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1636: The Devil’s Opera – eARC

Is available at http://www.baenebooks.com/p-2029-1636...

 

Noah’s Boy – Snippet 35

This book should be available now so this is the last snippet.

Noah’s Boy – Snippet 35

He looked at her.  His eyes were within dark, hollowed circles, and his face looked… older somehow.  Tom had always looked younger than his twenty one years, a condition Kyrie attributed to the fact that he was well… no one would call him that to his face, but Tom was frankly pretty: features that were perfectly regular, big enamel-blue eyes, and those dark curls framing his face.  If he’d been a girl he’d have been beautiful.  Because he was a man and one who looked like he didn’t like to start fights but could finish any fight started around him, people called him “handsome” but that wasn’t quite right.  Handsome called for a more sharply cut chin, for rougher features.

Because of his features, Tom usually got carded everywhere he went, and if he’d shaved recently people often assumed he was still in high school.  But now his features looked graver, older.  He looked his age until you looked directly into his eyes, and then he looked an age that no human being could be, thousands and thousands of years old.

Still, as he looked at her, his lips twisted up in a smile, and his eyes softened.  “Right now, my dear, I’m the Great Sky Dragon, and though many people have called me a bastard in the past, I don’t think my dad would like to hear it.”

“Speaking of your dad –” Kyrie said.  “Isn’t he supposed to visit sometime soon?”

“Not until the weekend,” Tom said.  “When we’ll either be done with this or –”

“Or?”

Tom shrugged, then his look changed, and the eyes again had that impossibly old look, “Listen, if something happens — if I should not … well, if I don’t survive this…  Would you tell my dad the whole story?  I don’t know what he might make of it otherwise and… I’d like him to think well of me.”

She felt her features harden, her mouth draw into a straight line, as she employed her strongest voice-of-command.  “Tom Ormson,” she said.  “You are not going to die.”

He chuckled, standing up, and kissed her on top of her head.  “Even you can’t order me not to die.  I don’t want to, of course, and I’ll try not to.  But –”

She grabbed at his arm.  “But nothing.  You’re not going to die.”

“I’ll do my best not to.  Meanwhile, if you go on home, I’ll try to see about paying Jason and sending him home to sleep a bit, then wait till he comes back, and then I’ll come home to sleep.”

Kyrie looked up at him.  You didn’t need to be an expert in Tom Ormson to see trouble brewing.  And she was an expert in Tom Ormson.  “You’re going to do something stupid,” she said.

“Nah,” he said.  “Just look out back and see if we can find Old Joe.”

* * *

She stopped at, of all places, a Chinese restaurant — a small one, tucked into the side of a mountain, probably the only ethnic restaurant in a hundred miles.  She was starving, and she thought Rafiel might or might not have cooked.

The restaurant didn’t have the look of a triad outpost. It was small, with maybe ten tables, and what appeared to be a married couple working behind the counter, while a baby in a playpen slept in front of it.  They were just opening to clean and set up for lunch, she guessed.  She was three hours early for their advertised lunch time.  But they didn’t make any trouble about it.  Instead, they worked down the menu with her, explaining what could be made quickly enough and what couldn’t, and she ended up with some general or other’s chicken and beef with orange flavoring, as well as two tubs of rice in a take out bag.  They offered egg drop and she took it, too, before paying and taking her leave.

Rafiel might very well think she was nuts showing up at ten in the morning with a bagful of Chinese takeout but she guessed not.  Shifters ate when they had shifted, and she hadn’t eaten enough at that very odd conference.  She felt too weak, anyway, and it was no good at all to be starved.  She kept being afraid she’d shift into a dragon and go hunting rabbits or deer.  And if it were just that, it wouldn’t be very bad at all.

Her first thought on seeing the cabin was that something was terribly wrong.  The door stood open to the outside, and when she walked in and called Rafiel, no one answered.  She thought perhaps it was the habit, this far away from civilization, to leave everything unlocked while they went out hiking or something.  Perhaps he’d just gone hiking.  But she had a very bad feeling.

She walked to the kitchen, set the food on the counter.  And then she heard the water running.  In one of the bathrooms, water was running continuously.  Okay, so he wasn’t out, he was taking a shower.

Following the sound of the water to the bedroom he’d taken, she knocked at the door to the bathroom.  “Rafiel!” she called.  “Rafiel.”

No one answered.  She cleared her throat and tried again, louder.  Still no answer.

Something in her told her that there was a problem, that things had gone very, very wrong, that she should … What?  Burst in on a near stranger while he showered?

But what if he’d passed out?  What if –

She took a deep breath, opened the door a crack and called into it, “Rafiel.”  There was no answer, though it seemed to her she heard a sound like gasping.

Then she realized what was really wrong.  When you opened the door of a bathroom where someone was showering, you expected to have a blast of steam hit you.  Not in this case.  Right.  That was it.  If he’d had a heart attack in the shower, he might have run out all the hot water.

And what if he just liked cold showers?

Into the cold bathroom, she called again, “Rafiel.”

That sound like a gasp, once more, but no words.  Right.  Bea opened the door completely and walked in.  For a moment she thought the bathroom was empty.  It was smaller than the one upstairs, and it had only space for a vanity, a toilet and a shower enclosure.

The enclosure was glass on two sides, and one of those pre-molded plastic things on the other two.  The water was on and running freely, but no one stood in the enclosure.  Then she looked down.

Rafiel was huddled in the corner, under the streaming water, his knees pulled up, his face resting between them, his hair soaked, his shoulders shaking, not as if he were crying, but as if he were struggling to breathe.

“Rafiel,” Bea said, alarmed.  She pulled the door open.  He looked up.  He stared at her, his eyes wild and uncomprehending.

It wasn’t as if he’d gone animal, though.  She’d seen animal eyes.  She’d also seen the eyes of people coming off a high around campus, and that wasn’t it either.  It wasn’t even as if he’d gone mad.

No.  The expression in his eyes was one she’d seen once before when her father had found one of the dogs he’d treated for many years and who was one of his favorites dead by the side of the road.

Shock, she thought, and went all decisive.  She didn’t know why Rafiel was in shock, but she knew he was.  And shock she could deal with.

She opened the shower door further, reached in, turned off the water.  It was freezing cold, as it splashed her arm, and it couldn’t have been doing the poor man any good.  She reached for a towel from the bar next to her, and she spoke to him reasonably, “Get up, come on.  We need to get you warm.”

