The Stolen Future Box Set

by Brian K. Lowe

  Sanja stopped, her foot poised in mid-air for another futile assault on the wall.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. We’re all in trouble.” She concentrated for a moment, and the wall obliged her by extruded a long bench as though it had taken no offense at her ill-treatment. She sat, defeat written all over her face for the first time since I had met her. “So what do we do now?”

  I stretched and paced the length of our cell to cover the fact that I had no ideas.

  “My father used to say that when you are in a tough spot the best way to start is to list all of positive and negative aspects of your situation. Once you can see your options in front of you, you can choose from the list.” Neither of them spoke, for it would only have been to state the obvious: Our situation leaned very heavily toward the negative. “We can leave out our liabilities for the moment. There is very little we can do about them. What assets do we have?”

  “The Nuum don’t know me. If I can get my hands on a knife, I could kill most of the Council before they knew what hit them…”

  I closed my eyes. One step at a time. “I doubt they will let you near a knife, and murdering the Council will not persuade them to our cause.”

  “They might not stop me,” Gaz Bronn ventured. “Like Sanja said, I’m only in here because I was with you. They might let me out if I asked.”

  “Hmm. That is a possibility,” I said. “If nothing else, I do not want you caught up in our troubles. You have a responsibility to your own people, and I doubt you would be as helpless on your own as you think. We can keep that in mind, but for the moment you should stay here in case we think of anything else. Once you leave—if they let you—they certainly will not allow you back.” I substituted a thoughtful foot-tapping for my earlier pacing. I still had no concrete ideas, but I could feel the beginnings of notions tickling my brain… “Of course!” I said, angry at my own denseness. “None of the Nuum can read my mind. Not even the servers in the Great Hall in Dure were able to. That means if they want to know something from me, I will have to give it to them, which will allow me a chance to speak.”

  Gaz Bronn was watching me with an expression I was able to infer was akin to bewilderment. No wonder he was confused. He had never been exposed to any of this before.

  “Let me explain. The Nuum use human brains as computers to help power their datasphere. They also function as scanners in their great halls, monitoring for anyone with hostile intent—so even if Sanja could get a knife into the hall, she would never have a chance to use it. But the servers also act as judges in their trials; they read the accused’s thoughts and render a verdict. That is not going to work with me.”

  “Keryl, I know your shields are strong, but that sounds like you’re taking a great chance.”

  “Trust me,” Sanja said. “He’ll be fine.” She gave me a glance and I knew what she was wondering, but I saw no advantage in letting Gaz Bronn in on my secret at this late date. It was dangerous enough that the Nuum might learn it by scanning Sanja’s mind, but they had paid such scant attention to her to date that I little feared they would suddenly taken an interest. “I’m not sure how that’s going to help you, though.”

  I sighed. “Neither am I. But if that is the only card I hold, then that is the card I will have to play.”

  In truth, I had one other card up my sleeve, but it would have to stay there for now.

  I was almost becoming accustomed to being imprisoned underground with no way to tell time. I missed the Librarian—his knowledge of Nuum jurisprudence would have been invaluable—but otherwise I was not so depressed and bored as I had expected to be. Even in Jhal, there had been markers to count the passage of the days, meals, for example. If one waited until one was hungry before eating, one could fairly easily divide each three into a single day and keep a reasonably accurate calendar. The same method worked here, except that it was only two meals before our jailors extracted me. From the number of armed guards, it would easy to guess I was being taken in front of the Council. I fancied the speed with which they had managed to congregate was a credit to how much they wanted to see me on trial. For better or worse, I was glad to see matters coming to a head.

  Despite my protestations that she was to be a witness for me, Sanja was left in our cell. This development pleased me decidedly less.

  The chamber into which I was eventually led was not nearly so grand as the Great Hall in Dure, where last I had faced this august body, although whether the same men sat unsmiling in their array I had no idea. I was not surprised; this was not the grand convocation that I had crashed on the last occasion, an audience for the great and powerful, telecast to the entire planet by dataspheric transmission. This was my trial for treason, and the only reason the Council had convened at all was because they wanted—they needed—to know how I had become a “ghost,” capable not only of evading the datasphere’s information-gathering capabilities, but of disappearing from their very midst and remaining undiscovered for nearly two decades.

  This was the second ace up my sleeve: They had no idea who or what I was. They thought I was one of them, and they would treat me with the minimal respect they thought I deserved as a member of their superior class. Had they known I was an Earthman, if not exactly a Thoran, they would have dispensed with this proceeding and stood me alongside Sanja for summary execution.

  Had they known I was a time traveler, they would have dissected my mind until they discovered my secrets, even if it killed me.

  It was a poor card to play, and they would not even be aware I was playing it, but if it kept me alive, it was worth throwing down. As long as they believed me to be one of them, I had the chance of a fair trial, the hope of survival.

  I was led to a dais before the Council and electronically chained to it. Before me, and before the Council, stood an empty table. To my left, a similar dais stood, presumably awaiting witnesses, or perhaps the prosecutor. I quickly counted thirteen members of the Council, wearing a variety of robes, suits, dresses, and outfits of every color and description. Likely they could have told me a great deal about the wearers, but my education in that direction had been lacking and the Librarian was not here to tutor me now.

