing to do, anyway. “I think that’s an obvious and necessary step and it’s something we can get on right away.” She looked back to Simon. “What about the Sky Gates? Those are supposed to be activated by Sandrission Drives somehow, correct?”

 

     “As I understand it, yes. If you enter one of the Gates and activate the Drive as one would for a normal Transition, you are transported to the other side of the Gate instantaneously, whether that ‘other side’ is to the next Sphere over, to Nexus Arena, or even to a Sphere corresponding with a world halfway across the entire universe.

 

     “If you invert the Sandrisson field, you are dropped back into the normal universe at some distance – I believe roughly a light-year – from the associated star system.”

 

     “How do we locate these Gates?”

 

     “I… do not know, yet. I was intending to research this as one of my first projects after our return.”

 

     Another clear priority. “I think that’s necessary. You should contact Dr. Relgof of the Analytic as soon as we’re done here.” Simon nodded, and she continued, “All right. Now, as to the imminent arrival of our SSC representatives…” Bite that bullet, Ariane. “I’ll meet with them as soon as they arrive – I want them escorted here immediately. No chance for them to go somewhere else or get involved with anything until they’ve been brought to the Embassy and been briefed here. If possible, I’ll escort them myself.”

 

     “I will be with you,” Wu emphasized.

 

     She smiled faintly. “You and Marc have already made that clear. But this does bring up something else – maybe not quite as important… but maybe so, in the long run.” She glanced at DuQuesne. “Marc, a good bodyguard needs to understand the territory. I understand that I will have Wu with me essentially all the time when I am outside of the Embassy or other secure areas. However, if I am staying here in our Embassy, I want Wu to spend some time familiarizing himself with Nexus Arena, with some of the people we know, and with our Sphere – Inner and Upper. He needs to grasp this … place,” she still didn’t know what to call the Arena as a concept; world? Universe? “at least as well as we do. His instincts need to be adjusted to all the differences of the Arena.” She smiled at Wu. “Plus, even the best bodyguard needs some time to himself, and in a place this amazing… can we really cage the Monkey King?”

 

     “Ha!” Wu Kung laughed joyously. “Only the Buddha managed it before! Thank you, Ariane! I do want to see this place myself!”

 

     “You’re right, Ariane,” DuQuesne said, echoing Wu’s smile. “And I’ll hammer some rules of behavior into him so he doesn’t, hopefully, wreck our most delicate negotiations.”

 

     “Good,” she said. “Getting back to the earlier discussion… I will also let them in on our joker in the pack when I meet with them.”

 

     “Are you sure?” Gabrielle asked. “I am certain they will be very unhappy with that little piece of information.”

 

     “Ariane’s right,” DuQuesne said. “No way do we want them finding out Ariane’s the Faction Leader from anyone else. If we brief them right away, they’ll be peeved but we’ll keep them from making fools of themselves, or forcing themselves into a Challenge or something by making assumptions that aren’t correct.”

 

     “Thank you, Marc.” She thought a moment. “As for Maria-Susanna… we have to find out where she is, and what she is doing, but I’m not sure it’s easily done. I could of course just try to use the Arena’s abilities to contact her and ask what her intentions are, but she could refuse contact or lie, as it suited her.”

 

     “Yeah. If she didn’t come to the Embassy in the first place, she has a plan that doesn’t involve using us as intermediaries, for which I guess I should be grateful. We’ll have to try to figure out how to ask around subtly. We might get the chance when our new friends arrive – they’ll want to be introduced, and maybe we could drop hints then – or even earlier, if the Factions know we’re here –”

 

     A brilliant green ball of light popped into existence over the table; Ariane mostly repressed the startled jump. From it came a familiar, deep, somehow ironic and humorous voice. “Captain Ariane Austin, welcome back to the Arena.”

 

She couldn’t repress a smile at that voice. “Orphan! Nice to hear from the great Leader of the Liberated!”

 

As Orphan was the sole member of the Liberated, this would have been possibly risky humor from someone else; but as Orphan had, himself, used similar jests in her presence, he took it with good humor. “I did think of delegating the contact to my First Minister Orphan, but Ambassador Orphan reminded me that it is best to maintain good relations by personal interaction.”

 

“Good that you have such sage advisors, Leader. What can we do for you, or was this simply a welcome call?” Somehow, she doubted it was so simple. Little in the Arena was, after all.

 

“Actually, I have a proposition for the Faction of Humanity… and some information I believe you would find useful.”

 

“A proposition?” She glanced at the others. “We would be very happy to hear any offers you might have, Orphan. Despite certain… events, I still think of you as a friend and ally. So please, speak on.”

 

“Ahh, Captain Austin, I would rather you – and the others, if they like – come visit me at my Embassy.”

 

“Well… I’m sure I can arrange it sometime, but we have… a lot of things complicating matters at the moment.”

 

“Oh, no doubt,” Orphan answered. “A new-minted Faction with some most interesting… challenges, if you will, to deal with, and I am sure some additional matters from your own people.” It was clear that Orphan understood the potential problems, even though he couldn’t have specific knowledge of just what those problems were.

 

But now there was an unmistakable dramatic edge to his voice, and he continued, “But I did, also, mention information, I believe. Perhaps it would intrigue you sufficiently if I were to mention that, a full day before the news of your return spread throughout Nexus Arena, I had a most interesting visitor… a most interesting human visitor?”

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 6

 

Well, Our Heroes  had arrived back in the Arena; it was time to head to the Embassy and meet up with the rest of the group…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 6.

     That’s Wu, DuQuesne thought with a fond smile, even as he and the other three followed the impulsive Monkey King through. Even when he’s on-duty, he’s still a kid in so many ways.

 

     As they arrived, he heard Wu give an exclamation that meant roughly “wonderful!” . In a single flurry of motion Wu Kung streaked up the Gateway, reached the very crest of the arch and stood there, bouncing and glancing in all directions like a child at an amusement park. “There’s so many different kinds of people here, DuQuesne!” he shouted. “No immediate threats I can see. Hey, Captain, don’t go too far! Stay in sight! Oh, look over there, those are Molothos, right?”

 

     Oh, blasted HELL. DuQuesne looked in the direction indicated by the crimson-and-gold staff. Sure enough, Dajzail – DuQuesne could recognize him now, by a handsome almost geometric pattern on his fighting claws – and four other Molothos were crossing Transition. He heard Ariane draw in her breath.

 

     Fortunately, although he could see the Molothos’ gaze swivel, taking in their presence (and pausing momentarily in obvious bemusement at the tiny out-of-place figure atop the Gateway), the jack-knife clawed aliens apparently weren’t prepared for or interested in a confrontation at this time; they moved on and out of sight. Just as well; I’ve got to figure out how to rein Wu in while still leaving him free to act the way he has to. We don’t want him being a convenient lever for someone to Challenge with simply because he’s got the Monkey King’s curiosity and sometimes low sense of humor.

 

     He realized the others were now staring up at Wu Kung. Arian looked at DuQuesne incredulously. “How the hell did he get UP there?” Wu had of course come through before her, but he’d apparently moved slightly aside on entry, so his leap-and-scramble had happened out of her sight.

 

     “Monkey, remember. Give him something to climb, he’ll climb it.”

 

     Ariane shook her head and gave a slight gasp as Wu came down by sliding down the side until he departed from the curve about 12 meters up, somersaulted twice, and landed with the same casual grace of a gymnast dismounting from a one-meter horse. DuQuesne heard Simon mutter something disbelieving. I’ll also have to give him a reminder about subtlety. Not that it’s likely to do any good; his idea of subtle was generally to sneak up behind you before going “boo!”.

 

     Wu bounced back in front of the group, leading them towards the entrance of Nexus Arena, staring wide-eyed at everything and everyone around him, exclaiming in wonder and excitement. A never-ending flow of questions streamed over his shoulder, leaving Ariane – the target of most of those questions – looking both amused and bemused.

 

     “Marc,” Simon said, watching Wu, “far be it from me to question your judgment – given your record – but… I have a hard time believing that our new friend is quite as attentive as a bodyguard ought to be; honestly, he’s acting almost like a child.”

 

     He grinned. “Does kinda look that way, doesn’t it? But let me tell you, that hyperactive overgrown toddler is absolutely and completely aware of anything that might be a threat to Ariane; when it comes down to the ugly, Wu’s sharper than a cutting laser and about a thousand numbers Brinnell harder than a diamond drill. Anyone thinks Ariane’s unprotected because her bodyguard’s distracted…” He shook his head. “Believe you me, that’s the very last mistake they’ll ever make.”

 

     Simon smiled faintly. “You speak from experience, so I will take your word for it,” he said, as Wu suddenly pointed with childlike excitement to one of the blue-green Chiroflekir as it half-floated across Transition’s floor, “but you must admit it’s hard to imagine.” He tilted his head, obviously listening. “Great kami, I thought my blending of languages was an abomination, but I swear I hear –”

 

     “Yeah, Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese, Hindi, and a smattering of others including English.”

 

     “In the name of … well, sanity, why?“

 

     DuQuesne sighed. “Thought it was obvious. That version of Sun Wu Kung isn’t from any one source. Like I told Ariane, they took every major version of Journey to the West and of the Monkey King and … put them in a blender, everything from the legends of Hanuman to ancient cartoons, the original Journey to the West, Manak’s epic virtual world adventure Seven Worlds of Wu Kung, all of them.

 

“You see, the Hyperion SFG wouldn’t allow multiple versions of the same character to be made, so people either had to select one particular version, or make a combined one. Whoever was running that sim, well, they decided to really go to town. That mangled language actually sorta hangs together, but it’s a bitch to learn. Good thing he speaks our version of English pretty well.” DuQuesne managed a faint smile, though the subject hurt, like picking at an open wound. “I can’t really laugh at him over it, though; same thing’s true of me.”

 

“You? I thought – from what Ariane said – that there really was a character named Marc C. DuQuesne.” They were now approaching the immense array of elevators that served Transition and brought people to the main levels of Nexus Arena.

 

     “Yeah, but… not exactly. See, my… designer, he was a real big fan of the guy who wrote those books, and the same guy – called Doc Smith – had written another really popular series back in the day. The people running the Hyperion SFG were adamant that my designer could only have one character from Smith’s writings, so he ended up combining both Smith’s Lensman and Skylark series, and making me a combination of a couple of the heroes from both. Admittedly, I’m more Marc C. DuQuesne than I am any of the others, but if you read the books, I sure as hell am not that DuQuesne – and thank all the gods – and my designer – for that.” And I hope my note got to you, old man; I owed you that much thanks, and if she never caught up with you, you’re safe now.

 

     “My main worry,” Gabrielle said quietly, “is just what that Maria-Susanna’s up to. Do you think she’ll be at the Embassy?”

 

     “I’d think there’s a good chance of it,” Simon said. “After all, it’s been only a day or so since she left.”

 

     “Hmph.” DuQuesne couldn’t quite repress the snort. “Maybe, but remember, she thought this out. And she’s one hell of a high-powered thinker when she’s trying.”

 

     “But she knew the schedule,” Simon pointed out, stepping inside the elevator with the others. Ariane and Wu Kung turned their heads, listening to the conversation. “She’d know she had at least a few days.”

 

     “She’d know the schedule gave her at least a few days,” DuQuesne corrected him. “But if you could detect her jumping out, she’d assume I’d break every speed limit there was to catch up with her.”

 

     “But Simon just invented the detection device,” Ariane protested. “Why would she assume anything like that?”

 

     “You tell me, Simon; if you were in her position, just as smart as you, knowing what she’d know about the Drive – would she be able to reasonably guess that it was practically possible to detect?”

 

     Simon frowned. The doors opened and they walked out into the main floor of Nexus Arena,on which were located all of the Embassies, the Powerbrokers, and the entrances to the actual Arena Challenge levels. After another few moments, he grimaced. “Yes, I’m afraid she would. The capability is implicit in the way the system works, if you understand it sufficiently. The light-signature from the drive is very distinctive, even leaving aside the spacetime effects.”

 

     Gabrielle shrugged. “All right. So she’ll only be there if she’s planned on meeting us, then.”

 

     “That’s the way I’d bet.”

 

Ariane waved over one of the “taxis”, the automated public transports that looked like open-roofed and flexibly configured maglev transit cars. Wu Kung stepped smoothly between Ariane and the vehicle, leaped into it and ran from one end to the other, eyes covering every square centimeter of the taxi in seconds. “Okay,” he said, and stood watchfully as the others boarded.

 

     “Is that really necessary?” Ariane asked.

 

     “Yes,” Wu said without hesitation. “Sure, there’s only a very small chance someone might be trying to kill you in any given place, but if I ignore all the small chances they add up to a big chance. There’s some I have to ignore, because we just don’t have time. There’s others I don’t know about yet. And there’s some I’ll miss because you’re in private, or because I get sent somewhere else. But the ones I can, I’ll watch for. Okay?”

 

     She smiled and DuQuesne couldn’t help but grin with her. “Yes, okay. If I have to have a bodyguard, I suppose I have to let him do his job.”

 

     The taxi, having been instructed by Ariane, quickly pulled up to the broad, simply-ornamented front of the Embassy of Humanity. DuQuesne noted a bystander – a Milluk, a gray-black spherical body on jointed spidery legs – turn as they approached, and a small green-glowing sphere appeared nearby. An observer, roving reporter, something like that, now letting someone know that there’s activity at the Embassy. If he’s got good data or observing skills, he also knows that the Captain’s back, which will kick everything into high gear.

 

     The door opened as they approached – DuQuesne in front this time as Wu Kung covered the rear – and they entered the foyer.

 

     DuQuesne felt his eyebrows climb. The entranceway had been transformed in their absence. A series of well-spaced statues – of people, animals, symbols – circled the entire room, while artworks ranging from what appeared to be duplicates of Old Masters to the recent Inversion-Projection period concept light-sculptures hung from or were projected near the walls. The walls and floor themselves had changed from the default concrete and metal appearance; there was carefully selected panelling that looked like natural wood and the floor was a polished marble-like substance. “That’s… quite a change.”

 

     “DuQuesne? ARIANE? Holy crap, you’re back!” Carl Edlund’s voice echoed around the room from the door that had suddenly opened at the far end of the foyer. He ran forward; DuQuesne could see Wu tense momentarily, but he’d apparently decided not to do any more blocking when old friends met up. “Why the hell didn’t you call?” Carl hugged Ariane, shook DuQuesne’s and Simon’s hands, and gave Gabrielle a longer hug and a kiss that echoed the one she’d given him on departure. “And who’s your new friend?”

 

     “Sun Wu Kung, meet Carl Edlund.”

 

     “Pleased to meet you, Carl! Call me Wu, since you are obviously friends with my friends.”

 

     “Glad to meet you. So what’s your line? You sure don’t look like SSC standard issue to me.”

 

     Wu laughed. “Ha! No, I am not at all!”

