Eric Flint's Blog, page 290

Polychrome – Chapter 20

Polychrome – Chapter 20

Chapter 20.

Ugu the Unbowed stood on the balcony overlooking the petrified Emerald City; halfway to the horizon the pure dead gray ended, in a line as sharply drawn as if by a knife, and the green of the surrounding lands began. “And so it begins.”

“Sire?” Cirrus Dawnglory – or, at least, the being who now wore his name and face – said, clearly unsure of what his King meant.

“Ah, you are here. Excellent. Walk with me, Cirrus.” Ugu turned from the balcony and began a slow walk into the depths of the Gray Castle. “Our spies – the finest and most subtle of the transformed spirits of Air which the Queen could craft – have reported back, and today – almost precisely one year after his arrival – the mortal has left the Rainbow Kingdom and landed somewhere in Faerie.”

Cirrus drew a deep breath. “I see. So the forces are now moving and the war cannot be far away.”

Ugu nodded. “Indeed, and this is why I have called for you. Cirrus, you – and you alone – are truly suited to prepare our defenses against the forces of the Rainbow Kingdom and – potentially – the other kingdoms of Faerie. We must discuss this now, at some length, as we have no way of knowing exactly when the assault will come, or in what form, and you may have extensive preparations to make.”

Cirrus’ head, crowned with hair as fine and white as his namesake, nodded sharply. “I understand, Sire. I have many thoughts on this.” They passed from the South Wing to the West, walking now through the area of the Castle reserved for Ugu’s use.

Ugu smiled thinly. “I am sure you do – and you will write them all down later.” Cirrus glanced at him, puzzled.

“We have far more important matters to discuss. Matters involving Her Majesty.”

Cirrus went several shades paler. “M… my King, I…”

“You wonder that even I would speak of her? Remember, Cirrus, it was I who helped her regain her form. I whose recipes and apparatus removed first my form, and then gave to her the shape she now wears. I, Ugu the Unbowed, am a master of many magics indeed. I studied the lore of Glinda, and the Wizard, and many others, those in my line and those beyond, sorcerers, witches, warlocks, faerie, alchemists, even the secrets of the Yookoohoo herself.

“She has spies –” Cirrus burst out in warning before he could catch himself.

“Do you think I do not know this? She can transform nearly anything or anyone as she will, and place her own will upon many such things. Yet here, in my portion of the Castle, she is still unaware that I have complete control. Her spies still see us talking, and report to her that we are discussing strategies and tactics. Which I will, at the end, command you to prepare a detailed report on, including annotations indicating what useful additions I may have suggested.”

Cirrus stared at him, both hopeful and apprehensive. “She cannot…?”

“She hears precisely what I wish her to hear, sees only what I wish her to see. Only within this part of the castle, true – I cannot safely extend my powers outside of that area without her potentially discovering it. Now,” he continued, pausing and looking down coldly at the young man, “we must talk.

“You see, I am quite aware of the Queen’s nature. She has… given you much incentive to focus your loyalty, has she not?”

Abruptly the lightly tanned face flamed red, then went pure white and Cirrus stared up, immobile with fear.

“I see.” Ugu chuckled. “Draw breath and fear no more. I am hardly unaware of those temptations, General Dawnglory. And even less am I held by them. You, of course, must follow whom you choose. But here you may speak freely, and so may I. And I say to you that she is a viper, a serpent of great beauty and skill and yet deadly to the touch, one who in the end will destroy all she encounters until she is finally eradicated by one who understands her for what she is.”

Cirrus’ face was slowly regaining its color as he realized that the King had not brought him here to suffer a painful and permanent accident, and his expression shifted to puzzlement. “But… Sire, if you know of the… favor shown to me, and her promises… are you not –”

“– taking considerable risk in revealing these things to you?” Ugu nodded. “Oh, certainly. And yet, I think, not so much risk as others might believe, for you – though not born a warrior of the Rainbow Kingdom – have become such a warrior, and one of such skill and courage that for a hundred years you were the right hand man of the General of Hosts. Such a man is the sort to see where his true interests lie, no matter what silken promises may be made by others.”

Cirrus seemed thoughtful, trying to decide how to reply. As he opened his mouth, a tremor ran through the castle, and Ugu held up his hand sharply. Another tremor. Another, and it was clear that these were footsteps, the massive tread of something so immense that even the tremendous stone edifice of the Castle had to respond to its movement. Both stood frozen as the titanic figure drew closer and closer. Suddenly, for a moment, the nearby tall windows were blacked out, the entirety of the third floor thrown momentarily into shadow by the hulking armored form of something so huge that even here, forty-five feet in the air, the head was still too far up to be visible through the windows.

Ugu only lowered his hand once the footsteps had faded away. “The Yoop has sharp ears, and is entirely her creature – one I cannot influence.”

Cirrus shuddered. Ugu could not entirely blame him; what Amanita Verdant (neé Yoop) had done to her erstwhile husband was a thing of horror, transforming an ordinary giant into a monstrous and twisted juggernaut of destruction which lived only to serve her will.

On the other hand, I have heard enough from her in the dark of night to know how little sympathy the Yoop deserves from anyone, for it was he who made her what she is, in truth. A part of him was, honestly, somewhat sorry for Amanita; the torment she had suffered at Yoop’s hands – and other parts – indicated that the Yookoohoo’s vengeance had not only been richly deserved but had, perhaps, merely brought to the surface the monster which had always been there.

Still, it was also another proof of her own vicious and heartless nature.

“As I said, Cirrus; I believe you understand your position well. I know what sort of a creature the Queen is. I was allied to her from convenience, and she to me, and both of us know that sooner or later one will betray the other. We both make preparations.

“But she believes that this is in the end a war of magicians, of sorceries, and that her powers will exceed mine. She may be right in the latter; but I believe this is also a game of alliances, of powers within the people. I made many mistakes in my first attempt to conquer Oz, and I will not repeat them. I had no allies, nor did I attempt to gain any, believing myself sufficient unto all things. I paid for that. I paid dearly for that.” He restrained the snarl that always came to him when he remembered his centuries as a nearly-helpless Dove. “I believe that having a loyal General commanding thousands of troops is a very powerful weapon. I believe, in fact, that a General who will have to examine all of his resources and describe to me their deployment – and how they might serve in small tactical areas as well as large, strategic ones – may be the most powerful weapon I could ask for. More than sufficient, perhaps, to balance out whatever small advantage in power the Queen may possess.”

The widened eyes showed that Cirrus understood exactly what he was saying. “I am no fool, Cirrus Dawnglory. Unlike her, I have learned. I will reward loyalty well – loyalty and honest effort, Cirrus, not merely success. I understand – none better – that failure is a possible consequence of trying. If you give me your best effort, I will not punish you for failure. You will not find the Queen so tolerant.”

“No, Sire… I agree with you.” Cirrus said finally. He had, after all, seen much of Amanita’s temper. “But when –”

“We need not speak of that now. You need neither write nor say anything of that matter until I say otherwise.” He smiled with a sharp and cold expression in his eyes. “But think much upon it, and how best it can be accomplished when the time comes – perhaps just after the True Mortal has been captured and the final sealing ritual performed. I need her for that – but afterwards, she would be no longer necessary.”

He sighed. “And to tell the truth, Cirrus, she is far too dangerous to live much longer. You have seen her … volatility. As she tampers more and more with the darkest forces… I am afraid she will only become worse. She will be a danger, not just to me, but to our entire realm.” Ugu looked straight into Cirrus’ eyes. “What say you then, Cirrus Dawnglory? Are you with your King?”

For answer, Cirrus dropped to one knee. He drew his sword and held it up, presenting it to the King. “I swear to you, my King. My loyalty and my strength and my will are yours to command.”

Ugu smiled and took the sword, reversed it, and placed it back in Cirrus Dawnglory’s hands. “It is well, Cirrus. I accept your pledge with gladness. Rise and let us continue our walk.”

They walked for a moment together, the tension in Cirrus clearly draining somewhat away… to be replaced by the tension of new realization. “Yes, that will be a problem, my friend. You must continue to play your part with her.” He gave a sudden laugh. “Ahh, perhaps I will show some jealousy over this favor of hers, giving her both the belief that she can still control me in that fashion and that I have no clear hold over you. How sits that with you, Cirrus? Could you manage to carry out such a deception?”

Now it was Cirrus’ turn to laugh. “My King, my apologies for reminding you of what you doubtless recall… yet you speak to one who walked the Rainbow Fortress for three centuries and more and never once was suspected.”

“Ha! No, my apologies to you instead. Of course such a simple task you can manage. Amanita is far less subtle than Iris Mirabilis or his General, I think.” He nodded, noting where they were. “We are close to the area where her spies will begin to hear us again. So I will begin to speak of another important matter, one connected to strategy, which follows logically from what she will have seen.” He took another deep breath. “General, I have one other command for you, and I suspect you will not like it.”

Realizing he was once more potentially under the watchful eye of the Queen, Cirrus looked suspicious. “And what is that, Sire?”

“While you may have to journey the country for a short time in the next few weeks, you are to return here immediately if any sign of enemy forces is seen. Moreover, you are not to allow yourself to be seen outside of our most loyal troops. Your name will not be mentioned; you must choose another name for your persona as the general of our forces. As soon as it seems even possible that an agent of the enemy could be in Oz, you will return to the Castle and remain there, never emerging until and unless I give permission.”

“What? Why, Sire? A general cannot command his troops nearly as well when he must remain hidden!”

“Because,” Ugu answered levelly, “your very existence is one of our greatest weapons, and under no circumstances do I wish this revealed until we have the Mortal in hand and under control. You are welcome – encouraged, even – to devise all of the stratagems, plots, and tactics that you wish, and we will make all manner of use of them, but you will take absolutely no risks that may betray your identity.” He looked down at Cirrus, face forbidding and grim. “Is that understood, General?”

Cirrus’ look of resigned frustration was picture-perfect; Ugu could not tell how much of it was honest annoyance and how much was merely following a script that the younger man clearly understood very well. “As my King commands.”

“So I do.” He glanced at the sun in the sky. “I have other duties to attend to for now. General, I want you to write up a report on all we discussed this day and submit it to me – with your recommendations – before three days have passed.”

General Dawnglory bowed. “It will be done.”

“Then that is all. Dismissed.”

He watched the argent-haired warrior depart and allowed himself a small smile. Let Amanita make of that what she would. He now knew he had a powerful ally which the Yookoohoo would underestimate… and he knew how best to use him.

In a few months, there would be only a King in Oz.

 

1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 46

1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 46

Vienna

“Well, the LIC sent the money,” Moses Abrabanel said, smiling.

“I figured they would,” said Dana Fortney. “But we still aren’t going to be able to start the rail line. Not enough iron, and it will be four months before the steel mill in Linz will be running.”

“I was given to understand it was going to use wooden rails.”

“It is. In fact, we’re going to use dowels instead of nails and spikes whenever we can. But we still can’t avoid using steel for some things. And we need good steel, because to get the same strength from iron would take twice as much.

“No. . . . What we’re going to have at first is simply a good road. That, we can do with just Fresno scrapers and lots of labor. That by itself will allow multi-trailered steam wagons. Not great, but a heck of a lot better than a mule train. Then, using the road, Sonny figures that a single wooden rail to take most of the weight of the train will let us at least double the cargo capacity. But we won’t even start that till next year at the earliest. Meanwhile, it’s just a works project. Lots of people earning salaries. Not great salaries, but salaries.”

“Well, that will help the unemployment and the level of debt your businesses have been accumulating.”

“It should,” Dana agreed, though she wasn’t at all sure that it would help enough.

Grantville

Karl Eusebius paced around the room as he dictated the letter to Herr Hofer, who sat at his typewriter. These weren’t the easiest letters he had ever tried to write. First, one to the family, telling them he was engaged. Once the inimitable Herr Hofer had the letter in shorthand, he would type them out and give Karl a copy for his signature. Finally, he had the first one written and started the second. This one to Ferdinand III, the emperor of Austria-Hungary, explaining that he would like to come to Vienna for the wedding, but couldn’t do it unless he had assurances that he would be allowed to leave again.