Bea had absolutely no idea what she’d do if he refused to obey her.  After all, she probably weighed a third what he did, and that would be with lead in her pockets.

But he got up, shambling.  She noted there were five, parallel, deep cuts across his face, which she’d have sworn weren’t there before, or had got healed.  Because if his eye had healed, his face would have too, right?

She tentatively dried his shoulders and was more relieved than she ever wanted to admit when he took the towel from her hands and started rubbing himself.  She had been trying not to look at what her mind had classified as his fiddly bits because he was clearly out of his right mind.  She had seen him naked before, but now it seemed like she’d be taking advantage of him.  She really didn’t want to think of helping him dry there.  For heavens’ sake, she’d never even had a boyfriend.  She’d seen Rafiel naked more than any other male outside of an art class, as was.

As he was drying himself, she went back into the room to find him clothes, and was relieved to see a thick terry robe hanging from a peg beside the closet door.  When she brought it back to the bathroom, Rafiel was standing there, the towel in his hands.  He let her dress him in the robe and tie it around him.  He was still shivering.  “Come on,” she said.  “You need to eat something warm.”

He let her lead him to the kitchen, but didn’t actually make Bea spoon feed him the egg drop soup.  Instead he ate it, slowly, with measured calm.  She refilled his bowl, and made hot tea, which she poured for him.  Sometime while eating, he stopped shivering and a frowning expression settled on his face, as if he were trying, very hard, to remember something.

When she filled a bowl with cooked beef, he looked up at her and blinked, “You… went out?  You… shifted?”

She filled her own bowl and plowed into it, ignoring the chopsticks and using instead the plastic fork also provided.  Looking up, she nodded at him, “Yes,” she said.  And because she figured that talking to him might help him calm down, and would certainly take his mind off of whatever had made him go into shock long enough for his mind to get past it, she told him about the call, the strong impulse to go and respond to whatever the call was, the crawling out of the skylight, flying to Goldport.

As she described what had happened in the parking lot, Rafiel stared at her.  “Tom did what?  Tom does not –”

She shook her head.  “I was shocked too.  I don’t know him like you do, but I formed an impression of him and that… but then afterwards I got to thinking.  I think whatever information he got when the Great Sky Dragon died that… well…”  She paused.  “I think that whatever the information was, it told him that he couldn’t simply refuse the position, not without asserting his supremacy first.  I think the triad works by primitive rules.  The heir can’t simply be allowed to slide off and be an anonymous someone.  He either rules or gets killed.”

Something about talking of primitive rules made him stare at her, a long time.  He finally nodded a little.  Then he said, “When you left… I heard the chair fall.”

“Sorry.  I was afraid of shifting before I could get out.  You know what –”

He inclined his head, and held up a hand.  “Doesn’t matter, but I thought you might be in trouble, and I –” He paused and looked past her, as he spoke.  “I went outside and I was hit…”  Have you ever had blood lust?  That is… did you ever…?”

“Want to eat something alive?” she said.

“People.  Want to eat people.”

Bea blinked.  “No.  I’ve wanted to beat them to death with a sock, on occasion, but not to eat them.”

“Oh.  Well… when you’re really tired and hungry and…”

A monstrous idea crossed Bea’s mind.  “You ate someone?”  She wasn’t sure that was something she could forgive, or something she could even start to understand.

He shook his head.  “No, but… it was the same thing.”

Bea stared, confused about how anything could be the same as eating someone.  “You killed someone?”

He shook his head again.  “No, but… when I stepped outside there was this smell, like… like… I can’t describe it.  I shifted and… and… when I came to, when I got control over the lion’s mind again, I found that…  That is…  The creature who attacked me before?  She… I was…  We were having sex in shifted form.  I tried to pull away and she…”  He touched the deep gauges on his face.

Bea didn’t know what to say or how to say it.  Part of her, having contemplated the possibility of his having eaten a human being, now wanted to laugh with relief but she realized the experience had shocked Rafiel to his core.  And looking at him, she slowly understood why.  “How long…” she asked.  “How long has it been since you lost control so completely, and weren’t aware of what you were doing?”

He frowned at her.  “Not since I was very young and in college,” he said.  “Not since…”  He shook his head.  “It was…  I feel no attraction to… I don’t even know what the woman looks like in person…  It was like…”  He shook his head again, as though to clear it.  “It was as though something or someone had taken over my mind.  It’s a very disquieting, scary feeling.  I wanted to…  I want to know why, how.  I want to make sure it won’t happen again.  If she can make me do that, what can she make me do?”

Bea looked at him.  “I expect,” she said.  It was a slow word, drawn out.  “I expect the next time, you’ll have more control.  We learn to control the beast by being the beast.  It… this mating in lion form… it was the first time?”

He made a face and smiled a little.  Red flooded like a tide into his cheeks.  “At the risk of shocking you, it was the first time in either form.”  He lifted his hand, as though to defend himself from an accusation she hadn’t made.  “You have to understand,” he said.  “I can’t be sure…  I’ve always been afraid of losing control and shifting.  Tom…  Tom says it doesn’t happen, and anyway, you know, he’s not afraid of that with Kyrie, because of course, she knows he shifts, though I don’t think his bedroom is big enough to –  Never mind.”

“To hold a dragon?  No.  Particularly now.  He’s…  He’s grown.  There seems to be something — beyond, you know…  I mean, it’s like magic.  The Great Sky Dragon died, and it’s like his death activated something that made Tom from a juvenile dragon into a full adult.  Oh, that’s not right.  It made him into a full-adult Great Sky Dragon, not just a dragon.”

Rafiel looked at her for a long while, then sighed.  “He’s going to need our help, isn’t he?”

Bea opened her mouth, then realized he’d said our.  He thought of them as a unit.  She should have been horrified, particularly in view of the fact the man had been mating in lion-form with some pre-historic horror.  But then… but then he was even more shocked by it than she was.  And she meant what she’d told him.  In the future, knowing it was possible, knowing what it felt like, he’d know how to resist it – how to keep his head.  And if he didn’t… well, if he didn’t, he’d really need her.

She took a deep breath and understanding that this was right, that, somehow, they were supposed to be a team, and that he understood it too, she said, “Yeah.  I think so.”

