by Ryk E. Spoor
Orphan laughed. ‘‘You see clearly indeed, Dr. DuQuesne. But I will not abandon my position as guide as quickly as that, as long as one or more of you accompany me—to remind Sethrik of the circumstances of our truce, so to speak. Even so, it would not be amiss for you to venture out on your own, at least on these two layers. As you have seen, true violence is discouraged in Nexus Arena—except in Challenge—and you do not wish to give the impression that you are afraid of this place.’’
‘‘No, definitely not,’’ Ariane concurred. ‘‘And I’d guess that if we have to answer a Challenge, we’ll have to at least risk being in places where someone might Challenge us, right?’’
‘‘You speak truly. And—if you are cautious and watch what you say—you may well learn more than others learn of you.’’
The doorway of the building rolled open as Orphan approached, and the group passed inside, whereupon it shut. Inside was a room that was merely large by human building standards, but entirely appropriate as the entry hall for an embassy or other official building. Lit with a bright light that had a warm orangish tinge, the Liberated Embassy showed an exuberant and direct cheer in the rough-hewn statuary, sharply-executed relief mosaics, and other ornamentation. The art, Ariane thought, was something Steve would describe as primitive, very directly representational for the most part, but well-executed. The floor was of a hard polished stone, mostly white but with symmetrical splotches like black snowflakes scattered through it. Orphan paused for a moment in the center of the floor. ‘‘Embassy directive: the human beings present—Captain Ariane Austin, Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne, and Dr. Simon S. Sandrisson, are hereby granted full Guest privileges. I am assigning them the first suite on this floor for their use and convenience.’’ He then led them across the floor to one of four doors evenly spaced across the far wall; the door rolled aside and he ushered them in.
‘‘You are now privileged guests of the Liberated, on whose behalf I welcome you,’’ he said, with a wry formality. ‘‘The Chief Ambassador Orphan also welcomes you, as does our great Leader, Orphan, and his Advisor, Orphan.’’
Ariane laughed. ‘‘Well, Orphan, Ambassador Orphan, Leader Orphan, and Advisor Orphan, I thank you. Something that Rel said has brought up another issue: you can join a Faction?’’
Orphan’s hands tapped. ‘‘Oh, certainly. If the Faction permits it, you could join and gain their benefits. The problem, of course, is that you would be committing yourself to that Faction—yourself and your entire species. The Analytic, I admit, would likely be the least onerous such commitment to make, but still, I have not gained the impression that you are empowered by your people to negotiate for your species . . . but as far as the Arena is concerned, you are in fact empowered to do so, and the Arena will consider such decisions binding, and will care nothing for later protests by other members of your species.’’
Oh my. That would, as the old saying goes, put the cat among the pigeons. Simon frowned at the implications. Ariane was in the position to make decisions for all humanity from the Arena’s viewpoint? That could indeed be sticky. And did rather eliminate the quick solution to their dilemma of how to get home. ‘‘Can other individuals go their own way? That is, if Humanity were to join the Analytic, could individual humans choose to go join, well, the Liberated?’’
‘‘Yes, for individuals. For groups, the matter is complex, but the base case is as I have stated, and there would be many problems if, for example, you were to commit to the Analytic but your homeworld, or nations thereof, wished to repudiate that commitment.’’
‘‘Forget it,’’ DuQuesne said. ‘‘We’re our own Faction and staying that way for quite a while. Too much to learn here and too many pitfalls.’’
Orphan showed them how the suite of rooms—twelve rooms for ‘‘private or group quarters,’’ a central meeting room, a side room for conferences, a food preparation area, and biological waste disposal areas—could be configured and, to a certain extent, customized to their needs. ‘‘Now I go to my long-awaited dinner, and I expect you shall wish to speak amongst yourselves and rest.’’ With a bob-bow, he began to leave, then paused, looking back with body language that somehow conveyed an almost ironic smile. ‘‘I would assure you that Guest access provides you with privacy in your assigned quarters, but you might not believe me.’’ He passed through the door, which rolled shut behind him.