It helped a bit that Ferdinand III was a friend, and his younger brother Leopold was a close friend.

Karl debated. Perhaps if he wrote Leopold . . .

No. It had to be faced. His friend, the emperor, was probably somewhat angry that Karl had had to deal with King Albrecht of Bohemia. Hm. That might be a solution, Karl thought. Perhaps he could act as ambassador to Austria-Hungary from Bohemia. Perhaps King Albrecht might support him . . . that would give him diplomatic status.

Of course, diplomats did get taken hostage . . . sometimes . . .

Karl stopped dictating letters and went to the telegraph office. This once, he was glad that the telegraph didn’t go to Austria. Yet.

****

As it happened, King Albrecht of Bohemia was quite pleased with the plan. He had good reason to want a settlement with Austria-Hungary, because he wanted a fairly small chunk of Hungary without a war. Also, he wanted to avoid having the whole issue between the USE, Saxony and Brandenburg sucking in Austria-Hungary, because they would probably be sucked right through his territory. The shortest route from Austria-Hungary to Saxony was right through Bohemia.

So he was quick enough to agree with Karl’s request, but it still took a little while to make everything official.

Magdeburg, United States of Europe

“So what do you think the chances are for hostilities to resume between Austria and Bohemia?” Mike Stearns asked his Secretary of State.

Landgrave Hermann of Hessen-Rotenburg pursed his lips thoughtfully. Now that he’d served the prime minister in this capacity for a year, Hermann was a lot more relaxed than he’d been at the beginning. Among other things, he’d learned than Stearns had no objection if one of his ministers took a bit of time to think upon a matter before expounding his opinion. He appreciated the fact, given that it suited his judicious temperament.

The truth was, Hermann hadn’t wanted to become the Secretary of State in the first place — and still wasn’t very happy with the situation. But he’d had little choice in the matter. His older half-brother Landgrave Wilhelm of Hesse-Kassel was one of Gustav Adolf’s primary allies in Germany. He’d been keen to get Hermann a prominent position in the cabinet and refusing him would have been problematic.

Thankfully, Stearns had accepted the situation with good grace. He’d  never been anything other than cordial in his dealings with Hermann and, as time passed, the young Landgrave of Hessen-Rotenburg had developed a great deal of respect for the prime minister.

There were many noblemen in the Germanies who considered the up-timers a pack of puffed-up peasants who owed their meteoric rise in status to nothing more than their mechanical skills. (Regrettable skills, to many — but hard experience had by now proven to even the most cast-iron aristocratic minds that the Americans made a huge difference when it came to war.). Hermann might have even been one of them, initially. He could no longer remember clearly what his attitude had been two or three years earlier.

Working as Stearns’ Secretary of State, however, had disabused him of whatever notions he’d had then. He’d found that the USE’s prime minister was as shrewd as any political leader in Europe, shrewder than most — and probably more far-thinking than any other. He had no intention of telling anyone — certainly not his own family — but he’d already decided that when the time came to vote for a new prime minister, he’d quietly vote for Stearns rather than Wilhelm Wettin. He disapproved of some of the up-timer’s policies and had doubts about many others, but of one issue he was now certain — the position of the USE in its dealings with other powers was safer in Stearns’ hands than it would be in any other’s.

“Smaller all the time,” he said. “There are three critical factors, and they all work in the direction of peace — even, I think, toward a final settlement.”

“And they are…?”

“First, the threat from the Ottomans. Which seems to be growing again. Second, the advice he’s getting from Janos Drugeth.”

“Which we know about because…”

Hermann grinned. “Drugeth keeps warning him, but the new emperor still has the habit of speaking in front of servants. Some of whom — two, I believe, although Fernando is evasive on the subject — are on our payroll.”

Stearns chuckled humorlessly. “It’d probably be better to say, on anybody’s payroll. But those two factors have been there for some time. What’s the third one?”

“This one is new. It seems — I say this partly from the reports Francisco Nasi gets from Vienna, but also from word that comes to me through my own contacts –”

That meant other noblemen to whom Hermann was related in some way. Which, given the realities of aristocratic intermarriage, included a good chunk of Europe’s entire upper crust. Mike Stearns had realized long since that European noblemen were every bit as sloppy about blabbing stuff to each other as they were about blabbing it in front of menials.

“– that the influence of the up-timers who moved — and are moving — to Vienna is growing faster than I’d ever have expected. I’m not sure why, but the fact of it seems certain.”

He had a bemused, almost mystified expression on his face. Mike managed not to laugh, or even smile.

 

Castaway Planet – Chapter 06

Castaway Planet – Chapter 06

Chapter 6

Akira’s arms hugged Laura tightly for a moment. “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” she answered on the same channel. One good thing about having private comm channels was that you could have a private conversation even in the middle of a not-too-large cabin. “But my God, Akira.” Even after four days it was still hard to grasp what had happened, and only now that they had successfully reached that target solar system had she started to allow herself to think beyond the question of whether something would happen to the little shuttle’s Trapdoor Drive.

“I know. We weren’t prepared for this.”

She rotated around to face him and then retightened her sleeping tether. “No one even knew this could happen. I wonder if this is the first time, or whether it’s happened to other ships, too.”

He shrugged. “No way to know, Laura. And doesn’t matter now.”

“Now that we’ve found a good star… what are our odds?”

She felt him draw a deep breath. “One in twenty that there’s a planet we can live on — in theory. If Sakura can land us.”

That was one of the things that worried — no, to be honest, terrified her. She didn’t doubt Sakura normally, but without the AI running, everything would depend on one fourteen-year-old girl piloting a ship from orbit to landing.

“Stop worrying about that,” Akira said firmly. “First, it’s useless; we can’t change what we have to work with. Second, the main automatics may be gone, but there are still some basic stabilizers and other safety devices to help her. Third, she’s been studying and doing calculations with Caroline every spare moment. Caroline, Whips, and Melody have been working on display apps for Sakura’s omni to help guide her down. Sakura will do fine.”

“You’re sure?”

He kissed her quickly. “Sure? Nothing about this is sure, Laura. But what I am sure of is that Sakura will do her best, and that’s all we can ask her to do. If we die trying, well, we’ll die anyway if we don’t.”

She smiled and nodded. “I suppose you’re right. It’s not like we have much choice.”

“No. Sakura’s the only one of us with any idea how to operate this ship. And so far she’s doing just fine. I can tell how proud you are of her, too.”

“I’m proud of all of them. No panic, yet. All listening, all pulling together. I’m most worried about poor Harratrer.”

Akira was silent for a moment. “Well, we’re only a few weeks from the Goldilocks Zone, if Sakura’s current estimates of speed and what the Nebula Drive can do are right. I checked our stores and what you gave me on his biology. We can keep everyone well-fed, even Whips, for longer than that. The ship was pretty well-supplied.  And if there is a livable world, it will have an ocean that he can probably handle; remember that we made sure they had the adaptations to deal with wide variations in water salinity and mineral content.”

That much was true, and just hearing Akira repeat the facts calmly helped to relax her. When the Europan Bemmies and human beings had established long-term contact, the relatively primitive aliens had turned out to be surprisingly open to understanding. They had showed little of the signs of culture shock that had plagued various human societies — although that was probably at least partially because the Interplanetary Research Institute and its sponsoring U.N. had managed to strictly control interactions with the aliens at first.

The Bemmies, AKA Bemmius pelagica sapiens Sutter, were not identical to the similarly named aliens who had, sixty-five million years before, set up bases in humanity’s solar system and then nearly killed themselves off in a war, but were instead evolved descendants of lifeforms with which Bemmius secordii sapiens had seeded Europa prior to leaving the system. But evolution had taken them down a similar path, and to human eyes the two species looked very similar. The Europan natives had been fascinated by the idea of a real world beyond the sky — given that the most prevalent religion on Europa had been about gods that lay “Beyond the Sky”, which meant above the crust of ice that covered Europa, this was not surprising.

It was impractical, to say the least, to have starships filled with water (for many reasons, ranging from sheer mass to electronics issues), so for a while it seemed that only a rare ambassador, scientist, or student from Europa might travel from their home world. But then one of the now-aging survivors of the first Europan venture, A.J. Baker, had suggested that — just possibly — the Europan Bemmies could be adapted to live in air and water, as had their long — vanished distant cousins. “We’ve seen what we can do with genetics in the last few decades — life extension, engineering healthy organs, engineering new versions of lifeforms for our own use — and it’s not like it’s a new idea. Heck, it’s the exact idea Bemmie used when they seeded Europa to begin with!”

There was much reluctance at first, but to many people’s considerable surprise, once word of the idea got to the Europans, some of them practically insisted that this be tried, none of them more vehemently than Blushspark, the Europan Bemmie who had made First Contact. And with careful, painstaking work… the design had succeeded.

She sighed. “I’ve figured out a way to wet him down without choking us on mist. It won’t work forever but… a few weeks, yes, though I don’t think he’ll be in top shape. Now… if there is a decent planet?”

“I can’t give odds on unknowns. What I know of biology tells me that we will probably be able to find something to sustain us there.” He glanced at her with momentary concern. “That is, if you can keep our medical nanos going to filter out incidental toxins, and maybe convert some materials to any vital nutrients we’re missing like the vitamins.”

She thought about that for a moment. “I think so. LS-5 has a good nano updating installation onboard, and I have my medical kit. I’m not sure we’ll be able to update them like we do at home, though, and over some time the concentration may drop. Medical nanos are strictly limited in self-replication.”

“If you can get LS-5 to do so, I’d have it replicate some nanos now for a reserve. No telling what demands we’ll put on it later. We’ve got a few weeks at least.”

That was an excellent suggestion, and she checked LS-5‘s systems. “Yes, I think I can do that, and it shouldn’t interfere with other operations. Good thinking, love. What about other survival issues?”

“LS-5 is nuclear powered, and there’s a lot of equipment and material we can use in her. We were, after all, going to a colony world that’s just opening up. She’ll serve as excellent shelter for a long time, and we can move around as we need. Don’t worry, Laura, if we find such a planet, we’ll be okay.”

She looked over at Whips, who was floating at his own station, clearly awake, probably observing the comparator. His people, Laura remembered, didn’t generally sleep in the same cycles as human beings. They went into a sort of not-entirely-unconscious torpor for a few hours, then wake for several hours before going back into the recuperative torpor. Only when they were severely exhausted or injured did they seem to sleep deeply the way humans did — although they did, in torpor, have something like human dreams. “It’s a good thing he is so close to Sakura.”

Akira glanced in that direction, some of his black hair trying to escape its netting. “Yes. He has a connection to us and that should help against the loss of his pod.”

Suddenly, Whips stiffened, and then shouted in his deep, vibrating voice, “Found one!”

The others jolted awake, Sakura blinking blearily at her friend, Hitomi giving a little yip! of startlement, and Melody glaring at the big alien. But Caroline seemed instantly alert. “A planet? Where?”

“Here — I’ll send you the coordinates in my viewing field.”

Sakura unsnapped and drifted herself over to the controls. “Everyone secure? I’m going to turn us towards the coordinates so Caroline can use the telescope.”

Laura checked on everyone, especially Hitomi, who had a habit of unsnapping herself at the most inopportune times. “Everyone’s secure, Sakura.”

The ship pivoted and turned and the stars swirled by, then steadied. “Okay, Caroline, that should do it.”

Caroline studied the view, her hands twitching slightly with control gestures. Suddenly she stiffened. “Oh. My. God.”

“What is it?”

For answer, Caroline sent the image to the main channel. Laura heard herself give a gasp.

Floating in the star-speckled blackness was a world, illuminated in a crescent by the nearby sun, a crescent that showed swirls of white and brown but mostly a beautiful, rich green.

“Caroline?” Akira said tensely. “Where is that? Is it –”

“Measuring now, Dad. Sakura, can you check me?”

“Now that you’ve bullseyed it, I can track back through the data for the parallax, yes.”

Another few moments passed, then Caroline leaned back, and her voice was shaky. “I put it at one hundred nineteen million kilometers from the primary, a little inside the middle of the habitable zone.”

“Yes, yes, I check you, Caroline! It’s there, it’s a planet in the Goldilocks zone.”