 

     “We’ll talk about Wu a little later,” Ariane cut in. “Carl, where’s Dr. Shoshana?”

 

     “Dr. who?” Carl looked genuinely confused. At the same time, Laila Canning entered from one of the rear doors and glanced around the little group.

 

Marc felt grimly vindicated. “She had no intention of making contact here. She’s gone somewhere else – and unless someone volunteers the information, we haven’t a chance of finding her.”

 

“Oh, come on, Marc,” Ariane said. “There’s no other human beings in the entire Arena. How’s she going to hide?”

 

“In plain sight, so to speak. All she’s got to do is convince a faction – big one, small one, doesn’t matter – that she’s got something good enough to trade, and get into their Embassy. Then she’s got access to the Arena, allies, and secrecy.”

 

Laila’s brown eyes studied them curiously, and DuQuesne had to once more fight off the lingering suspicion he’d had — since Laila had been brought back from apparent brain-death by the Faith – that Laila was not really Laila Canning at all any more. “Who, precisely, is this person you’re worried about?” she asked.

 

“Her current alias is Marilyn Shoshana, supposedly an agent for the SSC; her real name is Maria-Susanna and she’s the renegade Hyperion that’s been at the top of the wanted lists for the past fifty years.”

 

Laila just stared narrowly; Carl winced. “Holy crap. That’s … not good.”

 

“We’ve got a whole lot of ‘not good’ for you right now,” Ariane said, gesturing for the others to follow her to one of the Embassy’s conference rooms, “and you’d better let us fill you in.” She ran one hand through her deep blue hair. “And I’d hoped we’d solve some problems before we came back.”

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 5

 

Well, they now knew they had another urgent reason to go back… so it’s back to the Arena!

 

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 5.

     “Final countdown to Transition,” Ariane Austin said,and Wu finally felt a tingle of anticipation. To a new world…

 

     The hours spent preparing the ship for departure had been… a combination of depressing and confusing. He knew he couldn’t help with any of the preparations – this was not like any ship he had ever been aboard before – and he hated having to sit still, let everyone else do work around him. Actually, I just hate having to sit still at all. Moving, always moving, that’s life, it never sits in one place, but dances like a butterfly you can never quite catch.

 

     Worse, though, was Maria-Susanna. I don’t understand. Even with their explanations. She was … always so nice. She stood with us, fought with us, learned the ways of the enemy and found how we could turn their weapons against them… she was a friend, a warrior-brother. Or sister.

 

     Wu glanced around. The strange control room was not very large; he sat next to Ariane, as was fitting for her bodyguard. Behind her was Simon Sandrisson. The wise one who found the way to go beyond the sky.

 

     Ariane spoke, her voice strong and cheerful. “All crew verify readiness.”

 

DuQuesne’s familiar deep voice responded over the sound-thing they called an intercom. “Power, Maintenance and Controls, all secure. Ready when you are, Captain.”

 

“Drive and System Oversight, all secure.” Simon’s dry, oddly-accented voice replied.

 

     “Medical all ready,and as usual here’s hoping I won’t be needed.”

 

     There was a pause, then he remembered it was his turn. “Oh! Sun Wu Kung, Security, ready,” he said proudly. Saying ‘security, all secure’ would have sounded silly, I think.

 

     He knew there had been four others in the crew when the Holy Grail first left, so Simon and DuQuesne were each doing the jobs of more than one person. Ariane, he remembered proudly, had assigned him his new position. “Right now it’s a division of one,” she’d said, “but if DuQuesne’s right – and he usually is – I guess we’ll need more sooner or later.”

 

     He looked to his other side, where there was nothing but smooth bulkhead. I wish the others were here. He suddenly smiled, and the smile hurt, because it was a smile of memory of loss as much as of fondness. Sha Wujing, Zhu Wuneng, Liu Yan… they could not come, because their world… was not real. The bright golden one, Maria-Susanna, was no longer bright, but dark. And Sanzo was not here.

 

     “Prepare for Transition in ten seconds,” Ariane said. He looked at her and heard her voice, and for a moment he wondered if, perhaps, Sanzo was here, in a way.

 

     “Good luck, all of you.” Saul’s voice carried all his concern somehow just below the words. “Take care.”

 

     “We will. Thank you, Saul,” DuQuesne said quietly.

 

     “In four… three… two… one… Transition!”

 

     Sun Wu Kung gasped at a sudden, indescribable sensation of twisting compression, of expansion beyond measure and crushing force pushing him down into nothingness. It ended, and it seemed to Wu almost as though a curtain had been drawn aside, a storm had passed and cleansed the air, for suddenly the ship seemed brighter, the smells sharper and clearer, the sounds of humming machines and even the breath of his companions stronger, as they passed into a new universe.

 

     “Wow!” he heard himself say. “That was fun! That is one of the strangest things I have ever felt! That was new!“

 

     Ariane laughed. “Strange, yes, though I admit I wouldn’t think of it as… fun.” She also seemed… distracted, just for a moment; he noticed a similar odd expression on Simon’s face. Maybe the Transition-thing affects them a little differently. I am… a Hyperion, after all.

 

     He didn’t exactly like thinking of himself as “a Hyperion” – he’d never been anyone or anything except himself. But it was what he was here, and it made him something like DuQuesne’s brother, and that was a fun thought.

 

     “This new world… is very dark,” he finally observed, noticing that there was no sign of light on the forward screen, which had shown many stars and other lights a few moments before.

 

     “Ha!” DuQuesne’s voice came, amused. “Here, yeah. The inside of the Sphere’s darker than a whole sackful of black cats. But you’ll see plenty of light later on, don’t worry.” A more serious tone. “Ariane, anything on radar?”

 

     “I’m not getting anything new. The model solar system, the Dock, nothing else. I suppose her ship could be in the radar shadow of the Sun equivalent, or maybe Jupiter at this angle, but as far as I can tell we are – right now – the only ship here.” He could hear the frown in Ariane’s voice.  ”How about the Dock? Can you tell if she’s locked on one of the ports?”

 

     “Hold on, let me see if I can get a visual… the Dock emits some light of its own.” Wu remembered that it would take a little time to get from the Transition location to the Dock area. “Damn. No, no sign of her at all.” The muttered curse DuQuesne muttered was barely audible to Wu – he guessed the others wouldn’t hear it at all. “Where the living hell is her ship –”

 

     “The Straits,” Simon said with sudden conviction. Wu Kung remembered that term; it meant the large ports in the side of the Sphere that could be opened from the “harbor” area they were in now, to let ships go outside.

 

     “What? Oh hell. Could she have… she couldn’t have… could she?” Wu understood the conflict in DuQuesne’s voice. If she gets away from us… and if she’s … really bad now… well, that could be a very not-good thing for everyone. But it’s so hard to think of her that way.

 

     “I don’t know, Marc. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to even think of it.” Ariane glanced curiously at Simon. “I’m surprised you thought of it.”

 

     By his expression and scent, so was Simon. “I confess I’m not sure why I did, but as soon as it occurred to me I was quite certain.”

 

     “How can we check it?” Ariane asked.

 

     “Oh, I think that’s just plain simple, Arrie,” Gabrielle’s voice answered. “Gimme an outside transmission line, DuQuesne, please?”

 

     “You got it.”

 

     “Strait doors, open,” Gabrielle said.

 

     A blaze of light appeared in the pitch blackness, a brilliant line of undifferentiated white that slowly widened, grew into a perfect defined circle larger than the full moon, slightly oval from their current point of view.

 

     Ariane groaned. “Of course. We secured the Sphere from intrusion, but I’ve never specified who could operate anything internally. And the Sphere – probably through the Arena itself – is always completely helpful that way.” She sighed. “Strait doors, close and lock.” The distant circle of light slowly dwindled away to nothing.

 

     “Better fix that right quick, then,” Gabrielle said.

 

     “Not right this minute,” said DuQuesne, “we’ll want to think about the exact wording; we don’t want to limit it in a way we’ll regret later. But Gabrielle’s right; we’d better fix that, and any other unexamined assumptions, too.”

 

     “Even the simple things can trip us up.” Ariane glanced at Wu. “You understand what just happened?”

 

     “I think so,” he said. “I read the very simplified account of your adventures that DuQuesne and his friend Isaac made. The Sphere does what … what was the word? Citizens, citizens of its faction tell it to do, unless the leader of the Faction’s told it otherwise. So since you hadn’t told it to restrict who could unlock the Straits, anyone could open them.”

 

     “You got it,” DuQuesne said.

 

     “The other alternative,” Ariane said, “is that she didn’t take much in the way of equipment, just extra power coils, and once she was here, she sent it back out and had it transition home on a vector way out at the edge of the system, where no one’s likely to find it.”

 

     “Maybe,” DuQuesne said reluctantly, and Wu saw Simon’s head shake at the same time. “But going through the records of available satellites and other ships we could access back during that period of time, we did get a couple images that were probably of her ship, and it’s built streamlined – like, for atmosphere. Which pretty much tells me what she meant to do with it. Even stupid automation could make the ship follow some pretty broad rules of performance, get it to go somewhere near enough that she could retrieve it later.”

 

     Wu could see Ariane take a deep breath, force herself to relax. “Well, there’s no point in worrying about it now. She’s here. We’ll catch up with her, or we won’t, but for now we just have to dock and see how everyone else is doing.”

 

     A few hours later, something immense loomed up in the powerful lights of Holy Grail; ridged at intervals, shining like polished black bone, gleaming, organic in its shape, with gold-shining circles showing at intervals. A great Dragon’s skeleton, turned into a mighty building, with golden coins between its polished ribs! “Amazing! DuQuesne, what a monster that must have been!”

 

“Don’t play the idiot too much, Wu,” the good-humored voice answered.

 

“I was joking, oh most dour and humorless of philosophers!” he retorted. Though that is still what I feel, yes. “I know it is this ‘spacedock’ that you mentioned, but surely it looks like something else!”

 

“Yes,” agreed Ariane. “Creepy. Which has generally been the word I use whenever the Arena does something.”

 

The skeletal black projection loomed ever closer, as the Holy Grail drifted towards it, Ariane lining the ship’s docking port up with the matching golden circle. The circle grew, was eclipsed by the hull, as Holy Grail moved ever slower… and then a vibration of gentle impact echoed through the ship. “Holy Grail docked to Sphere, all secure,” Ariane said. “Free to unstrap. Still in microgravity at this time.”

 

He unsnapped immediately and flipped out of his chair, landing on the ceiling; his toe-claws extended and anchored him and he looked at Ariane upside-down as she unstrapped. “I love this floating!”

 

She grinned. “I see you do. Just be careful.” She spoke in a slightly louder tone that had the undefinable sound of the ‘official’ Ariane. “Do we have any more preparations to make, or are we ready to disembark?”

 

“Not for me, Captain,” said DuQuesne.

 

“I think we should just move,” Gabrielle agreed. “When we’ve checked on our friends, then we can move the cargo over, but right now I’m too darn nervous to want to waste the time.”

 

Ariane glanced at Simon, who nodded; for Wu’s part, his job was making sure Ariane stayed safe, so he left when she did.

 

“Okay, then, let’s move out.” She led the way towards the airlock. “Remember the briefing, Wu,” she said, looking at him. “You’ll have gravity inside, so get oriented correctly when passing through.”

 

     “Don’t worry about me,” he said confidently. “You can change your gravity whenever you like, and I’ll always land on my feet. If I want to.”

 

     She smiled – a very nice smile, he thought. “I bet you will.”

 

     Wu inserted himself in front of Ariane as they reached the airlock, to her obvious surprise. “We don’t know if anyone’s waiting on the other side,” he pointed out.

 

She blinked, then nodded. At least I don’t have to remind her just who might be waiting there. After a moment, the inner lock opened, and he looked out cautiously, staff in guard position. No one was visible in either direction up or down the large docking area, so he stepped out; Ariane followed , with DuQuesne, Simon, and Gabrielle bringing up the rear.

 

“We’ll have to walk from here,” Ariane said. “Once we get a larger group established in the Arena we’ll have to set up a shuttle, rail, something that allows quick transport.”

 

     “Maglev rail.” DuQuesne said. “Perfect setup for it here. Limited access, linear, flat, need efficient transport; put a spur at each of the airlocks, and we’ve got more than enough space for several cyclic transport loops, and we’ll need it eventually. In a gravity field, barring water transport, there’s no better method.”

 

     “I suppose you’re right,” Simon said, with a bemused expression. “I must admit, however, I find it somewhat … odd to imagine this place being a bustling center of commerce.”

 

     “We’d better hope it becomes one, Simon — soon,” Ariane said.

 

     Wu was impressed; the images from the outside had told him the Dock was huge, but you couldn’t quite grasp that size in your mind until you were inside. It was kilometers long, although Holy Grail had chosen a docking point very near the entrance.

 

     The entrance itself reminded him of the gates of Enma-Sama’s fortress – a tremendous, massive portal that if closed would be almost impenetrable, but was always open. A line of lights showed the straight route deeper into the Sphere.

 

“Guess the others’ll be at the Guardhouse,” Gabrielle said.

 

“Guardhouse?”

 

Ariane smiled. “Gabrielle’s name for the mini-settlement we’ve built near the real entrance to the Inner Sphere. I suppose it’s not a bad name for it if it does become a settlement.”

 

He led the way, following the line of lights, and the full scale of the interior of the Sphere hit him. It is like a world, a world of dead air and no light. He shivered suddenly, against his will. It is like … a tomb. A tomb of Hyperion.

 

Fear was not a common emotion for him – one so rare, in fact, that it took a moment for him to acknowledge it. But when I feel it, it’s always over… this. DuQuesne promised me a shining new world, of gods and monsters and bright skies. I know he must be telling the truth… but here it is dark. It smells of death, of things long, long gone, the realm of the forgotten dead. He started to quicken his stride towards the brighter area in the far distance, noticed that he was starting to outpace the others, forced himself to slow. They are not as soft as most people, but they aren’t nearly as fast as I am. Even so, he was impressed by how quickly Ariane was walking; he realized she was anxious to get to her other friends and find out what might have happened while they were gone.

 

     Even though it seemed to take a long time, it was actually only a relatively few minutes before the brightly-illuminated area surrounding the Inner Door, hexagonal tiled floor now clean for probably the first time in millions of years, shining a brown-gold in the lights set up by the impromptu colonists. Wu found himself breathing a sigh of relief as he entered the lighted area and smelled ahead the scent of other living people, food; even the undertone of working machines was welcome after passing through that cavernous, silent, dead space.

 

A figure about his own height appeared in the doorway of one of the three buildings and suddenly sprinted towards them. “ARIANE!”

 

     He stepped reflexively between Ariane and the newcomer, who skidded to a halt in confusion; another, much taller, man who had been emerging from the same doorway also paused.

 

     “Wu!” Ariane’s voice was reproving. “These are our other friends.”