 

Spheres Of Influence – Chapter 09

Spheres Of Influence – Chapter 09

Chapter 9.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfectly correct.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

1636 The Devil’s Opera – Snippet 16

1636 The Devil’s Opera – Snippet 16

A man stepped out of the circle to stand by the table. As the two wrestlers joined hands he laid his atop theirs. “Begin when I count three. One . . . Two . . . THREE!” With that, Otto dropped his hand and jumped back. The contest was on.

          The muscles in Hans’ arm sprang to hard definition. To Simon it almost appeared like there were sticks under the skin, the cords were so strong.

Karl snarled and grimaced, ducking his head as if he was clenching every muscle in his upper body. The joined hands began to move his way, his forearm forcing Hans’ back and down. It was a slow movement, but steady, until the hands were maybe halfway toward the table. Then the motion stopped.

The hands stayed there for a long moment. Nothing Karl did moved Hans. No snarl or grunt affected him, no additional push moved him, no glare from fevered eyes touched him. Hans was rock steady.

Simon was so excited he was almost jumping up and down. He’d seen boys and young men arm wrestle before, but nothing like this contest. Here were two grown and very strong men pouring their all into the conflict, and the excitement filled the air around them. Simon found himself chanting, “Come on Hans, come on Hans,” while the men around him were all shouting and shaking their fists in the air. The roar in the tavern was almost deafening.

The boy almost missed it when it happened. He saw Hans’ eyes narrow a little, then his hand turned a bit, forcing Karl’s hand to twist on its wrist just the slightest amount.

The joined hands began to move again, only this time Hans’ hand was moving upward and Karl’s hand was moving back. Time and again the man from Hannover would grunt or snarl and try to stop the movement, only to fail. Hans made no noise but the breath whistling in and out of his nostrils. His hand made its slow and steady movement until it passed the vertical and started pushing Karl’s hand toward the table.

The shouting redoubled, until Simon wondered if the building would collapse from the noise. He wished he had two empty hands, so he could cover his ears. At the same time, he continued to chant, “Come on, Hans!”

Back and back and back went Karl’s hand. Hans showed no sign of elation or triumph; he continued pushing as if he were closing a door.

The end came suddenly. There was a snap sound, and Karl’s hand smashed into the table.

“Aaaah!” Hans released his grip at Karl’s scream and sat back, while the other man’s face paled to what looked like a corpsely green in the dim light of the tavern and he grabbed his right arm above the elbow. Simon watched as the Hannoverian tried to move his arm and his face contorted with pain. “You son of a sow!” he shouted at Hans. “You’ve broken my arm.”

Hans shrugged. “It was a fair contest. I did nothing to force that to happen. Everyone here will witness to that.” Voices all around them were raised in agreement.

Barnabas was at his cousin’s side, pulling on his sound arm and muttering something about a doctor. Hans held his hand up, stopping Karl in mid-rise.

“You lost,” Hans stared into Karl’s eyes. “You owe me. Veit, empty the purses on the table.”

Simon had been right; the purses were almost flat. There were few coins in either of them. Two coins fell out of one; three out of the other. But the coins that fell out, now that caused eyes to widen all around the room. There on the table top lay three Groschen and two pfennigs. Simon sucked in his breath. He counted in his mind, twelve plus twelve plus twelve plus two — thirty-eight pfennigs worth. He’d never seen that much at one time.

Other minds had been doing their own counting. “Six Groschen you owe me, plus four pfennigs,” Hans declared. “Pay up.”

“I will do no such . . .” Karl began, only to be interrupted by a growl from the crowd. He looked around. Simon thought he turned even paler. The Hannoverian said nothing more, but reached under his jacket and dug out a purse with his left hand. He handed it to Barnabas and made a violent gesture toward Hans. Barnabas took the purse almost timidly, opened the drawstrings and rooted through the contents until he had counted out the bounty that Hans had won.

Hans looked over his winnings, smiled and nodded. Karl lurched to his feet and shouldered his way through the crowd, followed by Barnabas. Hans waited until the door crashed closed behind them, then stood. He pulled his coat back on, plucked his hat off of Simon’s head and crammed it back on his own, then scraped all the coins together and poured them back into one of the purses.

“Well, lads,” Hans bounced the purse in his hand, “not a bad night’s work, eh?”

Some men in the crowd were grousing as they had to pay off on the poor bets they made, but most of them laughed. Simon heard a mutter sounding from all around him. “Stark Hans. Stark Hans.”

Hard Hans indeed, he thought to himself. The hardest man he had known in his short life. The nickname sounded even harder because it was pronounced in the truncated form so often found in Amideutsch. In most German dialects the phrase would have been “Starker Hans.”

“Veit,” Hans called out. The tavern keeper looked his way. Hans held up a Groschen for all to see, then flipped it to him. “Ale all around.”

There was a loud cheer from the crowd as it made a mass movement toward the serving counter. In a moment, Simon and Hans were standing by themselves amid a scattering of tables, chairs and benches.

“Well, Simon my lad,” Hans said. “You’ve been my luck twice tonight. Here.” He reached over, took the blue bottle from the boy, and tucked it in a side pocket of his coat, then handed Simon a pfennig. “Let’s go home.” He placed his hand on Simon’s shoulder and they went out the door together.

 

Spheres Of Influence – Chapter 08

Spheres Of Influence – Chapter 08

Chapter 8.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It will be that.”

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

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

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

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

“She did indeed.”

“How did she approach you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, really?” DuQuesne looked interested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of proposition?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ariane raised an eyebrow. “How would you –”

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

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

“And you can refit them on your own?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

1636 The Devil’s Opera – Snippet 15

1636 The Devil’s Opera – Snippet 15

Hans arrived at a table and kicked a bench out from underneath it. “Come on, boy, sit down.” Hans himself dropped to the bench and carefully set his bottle on the table. “Barnabas, everyone, this is Simon. He is a small lad with a big name, and he is my luck. Stopped me from getting set upon by a couple of bully boys from over west of the Big Ditch. I recognized them.”

          Barnabas, a thin man with a narrow face, looked horrified. “Why, that . . . that is unheard of. They are supposed to keep to their side of the moat, and we keep to ours. That’s the way it has always been . . . or at least since the sack.”