“It’s the right size, too,” Caroline said, her voice showing almost as much excitement as Sakura’s. “I make it about thirteen thousand kilometers across.”

“Caroline,” Akira said calmly, “give me the feed, please. And Melody, your spectroscopic app?”

“Yes, dad,” they both said. Laura understood what he was looking for, and said a silent prayer to whoever, or whatever, might be out there.

Hitomi was staring at the image of the planet. “It’s so pretty! What’s its name?”

She smiled. “It doesn’t have a name yet, little girl. We get to name it.”

Hitomi stared up at her with huge eyes. “We do?”

“We do.”

The eight-year-old looked back at the screen and then gave a nod so emphatic that it would have caused her to spin if she hadn’t been strapped in. “Then I wanna call it Lincoln!”

“Lincoln?” repeated Melody in a puzzled tone. “Why would you ever call it after President Lincoln?”

“Presi — who?” Hitomi looked confused. “No, because that’s its color — like the clothes those men wore in that story!”

“Those men — Oh!” Melody suddenly laughed. “You mean Robin Hood’s Merry Men, and they wore Lincoln green!”

Laura smiled. “Well, I think that’s a perfectly good name. What do the rest of you say?”

As Laura had expected, while obviously Sakura and Melody had hoped to name the planet (and, she admitted to herself, so had she), none of them wanted to disappoint the excited Hitomi. “Then Lincoln it is.”

“Why are the oceans green?” asked Sakura. “I’d think they’d be blue, like Earth’s.”

“It could be due to any number of reasons,” Caroline said. “A different mineral/particulate suspension in the water than we have on Earth. Or –”

“An abundance of chlorophyll-bearing creatures,” their father interjected. He was smiling broadly, and pointed to the virtual display they could now all see, a pattern of dark bands on bright. “We’re down to those odds I couldn’t guess. Chlorophyll. A beautiful, unmistakable variation on chlorophyll, and a perfect indicator of life like our own. The other ecologies use other pigments.”

As the meaning of the words sank in, the others cheered. Hitomi didn’t exactly understand, but she knew good news when she heard it, and cheered as well.

“It’s possible it may even be a seasonal thing,” Akira continued. “Something like huge algal blooms that periodically making the sea brilliant green across most of the globe, then fade away. Even on Earth you can sometimes get very green water that’s visible from orbit.”

Laura felt immense relief go through her. “Sakura?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“This is your Captain speaking, Navigator.”

Sakura snapped her an exaggerated salute, grinning from ear to ear. “Yes, Ma’am! What are your orders, Captain?”

“Set us course for Lincoln and give us an ETA.”

“On it, Captain Mommy!”

Sakura immediately went into conference with Caroline and Melody. Laura had to admit after a few moments that she honestly didn’t really understand the discussion. Unlike her offspring, physics calculations and orbits and vectors just didn’t interest her much. But she could tell the three girls were arguing over the best approach to use the Nebula Drive and heard terms including “constant acceleration”, “orbital transfer”, and “least-time course”. Whips drifted over and joined the debate. She noticed that the Bemmie’s normally smooth, flexible skin already had a fine network of lines over it, like dry human skin.

After a few more minutes, Sakura nodded and the other three seemed to have reached agreement. The fourteen-year-old strapped herself back into the pilot’s chair and carefully manipulated several controls before turning back to them. “Deploying Nebula Drive dusty-plasma sail. According to calculations, ETA is three weeks.”

Laura finally felt herself relax. That was well within Akira’s estimate of their food supply and, she thought, her ability to keep Whips in functional shape. It wasn’t going to be easy, no. But they had a livable destination, they could get there fast enough, and they had the tools and equipment they needed.

The worst was over.

 

1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 45

1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 45

“Is Karl all right with a morganatic marriage?” asked Judy the Elder.

“He says he is,” Sarah said. “And I think it’s mostly true.”

“Mostly true?”

“Well, he grew up Prince Karl, heir to the Liechtenstein family holdings, so he’s a bit ambivalent about not passing that on to his children. On the other hand, he knows that between us we can set up trusts that will make sure that the kids have a good start. And in the new world we’re building here in the USE, that should be enough.”

****

The Liechtenstein Improvement Corporation got the news over the telegraph in the private code that Karl had had generated by a computer program in Grantville back in 1633. It was two copies of a notebook, one of which Karl kept, and the other for the board. The reasons for the encoding were two fold. One was the tabloids. The National Inquisitor was already printing speculation about when Karl was going to ask Sarah to marry him and what she was going to say. He wanted to inform his family and Emperor Ferdinand III before they read about it in the papers.

But there was a more important reason for codes. Karl was, for the most part, if not sanguine about his marriage to Sarah being morganatic, and least resigned to it. However, he didn’t want that to mean that his children’s entire inheritance would be from Sarah. Nor did he want Sarah to have to live on her income. Sarah wasn’t poor by any reasonable standard. But Karl Eusebius von Liechtenstein was not raised to a reasonable standard of wealth. Instead, he was raised to a royal standard of wealth and by that standard, Sarah Wendell was barely getting by. By Karl’s standards, a person of reasonable wealth could raise and fund their own army at need. And it was his intent that once they were married, his wife and children should be able to do that if the need arose.

Karl was going to use the LIC to move some funds from the family accounts to private businesses and partnerships that could go first to his wife as her dower, and through her to their children when they came along. And he didn’t want his uncles to know about it. For that matter, he wasn’t totally convinced that he wanted Sarah to know about it. Judy the Younger Wendell, on the other hand, would do fine administering the fund till it was needed. The LIC had as members Dave Marcantonio and Father George, but also Judy the Younger, Susan Logsden and Millicent Anne Barnes, members of the Barbie Consortium.

“Did you know he was going to ask this trip?” Millicent asked Judy accusingly.

“Naw. I figured he’d chicken out again. He’s been carrying that ring around since he got back from Prague. It’s Morris Roth’s work and the rock’s big enough that Sarah’s going to have trouble holding up her hand. And her left arm’s going to end up a couple of inches longer than her right.”

Susan snorted. “How much did the Roths charge him?”

“I don’t know. Silesia, maybe,” Judy said. Which was, Dave thought, utterly ridiculous.

“Ladies, if we could get to the financial part of the message,” Dave said. “I’m a bit concerned about Prince Karl using the LIC for this.”

“Why?” asked Father George Hamilton.

“Legalities,” Dave said. “He’s using the LIC to move money from his family accounts to his personal accounts. I’m worried that it could be seen as malfeasance on the part of the LIC.”

“I don’t think so,” said Father George. “However, I will consult with the lawyers about it. Most of the monies in the LIC were provided by Prince Karl’s individual investments, which the rest of the family had no part in.”

“That’s fine. I’m just not sure that his uncles and cousins are going to see it that way,” Dave said. The board had received letters from the Vienna branch of the family, attempting to get the LIC to provide funds for friends of the family. Those requests had been passed up to Karl. Some he had approved, and others not.

“Which is why he’s keeping it quiet. It’s not so much that he fears he would lose a lawsuit, but that he doesn’t want to fight one if he can avoid it.”

****

Two days later, they got the lawyers’ report. What Karl wanted to do was iffy, but probably legal. The LIC was in place to give loans and provide startup capital and equipment to companies and businesses on the Liechtenstein holdings, wherever they were. Which of those companies were to receive the loans or gifts of the LIC was at the discretion of the board, under the direction of Karl von Liechtenstein. If he chose to have that money given into hands that would also benefit his future wife, well, there was no rule against it.

****

The Barbies setup the Dower Corporation, which would be funded by Karl out of his personal funds, then receive equipment and low interest loans from the LIC. It would be managed by the Barbies and would buy things like farms and mines on Liechtenstein holdings, and set up factories, also on Liechtenstein lands.

And in the meantime, the girls were sworn to secrecy. Not just in regard to the family, but especially in regard to Sarah.

They were in the middle of setting that up when Henry Dreeson was killed defending the synagogue in Grantville. Bill Magen, Vicky’s fiancé, was shot and killed in some of the distracting riots and it seemed to Vicky that no one really noticed in all the concern over Mayor Dreeson.

Twenty-five miles north of Vienna

Sonny Fortney took a drink of small beer and returned the canteen to his belt. It was a cold day, but he was working up a sweat in spite of the weather. There were several hundred people here and there were four more camps spread out like beads, each one using Fresno scrapers to build a road bed to the next and the ones back toward Vienna with wagon after wagon of crushed rock and coal tar to pave the raised mound. Still, it was going incredibly slowly because the ground was frozen about half the time. In engineering terms, the smart thing to do would be to wait till spring. But people needed the work now, and if they waited till spring some of those people would have starved to death in the meantime. Sonny hoped that Prince Liechtenstein came through, because if he didn’t they were going to have to shut down.

 

Castaway Planet – Chapter 05

Castaway Planet – Chapter 05

Chapter 5

The unnamed star glowed before them, a visible disk, as LS-5 came out of the Trapdoor Drive. Now the next cycle of worry begins, Whips messaged to Sakura, who gave a tense, wry grin. Finding a good star was excellent luck… but we cannot live on a star.

Yeah. But let’s take one problem at a time. He saw her shove the worries out of her mind and concentrate on trying to figure out their location. We’re already moving some with respect to the star, so if I can get any parallax at all that will give me a good idea of distance. I can sorta guess based on the likely diameter of the star, probably about one and a quarter hundred million kilometers, but it could be significantly more or less than that.

Finally she shook her head and sat back. “I’ve got a rough guess as to our distance, but it’ll take a while to refine that and get a velocity vector. At a guess, we’re maybe two AU from the star.”

“I thought the star looked a lot more than Europa-sized,” Whips said. “I mean, the size the Sun looks from Europa.”

“Yeah, that was really all I had to go on, given the uncertainty in the Trapdoor transit distance. If it’s a yellow supergiant I’d be totally wrong… but I don’t see all the gas and stuff it should be shedding if it was a supergiant, and if that’s what it was we’d be pretty much out of luck anyway, so it has to be a regular G-class.”

Caroline nodded. “Besides, if it was a yellow supergiant it would have been incredibly bright at a quarter light year distance. Trust me, it’s a regular G3.”

“Why do we have to wait to get parallax?” Laura asked reasonably. “Just do a quick jump with the Trapdoor Drive.”

“We could do that,” Whips said, since he saw Sakura looking uncertain. “But the Drive doesn’t come up and go down fast; what happened to separate us from Outward Initiative is almost certainly partly due to something trying to do a fast adjustment on the field. You’re deforming spacetime itself, after all, and that’s something you need to do very, very carefully. So… in practice you don’t want to do jumps shorter than, oh, thirty seconds or so, which since that’s going to be a full continuous jump instead of one that’s interspersed with recharging moments, that’s a minimum jump of… well over seven hundred million kilometers.”

“Oh.” Laura’s brow wrinkled as she accessed the data. “Ah. That means that even the shortest practical jump covers a distance almost as far as Jupiter from the Sun.”

“Roughly, yes,” Whips agreed. “There are special drive designs that can do shorter, faster jumps, or ways to tune these for that, but…” he gave the rippling gesture of arms and color that was his equivalent of the human’s shrugs, “I’m an apprentice. I know the theory but no way am I going to try doing that in practice.”

“We wouldn’t want you to!” Sakura agreed emphatically. “So that means we need to just let our own speed give us the parallax, and then we can deploy the Nebula Drive to get us to our target.”

Whips actually looked forward to that. The “Nebula Drive”, or more technically the “dusty-plasma sail” had been originally invented by Bemmius secordii sapiens — not his direct ancestors, but the ones who’d seeded his ancestors on Europa. Human scientists such as Dr. Robert Sheldon had theorized it was possible, but it wasn’t until an ancient Bemmius relic had been uncovered and repaired that the Nebula Drive was simultaneously reborn and renamed, a method for using ionized plasma to inflate a magnetic field to immense sizes, confining dust and gas within the field and providing the most ethereally beautiful, and low-cost, way to move around a solar system.

“Can we get closer to the star?” her dad asked. “I don’t want to worry anyone, but I know the only other long-distance capability we have comes from the Nebula Drive, and that’s sort of like a solar sail, right? So I can see how it can push us away from the star, but…”

“Remember that we’re not just sitting still with respect to the star,” Whips said. “So the real key is which direction you are orbiting the star, and at what distance.”