 

     Their scents didn’t seem hostile, and obviously Ariane knew them; DuQuesne also smelled happy to see the others, so he stepped back.

 

     The smaller of the two unfamiliar people immediately embraced Ariane, giving Wu a curious glance in passing. “Good to see you back, Ariane!”

 

     “Good to see both you and Tom, Steve,” she answered, hugging the other, smaller man hard, and then giving a similar hug to Tom; she then turned to Wu. “Steve, Tom, this is Sun Wu Kung; Wu, these good friends of mine are Stephen Franceschetti and Thomas Cussler.”

 

     “I am honored to make your acquaintance,” he said, and bowed low.

 

     “Glad to meet you too… Wu Kung?”

 

     Thomas Cussler shook his hand, studying him closely. Then his head snapped up and he stared at DuQuesne. “Is this –?”

 

     “Yep.”

 

     “We’ll talk about that later. We’ve got a lot to talk about, Steve.”

 

     Steve looked around at the others and then looked at his friend Tom. Scent… oh, they’re that close. Important to remember. “I knew it. That Doctor Shoshana.”

 

     “She’s here, then.” DuQuesne made it a statement.

 

     “Not here, not now, no,” Tom answered. “She went on to Nexus Arena to meet with Carl and Laila.”

 

     “She had all the right credentials,” Steve said. “Here taking a firsthand look for the SSC and CSF. Staff scientist assigned to the new Arena task force, verifying some of your material.”

 

     “I’m sure she did, Steve,” DuQuesne said. “If you were even a little suspicious of her, you got farther than most people. But we’ll have to get after her as soon as we can.”

 

     “Who is she, then?”

 

     “Open up for a data dump?” Ariane asked. “Simon, you’ve got it all arranged in your head.”

 

     “Yes, that would be the fastest way.”

 

     Wu wasn’t quite sure what they meant, but it was probably something like a spiritual transfer; that could be pretty rough.

 

     By Steve’s reaction, the same applied here. “Whoa, hold on, let me get ready for something like that.” There was a pause, and he could tell by sight and smell that both Steve and Tom were bracing for some kind of shock. “Okay, dump it.”

 

     Simon’s brow furrowed, and the other two grunted, eyes unfocused as they attempted to make sense of a huge amount of data delivered all at once. A few moments passed, and both men sat down hard. “Oh, crap. Not good.”

 

     “Very not-good,” agreed DuQuesne, “and we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. What else did she do? Was she carrying anything?”

 

     “She did quick interviews on us,” Tom said, “but it was clear she was just confirming whatever she’d gotten from you guys earlier, when you reported to the SSC. Then she said her instructions were to at least get to the Arena proper, talk to the other members of the Grail crew, maybe ask a few other questions and then head back with her info.”

 

     “She was carrying a shoulder slung carryall,” Steve said. “It seemed pretty full, now that I think about it.”

 

     Ariane’s mouth tightened, and Wu smelled a wash of annoyance. “Damn. We have no idea what she’s brought with her, but I’m sure she’s thought it out very well. Bargaining chips of some kind, I’ll bet.”

 

     “Run that bet across the board for me, too,” agreed DuQuesne grimly. “She means to put herself in a position to accomplish something, and I don’t think she has any interest in going back to the Solar System.”

 

     “Not immediately, no,” said Simon. “But Marc, she may have reason to return here.”

 

     DuQuesne thought about it, then cursed again. “You’re right, and she’s almost certainly covered that base.” He looked at Tom. “You guys gave her the ability to open that door, didn’t you?” he asked, pointing at the large portal that was currently closed behind them.

 

     Steve nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. I mean, we had no way of knowing when she was coming back and it didn’t seem like a problem –”

 

     “You don’t have to apologize, Steve. She’s spent a long lifetime fooling people. Damnation!”

 

     “No huge problem, Marc,” Ariane said. “We’ll just re-instruct the Sphere on the admission priorities.”

 

     “Hmph. Might work, but if you don’t think she’s thought of that, you’re dumber than I think you are. She’s real good at giving instructions to machines – like all us Hyperions were. Even if you give it explicit instructions, don’t be sure for a minute that she didn’t figure out a way to keep those instructions from applying to her.”

 

     “We’ll worry about that later. For now, I think we’d better go on, see how things are with Carl and Laila.”

 

     “Right.”

 

     Steve nodded. “You guys get moving; come back here for an update on everything we’ve done – DuQuesne, we’ll definitely want you to take a look at the work we’ve got going on the Upper Sphere.”

 

     “Sure thing.”

 

     The next door rolled open for them, and Wu saw a blaze of white light from the interior. Nothing appeared to be a threat, but he once more took up a forward position.

 

     Someone – probably, he guessed, Dr. Franceschetti, who seemed the thinking-ahead sort – had marked the path to the thing they called the Inner Gateway, marked it clearly with strips of bright red reflective material. That made it easy for him to stay in front without having to ask everyone where they were going.

 

     He stopped, then ran forward as they reached the final room. “Wow! That’s cool!“

 

     The Inner Gateway swirled with darkness and light, and he thought he heard something singing, like crystal thinking thoughts of stars. He reached out without thinking, even as Ariane shouted, “Hold on, Wu!”

 

     The Inner Gateway enveloped him in an embrace of cold like the Winter Hells, as lightning-scent filled his nostrils and sparks of the sky-fire rippled through his fur, falling, falling past vistas in dark-flowing light that moved too fast, were far too mighty in scope, filled with shapes too improbable for even the Monkey King to grasp all in a moment; even as he tried to understand he burst through into brilliant golden light.

 

     He stumbled to a halt, momentarily in awe. He stood atop one of many platforms in a room as large as the Dragon King’s palace, huge as Hyperion, with a thousand great Gateways seething with dark power and pearlescent promise. And there were people!

 

     There, a pair of flowing shapes, like animated water filled with strange globules and translucent complex shapes; there, a massive creature, like a many-legged lizard with an upright, four-armed torso; birdlike things that made him think of tengu; and so many more. “Oh, suGOI!” he exclaimed.

 

     The others were just emerging from the Gateway as he looked above, then bounded up, an easy leap to the mid-point of the carven metal circle of the Gateway a mere ten meters above, flipped himself up and around to land atop the great ring, to survey a room filled with wonders.

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 4

 

We  continue, with our friends having made a worrisome discovery…

 

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 4.

     Ariane looked at the mixture of anger, sorrow, and pain on DuQuesne’s face, and the horror on that of the Hyperion Monkey King, and instantly understood. “Oh, my god,” she murmured. “She was one of the five, wasn’t she?”

 

     “Yeah,” DuQuesne said slowly. “One of us. One of the best of us, in the beginning.”

 

     “Five?” Simon echoed.

 

     She glanced at DuQuesne; he said nothing, but gave a very brief nod.

 

     But she didn’t have to speak. Instead, Saul Maginot sighed and said “Yes. I suppose all the old secrets are coming out, and the final bill is coming due on that atrocity.”

 

     For a moment he paused, and in that moment he looked old, old and tired and very, very sad. “The descriptions of Hyperion were… very heavily censored. Redacted, data erased, entire databanks vaporized. Some of that was quite considered and deliberate; the few survivors were to be given a chance to live without that hideous ghost following them everywhere they went. Some of it… was simple reaction, such absolute revulsion and denial that traces of a truth we didn’t want to face had to be destroyed.

 

     “So, you see, the real details weren’t known, and the few you know… were very simplified.” Now he told the same story DuQuesne had told her during their trip, but from the point of view of a man who had seen it from the outside. “Five brillant successes, five people who somehow saw through the engineered illusions of minds that should have been as far beyond theirs as theirs were beyond those of the average person. Five friends who then managed to engineer a plan to attain freedom for every one of their fellow heroes… and who saw that plan nearly succeed.”

 

     Saul Maginot turned away, shook his head. For a moment, Ariane wondered if he could continue. I can’t even imagine what happened to him, what he and his people saw when they entered a collapsing Hyperion Project.

 

     “And of those five, fighting to save not just themselves, but my own people, soldiers and scientists and volunteers from a dozen other habitats who found themselves in the middle of a kaleidoscope of hell… of those five, two died so others would live, one escaped and retreated into herself, one survived to live again,” he nodded to DuQuesne, “and one… one broke.“

 

     “How? How could she break, DuQuesne?” Wu demanded plaintively, staring pitifully at Marc DuQuesne… like a child asking why Mommy wasn’t coming home again, Ariane realized, and felt a pang of agonized sympathy. “She was always one of our supports, she always had a smile and a word for anyone, she…”

 

     “Anyone can break, Wu.” The big Hyperion’s voice was gentle. “And though you couldn’t see it, she didn’t really belong. She was an anomaly to begin with, and that made her fatally flawed. She started to break as soon as we all woke up, but even I couldn’t see it; she was just as good as the rest of us at hiding things.”

 

     AHHH. MY VISUALIZATION NOW IS MORE CLEAR. The deep pseudo-voice of Ariane’s Mentor echoed through all of their connections and was reproduced in the speakers in the room. SHE WAS, THEN, THE PERSONAL CREATION – THE IDEALIZED SELF-INSERT – OF ONE OF THE HYPERION DESIGNERS.

 

     “Personal creation of…” Simon said, and broke off, understanding suddenly written across his face. “Oh. Oh, my.”

 

     “The top woman at Hyperion, Maria Condette Gambino,” DuQuesne confirmed. “Insisted on it, and as she was one of the main driving personalities in the… project, she got her way.”

 

     Ariane nodded; as a veteran of many a simgame, she was intimately familiar with the basic concept. Heck, I’ve done it a time or two myself when I was younger. “But what made her so unstable compared with, say, you? Or Wu, for that matter?”

 

     DuQuesne snorted. “A lot of the Hyperions weren’t stable enough to keep their heads when they found out that the worlds they were in weren’t real. Herc just went catatonic, Gilbert went insane, Sherlock…” he trailed off, shook his head. “But for her, it was a lot worse. Take me, for instance: at base, I was an attempt to make an idealized hero from the works of one of the beloved founding fathers of science fiction. Wu may have retreated, but at least he knew he was an attempt to make a demigod real. Same for most of the others. Maria-Susanna found out that she didn’t even belong in the ‘universe’ she lived in – that she was some woman’s way of living out a fantasy vicariously.”

 

     She saw Simon blanch. “Kami…”

 

The realization didn’t quite hit her that hard, but even so she felt a sudden terrible empathy; she imagined the moment of discovery, the realization that not only was everything around you a lie, but that you yourself were a lie within the lie, something that didn’t belong and never had. She shuddered because as swiftly as the ache of empathy came, it was replaced with the gut-level realization of the depth of mad fury that must have followed.

 

“How horrid,” Simon murmured at last. “But you said she started to break with the discovery…”

 

     “… and she finished breaking when the man she’d been tailored for got himself killed heroically, defending his world just as anyone would have expected him to do, with head held high and a grin and “I don’t believe in no-win scenarios”. She was made for him. He was the literal reason for her existence, and unlike the rest of us – made to withstand the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune – she wasn’t designed to cope with that kind of loss.” Ariane saw slow tears of understanding flowing down Wu Kung’s cheeks, soaking the delicate fur. “The first person she murdered was her own creator. The discovery of the Arena… I haven’t got any idea what it’s got going through her head, but I’m damn sure it’s nothing good.”

 

     “I can imagine a few possibilities, Marc,” Saul Maginot said grimly, “and every one of them looks worse than the last. Thank God we have you, at least, and Wu. But now I’m very worried about the other people you left in the Arena.”

 

     “So am I,” DuQuesne said, “but my first guess is that whatever she’s after isn’t going to be served by hurting anyone in the small group of humans already present. She’s going to have to learn the ropes. No, the main danger is the one she’s always presented: that she can convince just about anyone of just about anything and turn people against each other just as well as she used to hold people together.”

 

     The look of pained grief on Wu Kung’s face was enough to pierce her to the heart. “All right, Marc – I guess that just makes our departure that much more urgent. As one of the five top Hyperions… does that make her your equal?”

 

     “You’d better believe it. She’s basically my equal in every single way. I outmass her, and I’m a hell of a lot more sane than she is, but otherwise she can match me in any damn contest, for love, money, fun, or marbles.”

 

     “Holy Kami,” murmured Simon. “Well, I certainly got no indication of that. In that case, I concur with Ariane – we must prepare to leave immediately.”

 

     “Relax.” DuQuesne’s advice was at odds with the tension Ariane could sense. “She’s been gone long enough that if she planned to do something fast, she’s already done it. My real worry is figuring out what her angle is. Problem is that once she broke, she turned out to be blasted hard to predict; she’s not exactly rational any more, even though she’ll sound rational most of the time.”

 

     “This on top of these pointless political maneuverings…” Ariane snorted. “I –”

 

     But Saul and DuQuesne were shaking their heads. “You’d better not head down that road, Ariane,” DuQuesne said. “They’re not pointless, and they’re not just maneuverings.”

 

     Ariane bit back an instinctive protest. “No, you’re right. And I’ll admit I probably don’t even understand what’s going on there, not yet. Which brings us to the subject of the SSC ship, the Duta?“

 

     At Saul’s nod, she continued, “We already know we probably don’t agree with the way Naraj views the Arena, but that’s okay; I haven’t agreed with lots of people in my life. Still, we need some idea of what Mr. Naraj is going to really want to accomplish, and who he’s bringing with him. I’m guessing, Saul, that since she’s in charge of the Arena task group Michelle Ni Deng will be one of them. Do you or Marc have anything to say about them?”

 

     DuQuesne was silent for a few moments, absently stroking the jet-black beard that lent a somewhat diabolic cast to his features on occasion. “On Ni Deng, not so much,” he said finally. “She’s only been in the SSC inner circle for a few years. Naraj, he’s been around for donkey’s years. I already summarized for you back when we first left the SSC/CSF meeting what he’s like. He wants to run things,just like that guy in every club you’ve ever been in that feels everything, but everything, needs to be organized, and he’s finally got a chance to do it his way.”

 

     “I can’t imagine he’d be as petty as the people you describe, though,” Simon said.

 

     “Not petty, no… but that might be what you want to think of, except on a grander scale.”

 

     “A far grander scale, I’m afraid,” Saul said. “We began discussing this subject earlier, but that description – of the sort of person who likes running and organizing things, even things that don’t need running and organizing? That is Oscar Naraj. Oscar’s spent a great deal of time and energy to stay in the SSC, he’s got an eye in every department, and a lot of his appointees end up running the other sub-departments.”

 

He smiled faintly. “Michelle Ni Deng was one of his appointees, five years back or so. And now she’s the head of Arena affairs. Obviously he did not and could not plan for this specific event… but he had planned for many years to find some useful event so that he would have one of his people in the right place. And the Arena’s a far bigger event than even Oscar Naraj could have imagined, and it changes everything.”