Hans was busy scraping the wax from around the stopper and neck of his bottle of spirits. He didn’t look up as he responded. “Maybe so, but just maybe someone over there is just a bit upset that I beat their man in the fights last week. Ah!” He got the stopper out and immediately took a big swig of the gin. He smacked his lips, smiled, and looked over at Simon. “Drink up, boy, even if it is small beer.”

Simon took a sip from his mug. It was as bad as he expected from this place, but he swallowed it anyway. It was wet, and he was thirsty.

“Hans,” Barnabas spoke up. “This is my cousin Karl, from Hannover.” He pointed to a man who would make two of Barnabas. “I think I have told you about him before.”

Simon studied Karl. From what he could tell, even in the dim light, the Hannoverian didn’t really fit in here in The Chain. His beard was a neatly trimmed goatee with prominent mustaches. He wore a fine hat. His clothes, what Simon could see of them, were clean. No, not at all the appearance of the normal patron of this tavern.

“Sure,” Hans said. “I remember you mentioning him. Good to meet you, Karl.” He held his hand out across the table. Karl took it with a toothy grin. Simon could see their hands tense on each other. Karl’s grin disappeared and his jaw set. There was a long moment of silence, then the clinch broke.

“So you are the famous Hans Metzger.” Barnabas’ cousin’s speech was accented. His voice was nasal and harsh. It made Simon want to hunch his shoulders up around his ears.

Hans set the blue bottle back on the table with a clack. “There might be a few people have heard my name, aye, but I would not say I was famous.”

“Oh, but to hear Barnabas say it, you are one of the most renowned men in all Magdeburg.”

“Friend Karl, if you know your cousin at all, you know that he is liable to say most anything once he has had a mug or two of ale.” A bit of the hard note had crept back into Hans’ voice. Simon hunched down a little. He wasn’t sure what was going on here and now, but he was pretty sure he didn’t like it.

“Barnabas would have it that you are a very Samson.” Karl’s tone was more than a bit pugnacious by this point. Simon didn’t understand why. “That you are renowned for your strength.”

Hans took another gulp from his bottle. “Barnabas drinks too much. And I didn’t know that he’d been to church enough to even know who Samson was.” The men around the table laughed.

“But are you that man?” Karl’s head was thrust forward, and he stared at Hans with intent.

Hans sighed. “What do you want? Are you looking for a contest with me on a night when all I wanted was a peaceful drink with my friends?”

Karl said nothing, just continued to stare at Hans.

Another sigh. “Fine. Here and now. Arm wrestling. But you will have to make it worth my while.”

Karl sat back and blinked. Simon blinked along with him.

“Make it worth your while . . . What do you mean?”

Hans pulled two purses out of his coat pocket. They were small and worn, and from the way they lay flat on the table they didn’t have many coins in them. Simon thought they were the purses he took from the men who had attacked him earlier in the evening.

“A wager. If I win, you pay me twice the value what’s in these purses. If I lose, you get the purses.” Karl opened his mouth to object, and Hans held up a finger. “You get the purses, and the knowledge that you beat Hans Metzger, the Samson of Magdeburg.”

Karl sat back for a moment, then nodded his head. “Agreed.”

With that, chairs and stools all around them scraped on the floor. The other men in the room had obviously been listening, and now they moved to where they could see what was going on. In a moment, their table was surrounded by a circle of observers. There was a murmuring sound, as side discussions happened and bets were made.

“You will have to move, boy.” Hans stood and took off his coat. Karl did the same while Hans handed his bottle to Simon. “Hold on to that for me.” Simon took it, but was forced to leave his mug on the table. “Nay, take your mug, too.”

“I can’t.” Simon felt like ash was in his mouth. “I only have one hand.”

“Hummph!” Hans looked at him for a moment, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “Well, we can talk about that later. Meantime, you are still my luck, so stand over there where you can see everything and where I can see you.”

Before he sat down, Hans turned his head toward the counter and bellowed, “Veit!”

The tavern keeper pushed his way through the circle. “What do you want?”

“Hold these.” He handed Veit the purses and Simon’s mug, then grinned at Simon and put his hat on the boy’s head.

Hans took his seat across the table from Karl. The Hannover man plopped his elbow down on the table top and held his forearm up. There was an eager light in his eye. Hans took his time, rolling his shirt sleeve up with slow deliberation, revealing a hairy forearm corded with muscle.

“Otto,” Hans called out as he laid his elbow on the table. “Call the count.”

 

Noah’s Boy – Snippet 34

Noah’s Boy – Snippet 34

Chapter 16

Bea couldn’t believe she had the keys in her hand and her purse too, which she supposed the Great Sky Dragon must have taken from her when he — her mind still flinched from it — killed her.

She’d gone over the purse and found her driver’s license, her cell phone, everything as it had been.  It was perfectly normal stuff for her to be carrying in her purse, including the little charcoal drawing kit in a folding pouch that her father had given her for Christmas, but now all of it felt like artifacts from a lost civilization.  Or at least like artifacts from a lost Bea.

Was it only three or four days ago that she’d arrived in Goldport determined to make the dragon triad stop picking on her dad?  It seemed like it had happened centuries ago, or perhaps in another life.

She adjusted the seat and the mirrors.  Someone taller than her had been driving the truck.  Then she turned the engine on, and looked at the gas gage.  Well.  She’d have to grab some gas on the way out of Goldport too.  Not a problem, as her credit cards too appeared to be intact.

A deep breath, as she realized that she could probably go home to mom and dad.  With Tom in charge of the dragon triad, she didn’t think anyone would go after her.

But would Tom stay in charge?  And if he didn’t, who would take over?

She had a strong suspicion that Tom would be very careful about that and that the threat of marriage to Tom — or his father, though she wasn’t so sure about the old great sky dragon — was gone.  On the other hand…

On the other hand it seemed to her that Tom and every other shifter here in town was in trouble.  She didn’t want to admit it and it took her some small struggle with herself, but after a while it dawned on her that of all the shifters in town, the welfare of one mattered the most to her.

No, she wasn’t in love with Rafiel, but she liked him an awful lot, and something about him appealed to her.  Perhaps his devotion to duty as a policeman, as strong as his devotion to his kind as shifters.  Perhaps just the way he understood her position with her parents — he too was perhaps too protected by his.