Chapter 28
‘‘Whew,’’ DuQuesne said, sinking into an oddly-shaped but compliant chair. ‘‘This, my friends, has been one long, long day.’’
Ariane couldn’t help but smile at the huge power engineer. She suspected he wasn’t nearly so tired as he made himself out to be, though. ‘‘In what looks to be a series of long, long days,’’ she agreed.
‘‘But overall an extremely fruitful one,’’ said Simon. ‘‘A shame about the Powerbroker, but I believe we will find the Analytic a very useful partner.’’
She nodded. ‘‘I’m more interested in determining our next steps. My first question is . . . do we really want to go forward? We’ve opened the Outer Gate. Do we really need to go through this Challenge business now?’’
She could see that DuQuesne had already been thinking along those lines; Simon gave a little ‘‘Ah . . . ’’ which indicated that the question hadn’t occurred to him. She waited to give him a few moments.
‘‘You know, that’s an interesting question, Captain.’’ Simon said finally. ‘‘Orphan’s a rather . . . forceful personality, and this day has been filled with wonder enough that his assumptions as to our next steps have simply seemed natural.’’ He looked over to DuQuesne. ‘‘Marc?’’
‘‘Much as I hate feeling like I’m being herded down someone else’s path,’’ DuQuesne said slowly, ‘‘I think we have to go through with it—not desperately, not stupidly, but we have to play the game. For two reasons.
‘‘First, unless the top of our Sphere is completely different than I suspect, the best possibility we’ll have for generating power will be building something like a waterwheel. It’ll take us years to recharge the coils that way—assuming the AIWish keeps working and we can keep it building stuff for us, and the stuff works on what he calls the Upper Sphere like it does inside. Can you afford to be away for years? Hell, I don’t like having been gone for the weeks we’ve already been.’’
Sandrisson shook his head sharply. ‘‘No, definitely not. I am sure there are people waiting back home for all of us—friends, family, and so on. More practically, if the ‘Straits’ are not opened, the Sandrisson Drive is, essentially, useless. It will allow us to move swiftly around our solar system, but never give us the stars, because we cannot exit from the Sphere and cross to other parts of the Arena. And there is the issue that if we are gone too long, others may try the experiment on their own, which could severely complicate the situation here.’’
Ariane nodded. ‘‘And the second reason?’’
DuQuesne gave a tight, cynical smile. ‘‘This whole place is set up to make us meet at this Nexus Arena, right? So I wouldn’t put it past the builders or controllers of the Arena to make it force you to play the game, if you try to go to extremes to avoid it. Anything that can basically switch nuclear reactions on and off, and make the AISages shut down without causing a detectable bit of damage, can probably do other stupid physics tricks, like keep batteries from charging beyond a certain level.’’
Ariane winced at that thought. ‘‘That’s a nasty thought . . . and it fits with what we know so far. Okay, we have to move forward. So what’re our next steps?’’
DuQuesne spoke up. ‘‘For my part, Captain, I’d like to head back and bring the others up to date. Then maybe take an expedition to this Outer Gateway and see what we have up there, take advantage of whatever resources we actually have to work with.’’
Ariane repressed an immediate expression of dismay. She really didn’t like the idea of facing the Arena without the black-bearded, omnicompetent DuQuesne backing her up, but he didn’t come up with id
eas without good reason. ‘‘Can we afford to split up like that?’’ she asked finally.
DuQuesne shrugged. ‘‘I don’t think we can afford not to, Captain. We’ve got more people than we’ve sent here, of course, but there’s no way we’re taking any part of this place by force of numbers. What we do need is resources, stuff that we can either trade or at least live on, and from what Orphan says, the Outer Gateway leads to a livable environment—maybe with food and water we can use. With that, we would have a lot more options, especially on the timeframe side, and—more importantly—we have to update everyone else.
‘‘At the same time,’’ he continued, ‘‘we can’t drop the ball here, either. We’ve made apparently a pretty good start for a first entry, drawn some attention, and people are interested in that. We can’t vanish for days or weeks after that—we’d lose the momentum of the moment.’’