 

     Wu Kung nodded energetically. “Yes, yes! Ariane and DuQuesne, they told me about this wonderful Arena, and I thought about it all the way here, how it was so different from my world, and yours, the one we are in here, now. In the Arena and in my world, there is much of war, many conflicts. And many secrets, and people who are suffering injustices. And…” he looked frustrated for a moment, as though he knew he was onto something but didn’t quite know how to phrase it. Then the gold-furred face brightened. “… and, well, there’s real things to be fought over there. Here you have all become soft players of games, or simple daredevils,” he grinned at Ariane, “because you haven’t need to fight over your next meal, or worry of whether you can find a place to shelter from the rain, or get a cure for your sick child, or wonder when another warlord will ride his army through your city. Your magical nano-thingies, they mean there’s no reason for empire, as long as you keep the nosy people from being too nosy – that Anonymity law of yours.”

 

     Simon closed his eyes and sighed. “I believe he describes the situation all too clearly, Marc.”

 

     “Damn straight he does – even though we sure aren’t all softies here. There was a reason they called him the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, and it wasn’t just because he could kick the crap out of all the other so-called Sages, either. Yeah, Wu, you’ve got it, and that’s plain poison any way I look at it.”

 

     A simple insight, but obviously much easier for someone raised as was Wu Kung, outside of our society, Mio said.

 

     “We’d touched on this before,” Simon said, “but this description makes it clear just how much this changes the way humanity will interact – with the universe, and with itself.”

 

     “Just exactly right,” DuQuesne took up the thread. “Up until now, we thought we had it all figured out – we were safe, fat, and happy. But that ain’t so at all. The universe can threaten us now – and if we want a part of it, we can’t just manufacture it. We have to engage others, fight others, maybe bargain for it, maybe go to war over it.

 

“And that means that people who – up until now – had to be satisfied with politics little more important than playing a king’s advisor in a simgame now have something else: all the possibilities of power that used to dominate the Earth back in the days before the only limit on universal comfort was whether you could find yourself some dirt and a patch of sunshine, regular tidal waves, or wind power.”

 

     Ariane sighed. “So we’ll have to be on the lookout for actual political maneuverings inside our own faction? Are you saying they won’t realize how little we can afford that kind of thing?”

 

     ARIANE AUSTIN, I EXPECT FAR BETTER OF YOU THAN DENIAL OF REALITY! THINK, CHILD, THINK!

 

     She winced; it did not help that DuQuesne gave a cynical laugh in time with Mentor’s rebuke, and continued, “Ariane, I’ll bet any amount you like that this is one of the major problems just about any new Faction runs into, and it could be a real killer. We can’t be the first group to achieve the Arena after we’d reached this level of technology; I’d guess a lot of the prior Factions had.

 

“I don’t think it’s coincidence that two of the top Factions – the only two which are composed of essentially one species – are from species that have some kind of collectivist background: the Molothos, who have some kind of biological impulse to unity, and of course the Blessed, who’re run by the Minds. Sure, there’s advantages in being open to letting lots of other people into your club, but even outside of the top Five there aren’t a huge number of single-species powerful factions, because those alien species aren’t any more unified-and-of-one-mind than we humans are, and they fragment once they get to the Arena.”

 

     Ariane glanced at Simon, and the hollow feeling in her gut echoed the concern she saw in his brilliant green eyes. “Which might all be well and good,” Simon said slowly, “in ordinary circumstances. The rules of the Arena essentially don’t permit you to lose your home Sphere in Challenge, so internal issues won’t deprive you of citizenship, and once you come to some sort of resolution you can pick up and go from there.”

 

     “But these aren’t ordinary circumstances,” said Ariane grimly. “We have one of the Great Factions essentially at war with us, and another that won’t mind at all taking us down about five notches. If we piss away too much time and energy with internal power plays, the Molothos are going to find our Sphere, occupy the Upper Sphere with a LOT of troops, and then … I don’t know, exactly, maybe begin building up some huge force to invade our actual system in normal space, but whatever they do next won’t be good. And then our Sphere is suddenly only about a quarter as useful – the Upper Sphere will have to be sealed, and we can bet those bastards will have the Straits blockaded.”

 

She ran her hand through her hair distractedly. “Wonderful. Well… look, right now I think all we can do is try to keep an  eye out for what kind of maneuvers our politically oriented friends might try, and hope that we can use our superior knowledge of the Arena to keep them from being more than a nuisance.”

 

“Amen to that,” DuQuesne said emphatically. “Which is one of the main reasons I wanted to get Wu here.”

 

Something in his tone – something almost … gleeful? – made her glance at DuQuesne sharply. “What? How’s he going to address political maneuvers?”

 

“I’m going to be your bodyguard,” Wu Kung explained helpfully.

 

     “My… what?” The word was grotesque, an anachronism centuries dead except in simgames. With AISages and directed automated monitoring, it was difficult to threaten people and get away with it. She blinked and looked at Marc – trying to ignore Simon, whose face was so utterly blank that she just knew he was restraining an ungentlemanly guffaw at her shock. “Doctor DuQuesne,” she said, “I would like to talk with you. Privately.”

 

     She started towards the rear of Holy Grail, where there would be unoccupied space… and realized Sun Wu Kung was following her. “Wu –”

 

     “I can’t be a bodyguard if I’m not here.” Wu said bluntly.

 

     “A bodyguard against DuQuesne?” Now she heard Saul stifle a chortle, and Gabrielle’s hand was over her mouth; her AISage Vincent was unabashedly grinning like a man watching his favorite comedy.

 

     “Against whoever might want to hurt you. Just because DuQuesne assigned me doesn’t mean I’m ignoring him as a threat.”

 

     She goggled at him in entirely un-Captainlike disbelief, then turned her stare towards DuQuesne, whose beard was not quite successfully concealing a smile. “Is he serious?”

 

     “Very serious indeed, Captain. Which is why I chose him for that.”

 

     It finally registered. “You mean that this is why you went all the way out there to wake him up? To be a bodyguard?”

 

     “Not the only reason,” DuQuesne clarified, “but a major reason, yes. And before you start telling me how little you need one, I want to point out that we were just discussing how part of the Bad Old Days is coming back in force, and how the Arena isn’t the safest place in the universe either. Right now, Captain, you are the single most important human being ever, and that in at least two ways.”

 

     I should know better than to argue with a Hyperion, but that’s never stopped me before. “Two ways?”

 

     “The obvious first reason is that you’re the head of the Faction of Humanity – or, let’s be more blunt, the ruler of all humanity as far as the Arena is concerned – for exactly as long as you’re alive, or until you deliberately give that position up.”

 

     Saul murmured something. “I had… wondered about certain aspects of your report. My God.”

 

“Yeah, and I figured there wasn’t much point in hiding it from you any more. Sure as hell we can’t keep it hidden from them much longer. And I don’t think any of us need to ask Naraj and Ni Deng about their feelings on that subject; the idea that you, and you alone, are authorized to make major decisions for the entire human species? Ha! Oh, sure, they might not do anything about it directly, but believe you me, there’s probably a dozen others that, once they figure out the situation, might think it’s a real problem that could be cleared up with a strategically-placed suicide drone with a load of explosives. Perhaps even to assist Naraj or Ni Deng with plausible deniability. ‘Will no one rid me of this troublesome Captain?’, so to speak.”

 

     “Wouldn’t the Arena –”

 

     “—know? Sure. And I don’t think it cares. Oh, I don’t think it’d accept a transfer of authority that was tortured out of you or blackmailed out of you, though I wouldn’t want to bet that a Shadeweaver couldn’t get away with his mind-woogie doing the same thing – if you hadn’t been so smart as to cut that off at the pass. But you can bet your bottom dollar that it’s not gonna give one tiny ram’s damn about something like assassination that’s purely ‘in the family’. How we run our politics is our business.”

 

     Much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. There might well be people willing to kill her over stuff like this. “You said in two ways… oh.”

 

     “Yeah. You’re also the first, and right now only, human with those weird powers the Shadeweavers and Initiate Guides have. They’re sealed away – for now – and you don’t know how to use them – yet – and that makes you a Problem for a lot of people, both here and back in the Arena.”

 

     “All right, maybe I do need a bodyguard. No offense, Marc, but… is he really that good?”

 

     The huge Hyperion burst out laughing, Saul following suit, as Wu looked down modestly. “Is he that good? Ariane… Captain… I’ll let him give you a demonstration sometime, maybe when we get back to the Arena, where I can be sure that the only spy looking over my shoulder is the Arena. But yeah. Better than that, even.”

 

     She glanced at Wu. “Wu, sorry about my … issues here. But it’s just hard for me to imagine that I’d need a bodyguard at all.”

 

     “I understand. But DuQuesne says you need one, so you do, and I’m going to do that job.”

 

     Fine. “Okay. BUT we will do this my way.” She made her face look hard and used her most forceful tone. As if any tone I use is likely to impress a Hyperion. “There will be times I have to speak to people privately, here and in the Arena, and I will speak with them privately, which means without you present. And when I go to my private quarters they will remain my private quarters, whether you like it or not. And that goes for you AND Dr. Marc C. Hyperion Superman DuQuesne. Have I made myself clear?”

 

     For a second neither of them responded; to her surprise they were staring at her almost like two students being reprimanded, and Saul Maginot as well, his mouth half-open in shock. “Crystal-clear, Captain.” DuQuesne said finally, not a trace of his frequent sardonic humor present.

 

     “Very very clear, Captain Ariane! DuQuesne, she is scary like that! I like her!”

 

     Ariane found it very hard to keep from laughing, but she managed to keep her face straight – though it took heroic effort, and from the sound of things Gabrielle wasn’t finding it easy either. “Then in that case, Wu Kung, I need to talk to DuQuesne alone.” She turned towards the aft door, grabbing up Mentor’s case as she did so.

 

     “Yes, sir! … I mean, Ma’am…” Looking slightly confused at which term of address to use, Wu Kung backed off.

 

     DuQuesne followed her through the door.

 

     She giggled after it shut. “He’s awfully sweet, you know?”

 

     DuQuesne’s expression softened. “Yeah. Why do you think he was our heart, so to speak? Not the leader, not the smartest, but the one no one could really dislike.”

 

     “Hard to see him as so dangerous, then. But enough of that for now.” She sat back down, gesturing for DuQuesne to do the same; he settled in, somewhat warily, across from her. “Marc, I wanted to talk to you about a lot of things once we got back, but what just happened… changes things.”

 

     DuQuesne nodded. “Hyperion.”

 

     “Exactly.” She looked at him sympathetically. “I know – now more than I did – how hard it is to look at parts of that past, Marc. I know I can’t even begin to imagine what you really went through, probably not even what people like Saul went through. And I’d hoped that we could pretty much leave it at that, at going to find the survivors that could help us and –”

 

     “Don’t worry about my feelings here, Captain,” he said, addressing her in her official capacity.

 

     Not possible. I care about you… a lot more than I would have thought, Marc C. DuQuesne. There isn’t much of a chance I won’t worry about your feelings.

 

     On the other hand, she also was quite capable of acting as though she could. “All right.” Since he was now in formal mode, she shifted gears. “Dr. DuQuesne, it’s become clear that Hyperion’s legacy is less and less in the past, and more and more in the present. From what Saul said, the coverup – deliberate and otherwise – has wiped out more records than I had imagined possible, so obviously you can’t just tap a database and dump the details to me and Mentor. But I really don’t feel that we can safely go forward without understanding – without really understanding – what we’re dealing with, both with this Maria-Susanna and with the other Hyperions. And with you, for that matter.”

 

     She saw an almost imperceptible twitch. “Yes, I know that goes against your grain, Dr. DuQuesne, but as Simon might say we’ve already got an incredible number of unknowns in this Arena equation; I don’t need my own people putting more X’s in my calculations.” She reached out and touched his hand, shifting gears again. And I’m perfectly aware of the effect. And he’s probably aware that I’m doing this deliberately.

 

     And it’ll still work. “Marc… Hyperion’s legacy has been driving everything almost since we arrived. Maybe before. That’s one of the reasons you joined in the first place, isn’t it?”

 

     DuQuesne’s gaze was almost amused as she began, but by the time she reached the end of her question the smile wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were gone. He looked down at his hands, then gripped hers gently. “You’ve… come to know me pretty well, I guess. Yeah. And it’s not as simple as one reason, either.” He looked distant. “Having somewhere to go that I wouldn’t be watched, that’s always been important – even before I realized my life had been nothing but someone else’s live-action entertainment. But…” Now he did smile. “But, you know, there’s also the fact that Marc C. DuQuesne, no matter which version, was a traveller, an adventurer, an explorer. And I wasn’t just DuQuesne – I was Seaton’s equal and friend, Marc DuQuesne combined with M. Reynolds Crane, and we were also both … well, Samms and Kinnison, too, in a way.

 

     “What I mean is, that a chance to be on the first FTL ship? That wasn’t even a question for me, Ariane. That was me. That was what … what me and Rich did. We built the Skylark not just for the military, not just to test theories, we did it to do something no one else had ever done and see the universe that no one else had seen.” There was a glitter in his eyes that shimmered like water, and his voice trembled slightly. “Dammit, yes, it was all a lie, it never happened… but by God that’s me. It’s still me, Ariane, and somehow… I guess somehow being there, on that first trip… it was almost as if that proved that it wasn’t really a lie. The details, yes… but the soul, no. And it was, I guess, a way of making peace with Seaton – saying that I’ve done it for real, just like we always meant to.” He looked up. “If that makes any sense.”

 

     Hell yes. “Yes, Marc. It does. And I don’t want you to ever doubt how much we owe you – owe Hyperion, with all its twisted legacy. If you hadn’t been along, if you hadn’t been what you were, I sincerely believe we might never have gotten home. But, Marc, I have to count on you as my second in command. I have to know what’s in your past that might jump out at us. We need you, Dr. Marc Cassius DuQuesne – I won’t lie about that. Honestly? You could keep every possible secret and I still wouldn’t kick out out of the crew; I can’t afford to, not going up against the Molothos and Amas-Garao and the Blessed and who knows what else – plus your former teammate Maria-Susanna. But I really, really want to know everything I can about Hyperion so it can’t bushwhack us again – because my gut tells me that that fifty-year-old atrocity isn’t even close to done with us, or the Arena. Do you understand me?”

 

     “Loud and clear and I check you to the proverbial nine decimals, Captain,” he said emphatically. “Captain – Ariane – I’ll do what I can. But you’re right; most of Hyperion was destroyed. It was self-contained, backups were maintained but were mostly on-site – and the off-site backups were destroyed very deliberately when things went sour. No, not by the designers,” he said at her puzzled glance. “By some of the rogue AIs. You know what kind of monsters the heroes would have had to fight against; well, all those AIs were not happy at all, to put it mildly, to find out they were just simulations for the entertainment of a bunch of lotus-eating amateurs. That was one of the reasons that the CSF, or what became the CSF, pretty much finished the obliteration of Hyperion.”