She would call her parents, she decided, and talk to them.  She could do that much.  But for now she would stay out here and figure out how this would end up, and make sure her father wouldn’t be blackmailed in exchange for her obeying the Great Sky Dragon ever again.

With the car in gear, she headed out of the parking lot.  She could just barely — she thought — remember the way to the cabin.  She would make it there before noon.

* * *

When Tom got back to the diner, it was largely empty.  Anthony had gone home.  Rya and Jason — who looked like he was sleep-punchy, were the only servers there.  This was very good, Tom thought, because he could see the problem right away.

Standing at the counter, in a lab coat and dark pants was… a very large rat.

What puzzled Tom was not how often Doctor Tedd Roberts, professor at the Colorado University of Goldport medical school and one of the foremost researchers into brain-processes in the country, showed up at the diner in his shifted form.  No, what puzzled Tom was how he’d managed never to be spotted.  Possibly the fact that both his forms were roughly the same size, combined with the fact that he kept unusual hours.

Seeing Dr. Roberts, however, made Tom think of the whole thing with the dragon egg and memories and heredity.  No sane dragon would pick him for an heir, so it had to be something genetic.

The scientist was standing between two counter stools, reaching for a cup of coffee as Tom approached and cleared his throat.  Dr. Roberts turned around and looked at Tom out of inquisitive rat eyes.

“Uh, Dr.  You’re…”

Dr. Roberts’ nose twitched,  and he glanced quickly down at the general area of his fly.

“No, I mean you’re –”

“Squeak?” Dr. Roberts asked, puzzled.  Then he lifted the cup of coffee with his paw and took it to his mouth.  Coffee dribbled out the sides of the rat’s mouth onto the lab coat.

A very short, confused time passed, after which Dr. Roberts stood where the rat had been, looking at Tom in some irritation.  “Damn it.  Another lab coat to wash.  Couldn’t you tell me I was shifted?”

Tom refrained from saying he had tried.  The absent minded professor’s annoyance was more at himself than at Tom, anyway.  “I need to talk to you,” he said, instead.  “At least, I think you can help me.”

Doctor Roberts raised his eyebrows at Tom while taking another swallow of the coffee.

“It’s… biological and brain stuff, I think.  Otherwise, it’s magic, and I refuse to think it’s magic.”  Doctor Roberts eyebrows rose higher and Tom sighed.  “Look, can we go to the corner booth and talk.”

“Sure.  I don’t have to be at the lab for another hour,” Doctor Roberts said.  “I just thought I’d come in and have some breakfast and do some thinking, and I suppose you can help with that.”

He sat down on the corner booth, while Tom surveyed what there was to eat.  Then he realized that Laura had been at work in the back addition which they’d put in to attend to baking.  She called good morning to him and pushed a plate of pastries towards him, “These are experimental.  You guys might want to try them out.  And aren’t you early?”

“A little,” Tom said.  “We’ll probably go home later.”

“Tough night?” the diner’s baker asked.

Tom shrugged.  He never knew exactly if Laura was a shifter or not.  She smelled like a shifter, but they’d never seen her shift, and she always seemed to strategically have her eyes turned when someone shifted nearby.  Kyrie and Tom had a running bet on which form she changed into, the most popular being various deadly animals.

The plate of pastries she pushed into his hand were warm.  “Kyrie might want some also,” he said.

She said, “Already gave her a plate. You look like you need some food.”

Tom took the plate to the booth and a cup of coffee for himself, plus a carafe to refill the coffee.  Doctor Roberts looked up at his approach.  He’d been drawing something in one of his notebooks.  “So, what’s puzzling you, Tom?” he asked.

“It’s…”  Tom looked over his shoulder.  No one was sitting near the corner booth, which was normally left unoccupied by all but the diner regulars anyway.  Kyrie’s theory was that the blood-soaked painting of St. George killing the dragon hung right over the booth kept all but the most devoted away.  Possibly.  But Tom also knew given a chance, when he was trying to have a talk with another shifter, Kyrie would move people away from them.

Then he sensed Kyrie behind him, and looked up and scooted a little sideways.  “Not needed?” he asked her.

“Nah, Jason says he’s good, and Conan is backing Rya up.  And I’d like to hear this.  Are you going to ask him about the dragon egg and the Pearl of Heaven?”

“Dragon egg?”  Doctor Roberts looked from one to the other of them.  “Does this mean you two are expecting a happy event?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head.  “No.  That would be way too easy.  Or not, but you know what I mean.  No.  I want to know…  That is…”  He spilled the whole story about only male descendants of the Great Sky Dragon being able to inherit, about the packet of knowledge, with all its encrypted files, which seemingly passed to the oldest living male relative — or was it the oldest, Tom didn’t even know that — upon the Great Sky Dragon’s death, about what that packet felt like, and about the Pearl of heaven, which was supposed to activate the whole thing.

When he finished the scientist was biting his lower lip.  Tom slid the plate of pastries marginally closer to the man, because he was starting to see the doctor’s face acquire a certain… ratty look, and he knew the scientist shifted when he became too immersed in his own thoughts.

He focused on the plate as Tom moved it, then picked up one of the pastries.  “These look new.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what they are yet,” Tom said.  “Laura wants us to try them out.”

Doctor Roberts bit into one, and said, “Oooh.  Hazelnut cream.”

Tom grabbed one of the pastries and bit into it.  Hazelnut cream indeed, still warm and squishy in the center.  It was like a cross between a bear claw and a really good truffle.  He took another bite before saying, “So, the thing is, you know, it can’t be magic.”

Doctor Roberts shook his head.  “No, for sure not magic, though I can’t quite explain all of it.  Our science isn’t there yet.  I assume… from what you said, whatever it was, these life forms who came through those portals or gateways or whatever were very sophisticated gene splicers indeed.  Because they clearly spliced their own genes with Earth life forms, or we wouldn’t be the same as the rest of Earth.”

Kyrie, sitting next to Tom scooted closer.  “Unless of course they seeded the Earth,” she said.  “To begin with.”