‘‘Are you sure you want to go back now, Marc?’’ Simon asked. ‘‘I don’t mind saying that I feel a lot more comfortable with you here.’’
‘‘Thanks, Simon. And I appreciate that,’’ DuQuesne said. ‘‘But I think I have to, for the reasons I just gave. We’ve got a bunch of other people back there who’ve got nothing except a little ping I gave them when I went back through. And no, I’m not saying how I managed that, Captain, not here, not now. But they need the full update, and we need those resources. So, yeah, I’m going. The captain can protect you pretty damn well, Simon—at least against anything ordinary—and the security setup they have should prevent all-out war. Just don’t commit to anything, and if you’ve got a question—any question at all—about whether someone’s trying to put something over on you, say no and kick it over to the captain.’’
Simon nodded, to her vast surprise. Just ‘‘kick it over to the captain,’’ as though I actually have any better judgment on this kind of stuff than Simon? And he just accepts it? Don’t they realize I’m making it all up as I go along? ‘‘Well, then, I think I’m going to avail myself of the water for a cleanup, and then eat a little something and go to bed,’’ Simon said. ‘‘Apologies for disappearing, but I actually want to replay some of my conversation with Dr. Rel; there were a few things he let slip—deliberately or not—which give me some new insights.’’
Once Simon was gone, she glanced over at DuQuesne. ‘‘Just kick it over to me?’’
The big man shifted uncomfortably. ‘‘Sorry. I know that put you on the spot, but you didn’t torpedo me.’’
‘‘Because I figure you know what you’re doing. You’ve proven you think about five steps ahead of everyone, even Orphan, so I have to assume you have some reason to make Simon and the others believe I actually deserve that silly title you all stuck on me.’’
DuQuesne shook his head. ‘‘You’ve got it all wrong, Captain. You don’t believe it yourself, but believe me, you’ve got what it takes. The instinct, the aura of command, look of eagles, whatever it is, you’ve got it. I can fake it up when I need it, but that’s not even close to the real thing, not by about ninety-seven rows of little apple trees.’’
She just stared at him for a minute, realizing that he sincerely meant every word of it. Me?
Then she shrugged. ‘‘Ooo . . . kay. Whatever you say . . . Blackie.’’
He winced and grunted. ‘‘I was afraid that if anyone on Holy Grail would know, it would be you. Please do not use that name again, all right?’’
‘‘All right. It was just that last line.’’
‘‘What? Oh, that damn apple tree thing. You know, I’ve tried to drum all that crap out of my head for the past fifty years, and whenever I get put under stress, the blasted stuff comes right back out.’’
‘‘Could be worse. I’d imagine if they had people based on even less realistic backgrounds . . . ’’
DuQuesne looked bleak. ‘‘Don’t.’’
Touching on something he’s not ready to talk about. ‘‘Sorry.’’ She tried to give an apologetic grin, but her lip stung. ‘‘Ow.’’
‘‘You going to be okay?’’ DuQuesne looked relieved to find another topic.
‘‘It’s just a split lip, Marc, I’ve had lots worse even when I was a kid. Does remind me how much I’ve been relying on your being there, though. Not that I want anyone getting killed trying to save my pride, but I wouldn’t have been able to face down that . . . thing at all.’’ She couldn’t quite keep the embarrassment off her face. ‘‘I’ve got a . . . problem with spiders, and those things set off my spider reaction.’’
‘‘They do have the look of the same kind of nasty to them in some ways, I’ll agree. But after what we’ve seen, I don’t think you need anything from me, at least not for the next few days. Just trust your instincts, don’t give anyone anything, and if things really look bad, have Orphan bring you back to the gate. Bring him with you, if he’s really in danger; he’s got his own agenda, no doubt, but we need him, I think.’’ He got up. ‘‘I’m going to get ready for bed myself. Captain, the only thing you need to do that you aren’t doing is pretty simple—and it’s also the damn hardest thing you’ll ever have to do.