“Right,” said Sakura, picking up the conversation, “To oversimplify, you just point your sail so you go against your orbiting direction, and that’ll make you go closer. You can tack with a dusty-plasma sail just like a regular sail. If we can find a good-sized gas giant somewhere, we can also use the gravity assist to send us in the right direction.”

Hitomi spoke up. “And we need to find a planet to land on. So we should be looking for planets now!”

Whips was impressed with his friend’s self-control, as Sakura managed to keep a smile on her face at Hitomi’s innocent assertion. Whips didn’t need to read the datastream from Sakura to know what thoughts were going through her head. There might not be a planet to land on. Probably won’t be. Only one of ten stars like this have good planets in the habitable zone — which is a whole ocean of a lot more than they used to think there would be…

Aloud, Laura Kimei said, “Hitomi’s completely right. Caroline?”

Caroline looked uncomfortable. Whips knew that she hated doing things halfway, or out of order, or, well, just not the right way — and there was nothing “right” about this situation at all.

But she sat up straighter and nodded. “The most puzzling thing to me is that this star is just not on the charts. I checked with what I had from Earth, and if we did just drop off where I think we did, there aren’t any stars where this one sits. Nothing. If there was, the big wide-baseline telescopes in our home system would have mapped any planets in detail, especially habitable ones, even if no one actually went there. But there’s nothing. This star shouldn’t be here… but it is here, and I guess we should just be grateful it is.

“But that does mean we’ve got to do all the survey work ourselves, without a single clue as to exactly what we’re looking for or where it is.” Caroline sighed, pursed her lips, then nodded again. “We’ll need to get all our omnis linked in to the different cameras and do running background comparisons.  Stars don’t seem to move appreciably at orbital speeds, so what we’re looking for are dots that move with respect to the background of the stars.” She sighed. “If LS-5 were meant for this kind of work, it could run the whole comparison by itself while we slept even without the AI, but it was just meant to follow beacons to orbits and landings and take sights only when it knew pretty well what it was looking for. And when we were looking for a nearby star, well, we were looking at the few very bright stars in the sky. Planets might be pretty dim stars, especially depending on what angle we’re viewing them at.”

“Can you program the omnis to do the comparison?” Whips asked.

Caroline hesitated, then nodded. “I have a comparison program from my studies, actually. It can be transferred. But…”

“But..?” Laura Kimei prompted.

“But… well, without any benchmarks it’s going to be really hard to know what we’re looking at. Oh, you can tell the characteristic banding on a gas giant pretty easy, but how do you know if you’re seeing one that’s closer in or farther away? We don’t even know which direction we are going yet.”

“Never mind that,” Laura said firmly. “First let’s find planets. By the time we find some, I’m sure Sakura will have gotten enough data to tell us how fast we’re moving with respect to our star and we can really start nailing things down then, right?”

“Yes, mom,” Caroline said after another hesitation.

They all acquired the running comparator program a few moments later. “I’ve picked out some bright stars as landmarks,” Sakura said. “LS-5 will use those to keep our orientation the same, so each of us has our own camera to focus on and the view won’t shift.”

Maybe a silly question, Whips sent to Sakura, but what if you’ve picked a planet as one of your landmarks?

Oh, come on, Whips, don’t you think I thought of that? The transmitted voice came with a grin-symbol, so he knew she wasn’t really annoyed. I put full magnification on each one to make sure it didn’t change size and got a partial spectrum off each using Melody’s program; they’re emitters, not reflecting the local sun, so yeah, they’re all stars.

Good. He hesitated, then, You know the odds are… not good?

Yeah, she sent back after a few moments. One out of ten chance there’s a decent candidate, and then there’s the question of the biosphere. She looked at her father, who had subtle frown lines on his normally cheerful face.

He knows — better than anyone else — what those odds are.

They’re great odds… if you’re not worried that your life’s being bet on them, Sakura sent back.

That much was true, he had to concede. Out of all of the extrasolar planets found to harbor significant life, one-half had a biosphere that was, astonishingly, compatible with Earthly (and Europan) lifeforms. Why this was true was a source of spirited, not to say flamingly acrimonious, debate between biologists and allied professions. Some held that it was simply a matter of chemistry. There were only so many easily assembled building blocks of self-replicating chemistry, and the ones that Earth and Europa were based on were some of the most easily synthesized, and so it was just likely that similar lifeforms would evolve. Others had championed the old idea of Arrhenius’ “panspermia,” that life had evolved somewhere else a long time ago and been spread through the universe by light pressure or similar phenomena. But so far no one had found an unambiguous example of such spaceborne spores.

No matter the actual source, it was true that half the lifebearing planets found had compatible biospheres — although “compatible” did not in any way guarantee it was safe, or even easily digestible. The other half… were not compatible and generally lethal. And vice versa, of course — an animal of those biospheres eating me would likely die in agony.

So… one chance in twenty, then. We beat odds like that all the time in those card games.

Sure, agreed Sakura, darkly. But if we lose this game we won’t be starting another.

Little Hitomi grew bored of the comparator fairly quickly and drifted through the air to start climbing on Whips, playing with her stuffed flying wolf along the way. Whips sighed, but tolerated it. He was bigger than everyone else, so she’d bother him less than the others. Besides, there was more of him for her to climb on. He quickly found he could keep her amused by wiggling his rear anchors gently so she had to hold on — and sometimes came off to drift away, so Hitomi had to bounce her way back, giggling.

It was still somewhat distracting, but he was able to focus on the comparator data. The running comparator would flick back and forth between images in the field of view of interest, and kept the original images as the start point while constantly updating the second image with new data. Any planets, then, would show an increasing oscillation as the images flicked between original and new images.

“One here!” crowed Akira suddenly. “Definitely moving back and forth!”

“Wonderful, Dad!” Caroline said. “Show me!” She studied it for a moment. “All right, Sakura, I’ll need our full magnification on that location for a minute.”

“Hold on… I’ll rotate us. Okay, there, we’re steady.”

The built-in telescopic optics in the forward imaging system gave Caroline a high-quality image to look at. “Ohh, how pretty!“ she said a moment later, and projected the picture onto the forward screen for everyone to see.

Whips had to admit it was quite pretty, even to his perceptions, which weren’t quite the same as those of his human friends. It was a good thing they had displays which actually emit the intended wavelengths, instead of that old human red-green-blue system; or he’d only be able to make out shapes in those displays.

In the projected image floated a slightly flattened sphere, banded with rippled stripes of startlingly bright colors. Based on what he knew of human perceptions, they ranged from bright red through purple and even some definite green, though he’d use different names for the colors back home. “That seems even more spectacular than Jupiter. What is it with all those colors?”

Caroline shook her head absently. “So many possibilities. Though I looked at the spectrum of the star, and this planet, and I’m pretty sure this system’s got more heavy elements in it than ours. So it might be a higher concentration of complex compounds in the atmosphere.”

“Well, that’s one gas giant,” Laura said. “We need to find others, presumably closer to the star. Sakura, have we gotten enough parallax to estimate distance?”

“I think so.” His friend stared vacantly into air for a moment, seeing her own display. “Um, yeah. Looks like we’re just a hair over one point two AU from the primary, which refines all my other estimates!”

“Where’s the Goldilocks Zone?” asked Hitomi, startling them.

“I’ll tell you in a second,” Caroline said, but Melody, who’d been mostly silent, interjected, “Centered at one hundred thirty-seven million kilometers.”

Caroline looked at Melody. “How –”

“Well, I’d brought up the data on calculating it earlier, so I just caught Sakura’s data and threw it in.”

“So what’s the Goldilocks Zone?” asked Hitomi.

“You remember the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears?” Sakura asked. When Hitomi nodded, Sakura went on, “Well, then, the Goldilocks Zone is the region around the star that’s ‘just right’ — not too close and hot, not too far and cold — for planets like Earth.”

“Oh! That makes sense!”

“Sakura, my measurements agree with yours,” said Caroline. “If that’s the case, then Whips and Mom have the best views of that region, at least where we currently are. But some of the Zone is going to be out of sight or hard to differentiate behind the primary.”

“Let’s allow the system to accumulate more movement,” Akira suggested, “and take a break. The bathroom’s fortunately able to accommodate a Bemmie, as they made all the shuttles from the same design, so why don’t you take a turn if you need it, Whips?”

He had been feeling that need, so he flickered gratitude at the black-haired Akira Kimei. “I will, thank you!”

The others took their turns once he came out, and in the meantime he took a long drink of water and added some salts. He didn’t say anything, but he caught Mr. Kimei looking at him with grave concern. Since Laura had the girls helping her to put a dinner together, he drifted over to Akira. “Don’t worry, sir.”

“It’s not terribly dry in here, is it?”

“Not too bad, Mr. Kimei.”

Akira Kimei shook his head. “Laura is working out a treatment.”

Whips had no doubt that Laura Kimei was trying — and probably would succeed. But… “Sir… Mr. Kimei… if we’re out here very long, we’re probably not going to live anyway. The fact that I’m drying out… well, I’ll stop needing rations –”

“Stop that right now, Harratrer!” The use of his real name made him stiffen, just as he might if his mother were there. “We are all getting out of this, or none of us.”

“Sometimes one must leave the Pod for it to survive,” he said, quoting one of the oldest rules.

“In this case, if we can’t find a world to live on, none of us will. So don’t worry about it.”

He had to admit that Mr. Kimei had a good point, so he rippled his arms in a “you win” gesture, and went over to see about dinner. He might as well stay as well as he could until they knew if there was hope… or none.

 

Paradigms Lost — Chapter 46

Since the electronic ARC of this book is available from Baen, Ryk wants to stop the snippets here.

Paradigms Lost — Chapter 46

Chapter 46: Explanations

“I must confess, Jason, that there are a few things which remain unclear to me.”

Rebuilding Verne’s mansion was taking some time. It had also taken a lot of fast talking to keep Jeri from poking her nose too far in; even though the mansion was relatively isolated, the battle between the half-demonic things which the Colonel had employed and Verne’s household had been more than loud enough to draw a lot of attention. Now, a week later, we were meeting in the repaired living room.

Verne was back to his old, debonair self, black hair glistening sleekly in the lamplight, dark eyes as intense and deep as they ever were. “Firstly, Jason, how did all the people gain entrance without us knowing of them?”

“Since the house was bugged,” I answered, reaching out for an hors d’oeuvre and wincing slightly from the pain in my arms, “Ed and the others heard me come in. Then, when I said to shut down all the electrical power in the house, that took out the alarm systems. Your own personal alarms — mystical ones — weakened along with you, of course. I’d presume that they had some ability to subvert magical wards as well. And of course once the shooting started, none of us would’ve noticed an alarm much anyways.”

Verne nodded. “True enough. In my condition, I wouldn’t have noticed much, nor cared, I admit. Now, second… Lady Sylvia.”

Syl grinned from ear to ear. “It was almost worth being kidnapped by those things to see the expressions on your faces. Jason, dear, you try to take me seriously, but like so many people — men and women — you look at my gypsy facade and my crystal earrings and pendants and forget what I really am.” She paused. “So did they. They really didn’t search me at all; I didn’t resist much except to scream and struggle a bit. Then when they had me locked away …” for a moment her face had a grim expression on it, one I’d never seen before; I wasn’t sure I liked it. “… I prepared myself, and then I… left.”

“Indeed, milady. But how?”

“You trust my visions. So do I. That’s because I’m not a fake.”

I remembered Elias Klein dropping me in agony because the touch of a rock-crystal amulet burned him. I thought about what that meant.

So did Verne. “My apologies, milady.”

“No apologies needed, Verne. You saw me as I prefer to be seen; a somewhat airheaded, gentle mystic with no taste for war and a hint of the Talent. But when my friends are in danger, I’m not as gentle as I look. The truth is that they weren’t ready for a real magician, even a very minor one. And that was fatal.” She looked ill for a moment.

“It’s okay, Syl,” I said.

She looked up at me. “You’re not too shocked?”