“True, but irrelevant for our purposes,” Doctor Roberts said.  “Or, as we like to put it around the lab, that’s a fascinating conclusion but totally irrelevant to our question.”  He shrugged.  “You see, in either case, it’s a civilization much older than ours, and much, much better at the biological stuff.”  He got another of the pastries.  “You could get addicted to these,” he said.  “But look, we are sort of on the same stairway of biological knowledge, only we’re on the landing contemplating putting our feet on the first step and they’re on the second floor landing or something.”  He looked up and at what Tom knew was his utterly blank expression.  A look at Kyrie showed her looking utterly puzzled.  “What I mean,” Doctor Roberts said.  “Is that we have some knowledge that indicates this could be possible.  It’s been known for some months that we can encode memory in chromosomes, the same way we encode it into computer drives.  So if you use the Y chromosome — and there might be reasons this was easiest or best — it completely explains why only males could inherit.  If on top of that, to activate it, it takes something that is inherent to the shifter genes, you immediately have shifter males descended from the Great Sky Dragon on an unbroken male line.  What is not clear is the whole other stuff…  Why you’d only become aware of that memory when the Great Sky Dragon died.  If you have his memories also, up to the moment he died.  And also of course what is in the Pearl of Heaven that can make you… I say in computer terms, I suppose, uncompress and integrate the whole thing…”  He shook his head.  “I can make some educated guesses, but only guesses.  First, I’m going to guess whatever the beings were that first came to Earth and became… embodied had some kind of powers inherent in them: mind communication, mind control, perhaps a whole host of other things we associate with magic.

“If they were beings that could at will, or without will, leave bodies behind and go on living, they clearly had abilities we don’t have.  So, yeah.  Okay, we’ll establish that.”

“The Great Sky Dragon said the reason he knew I was his descendant is that he couldn’t read my mind.  And also, he couldn’t control me.  He could communicate with me,” he said, adding, ruefully.  “That’s how we ended up with the bathroom in a total mess when I shifted in it last year.”

“Yes, of course.  That even makes some sense.  Something about the transmitters being alike, so he could not communicate with you directly.  Again, this is so far beyond our science I feel like someone who’s never seen a radio speculating about radio transmission, but I can sort of guess at the shapes of things and what they’re supposed to do.  So, do you have The Great Sky Dragon’s memory up to his death?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said.  “The actual… the personalities and life experiences of the other Great Sky Dragons are not accessible to me.  The … files with the knowledge I need at any moment pop up, and I can peek in them, but not open them fully.  If I inherited personal memories too, they would not be obvious.”

“Yes,” Doctor Roberts said.  “And you think you need that.”

“I need it if I’m going to prevent the Great Sky Dragon from being… activated by the Pearl of Heaven and then made to open a portal to Earth to these creatures from other worlds.  Mind you, I only have one side of the situation and it comes from the triads.  For all I know these creatures from the stars are fine and dandy and would be the best thing that ever happened to us, but I don’t know that, and it seems best to me not to –”

“Yes, of course.  For now, we’ll keep to the devil we know,” Doctor Roberts said.  “But here’s what I don’t understand: if the triad knows there is something, some packet of knowledge, this … dragon egg, which could be activated with the Pearl of Heaven, why haven’t they done it before?  I’m going to assume they have, right?  So the Great Sky Dragon would already know how to open these portals, right?  So, why would someone else need to… activate him and make him open the way to Earth?  Why not just make him open the way to Earth?”

“This,” Kyrie said, in a tragic tone.  “Is what comes from a really busy night with no downtime, not to mention all the excitement.  We should have thought about it.”

“Yes, we should,” Tom admitted.  “The thing is, it was old Joe who linked the Pearl of Heaven missing to whatever is going on with the Great Sky Dragon.  And of course,” he said, as he looked around the diner.  “He’s nowhere to be found.  But the dragons didn’t argue with him.  You’re right, that makes no sense at all, which means in this there must be something I don’t know.”

“I’d suspect if half of the story is true,” Doctor Roberts said.  “There are whole territories of things you don’t know.  Worlds of things you don’t know, in fact.”

* * *

After the doctor left, Kyrie and Tom sat in the corner booth, talking, sipping coffee.  “We should go home and sleep,” Kyrie said, but looking Tom who sat sideways in the booth, chewing the corner of his lip as if it had done him personal harm, she knew that would never happen.  Not a chance.  He was thinking of something.

“I think,” he said at last.  “It’s something to do with the Pearl of Heaven.  Something has changed about it, or something can be changed about it, and once it is, then…”

“Then?”

“Then you access all these memories and you get… well, in game terms, you level up.  All the Great Sky Dragon capabilities get increased.”

“You must be sleepier than I thought,” Kyrie said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Why?”

“Because you didn’t shudder when you said that.”

“And I should have?”

“Do you hear yourself?” Kyrie said, “A leveled up Great Sky Bastard, now with even more power, should make you tremble in your boots.”

 

1636 The Devil’s Opera – Snippet 14

1636 The Devil’s Opera – Snippet 14

Chapter 7

          Hans led the way farther into the rough quarter of Old Magdeburg. Simon was familiar with every street in the quarter. He ran them all at different times. But Hans soon led him into streets that Simon didn’t like to travel at night. They passed by people slumped in doorways. Others staggered down the street, taking swigs from coarse pottery bottles. Simon edged closer to Hans.

          After one more turn into another dark street, Hans stopped in front of a door. “This is The Chain. Have you heard of it?”

Simon nodded, stomach sinking. The Chain was perhaps the worst tavern in the city. Fights were a frequent occurrence, and more than one dead body had been removed from the premises. It was said that the city watchmen, even the new Polizei, would only enter the place in groups of three or four. Simon had never been inside.

“Ah, it’s a rough place, right enough. But you’ll be safe with me.” Hans pushed the door open and waved Simon in. Steps led down into a basement. At the bottom, Simon stepped into the bar room, afraid but hiding it from his new friend.

The room was dimly lit from a smoldering fire in a fireplace on the opposite side and a few guttering tallow candles on sconces around walls. The air was smoky from the fire and candles and foul from the smell of too many unwashed bodies in a small space.

Simon coughed from the reek, then stumbled as he was pushed from behind. Hans stepped up beside him and scanned the room. “Barnabas!” he shouted. A man across the room waved his hand. Hans faced him and held up two fingers, to which Barnabas responded with an upraised thumb. Hans clapped his hand on Simon’s shoulder again. “Come on, lad. Barnabas has got seats for us, let us get some drink.” Hans pushed his way through the seated crowd. Simon followed on his heels, as there was no way he could have made his own way through that mass of rough-spun covered backs.

Hans came to a thick board laid across a couple of barrels with a lamp at one end. “Hello, Veit, you old scoundrel.”