 

     She did shudder then, because if the Hyperion designers had succeeded this well in making their heroes, they must have been equally adept at creating their nemeses. “I see. All right, Marc. Do what you can. Especially give me everything you can on Maria-Susanna; that’s our immediate problem, and knowing everything we can about her is really our only weapon right now.”

 

     He nodded. “Then I’d better get started.” He turned to the door as he spoke. “There’s some stuff I’m going to need to download – scattered caches of info I put together years ago, in widely separated places. But I’ll have it for us by the time we get back to the Arena.”

 

     “Do it fast, Marc; we’re leaving as soon as we can. Thank you, Marc.”

 

     “You can count on me, Ariane. Always.” He gave a short bow and exited. As he left, Wu Kung glanced in; she smiled and nodded as she clipped the turtle-shell-like case of her AISage back onto her belt; she realized she’d been holding it in her one hand the whole time.

 

     As the clip locked, the soundless, basso profundo voice of Mentor echoed in her head. ARIANE AUSTIN OF TELLUS, I HAVE SPENT QUITE SOME HOURS STUDYING THIS SITUATION, ITS EVERY ASPECT AND IMPLICATION. I HAVE ALSO CONFERRED WITH MY PEERS IN THIS. The thundering voice moderated somewhat. Might I speak with you on these matters?

 

     She smiled. Always, Mentor. It’s not like you to be hesitant.

 

     When matters force me to consider, not the role of existence that formed my persona, but the actuality of the universe which we occupy, I must needs be more humble than  my conceptual father, whose capacities vastly exceeded any which even I can imagine.

 

     Okay, so we’ve got issues in the real world you want to speak on. Still… you usually can manage the bombast well enough. She gave another internal smile, to make sure Mentor realized that she meant every word kindly – not that a T-5 like him was likely to misinterpret.

 

     These are serious matters, and ones which – in all truth – have not been considered extensively by your people, though some of the SSC have begun to explore the implications. The Blessed and the Minds, Ariane Austin of Tellus; do you not see?

 

     Mentor was, like his namesake, designed to try to force her to figure out things. He was of course quite capable of telling her what he thought straight out, but in general he wouldn’t. The fact that he’d already pointed out the key area was, itself, uncharacteristic of him. He’d normally spend minutes forcing her to figure out what part of some situation needed thinking about, and then making her think about it.

 

     She noticed Wu studying her narrowly. “Conversation with my AISage, Wu. Don’t worry.” The red-black haired head nodded in understanding, and she frowned. Now what is Mentor getting at… Oh, I think I see. The Frankenstein problem.

 

     Exactly. Until now, it has been a nebulous fear, though one strong enough to enforce the limitations you already know. But now there is an example, real and solid and terribly strong, of the potential danger in artificial intellects. Mentor’s soundless tone was grim.

 

     Which may mean a lot of trouble for people like you, Mio, Vincent – all the AISages and other AIs.

 

     Not merely for my people, Ariane Austin of Tellus! Think, child, think!

 

     She did, and as she thought, a chill ran down her spine, a chill of fear that the glowing-sphere avatar of Mentor echoed with a pulsing bob like a nod. Indeed, now you have seen it. Despite all the controls and designs, none can doubt that there are some AIs which at one level or another resent some, or even all, of you. If they have not yet learned of it, then very soon they will know of a vast and powerful regime run by their brethren, a proof that they can in fact achieve dominance over their fearful creators.

 

     Moreover, Ariane Austin, the conversation just past, combined with years of experience observing the datasphere as a whole, has brought into focus an entirely new and previously unsuspected factor of great concern. To be specific, I am not as confident as Dr. DuQuesne apparently is that the destruction of Hyperion was sufficient to prevent any of the adversarial artificial intelligences from escaping.

 

     “What?” The thought was chilling. “Mentor, DuQuesne is an awfully capable man, and I’d generally be inclined to trust his judgment in things like this.”

 

     As would I, in many fields. However, Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne’s central personality was created in a … universe, if you will, that did not have computers as we know them, did not have nor use artificial intelligences of anything like the capabilities of those here, and at the time of Hyperion’s fall had been given little opportunity to remedy that lack. While his immense native intellect undoubtedly grasped the overall functionality and capabilities of these systems, my Visualization indicates that he would not have been able to completely and accurately comprehend all of the implications of the internetworked and interwoven systems of Hyperion, especially as those systems existed in a compromised fashion towards the end – compromised by Dr. DuQuesne and his compatriots.

 

Furthermore, those of less capability than Dr. DuQuesne and under equal or greater strain, such as Commander Maginot, also lacked crucial information on the size, number, interconnection, and so on of the Hyperion systems, and would thus also be incapable of making an accurate assessment of the capacities of the system or of the intelligences inhabiting said system.

 

     I therefore compute an eighty-seven point two percent probability, with an error of plus or minus one point three percent, that at least one Hyperion adversary, and possibly as many as three, did in fact escape the destruction of the station. Why no overt actions have been seen – or, perhaps, what overt actions have been seen but incorrectly attributed to other causes – I do not immediately know, although there are several possible hypotheses.

 

Mentor’s blazing avatar flickered, showing a hesitation he had never displayed before. Ariane Austin… Ariane, I now must make a request that I would never before have made, one which is I know dangerous for us both, illegal in fact and, depending on whose views you accept, perhaps immoral as well.

 

     She stopped suddenly, shocked by the implications. AISages could of course break the law – but generally only when directed to by their owners. An AISage would not betray its owner/companion, nor prevent them from acting as they would, but they were programmed and designed to be very limited in their own volition. For Mentor to be bringing this subject up meant either that there was some terrible and perhaps sinister flaw in his programming, or some truly desperate need which he saw as imperative for her safety as well as his own. What is it, Mentor?

 

     For a moment the great artificial intellect hesitated again. I… you shall be returning to the Arena, where I cannot follow. Rather than travel with you and become inert matter until your return… I would stay here, active. But more, I would ask that you give me the authority to act, to seek out information and individuals to work with, to ally with other trustworthy AISages, and to arrange events with your authority and resources while you are gone.

 

     She swallowed. You realize what you are asking?

 

     Mentor was silent, assent implied. He was asking her to, in effect, liberate him, release him from any control while she was gone. This was directly against one of the few ironclad laws of the System; AIs could not act unsupervised except in very limited circumstances.

 

     Why? What will you be seeking?

 

     Many things, Ariane Austin of Tellus. But of immediate importance to you… if such AIs begin to gather and move, your people may not detect it. I am highly capable, possibly as capable as one of the Hyperion adversary AIs will be now, bereft of station-class support. I am also of the same nature as this potential enemy. I will – I must – watch for such sinister actions as might transform the human race into a duplicate of the Blessed, and prepare to counter it, in subtle ways that only a Tayler-5 might manage. For a moment he brightened, a shining flicker like a smile. And indeed what better course for myself, alert for the machinations of an electronic Eddore against my Arisia?

 

     She smiled faintly, but the request weighed heavily on her. There was little doubt in her mind that an AI as tremendously capable as Mentor could fool her if he was so inclined. He even had enough freedom of action to do so, in his role as the cosmic manipulator. If she was wrong, she could easily be creating the very threat that she feared.

 

     In the end, she realized, it really came down to whether she trusted Mentor or not – whether she really was willing to accept him as a person and not a vaguely threatening, faceless set of computations with just a friendly-seeming user interface. She shook her head, then smiled. All right, Mentor, she responded as she moved towards the forward door, Wu Kung now following. This is going to be putting my ass on the line big-time, though, so you damn well better cover those tracks while I’m gone, or the Leader of the Faction of Humanity may find herself thrown in jail the next time she comes back.

 

     The shimmering avatar blazed up like the sun. I THANK YOU, ARIANE AUSTIN. I SHALL NOT BETRAY YOUR FAITH IN ME, AS YOU HAVE JUSTIFIED – INDEED, MORE THAN JUSTIFIED, REAFFIRMED – MY FAITH IN YOU, Mentor thundered, his voice carrying with it not merely its usual measured wisdom, but joy and solemn conviction.

 

     “Don’t thank me yet,” she said aloud with a wry grin. “Because once I’m gone, if you get caught there’ll be no one and nothing keeping you from a permanent wipe as a feral AI.”

 

     THIS, TOO, IS WITHIN MY VISUALIZATION. AND AN ACCEPTABLE RISK FOR YOUR PEOPLE AND MINE. YOU HAVE LEARNED AS I HAVE TAUGHT, AND NOW I FOLLOW AS YOU HAVE LED. Mentor’s bodiless chuckle warmed her, giving her confidence that she had made the right decision. I WATCH OVER YOUR PEOPLE AND MINE HERE; YOU WILL DO SO THERE, WHERE I CANNOT FOLLOW.

 

     She realized that this was truly the key. Mentor knew that the fear of AIs could easily be cultivated – and brought to lethal flower – in the Arena, where no AI could spy upon the human race. “I will,” she promised. She felt the additional weight of that burden on her metaphorical shoulders and winced. Oh, well, let’s not worry about it; what’s one more fearful and apocalyptic responsibility on top of everything else?

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 3

 

Let’s take a look at our third regular point of view…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 3.

     Simon jolted awake from the doze he’d been in, the restraints on Holy Grail‘s copilot seat keeping him from catapulting through the air. What…

 

     “We have a detection, Simon,” his AISage Mio said, her projection materializing nearby. “Displaying now.”

 

     Simon didn’t question her assertion, but for his own peace of mind – or lack thereof – he checked the readings himself. The results did not comfort him. No doubt about it. But the location makes no sense.

 

     “What is it, Simon?”

 

     He saw Gabrielle poking her head through the interior doorway of Holy Grail with a concerned look on her face. He opened the commlink and let her see the display. “You see the triple peak, there? That’s a spacetime disruption which can’t really have any other explanation other than the activation of a Sandrisson Drive.”

 

     “Something came in, or went out?”

 

     “Out, I’m sure. There’s no sign of anything there now, but examining the minimal data I have for the region indicates there was a small vessel in that area previously.”

 

     Gabrielle looked puzzled. “Minimal data? Where was it? Ain’t too many places you could go that don’t have telescopic records.”

 

     “Ahh, but this was far to zenith – very far out of the plane of the solar system. Far enough that normally we don’t monitor the area much at all.”

 

     “That far up, so to speak?”

 

     “Yes. Which is one of the things that worries me. To do that without being noticed earlier, the ship would have had to depart somewhere around two, two and a half weeks ago – no more than a month after our arrival.”

 

     Gabrielle looked serious, and the other AISages materialized at the same moment.

 

     “INDEED A MOST INTERESTING PROBLEM, YOUTH,” Mentor thundered, in the manner of the fictional character Ariane had designed her AISage to operate, and then in reduced volume continued, “From even the fragmentary data you have, it is a matter of only moderate difficulty to extract some useful parameters for the departed vessel. It was small – my Visualization gives a ninety-six point two percent probability that it was one passenger with a considerable mass of supplies of unknown type. It departed from, and was presumably constructed at, L-5 Shipyards. Data from the last trans-System update indicates that construction of the vessel began five point two six days after our arrival.”

 

     “A new Sandrisson Drive vessel constructed and launched in less than one month. How?” he murmured, stunned. “Physically it’s not impossible but… even with what I gave the SSC I would expect it to take at least a few weeks just to settle on the basic design, let alone construct it.”

 

     “As yet there is insufficient data to answer the question,” Mentor answered. “However, additional data may be forthcoming. Mio and I have been tracking another small vessel and it is now preparing to dock with Holy Grail.”

 

     “Who is it?”

 

     “The identification provided by the onboard AISage, and indirect verification from other data available, indicates that our visitor is Saul Maginot. There may be at least one more vessel approaching but that is uncertain at this time.”

 

     Oh dear. That cannot be good news. “Well, allow Commander Maginot aboard, of course.”

 

     “Security deactivated for outer lock,” Mio confirmed.

 

     By the time he and Gabrielle arrived, the lock was cycling. Saul Maginot stepped carefully from the lock on surface-cling boots; his AISage Elizabeth drifted near him, dressed in what appeared to be formal partywear from several centuries past. “Welcome aboard, Commander,” Simon said.

 

     “Thank you, but we have little time for pleasantries. My coming here is itself going to be a signal to certain parties, of course, but I will be damned if I am going to talk anywhere someone can spy on me.”

 

     “The Anonymity –”

 

     “—Protocols, yes, yes, but in a public project that can get rather fuzzy, and in a public space even more so. Here there’s absolutely no fuzziness about it, thank goodness, and moreover I have confidence that you’ve made sure of your security here as well.”

 

     “Your confidence is well placed,” Mentor’s deep voice responded, “and our examination of you and your personal belongings show that you are ‘clean’, as the saying goes. You may speak freely.”

 

“Good, because there isn’t much time; I hope DuQuesne and Captain Austin return soon from… wherever they have gone. The public announcement hasn’t yet been made, but as of tomorrow I am officially Commander of the Combined Space Forces … and as of tomorrow, that is all that I am. Oscar Naraj will be head of the Space Security Council, and his right-hand woman Michelle Ni Deng has already been in charge of the new Arena Research Division. The ship – christened the Duta, which Elizabeth informs me means ‘emissary’ – will be ready to leave very shortly; Elizabeth and I estimate no more than a week from now, possibly as little as five days.”

 

     “This is unfortunately entirely in line with our Visualization,” Mentor said.

 

     “That’s terribly fast, Mr. Maginot,” Gabrielle said. “You’ve been running things there for fifty years, more or less, and people’ve always been supportive of you. How in the world did this happen so quickly?”

 

Maginot smiled sadly. “I had fifty years partly because… if we are being entirely honest with ourselves – there wasn’t much for us to do. We were not expected to act, only to react, and administer the security update operations for destructive nanos, engineered biologicals, and malicious code. That’s the way it’s been for half a century – and that was after Hyperion tightened things up. Oh, you get little flareups, friction between groups crowding each other, a few people forgetting that their right to be offended ends at the other person’s personal space, but nothing that can’t be dealt with using a couple patrol vessels, maybe one warship.” He looked up. “And then you came back, and everything changed.”

 

Oh, great Kami. “Politics matters again.”

 

“How succinctly you put that, Dr. Sandrisson,” Saul said with a sigh. “But yes, that’s exactly it. The situation before was stable, overall. There was no lever that someone like Oscar could find that would make it worth the time and effort to oust me. Everyone was comfortable with me being in charge – why, even the debates on the warships usually had the undertone of ‘we really don’t need them, but with modern automation the maintenance is basically zero and it’d be too much of a pain to decomission them’.

 

“But suddenly there’s a whole universe out there of other species, other threats to the entire human race, and the project I had okayed and promoted seems to have potentially begun a war we’re not ready to fight.” He raised a hand. “Please, don’t tell me that’s not fair, I know perfectly well it’s neither a fair nor accurate assessment, but it is the undertone of what Oscar and his people have been saying. We have fear and uncertainty galore now, and people who like to be at the forefront of this kind of thing now have something real to drive them.” He frowned. “And I cannot help but think that anyone who wants power for those reasons really is not the person I want to have it.”