“It’ll take a little readjustment, I guess. But not that much. You carry a gun. I’ve known that you’re smart enough not to carry something unless you were sure you could use it if you had to. So I shouldn’t have been surprised that you’d be able to fight in other ways, too. I’m glad it still bothers you, though. As long as we’re both bothered by it, we’re still human.”

Verne nodded solemnly. “Killing is a part of life at times. But it is when we come to accept it as a matter of course that we give up a part of our souls.”

“I have a few questions of my own,” I said. “Kafan, what were those words you said that made the Colonel back up?”

Kafan glanced at Verne, who inclined his head slightly. “Well, ‘Shevazherana’ is the name of that sword my Master gave me, the one Verne kept after I disappeared. It means… Dragontooth, Dragon Fang, something like that. The other word, ‘Tor’… it is the name for the method of combat that I was taught. Why, exactly, it scares demons, I don’t know, but it does.”

Verne shrugged. “It was the technique of combat used by the Royal Family of Atlantaea and their guardians. And demons had good reason to fear that family’s vengeance after the fall of Atlantaea. And the one who taught you… oh, there’s good reason for them to fear anyone who knows that word.”

All of us could see that Verne might know more, but wasn’t going to speak. I decided I’d delved into more than enough unspeakable mysteries in the past few weeks. This one I’d leave alone. “When you were fighting the Colonel, you…” I paused, “you seemed to not move, but move, if you know what I mean.”

Kafan smiled. “You mean, teleported. Yes, I can do that. In combat I can do it very quickly, to anywhere I can see or directly sense. Out of combat I can go much farther, to anywhere I have been often enough to have… well, call it a sense of what the place is really like.”

“So my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. Still, that’s a hell of a power to have.”

“And not one I recall you having to such an extent in the old days, Kafan.”

For an instant there was a flicker of that dead black look, but it disappeared, leaving Kafan simply looking cautious. “No, I didn’t, Father. But I can’t talk about why, not now anyway.”

“No problem. I do have one other general question,” I said.

“Only one? Dear me, Jason, then I must have already said far too much!” Verne said, relaxing.

I laughed. “No, seriously. You’ve often mentioned, offhandedly, things about ‘other worlds’ and how somehow magic was removed or sealed away. I guess my question is… where is the magic? And will it come back?”

He looked thoughtful. “This is not the first time I have considered that question, Jason. To put it simply, magic exists everywhere to at least some very small extent, but its focal point, if you will, is a single world. Why such a truly cosmic force should be so focused I do not know — I never studied magical theory, and the reasons behind such a phenomenon were probably only really understood by a handful of the wizards of Atlantaea.

“However, there was a link — a conduit, one might say — between that world and Earth. Kerlamion and his forces either severed or blocked the conduit. If severed, it might well act as would a similar item in the real world, spraying its cargo of power out into the ‘area,’ if one could use such a term, of the break. Where that would be, of course, is a question far beyond my ability to answer. If it was sealed, on the other hand, the power has been building up behind the blockage. Perhaps there is some maximum which is already reached, and thus the barrier will remain unless something breaches it; or, perhaps, eventually enough pressure, so to speak, will build up and shatter even the Seal placed by the Lord of Demons.”

I thought for a moment. “So, to summarize, ‘I haven’t a clue’ is your answer.”

Syl gave an unladylike snort that turned into a fit of coughing; she’d been just taking a sip of tea when I skewered Verne. As I apologized, the others finished laughing. I sat back in my chair, feeling a crinkle of paper that reminded me of something.

“Oh, Verne, I’ve got something for you.” I handed him the check.

He stared at it. “Jason, I appreciate that you wish to repay me, but we’re hardly done yet. Besides, after what I know you’ve spent, I know you cannot possibly afford this.”

I grinned. “It sure shows that you’ve been too busy to keep up with events lately, or you’d have seen the news articles on it. Verne, I’m rich now.”

“What?”

I opened up the paper. “Take a look. After the Morgantown Incident, werewolf paranoia showed up everywhere. And since there’s only one known way to detect the things, lots of people started making Wood’s Werewolf Sensors or whatever they wanted to call them, including the Feds. Well, a little pushing from the right lawyers — and the President — and the Patent Office recognized that I’d done the design work and owned the rights to every version of the thing being produced. In exchange for a real generous licensing deal to allow them any number of the sensors for government use, the Fed made sure that the private sector manufacturers coughed up the bucks real fast and either got out of the business… or started licensing from me. I’m probably going to have quite a substantial income for a long time to come.”

“Truly it’s an ill wind that blows no good, Jason. Even Virigar has brought something good out of his visit. My congratulations.”

“Speaking of those things, have they actually proven to be of any use?”

“According to government sources — who naturally don’t want to be talked about — a number of, um, ‘paranatural security breaches’ were detected through its use and related approaches. That’s one reason they’re very happy to work with me.”

“So all’s well, then.” Verne said. “It is well done with.”

“We’re not done yet,” I said. “There’s still the question of Senator MacLain. And of Kay and your daughter.”

Kafan nodded, lips tight.

Verne smiled. “True, Jason. Yet I have confidence that we will find a way to deal with these things. The Lady is with me again. I have friends. I have my son.

“Faith, friends, and family, Jason. What more do any of us need?”

 

1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 44

1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 44

Chapter 15: Karl’s Ring

February, 1635

Grantville, United States of Europe

“I have a letter from Hayley,” Judy the Younger Wendell told the girls of the Barbie Consortium. “She wants stuff and she wants money, but mostly she wants me to get Sarah to tell her what’s wrong with the Austro-Hungarian economy.”

“So, what is wrong with the Austro-Hungarian economy?”

“Hey, I’m the pretty sister. Remember?”

“Not according to the Ken Doll,” said Millicent Anne Barnes. “He starts drooling every time he gets near Sarah.”

They were just back from a weekend trip to Magdeburg. A long weekend. It took a day each way. So they had taken the sleeper Thursday night and spent Friday and Saturday in Magdeburg with the Wendell’s, and come back Sunday night. Karl had taken the excuse to go with them and escorted Sarah to the opera. Sort of opera. It was called A Knight of Somerville, a new play written in the style of a 1930s Busby Berkeley musical. They couldn’t do the full Berkley experience, but it had lots of dancing and was probably loosely based on the events of the ennoblement of the count of Narnia. In this case, the juvenile princess actually knighted the knight of Somerville herself, rather than have her father do it later.

“So,” Vicky Emerson said, “when do you think he’s going to ask her?”

“Just because you’re engaged doesn’t mean everyone has to be,” Susan Logsden said.

“I think he’s scared,” said Heather Mason.

“Of what?” asked Gabrielle Ugolini. “He’s rich, he’s a prince, and he’s not bad looking.”

“Of my sister,” Judy proclaimed. “As any sane person would be.”

“Of the crap that’s going to get dumped on them when they actually get engaged,” Millicent said. “You know how Catholics can be.” She looked pointedly at Vicky

“I resemble that remark,” Vicky said. “Or I would if Bill were Catholic. But he’s Lutheran and Cardinal Mazzare says it’s okay. I’ll just have to endow a church or something.”

“Yeah, but will the pope be so understanding? Or the cardinal of . . . ” Judy stopped. “Which cardinal is it who would cover the Holy Roman Empire?”

“It didn’t have one,” Vicky said. “It was Scipione Borghese till he died in 1633, but the post wasn’t filled after that. The Holy Roman Empire didn’t have a cardinal, and now there isn’t a Holy Roman Empire. There are the Habsburg lands, Austria and Hungary, and they have a cardinal, Franz Seraph von Dietrichstein.”

“So how is Dietrichstein going to react?”

“I don’t know. But if Cardinal Mazzare gives them permission, there isn’t a lot he can do.” Vicky said it smugly. She was proud of her parish priest being a cardinal.

****

Sarah Wendell looked at the plane on the airfield outside Magdeburg. It was a Dauntless, one of the line of aircraft made by Kelly Aviation. The original Dauntless had gained famed or notoriety — take your pick — very recently, when it crashed after accidentally bombing Noelle Stull and Eddie Junkers. This was a replica, the first one Kelly had made. Bob Kelly’s wife Kay was here in Magdeburg lobbying the government to buy some for the Air Force.

At the moment, though, she was still lobbying — and the aircraft was still available. Kay was renting it out on a daily basis for anyone who could afford the steep price.

“Are you sure about this?” Karl asked dubiously. “I’ve never seen one up close before. It’s much smaller than they seem up in the sky.”

Sarah shook her head. “I’m not worried about the plane. Bob Kelly may be the world’s worst businessman, but he knows how to build airplanes. The real issue is the pilot.”

Karl now studied the fellow in question, who was standing next to the plane and chatting with someone Karl took to be the mechanic.

“What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t know how to operate the plane?”

“No, Lannie Yost is actually a good pilot. The problem is that he’s also a drunk.” She headed toward the plane. “Luckily, I have a good nose.”

As it turned out, there was alcohol on Yost’s breath. But the smell was faint — Sarah gauged it as one beer. Certainly not more than two. Given Lannie’s capacity, he should be fine.

Not to her surprise, Karl didn’t say anything about the smell. Sarah had already learned that people born and raised in the 17th century were more lackadaisical about drinking than up-timers were. Given that water was unreliable when it came to carrying diseases, that was probably understandable even if she didn’t really approve.

She looked over at Karl. “What do you think?”

“I still prefer comfort.” He smiled at her. “But if you’ll hold my hand, I’ll go up in it.”

****

Holding hands proved to be easier said than done, because of the cockpit’s design. There were seats up front for the pilot and someone else — a co-pilot, theoretically — but only room for one person in the small seat in the back.

At Sarah’s insistence, Karl took the front seat. She’d flown before; he hadn’t. Her hope was that he’d enjoy the flight, once he got over his apprehension. That was the reason she’d made the suggestion in the first place. Since it seemed clear they would be seeing each other for quite some time and he had lands scattered all over central Europe, Sarah figured that aviation would be a handy thing to encourage.

When they got up in the air, Karl turned around to look back at her. “You promised to hold my hand!” he said, shouting to be heard over the noise of the engine.

Sarah rolled her eyes, but gave him her left hand. It was a sunny day and unseasonably warm, so she didn’t object when he took her glove off. Then she felt the cold metal of the ring as he slipped it onto her finger. She turned to look, and he shouted: “Will you marry me?”

Lannie looked at them and grinned. Sarah didn’t let go of Karl’s hand but she didn’t answer right away. She wanted to think about it — and the noise of the engine gave her an excuse to wait until they landed. Besides, she figured after pulling a stunt like this, he should just damn well wait anyway.

The decision took less time than she would have though. Once the plane was on the ground, she didn’t wait for the engine to be turned off.

“Yes!” she shouted.

****

“What about the religious issues?” Fletcher Wendell asked.

“Karl is talking with Cardinal Mazzare,” Sarah said. “There’s not going to be that much of an issue, anyway. He’s Prince Karl von Liechtenstein and I’m plain old Sarah Wendell, so it’s going to be a morganatic marriage. Which is okay. I have enough money so that it’s not going to be a problem for our kids. And, as far as I’m concerned his cousin Hartmann can have it. Or Hartmann’s kids can. I figure we’ll likely outlive Hartmann, unless medical care in Austria-Hungary gets a lot better.” While much of the USE had taken to up-time medical practice with a will, that response was hardly universal throughout Europe. “Anyway, we’ve agreed that we will let the kids choose their religion for themselves once they grow up. Karl has his own confessor, of course, but Father George has a pretty reasonable attitude. He’s been on the wrong end of religious persecution in England, so after a few talks with Cardinal Mazzare, he has developed a great deal of respect for freedom of conscience.”

 

Polychrome – Chapter 19

Polychrome – Chapter 19

Chapter 19.

Polychrome danced lightly through the corridors of the Palace, out the gateway, and laughed. For there were gathered all the people of the Rainbow Kingdom, from the smallest child to the eldest of the wise old women, all gathered to see the Hero off. Far, far away, down the Way of Light that ran from the dawn to the sunset, she could see the tiny figures of Erik and Nimbus, and the much larger shape of her father against the brilliance of the rising sun.