“Hans, you lump of walking swine’s flesh. I have not seen you in must be, oh, eight days now. What made you drag your stinking carcass in tonight?

Simon stepped away when the tavern keeper so freely insulted Hans. He wasn’t sure how the big man would respond, but when Hans laughed he relaxed.

“Oh, I need a purgative, so I figured I’d come by and drink some of your swill. That ought to have me puking by midnight.” Both men laughed at that.

“So what’s your poison tonight?” Veit asked after they settled down.

“Genever. The good stuff,” Hans added as the tavern keeper turned back to the high table behind him. A moment later a blue ceramic bottle was set before Hans, stopper and neck wrapped in wax. Veit held his hand out. Simon watched as Hans pulled some coins out of his pocket, and counted them into the tavern keeper’s palm. They both knew the cost of the bottle of spirits, because Veit was counting right along with Hans.

Hans counted out the final coin and reached for the bottle, only to find Veit’s hand on it holding it down. “What’s wrong?”

“Take back that Halle pfennig,” Veit said.

Hans cursed. “You gave it to me, so you ought to take it back.”

“I’m not saying I did or didn’t,” Veit replied. “But if you were in here drunk enough to take it, then you deserve it. Now give me dollars or honest silver or do your drinking somewhere else.”

Simon was glad he couldn’t understand what Hans muttered under his breath as he took back a blackish coin from the tavern keeper and gave him a different one in exchange. Veit removed his hand and Hans picked up his bottle. Then he looked over at Simon. “Thought I had forgotten you, eh? Veit, this is . . . what is your name, boy?”

“Simon, sir.”

“Sir!” Hans and Veit roared with laughter. “I’m no sir, boy. I’m just Hans, and that is good enough for me.”

“Taking up with boys now, Hans?”

Simon stepped back as Hans’ face went hard and cold all in a moment. He didn’t want to be in the way if things got rough here. He’d already seen Hans in action once tonight.

Veit’s laughter choked in his throat as Hans’ hand flashed across the counter to grasp his jacket and lift him up on his toes. “You’ll not say that again, Veit,” Hans hissed through tight lips.

Veit’s eyes were wide and his face was pale behind his scraggly beard. Simon knew his own eyes were just as wide and just as white around the edges.

“Sorry, Hans. I meant nothing by it. Bad joke.

The tableau stretched on for a long moment, then Hans relaxed his fist and let the cloth slide through his fingers. Veit settled back onto his feet.

“We will let it go at that,” Hans said in a hard voice, “but you watch your mouth, Veit. A man can get hurt by saying the wrong thing.” After a moment, he turned to Simon and said in a normal tone, “Now, boy, what do you want to drink? I’m buying.”

Simon hesitated, then stammered, “Sm-small beer.”

Hans frowned, but Veit held up his hand. “I keep some here for some of the doxies that come round in the mornings. He can have some of that, and I won’t charge for it.” The tavern keeper found a small mug on the back table and filled it from a small keg sitting on the end of the table. “Here you are, lad.”

Simon took the mug from the counter and looked up at Hans.

“Right. This way.”

Again Simon followed close behind the bulk of the larger man through the press of bodies that seemed in the dim light to be clad in shades of gray. Hans pushed his way through without seeming to give a thought to those he was jostling. Simon heard mutters as he went by the men following in Hans’ wake, but no one’s voice was loud enough to catch Hans’ attention. After what he had just seen at the counter, Simon was not surprised. People here apparently knew Hans — knew enough to keep on his good side, anyway.

 

Spheres Of Influence – Chapter 07

Spheres Of Influence – Chapter 07

Chapter 7.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do we locate these Gates?”

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

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

“I will be with you,” Wu emphasized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Noah’s Boy – Snippet 33

Noah’s Boy – Snippet 33

“Don’t look at me like that.  There were other life forms on Earth.  We should have suspected that from the existence of primitive shifters,” Bea lifted her chin, as though braving their scorn.  “But I know evolutionarily we keep thinking we have the date of the emergence of modern humans pinned, and then we find another one, older.  And we now think that humans pretty much merged with every hominid life form on Earth, except perhaps the Flores hobbits.  Perhaps that’s not just because our species is really randy.”  She blushed.  “Perhaps it is that we were designed with bits and pieces of the DNA of every humanoid species on Earth, and other life forms too, including some that were extinct at the time, but whose DNA might still be available.  It’s clear that the designing of our people took science that we can’t begin to comprehend so why not?  If the purpose was to hide, we should be able to hide among the hominids in our human form.  I just wonder why the human form…”

Jao cleared his throat.  “They say… the legends say that we look like… like people did before they went incorporeal, so…”

“Yes, that could be it.  The form they were pursuing might be the form they originally had,” he said.  “Or as close to this as the material could have.”  He cleared his throat again.  “The legends said that leaving bodies behind would lead to evil.  I don’t know.  I understood though that our people were escaping sure death, and this was the last of many worlds they ran to.  And that they somehow crossed through… through doors between worlds.”

“Makes sense,” Tom said.  “Sorry, I’ve read a lot of science fiction.  I used to crash at shelters for runaway teens, and they had them.  Portals between parallel worlds, likely.  And we somehow closed them from this side, if what old Joe says is true.”

As though awakened by reference to his name, Old Joe lifted his head.  “Yes, but they have found us, after all the many, the thousand thousand year, they have found us, and they are trying to open the door.  Someone…”  He shrugged.  “An enemy mind is on this side and… and trying to open it.  That… being has taken the Great Sky Dragon and killed him.  I think the long sleep, not real death.”

Jao sighed.  “Why would you think so?  What would the long sleep do for them that real life won’t.”

“Easy.  When you wake from death,” he looked thoughtfully at Bea.  “You’re helpless.  Can’t shift.  Can’t fight.  And the Old Sky Dragon is an old man, not strong and combative like dragon-boy.  He’s been alive many thousand years, and he is aging.  If someone takes him, waits for him to come back from the long-sleep, then it will be easy to hurt him, to… make him use the artifact and make him remember how to open the gates, then force him to.”

There was a long silence.  Whether it was caused by Old Joe’s sudden eloquence, or by the thought that the Great Sky Dragon might be held, hostage in temporary death, until –

“The time to return from death is around three days?” Tom asked.