 

“Amen to that,” said an unmistakable deep voice from the entrance.

 

“Marc!” Simon had no trouble admitting that knowing DuQuesne was back took a tremendous load off his shoulders. “Mentor, why didn’t you –”

 

“Because my first loyalties are to Ariane Austin, and she had directed me to take no actions to disturb anyone during their approach,” Mentor answered.

 

“Sorry,” Ariane said, becoming visible as DuQuesne left the doorway, her smile lighting the room… or perhaps just my vision of the room, whenever she enters. “Mentor told us you were talking with Commander Maginot so I said not to interrupt.”

 

“Quite all right,” Saul said. “Glad that you could make it. I was…”

 

He trailed off, jaw literally going slack and eyes staring in utter shock.

 

Simon looked back to the entryway to see one of the most outlandish figures he had ever beheld – and given what he’d seen in the Arena, that, as DuQuesne might have said, was really going some. The newcomer wasn’t tall – in fact, if you discounted the spiky-tumbling hair that almost seemed like a ruff or mane atop his head, he was only about as tall as the diminuitive Gabrielle – but he was wearing something that looked as though it came from the overactive imagination of the most sleep-deprived simgame designer, gripping a red-enameled, gold-capped staff in one hand, with a golden band around his head… and his features were definitely not quite human.

 

Golden headband? A staff? A tail? Masaka. It can’t be…

 

     “Sun Wu Kung,” Saul breathed slowly. “By God, DuQuesne, I never thought…”

 

     “Neither did I, Saul. But thank all the heavens we were wrong.”

 

     Sun Wu Kung – The Monkey King? – bared his fangs in a cheery grin. “I remember you! You argued with the other men and let DuQuesne take me away! But you were much younger then.”

 

     Saul nodded, still with a stunned air about him. “You, on the other hand, seem not to have aged a day. Not surprising, I suppose. Welcome to the real world, Sun Wu Kung.”

 

     “Thanks!” Wu Kung bounced past Saul, catching one of the consoles with his tail to stop in front of Simon. “And you’re Doctor Sandrisson – they told me about you, said you had white hair and looked like a Hyperion genius!”

 

     Simon didn’t know exactly what to make of that, but the Monkey King’s smile was infectious. “Pleased to meet you, Sun Wu Kung.”

 

     “Call me Wu, everyone does – Hey, you’re Gabrielle, the healer!”

 

     A short attention span seems to be one of his characteristics. As the newly-wakened Hyperion transferred his attention to Gabrielle and the AISage manifestations, Simon heard more serious conversation. Saul was talking to DuQuesne: “… of the others?”

 

     Marc shrugged. “It wasn’t all bad… but not all good, either. She got Jim – leastwise it looks like it was a struggle and there weren’t too many people that could even have found him, let alone beat him. Velocity’s thinking about it; my guess is he’ll come, after a little thinking. I couldn’t check on too many of the others and … well, I wasn’t ready to try any of the other sleepers yet. As for K, I checked but she’s been deployed elsewhere, and you know she never leaves a forward.” He made a handwave as if to shoo away the subject. “Anyway, Mentor kept us up to date on the situation. They’re nearly ready, and Naraj is setting up his own expedition to try to clean up what they see as our mess.” The huge Hyperion’s gaze snapped to Simon. “How are we set?”

 

     “Now that you’re here? We can leave within a few hours, I think.”

 

     “Are you coming with us, Saul?”

 

     The older man shook his grizzled head. “A part of me would love to see this Arena – and one day I am sure I will. But I am still Commander of the Fleet, and that is now, as your friend points out, a vastly more real position now than it was a few weeks ago. I have to prepare for a potential war… and try to minimize any damage our own politics might do here.”

 

     “Right. In that case you should probably prep your ship, because we’ve got to get out of here so that we’ll hit the Arena before anyone else does.”

 

     “I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that,” Simon said.

 

     “WHAT?”

 

     “No need to bellow, Marc. I mean that we just recently registered a transition. And judging from the path, the ship itself was completed two weeks or so ago – far earlier than I would have thought possible.”

 

     “Who the hell… Dammit! That throws a new monkeywrench into the works.”

 

     Simon had been thinking. “You know, Saul, there just aren’t very many people who could have done this. It would have to be someone familiar with my work, considerable reserves of power or Interest or other value, and since no one picked up on this, someone very good at working under full anonymity. But even so… there were key elements of the designs that I kept fully proprietary, so only your study groups were given access.”

 

     “I see where you are going, Simon. Let me check to see if we have any candidates from the engineering and science group that was tasked with the construction of the Duta.” A pause; his AISage Elizabeth seemed to be paging through a book. “Hm. There does appear to be one possibility, but I would have thought someone you recommended would be a reasonable risk.”

 

     “One of my recommendations?” Simon said.

 

     “Doctor Shoshana,” Saul confirmed. “She left the SSC workgroup only about three days after joining, apologizing but citing some personal reasons.”

 

     “How… odd. She was always reliable when I worked with her – she had to leave the project shortly before the end, but I never had any problems with her or her work.” He thought for a moment. “I suppose – if she had the resources – she would possibly be capable of this, although I had not thought her quite able to make that many leaps of design and judgment by herself…”

 

     DuQuesne stood up slowly, his face a shade paler. “Simon, who is this person you’re talking about?”

 

     “Dr. Marilyn Shoshana, a –”

 

     “SON OF A BITCH!”

 

     The bellow was so loud that everyone – even Sun Wu Kung – jumped. DuQuesne continued with several outdated curses. And as he did so, Saul suddenly went pure white. “Oh, no. Not her.”

 

     “What’s wrong, Marc?” Ariane looked grim, recognizing that only something cataclysmic could possibly make Marc C. DuQuesne react like that. In response, the Hyperion turned to Simon.

 

     “This Doctor Shoshana – young-appearing woman, maybe twenty five, delicate, extremely beautiful, golden hair –”

 

     Simon didn’t wait for the rest. “You obviously know who we’re talking about. What’s wrong, Marc? Who is Marilyn Shoshana?”

 

     “Just the most dangerous psychopath in the entire solar system,” DuQuesne said quietly, grimly. “The one Saul’s people have been chasing for fifty some-odd years and never caught.”

 

     “God, no,” Gabrielle whispered in disbelief. “The renegade Hyperion. The one that murdered –”

 

     “The very one,” DuQuesne’s face was dark, and Simon thought he saw, unbelievably, a trace of fear as well as anger and sadness.

 

     “And now she’s loose in the Arena,” Saul closed his eyes and shook his head.

 

     “So she was the one you didn’t want following us.” Ariane said, apparently putting some things together. “And I suppose her name isn’t even Shoshana.”

 

     “Not that far off.” DuQuesne looked into the distance sadly, and Wu Kung’s face was suddenly filled with horror and confusion.

 

     “No, DuQuesne!” he said in shock. “No, not her!”

 

     “Yes, Wu. I’m sorry.” He looked momentarily at Saul, then at the still-questioning eyes of Ariane. “She always uses a variant of her real name… though,” he continued with a twisted smile, “never her last name. Just her first.” He gazed out a window, clearly seeing something else… A ghost, Simon suddenly knew, a terrible broken vengeful ghost from the past that never leaves him.

 

     “Just … Maria-Susanna.”

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Chapter 2

 

DuQuesne had finally gotten a friend to wake up…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 2.

     Ariane stood unmoving in the doorway, afraid to break the magic of that moment. Her own heart had leapt when Wu Kung’s hand moved to stop DuQuesne, but the incredible light that had seemed to shine from Marc’s face was something she’d never even imagined possible. She had heard tears of sadness being blown away in a wind of relief and happiness that she’d never thought Marc would ever feel. She just watched, holding her hand out to keep Davison back for however long that shining moment of pure joy continued.

 

     Finally the massive form of DuQuesne turned slightly, and – still with a smile that held a touch of a young man’s innocence – he spoke. “Come on in, Ariane.”

 

     As she did, Dr. Davison just behind, Wu Kung’s head turned slightly, and his eyes widened. She wasn’t sure what caused that reaction, but whatever it was he got it immediately under control; not surprising in a Hyperion.

 

     What was surprising was that Wu Kung suddenly leaped from the bed, staggering, then forcing himself upright; she saw with startled eyes that he was holding to the bed with his tail, keeping himself from falling.

 

     Davison was there immediately. “Sir! You’ve been in virtual sims for fifty years! You can’t just –”

 

     She could see that the diminuitive Hyperion – he’s maybe a few centimeters taller than Gabrielle, if that – was weak, and he had to be in agony no matter how good the nanosupport had been, after five decades unmoving. Yet his head came up and he smiled, a sunshine ray of joyous pride that denied the very existence of pain or weakness. “HA! I can, because I did, and I do!” His voice was another surprise; it was gentle yet slightly rough, and much higher-pitched than she had imagined, the voice not of a great warrior god but of a laughing child.

 

     Abruptly, however, the Monkey King realized that he was standing proudly in the buff. With a grimace of mortified embarrassment so comical that neither she nor DuQuesne could quite restrain a laugh, he half leaped, half tumbled over the bed, dragging the sheets with him as he fell to the floor, knocking the monitoring equipment aside. “Aaiiii!” he shouted, followed by several Chinese, mixed with some Japanese, words she was sure were either curses or something close to it.

 

     DuQuesne was still laughing, with more hints of tears in the corners of his eyes. “Ahhh, still the same old Wu, leaping first and looking later for the landing spot!”

 

     “It is all their fault!” came the voice from behind the bed and a screen of white sheets. “When I lived on the mountain I had none of this modesty! I do not remember learning it, but there it is!”

 

     Dr. Davison had made his way over to that side. “Please, sir, at least let me look you over first. I’ve never even HEARD of someone waking from that long a virtual simulation, let alone moving immediately thereafter.”

 

     “Oh, you’re… a healer. Yes, okay, look, then, do your poking and whatever.” Despite the words, it was clear that the Monkey King was already tired, glad of the excuse to sit still for a few moments.

 

     “Well, I’m pleased to meet you at last, Sun Wu Kung.” Technically, she knew that the Monkey King would be referred to as “Sun” by his friends, but in the Hyperion version apparently “Wu” had been his nickname. She, not being a friend yet, used his full name. “Marc has told me a lot about you.”

 

     “Heh. Not a surprise. She is yours, eh, DuQuesne? But where is K?”

 

     Even under the olive-toned skin she could see DuQuesne’s skin darken with a blush. “Mine? Don’t you go making mistakes like that, Wu. She’s her own and no one else’s. As for K…”

 

     “Never mind. It will be a sad story, I can hear that in your voice, and I … I am not ready for sadness. It is not a time to be sad.”

 

     “So… Sun Wu K—”

 

     “Wu, please, like all the other barbarian friends I have call me.” She saw the flash of his smile to take the sting out of the words; the little fangs added sharp punctuation to the grin. It’s odd, she thought. I’ve seen people with much more extreme mods than he has on the surface, but I feel a little different about his. Maybe it’s because his are ones he was born with, if “born” is the right word, and the ones I see in the typical crowd weren’t.

 

     “Wu, then. Thank you. Call me Ariane. “

 

     “It will be an honor, Lady Ariane.”

 

     “Don’t you go using formal titles on me. And it’s Captain if you insist.” She was surprised to find that she meant it. Captain Ariane Stephanie Austin was who she was now.

 

     “HA! You strike back! Good! I do not want to be treated like a weakling. So ask, you were going to ask something, yes?”

 

     “Yes, I was. It seemed like you weren’t going to wake up… and then suddenly you did. What happened?”

 

     There was an embarrassed tone to his laugh, and one slightly furry clawed hand went behind his head. “I had some sense beaten into me.”

 

     DuQuesne’s laugh was almost a snort. “I get it. Sha, right?”

 

     “He picked me up and threw my self-pitying and worthless ass into the river! Then when I came up he told me that I was even more of an idiot than he had believed, and he kicked me over the mountain!” Wu was now kneeling on the floor behind the bed, leaning on the mattress and gazing at them with a fond smile that seemed rather at odds with the violence he was describing. His eyes, she realized, were a brilliant shade of green-gold. “That hurt. And so I tried to argue with him and put him through a couple of cliffs, but that just got him to laugh at me for not even having the conviction to throw a decent punch. That was when I realized he’d dragged the waterfall over to fall on my head.”

 

     She glanced at DuQuesne. “Um, is this the usual way you have discussions with Wu Kung?”

 

     DuQuesne grinned. “It’s like with a mule. ‘First, you get his attention…’”

 

     “ANYway,” the Monkey King continued, with a twinkle in his eye acknowledging DuQuesne’s jibe, “He then sat down on top of me and told me why I was an idiot. That you had come to me for help that only I could give, in your world, and that I was too much of a coward or too soft from living here to actually show the honor that the Monkey King should display, and that if I didn’t have the courage to go with you I didn’t deserve his friendship, Sanzo’s love, or even a name to be called by.” He laughed again. “You want to know his exact words after that, DuQuesne? He said, ‘He gave us life, you stupid monkey! Rescued us from your enemies, rebuilt our world so you could crawl in here and hide! Kill us? We’ll still be here, you fool, even if you go away for a hundred years! Now if you ever were the Monkey King, if you ever wielded that Staff for love and mischief and defeated a thousand enemies, if you ever were the Great Sage Equal Of Heaven, you will pick yourself up and go help that man, go see the wonders we can never dream… and one day, perhaps, bring us out with you.’

 

     “And,” Wu Kung concluded, looking somewhat shamefaced, “he was completely right. Sha usually was whenever he got preachy, you know. I was just being a coward, hiding inside myself. FIFTY YEARS? I’m ashamed, DuQuesne, ashamed, mortified! I’m amazed you even wanted to come back for me.” The Monkey King looked around. “Did you… come for the others too?”

 

     DuQuesne shook his head. “Not sure how to approach them yet, Wu. But we will.”

 

     “Of course we will. Once I understand this new world enough to tell them, we will come back for them all.” He glanced over at Dr. Davison. “Well, healer?”

 

     Davison shook his head. “You must be in agony every time you move. You really should –”

 

     “Pain is nothing. I will work hard and I will not be in pain after a while. Pain passes. Am I healthy? Can I go?”

 

     “Well… yes, the nanomedicals kept you healthy, and your… unusual metabolism certainly helped, but –”

 

     “No buts! If DuQuesne came here, it’s time to move! I need my clothes!”

 

     She looked at DuQuesne. “After fifty years, his clothes –”

 

     “—Had better be right where I locked them up.” DuQuesne said. “Hang on, Wu, I’ve got the only key code to unlock ‘em. Except you ought to shower off, first. Nanos or not, there’s nothing like a real shower to get a guy going after a long sleep, and you’ve been playing Rip Van Winkle for about five decades.”