The crowd saw her and gave a cheer; she blushed. I don’t know why I am so popular compared to my sisters. But for some reason I am. Thank the Above that the seven of them aren’t too envious. She gave a laugh and a spin, and then leapt up to dance lightly over the assembled people, feet touching as gently as a breath of morning mist on each of the upraised hands that rose to provide her a path to the beginning of the Way.

“A good morning to you, Princess.” Nimbus said as she arrived.

“Bright sunshine and only clouds of glory, yes.” She smiled back, then said with a touch of sadness, “I only wish Cirrus were here.”

A shadow passed over Nimbus’ face, and her father looked solemn. “Indeed. He knew on what errand you had gone, and it was his greatest wish to see this day. Well, possibly his second-greatest.”

No need for this now. “Well, let us hope he watches us with the Above.”

“So we shall,” Iris Mirabilis said quietly, and then raised his voice so that it rolled sonorously over the entire crowd, “for today we begin the liberation of our brethren; today the Hero of Prophecy sets forth!”

There was a mighty cheer. We have all waited for this day, waited for long enough that even we wondered if this would ever come. She turned to Erik, whose cheeks now flamed red in embarrassment, but who stood tall and straight and faced the crowd, and she laughed suddenly. “And you look every bit the part!” she cried with delight, clapping her hands.

“What? Don’t joke with me about that, Poly.” He was trying to maintain a properly respectful and determined expression, but his voice was that of someone being presented an award for someone else’s work.

“Joke? Have you never looked at yourself?” She gestured and danced, the Music of the Spheres chiming about her in happy laughter, and called the air and warmth and light to do her bidding, formed a mirage-mirror in front of the mortal.

It was fortunate that from behind the mirage blurred his form, because the expression of disbelief would have been a comical and perhaps inappropriate sight for this particular day.

For this day Erik was dressed in the final and finest armor the artisans could create, a creation of cloud-metals and crystals of blue and gold with touches of sunset crimson. The helm was light, almost a circlet or crown rather than a helmet, but it did the older mortal a service in hiding the retreat of his hairline. His shoulders were wide, waist narrow, dark brows emphasizing the glint of blue eyes, and over his shoulder the tall hilt of a mighty sword projected. A small pack, a few other small pouches or containers about his waist, but little else to mar the clean lines of the armored figure. He’s very different than he was when I first brought him here, she thought, remembering the oddly-dressed, somehow soft-looking man who had searched for some Earthly beauty amidst the clutter of his lonely rooms. And yet, she mused, seeing how he looked at himself with wonder and then at her as though she had wrought the change, maybe he hasn’t changed much at all. Maybe he – and we – are only seeing the man who could have been there all along.

The Little Pink Bear was there as well, almost invisible in a carrying pouch at Iris’ side. Now the tiny stuffed creature climbed stiffly out and marched to Erik, who knelt down to view the Pink Bear eye to eye. “I wish you good luck,” the Bear said in his high-pitched childish voice. “I cannot see the end of your road, Hero.”

“It’s okay,” he said, so quietly that none in the crowd could have heard it. “I won’t let you down. I’ll beat them, somehow. And as long as I do that, what happens at the end… I’m okay with it.”

The little Bear bowed stiffly, and Iris picked him back up. “All of our good wishes and our prayers go with you, Erik Medon.” The Rainbow Lord stretched out his hand, and from the very end of the Way a brilliant Rainbow stretched, out and down and down and down, its end coming to rest somewhere in Faerie. Only Iris and Erik knew exactly where that was, although since she was guiding him down the Rainbow she thought she’d probably figure it out, if he didn’t tell her. “Go, and may the Above guide and protect you, your courage uphold you, and your strength never fail you.”

Erik simply bowed, apparently feeling that he had no words to say. But then he turned to the crowd and in a single movement unsheathed the great sword, holding it over his head in a single hand, the immense blade blazing in the morning sun. “For Faerie!”

The roar of the crowd was as deafening as summer thunder, as powerful and joyous as a downpour after a drought, and Polychrome felt a tiny sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. He does understand the power of his symbols.

As dramatically as he had unsheathed the blade, he returned it to its sheath with a theatrical spinning flourish and then bowed low to her. “Lady Polychrome, would you lead the way?”

“With pleasure, Lord Erik.” She waved gaily to the people, who gave another cheer, and began to dance her way along the Rainbow. Erik gave a last wave of his own and then strode after her, keeping pace with her light-footed dance with a straight-forward, almost military rhythm that lent purpose and power to even his simple exit.

It was many minutes before the cheers faded behind them, but slowly they did, and after an hour there was nothing but the gently-curving Rainbow beneath them and sky and clouds around them, with the dim mass of Earth below.

“You have the Jewel of the Bridge?”

He grinned and pulled the glittering crystal that her father had made to bring his Rainbow Bridge through the Great Barrier that separated Oz from the rest of Faerie from his belt. “Never left my side since he gave it to me.”

“Good.” She wondered if she should tell him that her father said that as long as he carried it, they could also watch him, using her father’s powers. Probably not; after all, they wouldn’t be able to do anything, only watch. “My father says that the Jewel will also serve as a Letter of Introduction to any of the true rulers of any of the Faerie kingdoms,” she said instead.

“I admit that’s a relief. I have a suspicion that despite the nice open way Faerie was depicted by Baum, some random guy walking into a king’s throne room and saying ‘Hi, the Rainbow Lord sent me down, would you care to give me some help defeating the conquerors of Oz’ might not get a completely positive reception.”

She giggled, and the Music chimed around her. “No, I think you’re right about that.” She saw him tilt his head and grin. “What?”

“Oh, the music. It’s just so neat how you Faerie have sort of a living soundtrack. Though I notice that it’s not all of your people that have it.”

She shook her head. “Only those of us with a lot of true Faerie blood. It gets fainter and fainter as one becomes more mortal.”

“Still, it’s pretty neat.” They walked along in the near-perfect silence of the sky for some moments. “Hey, Poly – something I’m curious about. You guys mentioned Cirrus, Nimbus’ second in command. If this was his second-greatest wish, what was his first?”

He would have picked up on that. She found herself unaccountably hesitant. “Well…”

“If it’s something you can’t talk about –”

“No, no… well, it’s just that…” She took a deep breath. It’s just a simple question and answer, why do you have a problem with this? “We were betrothed, and Nimbus was just saying that our wedding day might have been Cirrus’ greatest wish.” It hurt to talk about it. But not exactly the way she had thought it might.

He blinked, looking both startled and shocked. “You were engaged to be married? I didn’t… Holy crap, I’m sorry, Poly, you never told me this guy was someone you were in love with! I mean, you never showed how upset you must’ve been…”

Now she felt really uncomfortable. “No, no, Erik, it’s… not quite like that. I liked Cirrus, really, I did. And I’m sad he’s gone, he was very sweet. Very kind, and a very good warrior and a good friend, and I’ve said a lot of prayers for him over the past year. But… I wasn’t in love with him. Father simply felt that it was time for the next generation to begin.”

“Hmph. I didn’t think of Iris as a sexist pig.”

“A what?” For a moment she couldn’t even understand what he was saying, then she managed to dredge sense out of it in the context of some of her other conversations with Erik over the last year. “No, no. It’s policy, Erik. If I was a boy, he’d have chosen one of the court ladies. Nimbus was his first choice, actually, but Nimbus refused – and by the morning mist did that make things uncomfortable for a while.”

Erik’s expression was unreadable, though he had an odd smile for a moment. “I would think it would be. That’s a real ‘offer you can’t refuse’.” Again, as with so many things, it was clear he was referencing something she had no background for. “Nimbus doesn’t look crazy, so what was his reason for refusing?”

“He said that his responsibility was to serve the Rainbow Lord, and that if he married anyone he’d have two people to serve.” Privately, Polychrome thought that the reason was simpler: he didn’t want to marry anyone for anything but love, and not being a prince or princess, he didn’t have to.

“So you don’t get to choose?”

She shook her head. “It’s not common.”

He was silent for a while, occasionally glancing at her with that same hooded look. The glances did give her another subject to talk about, though. “You know, you were right. You do look much better without those glasses. I’m glad father was able to do that for you.”

“Oh, you have no idea what that means to me!” he said with a clearly relieved expression. “I’d tried to have them fixed back home, but the treatments we had… well, they told me my eyes didn’t qualify. Which reminds me…”

He withdrew the thick-lensed glasses from the pack he carried and stared at them. “I’ve wanted to do this for forty years.”

With a sudden violent motion, he hurled the glasses into space; they disappeared into a nearby cloud, then reappeared beneath them, a tiny speck plummeting to an unknown doom. Erik gave a whoop and leap of joy. “HA! Abayo, you stupid pieces of glass!”

She laughed at his joy. “You really disliked them that much?”

“As I said, you have no idea.” He grinned. “When I was a kid, people made fun of my just HAVING them. And in practical terms, they were just a pain.” He strode on, still smiling. “And for this sort of situation… they were kind of a symbol.”

She danced along, an answering smile on her face. “I’m glad.”

Erik looked at her face for a moment, his smile brighter.

She became aware that for some moments they had simply continued moving, looking at each other in silence. That’s dangerous, she thought, and wondered what in the name of the Above she meant by that. Still, she felt it was terribly important she say something. “So for once a mortal knew where the Rainbow would end before the Rainbow Lord, I understand?”

“What?” He seemed distracted for a moment, then nodded. “Oh, yes. Yeah, I had to decide where I was going to start. So much time, so little to do – wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it.” That slightly-lopsided grin again. “Fortunately, the prophecy clearly tells me where to go. ‘Across the sky and sea, wisdom he will seek’. Follow that path, and I’ll also get the companions and the means to cross the Deadly Desert.”

She paused in the dance to stare at him. “From that line, you know where you’re going?”

He laughed. “From that one and the ones following? Most certainly.” He looked down. “And it looks like we’re almost there.”

Below were bare, rocky hills, mountains rising to the south and west; she seemed to recall seeing the ocean as they were descending, off to the East, which would mean the great Nonestic Ocean. One of the coastal countries. Can’t be sure yet – I’ll look more carefully when I go back up. “Be careful. The last part of the bow is… tricky for a mortal.”

“You forget who you’re talking to.” He grinned, and she noticed that he was simply setting his feet down a little harder and creating miniature steps, notches in the normally impervious mystical substance of the Rainbow. In a few more moments, he stepped to the ground, the stones crunching faintly under his feet. “Well… I guess… this is goodbye.”

“Yes.” She found herself unable to say anything else, yet not quite able to just start dancing back up the Rainbow. “Will you… do you think you’ll be all right? Will you be able to find your way… get across the Desert?”

Oddly, he did not answer right away. Instead, he asked, “Poly… I know I have to cross the Desert on my own, even without these companions I’m supposed to find. And I might not live through that. But… if I do… If I get to Oz…” He took a deep breath. “Will I see you again on that side, before the battle that… well, will probably be my last?”

She laughed, but for some reason his words, spoken so low and earnestly, seemed to cause an ache inside for a moment. “Father wanted me to stay safely at home. But I told him that if he didn’t let me go with Nimbus and the others, I’d find my own way there without him. I saw everything fall, Erik. I’m not going to stand back and not even be there when everyone else is fighting. I’m going to be there. You’ll see me there.” She laid her hand on his. “I promise.”

His eyes lit up, gaze locked on hers and she felt a strange shiver go down her back as he gently put his other hand on hers. “In that case, Lady Polychrome… there is nothing I cannot do.”

With an extravagant bow over her hand, he turned and walked to the East.

 

Paradigms Lost — Chapter 45

Paradigms Lost — Chapter 45

Chapter 45: That Future is Past

Morgan opened the door, startled as I pushed past him without so much as a “hello.” “Master Jason… ?”

I looked around, shrugged, jogged into the living room and climbed up on a chair. Verne was in that room, staring at me curiously out of hollow eyes set in a leathery, lined face and framed by pure white hair. “J… Jason,” he said slowly, as I mumbled a curse to myself and dragged the chair over a bit, “what… are you doing?”

“Maybe making a fool of myself.”

I reached up and unscrewed one of the bulbs from the fixture and pulled the fixture itself towards me. Everything looked normal …

The other lights on the fixture went out. Morgan stood near the switch. “Perhaps, if you are intending on tinkering with the lighting, you may wish the electricity off, sir.”