“Three days is usually the shortest,” Jao said.  “Might take as long as two weeks.  The median is about five days.”

The silence returned, then Jao said, “But I don’t think the person… That is, whoever killed The Great Sky Dragon, your venerable ancestor, even if they took the body, can’t be counting on using the Pearl of Heaven on him, because the Pearl of Heaven disappeared a week earlier.”

Before silence could return, Conan groaned.  “I wanted to have a singing career,” he said, as though out of deep and unavailing grief.

* * *

“You’ll have a music career,” Tom said, getting up from the foot of the bed.  He sat the empty bowl on a nearby table, walked to where Conan sat on the cushion, and touched Conan’s shoulder in reassurance.  “Hell, Conan, given your voice, I don’t think we could stop you.  I think once that video on Facebook went viral, all we could do was keep your fans from tearing us limb from limb if we tried to keep you from them.  By the end of this year, you’ll have to hire concert halls to fit all your local fans, and if you’re not selling like crazy with whatever label or on your own, I’d be shocked.”

Conan looked up, his eyes dark with something like fear.  “But I can’t, don’t you see.  It’s just not possible.  You’ll have to be the Great Sky Dragon, and I might as well guard you, because no one else has the kind of loyalty –”

“No,” Tom said.  It was absolute.  Decisive.  “I’m not going to be The Great Sky Dragon.  Oh, for a while at least, if I have to.  And clearly someone has to, because someone has to direct the search for the real Great Sky Dragon before he gives away our secrets and lets these baddies from other worlds in here.”  He looked at Jao and grinned, though he could feel as though his face would crack with the effort.  “But mind you, when the Great Sky Dragon comes back, your goal is to get him to have another son.  Or perhaps you can find a nice dragon-girl for my father.  Hell, he might even like it.  Myself, as much as I like Bea here, I can’t marry her.  You see, I’m already engaged to Kyrie Grace Smith.”  He looked at Kyrie, begging her, with his eyes not to blow his cover, and not to protest at being proposed to in this very odd way.  If he was right, and he thought he was, the upside of the triad’s traditional ways was that they were all about family and dependents and the promises made to those around you.

Jao looked at him, then at Bea.  He licked his lips.  “I don’t suppose you’d consider marrying one and keeping the other as your second wife?  It is why our line has survived I think, while the other shifter lines have been lost.  The Great Sky Dragon always had more than one wife.”

“No, I wouldn’t consider it,” Tom said and smiled, this time a genuine but tight smile.  “You might think that would be a survival enhancing trait, but not after Kyrie separated my head from my body.”

Kyrie shook her head slightly, but smiled at him.

“So,” Tom said.  “I thank you for your hospitality here, and the great honor you’ve tried to do me.  But I can’t be your leader.  And now, if you excuse me, we need to go.  We have a diner to run.”

“You can’t go.”  Jao looked like he was about to have a heart attack.  He actually grabbed onto Tom’s arm.  “Don’t you understand?  Whatever is out there will try to kill you or capture you.”

Tom hadn’t understood.  He hadn’t thought about it. And he still didn’t know why any enemy would want to kill him or capture him, except that of course they might think he would interest himself in the affairs of the Great Sky Dragon and try to find him.  But if that was the case…  He looked at Jao…  If that was the case, then the fact that he wasn’t living here would keep him safe.  “I think they’re less likely to come after me,” he said.  “If they think I’m not interested in being The Great Sky Dragon.  They’ll think that because of that I’m not interested in finding The Great Sky Dragon.  I’ll be safer in the diner than here.  And you can set up someone here in my place, and pretend he is The Great Sky Dragon.”

“But what will we do?” Jao asked.  “Suppose you’re right, or he –” A meaningful glare at Old Joe.  “Is right.  What do we do?  How do we find him and rescue him?  How can you help us if you’re not even here?”

“Think in my direction really loudly,” Tom said.  “I seem to have the same facility The Great Sky Dragon has for getting inside other dragons heads.  But I won’t.  However, if you think in my direction, I will hear you.  And just find someone to play the part of Great Sky Dragon while I’m left free to look.”

Seeing Jao look at Conan, Tom extended an arm and pulled Conan to his feet.  “Not him.  He’s going to be a singing star.  And he’s coming with me.”  He put his other arm around Kyrie.  “She is too.  And so is he,” He refused to embrace Old Joe, but he gave the old man a meaningful look, and Old Joe got up and shambled towards them.  “We all leave,” he said.

Bea got up and dusted herself.  “I do too,” she said.  “If you tell me where my truck is, I left a gentleman alone who will be wondering where I got to.”

Jao looked at her.  “You can’t leave.  What if you’re not safe?”

“I’ll be safe.  And what he said, about getting the old dragon or his father to marry a female dragon shifter?  Find another one, it won’t be me.”

“Sir!” Jao said.

“You heard the lady,” Tom said amused.  “It won’t be her.  Now, where is her truck, please?”

“In the back.  In the employee parking,” Jao said, looking at Tom.  And for the first time Tom understood the power he had.  Jao was afraid of him.  Not just in the normal way people could be afraid of Tom when he’d forgotten to shave and was wearing his black leather jacket, not even afraid of Tom’s dragon and what Tom’s dragon had done to the brothers Liu out there.  No.  He was afraid of Tom in the way everyone had been afraid of the Great Sky Dragon.  As if Tom could do horrible things to him without even trying.

As soon as he had a quiet minute to himself, Tom was going to go through those files in his mind and find out what, in them, could make a member of the triads so scared.

But for now, with his friends around him he left the secret room of the Three Luck Dragon and walked along the deserted restaurant to the door.

There were two very large dragon shifters at the door.  Tom could see they were dragon shifters, though they were in their human form — both taller and bulkier than Tom.

They were blocking the door.

For a moment Tom thought that he would have to fight.  Then he remembered the dragon egg, as Old Joe called it, which he had received from The Great Sky Dragon.

He reached into his mind and found the link to the minds of those two particular dragons.  Now, he said, mentally.  You want to move.  I don’t want to have to take over your bodies and make you.  I’ve never done anything like that, and I might accidentally hurt you.”

He touched their minds in just the way that betrayed that, yes, he could make them do what he wanted.

They moved.  They moved out of the way very fast, and Tom and his friends emerged onto the parking lot, and to the breaking light of a new day.