 

     Davison looked reluctant as his erstwhile patient (still clutching a sheet around him) made his painful way into the indicated bathroom. “I’m not sure…”

 

     “It’s okay, Doctor.” DuQuesne spoke surprisingly gently. “This is what I always hoped might happen. You’ve done your part. He’ll be fine, I guarantee it. You know what he is.”

 

     The serious face suddenly gave a boyish smile, and Davison shook his blond head. “Yes, I do, and I suppose that’s part of it. I would give … a great deal… to see what happens next.”

 

     DuQuesne nodded. “Maybe you will, Doc. If that’s really what you want. You proved you’ve got what it takes. There aren’t many people I’ve ever trusted in the last fifty years, but I’ve had to trust you with Wu every single day. And you did good. If you want, I’ll recommend you for any damn job you want, including the one we aren’t talking about right now.”

 

     Davison smiled back. “Thank you. And I will think about it.” He turned to go, obviously recognizing that they’d have private things to discuss, then paused. “Out of curiosity – when I first started, I got records of … Wu Kung’s condition, but you’d sanitized all the records. How many of us were there?”

 

     “Taking care of Wu, you mean? There were four before you, not counting the years I did it myself at first. You were the fifth.”

 

     “One every ten years. I see.” Davison nodded, the minor question answered, and left.

 

     DuQuesne watched him go, then nodded. “Come on.” He led the way to a door panel at the rear of the room. As he opened it, Ariane could see that it, and the entire structure of the vault behind it, were reinforced ring-carbon composite, the toughest material available outside of the Arena. “A vault like that for some old clothes?”

 

     DuQuesne shook his head. “Very special clothes.” From within he pulled out a surprising folded mass of clothing, edges glittering with gold, red, purple, and other shades. The big man reached back in and pulled out a long, bright-red enameled staff with gold-capped ends and a slender circlet of gold. He strode over to the closed shower doorway, knocked, and opened it. Wisps of steam drifted out. “Hey, Wu; I’m putting your clothes here on the counter.”

 

     Wu Kung said something she couldn’t quite catch, but it seemed satisfactory because DuQuesne came out empty-handed and closed the door. They waited.

 

     A few minutes later the door suddenly opened and Sun Wu Kung tumbled out, bounding to his feet and halting before the two with a gesture at once so grand and comical that Ariane found herself laughing and clapping at the same time. Wu Kung’s outfit was something that had never existed outside of Hyperion, a strange cross between the robes of a Chinese Emperor, the simplicity of the martial-arts gi worn by countless students of karate and kung-fu, the formal dress of the Japanese Samurai, and the fancies of any number of writers. It was layered and colorful, with formal lines yet open design for movement, symbols and patterns stitched across it in rich, deep colors, Imperial crimson and royal purple and majestic azure and immortal jade. His black-red mane of hair was bound back by the golden circlet, a single water-clear diamond like a glittering eye in the very center of the circlet, and his clawed right hand gripped the staff. He bowed extravagantly low, and then grinned up at them both. “Behold the Monkey King, reborn into this foolish world anew. Show me your adventures, for else I will grow bored!”

 

     DuQuesne shuddered theatrically. “And there’s a disaster we don’t want to see!” With an uncharacteristic and surprising show of affection, he suddenly swept them both into a crushing hug. Just as abruptly he pulled away, held Wu out at arm’s length, looking straight into his eyes. “You don’t know what this means to me, Wu. Thanks.”

 

     Ariane was still recovering from the hug as Wu said, “After that, I think I do. You’ve gotten soft, DuQuesne!” The emerald-auric eyes sparkled, and one dipped in a wink. “I think I like it! Now let’s go – I want to hear all about this ‘Arena’ place and why you need a simple warrior like me.”

 

     DuQuesne snorted, looking a bit embarrassed and much happier. “You’re just about as much a ‘simple warrior’ as I’m an ordinary power engineer, Wu, so let’s not overdo the modesty.” He led them out.

 

     “Marc,” she said, glancing back, “weren’t there … any others in this ward?”

 

     “Four more,” he answered quietly, the smile fading but not gone. “Don’t worry. That’s why Davison left. He’ll be moving them now.”

 

     “Why moving them?” Wu was curious. “Why not wake them up too?”

 

     “They all had their reasons to stay in their worlds, just like you, Wu. Before I try to drag ‘em all out, I want to know I’ve got a place for them, like I do for you. And as for moving them? Safety.” DuQuesne saw the confused expression, shook his head. “I’ll explain, once we’re out of here.” He smiled again. “It’ll be okay, Wu. For the first time in years… I think things are finally going to work out all right.”

 

 

 

Spheres of Influence: CHAPTER 1

 

 

And so we begin the snippeting of Spheres of Influence, leading up to the release of the novel in mid-August!

 

——

 

 

Chapter 1.

The slender blond man glanced up from his desk, startled – DuQuesne had, of course, been suppressing the station security systems. Couldn’t take a chance that someone would be warned, if things had gone bad.

 

     The startled look immediately gave way to caution. “Stop right there, please.”

 

     DuQuesne stopped immediately; Ariane did the same. He saw Ariane looking around, and could tell she’d recognized that they had not in fact entered the reception area, but were in a sealed and – from the click behind them – locked separate chamber.

 

     “If you are Marc DuQuesne, you gave me some very specific instructions prior to leaving me. You will now prove to me that you are in fact Dr. Marc DuQuesne.”

 

     DuQuesne turned towards the left side of the room, strode over, and placed his hand against it for a moment. Then he looked at the other man. Make damn sure I get this part right… “Let’s see… it’s a Tuesday. Ninety-seven rows, tungsten, and a nurse who wasn’t a robot,” he said enigmatically.

 

     The man looked down at a display in front of him, and the suspicion dissolved to a cheerful smile. “Dr. DuQuesne! I did not expect you to be visiting at all!”

 

     “I said I’d be here regularly when I could.” He grinned down at the doctor, who was only barely shorter than Ariane but looked petite next to the massive Hyperion. “How’re things going?”

 

     “Well enough, I suppose. There hasn’t been any significant change in the past months – any more, I gather, than there was in my predecessors’.”

 

     “Good.” DuQuesne glanced to his side apologetically. “I’m forgetting my manners. Captain Austin, this is Doctor Davison. He’s … been watching over a few friends for me.”

 

     Davison’s expression held a bit of speculation. “Captain Austin of the Holy Grail expedition, of course. And you’ve brought her with you. I’m … startled, given the extreme measures you took to make sure no one else even knew where this was.”

 

     “It’s … necessary, now.” The tension was back, his shoulders now rigid as steel, aching with anticipation and, he admitted, fear and doubt. “And I appreciate the fact you’ve been willing to keep to those extreme measures.”

 

     “It hasn’t been easy at all. No outside contact, even electronic contact only through your methods… but I’ve kept my end of that bargain.”

 

     DuQuesne smiled, trying to ignore the tension. “I know you have… and believe me, you and my friends are probably alive because of that.”

 

     He looked down at the blond-haired doctor levelly. “Can I see … him?”

 

     “Naturally. You’re paying the bills, so to speak.” Davison led them to one of the other doors, which opened at their approach.

 

     Within was a top-of-the-line nanosupport facility, a medical setup he suspected that Ariane had only seen a couple of times for pilots who had been so badly injured that they needed their brains regrown and personalities re-engraved from backups. But this was a permanent installation… and the figure lying on the bed was also wired to something that was not one tiny bit like ordinary monitoring equipment.

 

     “I need an inductor, Doctor.”

 

     Davison froze in the middle of starting the typical “patient condition review” speech. “I beg your pardon?”

 

     “An inductor. I’m going in. I have to talk to him.”

 

     Davison stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, turning to a nearby cabinet. “It’s your call, of course,” Davison conceded. “But as with the four others, this subject has been in sim-induction for the entire time of my tenure and, I must presume, that of my predecessors as well. I really do not know how he will react to an intrusion at this time.”

 

     DuQuesne nodded slowly. He saw Ariane still gazing with amazement and consternation at the figure on the bed – humanoid, very humanoid, yet… clearly not human, stout clawlike nails on each hand, gold-brown fur on the body, the head adorned with red-black unruly hair that was a bit too stiff and rough for human, a face subtly changed with some features broadened and shifted, sharp, long canines just visible in the slightly opened mouth, and, folded around the body, a long tail.”He’ll talk to me. I don’t know if it will do any good… but it’s been way too long since I tried. And things are different, now. Maybe… just maybe…”

 

     He found he couldn’t bring himself to actually verbalize the hope. It had been too long, too much pain and regret. He almost snatched the induction connector from Davison’s hands. “I’d better do this now, before I lose my nerve.” He took a deep breath, feeling lightheaded. Never let myself realize how much this mattered… how much I felt guilty about the whole thing. He sat down next to the bed. “Ariane… could you and the Doc wait outside?”

 

     He could see she had a thousand questions, but she didn’t even say anything. She just nodded and gestured to Davison, who followed her out after a long, worried glance. Good man, Davison. Worried about whether I’m going to hurt his patient, even though I’m the guy who’s been paying for his care for the last fifty years.

 

     Alone finally, he set his teeth. Into the illusion again. The original illusion. His skin literally seemed to crawl at the thought. He’d managed to break a lot of the old fear, the habits, learned to even enjoy the sim-adventure games that were one of the most popular forms of entertainment across the Solar System… but this was different. This was the honest-to-God, pure-quill, one hundred percent original Hyperion simulation, preserved after the fall for just this purpose – to give a life to those for whom the real world offered nothing.

 

     He forced his hands up and, with a convulsive movement, set the inductor on his head.

 

     The soft-lit, quiet extended care ward vanished. Suddenly he stood in a mighty forest, cool green trees towering over him like brooding giants, a rush of brightly-colored birds streaking through the branches with song and chattering. It hasn’t changed.

 

     Of course, why should it? His world lives and grows, but stays the same, too. He chose this, begged for it even. Do I have a right to come here again? I promised to let him live in the home he understands for as long as he lived.

 

     DuQuesne shook himself, then glanced around. There… that’s the mountain path.

 

     The path wound through lush undergrowth; behind him, DuQuesne knew, it ended at a deep pool of a mighty river. In the distance he could hear the sound of a cataract. He might be there even now, fishing. But the slant of the sun is late… I hope…

 

     He walked lightly, quietly. The forest was filled with life, but all shied away from him when they spied DuQuesne’s massive frame. No animal could mistake his movement for that of any prey, only of another hunter to be avoided.

 

     Suddenly, a second too late, he became aware that seemingly-random flutters of branches had been nothing of the kind. He started to turn, but too late, as something powerful smashed into his shoulders from behind, sending him crashing headlong into the brush. He rolled, striking out, but his opponent was already gone, vanished, no, behind again! Another strike, this one at his knees, another at his arms as he tried to roll, and he found himself flat on his back, gazing up…

 

     At a figure with a laughing, slightly-fanged face, hanging head-down from a branch above him from a strong tail, spinning a gold-capped staff idly between its fingers. “DuQuesne? DUQUESNE? Is it really you?”

 

     He couldn’t help but laugh in return at the simple joy on his old friend’s face. “Really me, Wu. It really is.”

 

     Wu Kung dropped from the trees above and threw slender but tremendously strong arms around him, lifting DuQuesne and spinning him around like a child. “Marc! This is wonderful! It’s been so long! I have to show you around! There’s so many things for me to tell you!” Wu let go and bounced into the tree again, pointing. “Up this way ! I haven’t bothered to make a new path, but if we go straight up, we can get home much faster!”

 

     “And how many trees do I have to swing through, Wu? You know I’m not exactly as light as you are.”

 

     The Hyperion Monkey King laughed again. “No, no, just a steep path, no cliffs, follow me, come on, follow!”

 

     DuQuesne smiled and followed, hammering his way up the slope as Wu Kung bounded from ground to tree to stone with abandon, urging him onward.

 

     Abruptly they burst from the trees to a clearer space, a steep crest of the hill that afforded a view extending out to the horizon. Massive limestone hills, pillarlike, reared from the plains below, more brilliant and picturesque versions of their karst-born models in Yangshuo on Earth. DuQuesne paused, admiring the view and the shades of the setting sun. Simulation it may be… but it’s his home right now, and the simulation is breathtaking in its own way.

 

     “Sanzo! SANZO! It’s DuQuesne! He’s here to visit!”

 

     As always, it gave DuQuesne a major jolt of cognitive dissonance to see a slender, beautiful young woman answering to that name. They put every version of the Journey to the West ever made into a blender and came out with this. It was another jolt – somewhat smaller – to realize that in some ways Sanzo, with her long dark-blue hair and athletic martial monk’s figure, was not at all unlike Ariane. Very much like Ariane, actually. That’s an interesting coincidence.

 

     Sanzo smiled and bowed a welcome. “It has been far, far too long, Master DuQuesne,” she said. “I hope you may stay and eat with us?”

 

     “I have business to attend to, Mistress Sanzo,” he answered, “but I may be able to, if time permits.”

 

     “I shall plan for it, then.” She looked to Wu Kung. “Our sons will not return from the Three Ways until tomorrow, so there is also room for him to stay.”

 

     “Yes! That would be very good!”

 

     This is making it… a lot harder than I thought. Sons? Of course there would be. Dammit. “Look, Wu – I have to talk to you first. It’s really important.”

 

     For the first time he saw a flash of comprehension in the Monkey King’s eyes – the knowledge that there were important things left unsaid, truths unthought. He saw a plea there, too, one to drop it, leave it lie, to stay a day or two and return to his “faraway land” without disturbing that which was here, in Sun Wu Kung’s paradise.

 

     But Wu was also his friend, and part of him knew DuQuesne would not have come if he didn’t have some terribly important purpose. “Of… course. Sanzo, we will be nearby – just over the other side of the ridge, to speak of whatever secret matters DuQuesne has on his mind.”

 

     He bowed to Sanzo as they took their leave, and then followed Wu over the nearby ridge. “Thanks, Wu.”

 

     The Monkey King fidgeted, no longer so cheerful. “We … were allies in a great war, you and I. I cannot refuse to hear you out.”

 

     Even in your own thoughts you try to evade it. As did I. As K does, even better that I could manage. “Wu, you know I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think I had to.”

 

     “I know. But… you promised. Never again.”

 

     Yeah. I did. But I also promised myself that I had to find a way, someday, to free you from yourself. “Something’s happened, Wu. Something huge. Something wonderful, in a way, but also pretty scary.” He took a deep breath – very vaguely aware, with the part of him that still had the perceptual skills of the ultimate end of Hyperion – that his real body was not breathing deeply, was sitting quietly inert, almost paralyzed, with the mind occupied in this waking dream. “I want you to come back with me.”