  “Is the defendant ready?” asked the councilor in the center of their group, resplendent in a shiny violet cape and hood that gave him the air of a headsman. His voice indicated that he cared not a whit about my answer. His face folded in on itself with wrinkles; in this world of extended youth, his age must easily exceed one hundred-twenty. I responded that I was ready.

  “Is the prosecutor ready?”

  The prosecutor must have glided into position at the other dais while my eyes were on the Council.

  “I am, your grace.”

  Even before I turned, I knew the voice. He kept a civil tongue, but there was no mistaking the hatred in his eyes.

  “Then we will begin,” announced the chief councilor. “Lord Farren, you will speak first.”

  Chapter 32

  Duel Without Swords

  Before he spoke, Farren stepped forward and carefully placed an array of items on the table before us. I recognized them as my revolver, my sword-staff, and my branch library, still appearing for all the world to be a simple metal sphere.

  “My lord High Councilor Duke Osa, members of the High Council, although the proud tradition of our people demands a swift trial for all criminals, in this case you will find that justice is extraordinarily expeditious. We need not concern ourselves with the customary procedure of interrogating the accused with the assistance of our servers; we have physical evidence of his treason. Nineteen years ago, this man, Keryl Clee, threatened this very body when it was convened in my city, Dure, but leading a mob of armed Thoran dissidents into the council chamber and attempting to assassinate us all.

  “I was present that day, and I fought the defendant personally. Our troops were rallying and the rebels’ lives were measured in minutes when this man opened the chamber doors to reveal a herd of breen that he had smuggle
d into the city. The citizens of Dure tremble at the memory to this day! Had I not personally managed to see this Council to safety, our world would have been crippled, perhaps crushed by the Thoran rebellion. Certainly none of us would be sitting here today.

  “The entire attempted coup was transmitted across our planet and witnessed by thousands of our people. It was recorded by the servers. Somehow, contraband copies found their way into the hands of Thorans, for whom even the possession of viewing equipment was a capital offense, and smaller rebellions sprung up in many cities. Hundreds of people died before the Thorans were put down.

  “In the middle of the chaos, this man vanished. Despite the combined efforts of every Nuum in every city, no trace was found. Now, nearly twenty years later, he had returned to wreak further havoc. Recently, the Lady Maire Por Foret traveled here, to Crystalle. Keryl Clee was seen in her company, and now she has disappeared. I myself came to Crystalle to coordinate the efforts to find her, and through those efforts Keryl Clee was captured at last.

  “My lords, this man—this ghost—is too dangerous to be allowed to live another day. I ask you, on the basis of the overwhelming evidence against him, to grant me the right of summary execution—” he stole a theatrical glance toward the chamber doors as though he expected an army to burst through—”before he can cause any further damage to our society and our peace.”

  It was, I had to admit, as pretty a speech in favor of condemning me to death as I had ever heard.

  On the other hand, it was also as self-serving an abridgment of the truth as I had ever heard. Farren’s recounting of events left so many holes that I could probably spend the rest of the day patching them up. But would I be given the chance?

  For long moments, the Council sat silent. Even Farren seemed to succumbing to nervousness when the chief councilor, Duke Osa, spoke again.

  “Lord Farren, your impassioned speech is to your credit. This body does not doubt nor dispute your assessment of the defendant’s danger to our lives, and even potentially to our civilization. As you have pointed out, the evidence against him is clear and overwhelming. His fate awaits only our pronouncement.”

  I started to interrupt, but he merely stared at me, and such was the force of his personality that I was cowed into submission.

  “That being said, I was a part of this council nineteen years ago. I was there, in Dure, during the events you reference, and while it is true that you played a role in saving us, matters were not quite so clear-cut as you would have them now. Not only that, but there are questions we would put to the defendant, not the least concerning the health and whereabouts of Lady Maire, until recently, your co-regent.”

  At the very least, Duke Osa was no fool, and he wanted Farren very much to remember that. I felt a flicker of hope. Not for myself so much as for the possibility that Maire might yet be rescued, even if not by me.

  “I have also been informed,” continued the duke, “by our military advisors that the ship the defendant was found upon uses a technology with which we are unfamiliar. They are very eager to find out what he knows about it, and whence it originated.”

  And I was very eager to tell them. But when was I to be given that chance?

  The Council fell silent again, as all of the assembled councilors starting staring blankly into space. Slowly their faces took on expressions of puzzlement, then disbelief. My expression remained one of bewilderment, since I had no idea what was happening.

  Suddenly Farren stepped over to me and gave me a backhanded slap that rocked my head.

  “Lower your shields, fool! Lower them or I’ll have the guards put you down right here!”

  “Farren!” barked Duke Osa. “You will not touch the prisoner!”

  The coward retreated while I rotated my head and rolled my shoulders, unable to massage my face where he had smacked me because of my restraints.

  “I am not hurt, my lord.”

  “Silence!” Now his anger was directed at me. “Keryl Clee, you have the strongest mental shields I have ever seen, and I have known many strong men in my time. But the servers will have the truth from you. If you force us to tear down your shields by force, I cannot be responsible for your pain.”