“Thanks, Morgan.” I said absently. Pulling out a small screwdriver, I unfastened the interior baseplate of the fixture.

There. Underneath the base. I didn’t know what it was… but in essence, I did. “Morgan, you said it. Kill the electricity — all the electricity in the house! Now!”

“Sir… ?” Morgan only hesitated for a moment, then hurried off towards the basement and the main breakers. I switched on the flashlight; a moment later the house was plunged into darkness.

“What… what is going on, Jason?” Verne asked.

“I was right all along, Verne,” I said. Morgan entered; he had a much larger portable light. “You might even want to shut off that light, Morgan. Go with candles, unless you bought that light in the last few days.” I turned back to Verne. “It wasn’t magic. It was technology that was killing you. Every one of your lights, and maybe even some other devices, is fitted with a gadget that turns ordinary light into the kind of light that hurts you; my guess is it’s managing to get filaments to spike high enough temperatures to radiate UV somehow, along with everything else; cuts their lifetime down a lot, but they only need this to work for a few months. In the short term, it can’t damage you, but with enough exposure …”

“… yes.” Verne said slowly. “It… it becomes like a slow cancer, eating away at me. But even in the day, when I sleep in darkness?”

“Probably a device in those rooms does the same thing. If, as I suspect, it’s not just one wavelength of light but a combination of them, it probably can’t do enough in darkness to continue hurting you during the day, but it could slow your recovery so that you’d always be getting damaged more than you were healing during your rest. Especially if the really critical wavelengths are combinations of ultraviolet and infrared.”

“How did you know?”

“There were a lot of clues, but the biggest one — that didn’t register until almost too late — was that the few times you were outside of your house you actually started to look a tiny bit better. But when you and Sylvie couldn’t find anything, I was stumped… until I remembered that coincidence is damn unlikely.”

We both thought for a moment. “I must confess, Jason, that I don’t quite understand.” Verne said finally. His voice was slightly steadier already, testament to the tremendous recuperative powers that were his, and I started to relax slightly. It looked like I might be right. No, I knew I was.

“Take both your stories. Let’s say that they’re both true. Well, to kill you, someone would have to know what you are, exactly. Maybe one of your old enemies, right? Who else would know precisely how you could be killed subtly, without alerting everyone for miles around? But this happened just as Kafan showed up, so that’s not coincidence either.

“So what if the lab Raiakafan escaped from was being run by the same people who were your enemies, Verne?”

“Impossible,” Verne breathed. “After all this time …”

“But it would explain everything. And there’s evidence for it. Raiakafan himself — if your enemies didn’t have a hand in this, how else? You survived all these years, they certainly could have. And another thing, one that’s bothered us both for quite a while: Klein. Where the hell did he come from? Only another vampire — of the kind made by one of your enemies, note — could create him. And what did he do? He set you up, that’s what — tried to get you killed off! Somebody knew where you were, and what you were! Somebody who knew that converting Klein would give them a weapon to entrap you, and they damn near succeeded. If Virigar hadn’t shown up, I suspect there would have been another attack on your life.” I took another breath, continued, “And look at the timing. Klein showed up sporting a new set of fangs, if my calendar’s right, a few weeks after Kafan whacked the good doctor. They knew who Kafan really was, and they knew where he was coming.”

“Very good, Mr. Wood.”

I knew that voice. “And Ed Sommer’s business started about the same time. Funny thing, that, Ed. Digging into your background produced some fascinating blanks.”

Ed was holding a large-caliber gun — .44, I guessed — pointed at us. While ordinary bullets wouldn’t hurt Verne and probably not Morgan, either, none of us expected that he would be using ordinary bullets. For me, of course, the point was moot; if you fired a wad of gum at the speed of a bullet it’d still probably kill me. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Jason. If we hadn’t been watching the house constantly the past couple of days, you might have blown the whole thing. We wanted him,” he nodded at Verne, “to go unconscious before we actually moved.”

“How very convenient for you that I happened to decide on remodeling at just the right time.” Verne tried to deliver the lines in his usual measured and iron-sure way, but his weakening had gone far past the point that a mere effort of will would banish it.

“Convenient, but hardly necessary. Morgan, down on the floor. Once we’d tested to make sure that our precautions rendered us invisible to your casual inspection, the installation could have been made at any time. More dangerous and risky, but no major enterprise is without risk. And after we began remodeling, the whole house was wired in more than one way. It would have been a lot easier if our… subcontract that sent Klein over had worked out, but hey, measure once, cut twice, right?” He smiled. “We learned a great deal recently. It does bother me about Kafan’s new identity. Why anyone would take that much interest in this case is a matter for concern. But not for you.” Ed shifted his aim directly to Morgan and, to my horror, began to squeeze the trigger.

Weakened and sick Verne might have been, but when it came to the life of his friend and oldest retainer all his supernal speed must have come back. There was movement, a blur that fogged the darkened air between Ed and Morgan for a split second; then Ed Sommer was hurled backwards into the front stairwell with an impact that shook the house. The gun vanished somewhere in the darkness.

Then the lights came on. There must have been more of Ed’s people in the house. Caught in the light again, I could see Verne sag slightly.

From the ruined wood there came a curse, but that wasn’t the voice of a human being. A monstrous figure tore its way out of the wreckage, a hideous cross between man, lizard, and insect. Humanoid in form, scaled and clawed and with patches of spiked, glistening armor from which hung the tattered remains of Ed’s clothing. “A good final effort, Sh’ekatha,” the Ed-thing hissed. “But foredoomed to failure.”

While it was focused on Verne, I had time to draw my own gun. Its gaze shifted towards me just as I got a bead on it.

BlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlam! I emptied a full ten rounds into the monstrosity. The impacts staggered it, battering at critical areas until it toppled backwards. “Run!” I shouted. Verne and Morgan were already moving, and I ejected the magazine and slammed in a fresh one as I sprinted after them. A single glance had sufficed to show me that the bullets hadn’t done any notable damage. “Just once I’d like to find something I can shoot and kill, like any normal person!”

Verne staggered down the basement steps, to be caught by something indescribable that tried to rip him apart; Morgan intervened, shoving the interloper through a nearby wall with unexpected strength. “Keep going, sir!” he said over his shoulder as he kept his attention on his adversary. Distantly we could hear other things smashing; the rest of the household must be under attack now as well!

“Damn you, Jason!” I heard a distant voice roar as we pried open the door to the Heart. “This was supposed to be a subtle operation!” Massive feet thundered down the stairs behind us.

The door swung open; I shoved Verne through and stepped through myself, pulling the door shut as a huge shadow rushed towards me. Just before it reached us, though, the door swung shut and I twisted the lock. The impact on the other side shook rock dust from the tunnel ceiling.

“It will not stop him for long, Jason,” Verne forced out.

“A little time’s better than none.”

I’d seen the Heart only once before, as a sort of postscript to Verne’s story; here, as before, things seemed quieter; like a summer forest in midafternoon, lazy, sleepy, silent. In the center of the large cavern, a perfectly circular pool of pure water shimmered in the light, blue as the vault of heaven. At the far side, a squat obelisk of black obsidian. The Mirror of the Sky and the Heartstone. Hanging on that far wall was some kind of sheath or casing.

I became aware I was gasping for breath, realizing only then that Verne hadn’t really been running; that I’d been dragging him along instead. Even here, in the place most sacred to him, he had no strength any more. Technology was winning the battle.

A rending, shattering sound echoed down the corridor as I dragged Verne to the pool’s far side and dropped him to rest against the obelisk. Slow, measured footfalls clicked down the tunnel. The snake-headed monster that had called itself “Ed Sommer” entered the room, smiling at me. “Too bad about you, Jason. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I didn’t say anything; I couldn’t afford to waste my breath.

“Tired?” it asked cheerfully as it continued towards me. “Well, it will be over soon enough.”

As long as he was moving slowly, with full control, I didn’t have a chance. “At least I know you’re not going to survive me by much, Ed or whatever your name is.”

The slit-pupilled eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I found the location of your laboratory tonight. My TERA-5 got lucky and matched patterns. And if I don’t send the ‘no-go’ code within a couple of weeks, the system I stored the info in will dump the location and all the info I have on the lab’s operations into every intelligence agency and scientific forum on the planet. It’ll be a lot easier to pry the kid and the mother away from a bunch of squabbling agencies than from one group of demonic crossbreeds with a unified purpose.”

The lie worked; it fit perfectly with what they knew of my capabilities, and if I had found the location, was precisely what I would’ve done if I had no other choices. The giant figure charged forward. “I’ll have that code out of you if I have to rip it out of your heart!”

Jesus he was fast! Fast as Klein! But with him charging, everything changed. I jumped up onto the Heartstone and lunged to meet the Ed-thing just as he leapt towards us across the Mirror of the Sky.

The impact stunned me, and I felt at least three armored spikes go deep into my arms, but I held on. My momentum had mostly canceled his, and the two of us plummeted directly into the deceptively deep pool below.

A detonation of leaf-green light nearly blinded me as the entire pool lit up like an emerald spotlight; surges of energy whipped through me and I came close to blacking out. Boiling water fountained up and I was flung outward to strike with numbing force on the altar, shocked, parboiled, and aching. Electrical arcs danced around the edge of the water, then spat outwards, shattering the lightbulbs across half the room. A roar of agony echoed from the depths of the Mirror of the Sky. Then the boiling subsided, the eerie green light faded away. Blinking away spots, I looked down. A few pieces of spiky armor, bubbling and dissolving away like Easter Egg dye pellets, were all that remained.

“One more guess confirmed.” My voice, not surprisingly, shook. I reached down and retrieved my gun from where I’d dropped it near the Heartstone.

Verne gave a very weak chuckle. “If they were my enemies, they would be the very antithesis of the power I wielded. Yes?”

“I hoped so.”

Another voice spoke from the entranceway. “And you were quite correct.”

I felt my jaw go slack as I looked across. “Oh… oh damn. You’re dead.”

In the bright lights that remained, the Colonel, resplendent in his uniform, walked towards us. “As is oft-quoted, reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. Kafan, poor boy, didn’t realize precisely what I was, so he only damaged my body. As you learned,” and suddenly, without any visible pause, he was there, taking the gun from my hand with irresistable force, “ordinary weapons are rather useless against us. Tearing out my throat was an inconvenience, easily remedied. But it seemed more convenient to appear to die and hope he’d lead us to the other two children, rather than just keep fighting him.” Despite all my struggles, he picked me up and tied me up with rope he had slung over his shoulder. A casual kick from him sent Verne sprawling. “Now we can fix things. Pity about Ed, though. Rather promising in some ways, but a trifle dense. If only I’d been a moment sooner… good bluff, boy. But your mind is a bit transparent.” He set me down on the Heartstone and groped under his uniform. “Now where… ah, there it is.” His hand came back into view, holding a long, sharp, crystalline knife. He smiled.

I couldn’t maintain my usual facade of confidence here. I swallowed, tried to speak, found that my throat had gone completely dry.

“Don’t bother trying to speak. You see, a ritual sacrifice on this stone will negate its very nature, ending the power of this shrine, which is quite painful to me, and in his weakened condition it should also destroy the priest. So you, by virtue of your very bad fortune, shall be the one through which we cleanse the world of the last trace of Eonae and her nauseating priests.”

“So why are you bothering to tell me?” I managed to get out. “Just a melodramatic villain with a long-winded streak?”

He laughed at that, a cheerful sound all the more macabre because it was so unforced and honest. “Why, not at all; a purely practical reason, I assure you. You see, fear, despair, and the anticipation of death are part of what strengthens the ritual. They are antidotes to life and endurance and all the other things that this shrine represents. The more I allow you to muse upon your end, the more you see your friends weakened and destroyed, the stronger my final sacrifice will be. If it were just a matter of killing you, I’d have had you shot from behind weeks ago.” The blade rested on my Adam’s apple, pricking my skin coldly. He drew a line down my throat. I felt a warm trickle of blood start. “And your little seer friend, the girl… she, also, has a part to play in this.”

“She’ll see you for what you are, and get away.”