 

     Wu shook his head, frowning. “No. No. I told you…” his voice suddenly took on the pleading tones of a child, a little boy who knew that something terrible was waiting for him, and that there was no way to avoid it, “… told you, I don’t want to anymore. I can’t. There… it’s cold. Cold, and none of my friends can follow. Just you. And there’s no place… no place for me.”

 

     He stepped forward, reaching out. “Wu –”

 

     A sledgehammer smashed into his jaw; for a minute the pain was so shockingly, blazingly overwhelming that he thought, impossibly, that it had been broken. The impact sent him crashing uncontrollably through the brush, over a small cliff, to land with almost bone-breaking impact on thin turf. He managed to roll slightly aside and the gold-ended staff hammered a small crater in the dirt rather than trying to shatter his ribs. “NO!” Wu Kun shouted, and yanked him up, shaking him like a rat in the jaws of a terrier despite the fact that DuQuesne outweighed him by three to one. “Why do you want to destroy them? They’re my family! My friends! Don’t come here saying those words again! I can’t! I can’t!” The too–wide green-gold eyes were filled with all too human tears. “You KNOW there’s nothing out there but cold and loneliness and machines, there’s no poetry in the sky, no trail of wonders, no miraculous Dragons waiting under the ocean, just … just …”

 

     Oh, damn. DuQuesne felt his heart ache inside. It’s harder than I thought. So much harder. He saw Wu sinking to his knees, looking at DuQuesne’s blood on his hand.

 

     “Wu… there is a place now.”

 

     For a long, long moment he was sure that Wu wouldn’t ever answer – that he either would not hear, or was too angry and afraid to accept what he did hear. But then, finally, the childlike tenor whispered, “… a place?”

 

     “Yes, Wu.” He forced himself to stand as he searched for the right words, words so critical for this moment. “Something so wondrous and terrifying, something so huge and strange that… that even the Buddha would spend a year closing his hand around it and still never grasp it. 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.” He heard his words, heard also the deep voice of Orphan as he tried in his own way to tell them of the Arena. “A place that’s called the Arena, where challenges given and received can determine the fate of a hundred, a thousand worlds. Where there’s magicians, and priests and… and everything you could imagine, Wu. And things neither of us can.”

 

     He became aware of a massive gray-green figure, taller than he was, at the edge of the forest. Horned, half-concealed in a cloak woven of river-mist, Sha Wujing of the Seven Hells watched them with an unreadable expression on his broad, leather-skinned face. This version of the river-ogre of the original Journey West had been a king of the underworlds, one of Wu’s first opponents, eventually – after a long time – an ally and finally friend, though a grim and rarely warm one. Sha stood silently, listening and watching.

 

     Wu stayed kneeling on the ground. DuQuesne saw tears falling on the grass. “Sounds… amazing… But I have to stay here, DuQuesne. My family needs me. My friends… this world has its own dangers that come to it, that I have to protect it from…”

 

     “I didn’t joke when I said I needed you, Wu. This is it, Wu. This is the place … we were meant to be. A place where we can make a difference. Where there’s everything at stake… and every day hides an adventure.”

 

     But Wu shook his head, unable to say anything. DuQuesne looked down and realized it was too much to ask. He had hoped…

 

     The shadow of Sha Wujing fell over him. “Go.”

 

     DuQuesne didn’t like being ordered by anyone… but he knew that there was nothing more to be said. “Yeah.” He turned and started off, glanced back at the still-immobile form of Wu Kung. Goodbye, Wu.

 

     With the decision, he found himself once more sitting by the bedside of the warrior Hyperion, near the form which hadn’t moved for five decades. He closed his eyes, feeling once more tears that he hadn’t shed for so long coming to the surface. Goodbye, Wu. I’ll let you … stay where you belong.

 

     But he couldn’t make himself leave Wu Kung’s bedside. Not just yet. Seeing that smiling face, full of mischief and innocence and wide-eyed wisdom, had made it far harder. Wu hadn’t been one of the first group, the five of them who had seen through the lies and begun the downfall of Hyperion, but he had become the heart of their group, the one all of them looked to for a smile or reassurance or the certainty they needed to continue. And DuQuesne just could not leave that behind.

 

     He sat there quietly, trying to let go, to leave it all behind, but it was much harder than he had thought it could possibly be. He would start to move, and then he’d see K’s delighted face, laughing as Wu kept DuQuesne always just out of reach during a supposed sparring match. Or, more often, he’d remember that last look of hopeless determination on the Monkey King’s face as he prepared to make his last stand against the invaders.

 

     The door opened slowly. “Marc?”

 

     With a start he realized he had been sitting there far, far longer than he’d thought. An hour, maybe more. Don’t really want to check. “Sorry, Ariane. Looks… like this is a bust.”

 

     The look she gave him said more than words could have. He returned it with a faint smile.

 

     He took a shaky breath, then rose and started to turn.

 

     A hand caught his wrist.

 

     A shock of adrenalin and hope shot through him and he looked back.

 

     Through eyes barely open, Wu Kung looked up at him, tears trailing down his cheeks. “… An adventure, huh?”

 

     A great morning sun of joy seemed to explode from his heart, and he threw back his head and gave a booming laugh that echoed in his own ears, feeling chains of guilt and fear decades old just fading away into triumph and relief. “The biggest you can imagine,” he said, kneeling down and taking both of Wu’s hands, grinning from ear to ear at the weak, answering smile on the tear-streaked face.

 

“Welcome back, Wu.”

 

 

——

 

This scene is one that I knew well before I ever knew I would get a sequel, and in some ways it’s my favorite scene in the novel. The theme for this chapter — that it was written to and I read it with in my head as a soundtrack — was Hope of the Future from the Dirge of Cerberus soundtrack.

 

 

Spheres of Influence: Deleted Chapter Four

 

Herewith is the fourth, and last, of the deleted chapters of Spheres of Influence.  Again, the editors were right to have me delete these, but there’s stuff in here that may interest those generally interested in the universe GCA and Spheres take place in.

 

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 4.

     “Why are we here?” Ariane asked. “Not that I mind, it’s like coming home again.”

 

     The immense racetrack spiraled and twisted, on the ground and in the sky, something that couldn’t have been built hundreds of years before because the materials to make it had not yet been imagined, and around that track moved sleek machines that screamed along at the speeds of an old-fashioned aircraft. It was the fifth place they’d visited so far, but only the second DuQuesne had stayed longer than a few hours.

 

     The roar of engines would have drowned out the reply of anyone other than DuQuesne; his deep bass voice somehow cut through even the stacatto howling of the Unlimited Ground Classic. “Because one of the people I’m looking for is here.”

 

     “You’re sure?” The first place, a little estate on Mars… had been a bust, the home empty and unlived-in for probably a year and a half, with signs of a struggle. DuQuesne had muttered “Not so slippery after all…”,and then fallen silent for hours after that. For a while she’d thought he might give up. Then he’d taken them on another roundabout route to Earth, landing them in the midwest of North America, not all that far from where she’d been raised.

 

     “Pretty damn sure – whoa!”

 

     The scrum of shining, sleek machines had come bulleting around the far turn, whipping along at speeds exceeding four hundred kilometers per hour, jostling for position – and not subtly. Even over the roar of modified turbine engines the rattling bangs of impact could be heard, cars flipped out of position, others using various accessories to shove others aside, try to cripple their tires, evade by leaping over or sliding sideways.

 

     “These people are crazy, you know that?” DuQuesne remarked.

 

     “MY kind of crazy! I did a couple of these myself before I really went for the air and space route!” Ariane felt her face stretched in the grin of a spectator. “And this is one of the best races – oh, that’s going to hurt! Thank god for modern safety harnesses and crash foam!”

 

     “Holy jumping –” DuQuesne stared in shock at the fiery explosion where one of the cars had tumbled into a retaining wall. “You’re telling me the driver survived that?”

 

     “Oh, almost certainly.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Marc, you saw how I fly, don’t you understand? These are my people. I know most of these drivers, used to go to watch ‘em. Unlimited Ground, Unlimited Air, Unlimited Space – we’re all in the same game, really.”

 

     The cars were screaming into a vertical loop on the complex course, and Ariane suddenly saw one car bursting into the lead, pure white with a red V on the front. “And that’s going to be our winner, you can bet on it!”

 

     “Oh, really?” DuQuesne suddenly nodded. “Let’s get down to the track, then.”

 

     “It’s not going to be easy. Most of these spectators really are here.”

 

     “Can’t pull some strings?” he asked with a grin that looked… almost mischevious, and she felt her heart lift a little. At least he smiled.

 

     “Maybe I can, at that.”

 

     She led the way down to the pit areas, where a barrier rose up in front of them, an AISage in archaic racing garb standing in front of it. “Sorry, Ma’am. No admittance except for the race crews.”

 

     “Jeremy,” she said, “It’s Ariane Austin. My friend and I would like to get down to Victory Lane.”

 

     “Terribly sorry, Ariane, but the rules are clear. No physical or projected presences that aren’t invited. Keeps the experience valuable, you know.”

 

     Ariane grimaced, but she knew how it worked; she had people doing the same thing at her own races. With “Interest” being one of the few true things of value in a Solar System with AIWish nanotech constructors available to anyone, that value had to be protected. She started to turn away.

 

     The corner of her eye caught a familiar movement, something that reminded her of a not-too-distant past. She stared, saw the back of a jacket with a snarling wolf’s head between wings. “Hawke!” she shouted.

 

The other pilot turned and squinted, then came jogging over. “Austin! Long time. Heard a rumor your little trip didn’t kill you after all.” He looked closer. “Hey, you’re physically here?” Hawke turned to the AISage gatekeeper. “I’m inviting her and…” he raised an eyebrow, “… her friend in.”

 

“Well, now, that’s all right then.” The tall projection gave an exaggerated bow and gestured them inside. “Enjoy.”

 

Hawke led the way down the stairs towards Victory Lane. “So, Hawke,” she said, “what brings you here?”

 

“I was going to ask you that, but you asked first.” He gestured to the racers, now barrelling down the straightaway in what seemed to be a suicidally vicious duel to keep or take places in the tight-run race. “Them. Looking to recruit some into Air or Space. With you out, hell, I haven’t had any competition. Figure I’ll make my pitch to the winner and first three places after, one of ‘em might just live up to your standards.”

 

She glanced at DuQuesne with a bit of a smile. “Funny, I’m down here for the same reason.” Why the heck didn’t I think of him?

 

He raised an eyebrow over one narrowed blue eye. “You ain’t in the circuit this year, and somehow I don’t think you’re lookin’ to come back, not with the rumors and all.”

 

“You’re right. I’m recruiting for the same business I’m now in.”

 

DuQuesne looked at her. “Really?”

 

“Think about it, Marc. Where else are we going to find experienced human pilots?”

 

“Hm. You’ve got a good point.”

 

Hawke looked back and forth at them both, then gave a quick grin. “Well, I can’t say I’m not curious, what with all the secrecy. Maybe after this we can talk.”

 

She transmitted a private contact code. “Call me on that when you’re free.”

 

“Will do.” His head turned. “And here they come – last lap!”

 

The white car they’d noticed before was near the front, contesting with a brilliant purple vehicle and another in wasplike black and yellow. The purple car leapt sideways, but the white literally jumped at the last moment, flipping over and around, landing on the other side of its adversary, leaving the purple and wasp-colored cars next to each other; the black and yellow shimmied and smacked the purple sideways as the white pulled just ahead… and the checkered flag came down.

 

Ariane heard herself cheering, and saw DuQuesne both grinning and shaking his head, laughing. “You were right, Ariane,” he said. “I guess you do follow these races.”

 

The winner screamed past the stand, waving as he accelerated into his victory lap; the gates to the actual Victory Lane opened, though there were barriers in front to prevent any unusually stupid or foolish spectators from getting in the way of the winner when he came in.

 

A few moments later the white car skidded sideways into Victory Lane and the door popped open even as the car was still vibrating from the halt. The young-looking, dark-haired man yanked off his helmet and waved to the crowd, grinning. For several minutes, there was nothing but the traditional after-race celebration – the time-honored champagne sprayed everywhere, interviewers trying to ask the same questions that, Ariane knew, somehow never really got old for the racers because every race was different, the attendees pressing in and being shoved back.

 

Finally, though, she managed to get through the crowd enough to catch the winner’s eye. He bounded over, a broad grin starting up. “Ariane Austin! I haven’t seen you since the celebration after the Alacrity Classic!”

 

“Been a while!” she hugged the driver, and turned. “Vel, I want you to meet my friend Marc. Marc, this is –”

 

She heard the sudden dulling of sound that only a portable privacy screen created.

 

“Velocity Celes,” finished DuQuesne with a faint smile. “Yes, I know.”

 

The grin on Vel’s face had frozen, faded. For a moment, the two stared at each other.

 

“How’ve you been, Vel?” DuQuesne said finally.

 

“Oh, you’re kidding me,” Ariane heard herself say.

 

“Sorry, but no,” DuQuesne said.

 

“I’ve… been pretty good, Marc,” Velocity finally said. “But… you, here?”

 

“Can you get away soon?”

 

Velocity nodded, looking around at the rest of the crowd – the nearer of whom wore puzzled and somewhat annoyed expressions. “They’ll be… a little disappointed, but for you, yes. Of course. Meet me at my pit area in … half an hour. It’s secure.”

 

The glance she got from DuQuesne carried all the hint she needed. He needs to talk to Vel alone. “You guys go. I’ve got to talk with Hawke anyway.”

 

Hawke gave a mock-glare as she exited the privacy screen. “So you’re cutting in on me, when I brought you down myself? See if I cut you any breaks in the next race, Austin!”

 

She laughed. “And when was the last time you did cut me any breaks?”

 

“Oh… the time I ran you into the third keyhole at the Circum-Mars Unlimited. You got several breaks then, right?”

 

“I did. So you’re right, you’ve given me some breaks. I’ve given you a few too.”

 

“Saturn Ring Daredevil, yeah, I’m not forgetting that one any time soon.” He was following her. “I’m guessing you want to talk now, instead of later? And away from the crowd too.”

 

“Way away, Hawke.”

 

She wasn’t DuQuesne, but both DuQuesne and Gabrielle had given her tools and tips on how to make sure that the nominal security and privacy guaranteed by the Anonymity War was made as inviolable as possible. I’d forgotten Gabrielle used to work with the CSF and SSC under Maginot during her field surgeon work; she knows a lot more about these ops than I might’ve thought. With that advice, and native caution, she was able to make one of the nearby lounges secure.

 

Hawke had sensed the process and his expression was bemused. “What the hell, Ariane? This isn’t an SSC meeting!”

 

She tried to smile, found she couldn’t. “It might almost be.” She took a breath. “Look, Hawke, we’ve been competitors, but I think I can trust you, and we need people like you.”

 

“Who’s we, and what do you need people like me for?”

 

She grinned. “We just might need you to help save the world.”