  The light dawned. Osa was not describing the questions he wanted to ask me; this was actually his interrogation. Rather than try to compel my cooperation, he had been trying to bring my unspoken answers near to the surface of my brain, where the hall’s servers could pluck out the information. Undoubtedly ten or twelve dedicated minds focusing on the man in the dock would obliterate any normal Nuum’s efforts at mental secrecy—but I was not normal. My brain was a million years old, and none of their telepathic science could read the primitive coding inside my skull. I had played my hole card without even realizing that the deck had been dealt.

  “My lords, I regret that I cannot honor your request. My thoughts are my own, and they will remain so.” Some of the councilors began to mutter. “That being said, I am willing to answer your questions, at least insofar as they relate to my wife.” More muttering. They had carefully refrained from mentioning my marriage, but they all knew about it. I was perversely glad that they could not see my thoughts, since a small and immature part of my brain was giving Farren a raspberry; in Maire, I had what he had always wanted.

  “My lord councilors!” Farren was almost jumping up and down in his indignation. “I object to this testimony. It cannot be authenticated or corroborated.”

  A raised hand forestalled any response on my part. The councilors exchanged glances all along the length of their assembly, and such was their command of their telepathy that even at such a short distance I could discern nothing, not the slightest impression, of their deliberations.

  “We will hear what the defendant has to say,” Osa announced. “Whether it will weigh on our decision is to be determined, but if he can shed light on the whereabouts of Lady Maire, we will welcome it. We are fully aware, Keryl Clee, of your recent marriage, and we rely upon your honesty if there is anything we may do to restore your wife to our company.”

  There was every possibility that after I told my story, they would pass judgment on me regardless. In fact, there was nothing I could say that could ameliorate the charges against me, since I was most certainly guilty of all of them, and I would do the same again if the need arose. But my life was not the only one in jeopardy; Maire and Timash and The Dark Lady’s crew depended on me.

  In as straightforward and succinct terms as I could, I relayed to the Council the story of our journey since leaving Crystalle, omitting only our stop at the Thoran community and the skirmish we had fought with what I now knew must have been klurath scouts, since to relate that would be to reveal the settlers’ possession of illegal weapons. I told them how we were attacked and forced down, of our battle in the walls of the ancient dome where we had hidden our ship, and how I returned to find the ship deserted. I recounted my setting out to search for my friends, my encounter with Gaz Bronn, and our entry into Jhal, whereupon I became a bodyguard to Gaz Bronn, and how I learned that my companions had been similarly enslaved. (The mention of Nuum in slavery made them stiffen, but no one interrupted.) I did not disclose the importance of Gaz Bronn’s position, only that he was an influential citizen opposed to war on the surface peoples. I described as best I could the kluraths’ ships and fighting abilities, augmenting the little I knew with what I believed to be true, and giving both equal weight as fact.

  “The klurath are ready to fight. Although their technology is different from Nuum technology, and probably not as advanced, they are a warlike people who have been preparing for this chance for many, many years.

  “If they invade the surface, I do not believe the Nuum can stop them.”

  This elicited responses. A buzz of conversation arose from the councilors, less disciplined than their earlier convocation, and it was easy to see that opinions were widely split and vehemently debated.

  Finally a woman to my left gained the floor by the simple expe
dient of waving her arms until everyone else stopped to pay attention to her. Even if my day it would have been considered indecorous, but it worked. She was quite handsome, with red hair streaked grey, and parchment skin.

  “May I address a question to the defendant, Duke Osa?”

  He nodded. “The Council will hear questions from Lady Darenna Por Tanz. The defendant will answer them.”

  “Thank you. Exactly why do you think these lizard-men could overcome the Nuum protectorates? You’ve admitted their technology is not equal to ours.”

  “True, but they did force us to crash-land The Dark Lady.”

  She waved that away. “Driving down a pleasure barge is not the same as defeating a battleship. If that is what you base your opinion on, we have nothing more to listen to.”

  “The problem, my lady, is one of numbers. The klurath have been breeding warriors for centuries. According to Gaz Bronn they have hundreds of ships. My inquiries led me to believe that the Nuum do not.”

  This set off a new round of argument.

  “Inquiries? Where is he—?”

  “He’s getting his facts from a—”

  “What if he’s telling the truth?”

  “The man’s a traitor who tried to kill us!”

  “May it please this council!” Farren’s voice overrode the tumult with an authority I had never heard from him before. The work of persecution suited him. “The defendant’s story is highly alarming, but we have to remember that he is on trial for his life. He refuses to allow the servers to verify his testimony, and Lady Maire, who could corroborate this fantastic tale—if any of it were true—is nowhere to be found! It is highly likely that if she has come to harm, the defendant himself has caused it! I ask this council to remember who and where he is.”

  “I did not make up the airship I was found in.” Some of the councilors nodded.

  “Which proves nothing,” Farren continued. “We can freely admit there are parts of Thora we do not control, or even know well. Other technologies may exist, and if they do, we should explore them for our own protection. But one ship—or even two or three—does not make a fleet, nor prove an invasion is pending.”