“I think not. We had her caught earlier this evening, actually. I was anticipating the priest’s incapacitation this morning.” He raised the knife, brought it towards my right wrist.

A blurred motion swept past me, taking the Colonel away in that instant. A confused set of motions later, the Colonel and the blur separated and stopped.

The Colonel regarded Kafan with tight-lipped amusement. “I must confess I didn’t expect you quite yet.”

Kafan answered in Vietnamese; the two squared off. “What do you hope to accomplish, boy?” the Colonel asked. “You failed the last time. What is the point of fighting me again?”

I began wiggling my hand towards my Swiss Army knife. If I could just get it out…

“This time you’re not coming back,” Kafan growled. He and the Colonel exchanged a blinding flurry of blows and blocks, neither of them touching the other.

“Really?” the Colonel said. He swept Kafan’s feet out from under him and hammered the smaller man’s face with his elbow. Kafan barely evaded the next strike and rolled up, throwing a punch at the Colonel that left a dent in the wall. They circled each other, Kafan spitting out a mouthful of blood as the Colonel’s grin widened, the teeth sharpening. “And why is that?”

“Because now I know what I am.”

The Colonel hesitated fractionally. Not quite as much as Kafan obviously hoped for, but even so Kafan’s instantaneous lunge nearly decapitated him. As it was, the Colonel’s preternatural speed pulled his head aside barely in time, Kafan’s claws scoring his cheek with five parallel scratches. “Feh! Kr’lm akh! What difference is that, boy? So you were meant to be a Guardian! Without the Goddess behind your power, what are you but a simple thug, one whose blows are nothing more than stinging sand?” I’d hoped his words were boasting, but seeing how those five cuts were already closing up, even as he spoke, I realized that the Colonel was only speaking the truth.

Kafan returned the Colonel’s grin, with interest, his form fully changed into a tailed, fanged humanoid. He straightened slightly and brought his arms into a strange, formal stance. “I don’t need the Goddess behind my power. All I need are two words, given to me by the Master who taught me.”

The Colonel tensed.

“Tor.”

At that word, the Colonel stepped back.

Not fast enough. Two slashing movements of Kafan’s hands, too fast to follow, ripped aside blocking arms as though the Colonel hadn’t even tried, and a third strike against the uniformed chest sent him flying into the wall with a combined sound of shattering stone and breaking bone.

While the Colonel slowly rose, bones forcing themselves back to their proper positions and healing in moments, Raiakafan sprinted to the section of the wall nearest me. “And Shevazherana,” he said. He pulled the sheath from the wall and drew the immense, squat-bladed sword from it.

The Colonel’s eyes widened. His form began to shift and he leapt away, towards the exit.

Raiakafan stood there, impossibly having crossed the room in the blink of an eye. “No escape for you, monster. For my father — this!”

The first slash took off the changing form’s right arm. It screeched and tried to stumble backwards. It ran into something, spun around to find itself facing… Raiakafan again. “For my children — this!”

The other arm flew off in a fountain of red-black blood. Screeching in terror, not a trace of humanity left on its bony, angular form, the thing flapped feeble wings and flew upwards, away from the implacable hunter. A hunter who disappeared from view while both the monster and I stared at him

And once more the creature that had been the Colonel rebounded from something that had appeared in its path. Falling along with the stunned demon, Raiakafan shoved it downwards so it landed prone on the grassy floor of the cavern. “And for my wife.”

The great sword came down once more. In a flash of black light, a flicker of shadow that momentarily erased all illumination, the thing dispersed.

A pile of noisome dust sifted away from Kafan’s sword, dust that slowly evaporated and turned into a smell of death and decay… and faded away to nothing.

“Get up, Father,” Kafan said, helping Verne up. “It’s over now.”

I staggered wearily to my feet, feeling the warm trickle of blood down my arms. “No. Not yet. They’ve got Sylvie!”

Kafan cursed in that ancient tongue. “But where?”

“Only one guess. If she isn’t being held in a van or car nearby, she’s got to be at Ed’s place. At least, I hope so. Because without the Colonel to tell us, it’ll be a long hard search if that’s not where she is.” And I couldn’t afford to think about that.

“Is it not… possible that he was bluffing?” Verne said weakly.

“Do you think he was?”

Verne didn’t answer; his expression was enough.

“Neither did I. He wouldn’t bluff that way. He was smart enough to set things up ahead of time.”

Kafan looked at me. “You’re not in any condition to fight.”

“Don’t even think about keeping me out of this. Who else are we going to call?”

Somehow we got to the top of the stairs. Morgan, with his usual imperturbable expression denying the very existence of his torn clothing and bloodied form, smiled slightly as we emerged. “I’m glad to see you’re all still alive.”

“Can you drive, Morgan?”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Certainly, Master Jason. I presume there is some urgency?”

“If any of these monsters are left, they’ve got Syl.”

Morgan snatched the keys from my hand and half-dragged me along. Verne was moving somewhat easier, but it was plain that neither of us was up to a fight with a half-dead Chihuahua, let alone a group of demonic assassins. The fact that neither Morgan or Kafan said anything told us that they knew that we’d never allow ourselves to be left behind.

The drive across town was excruciatingly slow. It seemed that every block was ten times longer than it had ever been when I drove along it before. We entered Morgantown’s main district, crossed through, and continued. Though only fifteen minutes had passed, I felt as though precious days were passing. Syl. How could we have left her unguarded?!

Ed Sommer’s house was lit up like a full-blown party was going on inside. The fence around it looked normal, but I could tell it was stronger than it appeared… and electrified, too. A contractor like Ed wouldn’t have had trouble installing all sorts of bad news for intruders.

“Hang on, gentlemen,” Morgan said.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Going through the gate, of course,” he said calmly, as the engine on Verne’s limousine roared and we were pressed back by acceleration. “Without being in suitable combat condition, our best chance is …”

With a rending crash, the limo shuddered but tore through the gateway.

“… total surprise and uncompromising speed. Prepare to attack.”

We dove out of the limo, expecting a counterattack momentarily. The front door of the house popped open. Arms screaming in pain, I still managed to bring the gun up, sighted on the target —

— and dropped the gun immediately. “Don’t shoot! It’s SYL!”

Sylvia emerged fully from the doorway, stepping gingerly over the limp body of a demonoid as she did so. As I raced up the steps and embraced her, she smiled and said, “I see you missed me.”

The events caught up with me, and I nearly fainted. Syl caught me and supported me, helped me towards the car.

“We should hurry, Master Jason,” Morgan said. “There may be others pursuing her.”

“There aren’t,” Syl said with calm certainty.

 

1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 43

1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 43

****

Some people didn’t want to sign the credit slips and went elsewhere, but all the new businesses that the Sanderlins and Fortneys backed had some up-time or new-time tech that made their production cost less so they were mostly inexpensive. They didn’t lose that many customers. Others decided that it was better to pay cash if they had it. So the new businesses were getting more cash in, but SFIC was still losing money — if you didn’t include the money owed to them. Most of the businesses in Vienna were facing the same problem.

****

One side effect showed itself a month or so after they started giving credit. There were a number of government employees who got paid either spottily or not at all. And quite a few of them had bought clothing, packaged foods, or other products from one or more of the shops that had sprung up near the race track. When Albertus Kappel, one of the “them of Vienna,” decided to shake down SFIC for a large bribe, he ran right into a brick wall. That wall wasn’t the emperor, it was the clerks.

“How did he find out about us?” Gayleen Sanderlin asked.

Barbara Klein grimaced. “It was the IOUs. They all say Sanderlin-Fortney Investment Company.”

“So this guy, one of your customers, came in and told you this . . . just out of the blue?”

“Young Benedictus owes us quite a bit,” Barbara said. “He’s very in love with his own looks.” She grinned. “Very much in love with himself. But he’s not a bad boy and he knows we’ve been treating him fairly. Besides, if we get closed down, where would he get his clothes?”

In the various offices of the city and national government, clerks who owed SFIC money provided warning and back-dated forms documenting that everything had been done by the book. Well, most of it had, but it was impossible to follow all the regulations. Having clerks who owed you money helped when it came to paperwork.

****

“Yes, I know they have an agreement with the emperor,” Albertus Kappel snapped. “But that doesn’t make Race Track Village an imperial city. And it is within the traditional purview of Vienna. Legally, it is no more than a village owned by the emperor and his partners. Not even crown lands, but part of the emperor’s personal holdings. Besides, we have more of the up-timers now.”

“Fine. But the emperor is a part-owner of Race Tra– the village,” Peter Grochen said.

“We will not be asking the emperor for anything. But this Sanderlin-Fortney Investment Company is abusing the emperor’s trust and getting above itself.” Visibly, Albertus got himself under control. “The new emperor is young and perhaps overly enthusiastic about up-time innovations. But he has advisers . . . older, wiser heads . . . that he will listen to. This flaunting of the traditional privileges of ‘Them of Vienna’ has to stop.”

Peter Grochen, who was no more pleased with Race Track City than Albertus — but was rather more leery of imperial whim — left Albertus to it.

****

“The tradition and law has always been that the Hofbefrieten, court merchants, do not pay municipal taxes,” Albertus Kappel granted portentously. “But these are not Hofbefrieten. They haven’t paid the fees the royal court charges for that privilege. Yet they don’t pay the onera that guild artisans and merchants pay, either. Nor have their techniques been approved under the rules of the guilds of Vienna.”

“Perhaps,” Ferdinand III said calmly, “that is because they are not in Vienna.” Ferdinand III was pretty good at saying things calmly when he would prefer to rip someone’s head off. It was part of the job and he had been raised to the work. “Race Track City is located on imperial lands, almost four miles from the city wall.”

It was clear to Ferdinand III that Kappel wasn’t thrilled with how the interview was going, but the jackass went gamely on. “They are within the cities environs, Your Majesty.”

“No, they are not!” Ferdinand III said.

“Your Majesty, while the land is owned by Your Majesty, it is not, in fact, crown lands.”

Ferdinand held out a hand, and into it was placed a document that bore several seals. One of them, in fact, was Albertus Kappel’s own seal. The document acknowledged that the land in question was not legally part of Vienna or its environs. Ferdinand was a little curious about where it had come from, but not very. As it happened, Albertus’ clerk, Benedictus, had handed that document to Albertus Kappel a week before, in a stack of similar documents that Kappel had signed and sealed as a matter of course, without ever looking at the contents of any of them. Ferdinand showed Kappel the document and the seal.

For Albertus Kappel, the interview went downhill from there. Albertus was one of those who held both imperial and city rank, which wasn’t supposed to happen, but did constantly. By the end of the interview, he held neither.

****

Albertus’ secretary, Benedictus, was the dapper young man with a taste for clothes that really shouldn’t have been beyond his means — if he had been being paid what he was supposed to be paid. Benedictus and several other young men found that their debts to several shops in Race Track City had been forgiven. After that, the SFIC-backed businesses had very little trouble from the burghers of Vienna, as long as they didn’t try to do business in Vienna proper.

The race track, with the support of Ferdinand III, developed its own small town with barbershops, beauty shops, restaurants, and a tailor shop. A toy store that sold little casein plastic models of the 240Z, and other cars and trucks. Casein dolls, which if not up to the standards of a Barbie, weren’t all that bad. Also soccer balls, baseballs, softballs, and bats, toy soldiers, lego-style blocks, and a variety of other items. There was a grocery and dry goods store which sold packaged foods, makeup, toiletries, casein containers for holding things like dried beans and flour.

Through it all, almost no one knew that Hayley was financing most of it.

****

SFIC wasn’t the only investor in new tech. Even before Emperor Ferdinand II had died, up-time tech had been creeping in. The cheat sheets that were produced for the USE worked just as well in what was left of the HRE. The burghers and Hofbefrieten of Vienna adopted them and many of them had to do with how to get more product out of less labor. As the new tech was put in place, the amount of product increased as the need for labor decreased. When the old emperor died, the new emperor tried to get as much of the new tech as he could.

What none of them realized, not Hayley, not the emperor, not the emperor’s advisers, and not the burghers and Hofbefrieten of Vienna, was that they were all making the economy worse. It’s what Hayley hadn’t known, save that something was wrong with the economy, and she needed Sarah Wendell to tell them what.