‘‘Trust yourself. You’re not just captain because we stuck you with the job. That’s just how you got the job. But if you weren’t actually able to do the job—to hold together this little group of independent thinkers—we’d never have gotten this far.’’ He looked reluctant to bring up the subject, but said, ‘‘Do you think someone . . . something . . . like me follows just anyone? I’ve worked to get rid of the real superiority complex, but believe you me, I’ve still got a lot of little issues in that area, and most bosses put my back up. You . . . you just say what has to get done, and we do it. Even when I’m asking myself what the hell’s going on, I’m still following your lead. So try believing you deserve the job you’ve got—’’ He grinned suddenly. ‘‘—even if you really didn’t deserve to have it dumped on you.’’
He left for his own room, and Ariane headed for hers. Maybe . . . no, given his experience, probably . . . DuQuesne was right. She had always been able to direct groups she was in. Maybe she did have a talent for leading people. Maybe it was even guided by good instinct for the right thing to do.
But still . . . he was going to be gone, leaving her with no backup except Simon. I’d argue, but I think he’s right.
But, oh, dear gods, am I going to miss having him here.
Chapter 29
The inner doorway rolled open, and DuQuesne found himself staring down the barrel of what appeared to be an old-fashioned but no doubt highly functional tripod-mounted machine gun.
The blue eyes behind the sights of the gun relaxed. ‘‘Thank God it’s you, D . . . Marc,’’ Gabrielle Wolfe said in her soft Southern drawl, swinging the gun to point in a safer direction and stepping away. ‘‘Where’s the others?’’
‘‘Didn’t get my ping?’’ he asked, then answered himself, ‘‘Of course not; I entered during one of the closed cycles and it didn’t take me long to get here.’’
Carl nodded. ‘‘It’s still about twenty minutes before we’d be checking for the update. Thanks for that last one.’’
‘‘Those weren’t updates, they were ‘wish you were here’ postcards and ‘still alive’ pings.’’ He glanced over at Cussler. ‘‘No one picked up on the scam, Tom, just like we thought.’’
‘‘I’m glad. Not that most of us could have gotten away with it.’’
DuQuesne shrugged. ‘‘Admittedly, it takes a lot of training to be able to make sure no one’s looking, or misdirect them, so that I could deploy one of the miniature RF nodes. I was most worried about Orphan; couldn’t be sure he didn’t have better senses, or some gadgetry I hadn’t noticed. That’s why I had a delay set up on them so they wouldn’t radiate until after we’d left. Worked, though.’’ DuQuesne chuckled. ‘‘He may be an alien, but you should’ve seen how totally flummoxed he was by the fact that I could be absolutely sure I’d come back to the right place, in a couple of seconds. He couldn’t figure it at all.’’
Tom grinned widely. DuQuesne didn’t blame him; it had been Tom and Carl who’d come up with the idea of making not nanotech devices—which, for some reason failed, outside of living bodies—but truly ancient RF repeater/sensor nodes using nothing more advanced than late twentieth or early twenty-first century integrated circuits, miniature sensors, power harvesting, and low-power transmitters. Several dozen of the centimeter-square devices had been hidden at various points in and around his clothing, and he’d deployed them at intervals and locations that would insure uninterrupted relaying. One of the others had had to come out and arrange for the inner doors to open at intervals, of course, but once the nodes had become active, they could provide a map to each successive location.
DuQuesne was sure that such devices were common in the Arena—espionage being as popular as it must be—but the combination of their quick adoption of the technology and his ability to deploy it unseen had been the key to effective use. The latter was, of course, the reason he’d pressured even Carl Edlund into keeping the existence of the nodes secret from Ariane and Simon. Had they known he was deploying these devices, they might have given it away inadvertently. By being unaware of it themselves, even their body language could reveal nothing.
‘‘Where’re Ariane and Dr. Sandrisson?’’ demanded Steve.
‘‘They stayed behind to keep the pot stirred. They should be safe enough for now. Look, let a guy get settled, gimme a few minutes to breathe, and I’ll tell you about it.’’
He didn’t let them rush him; he wanted to make sure he went through the sequence of events, and the implications of those events, carefully and clearly. Once he’d gotten himself lunch—having been brought by Orphan and the others to the Inner Gateway after breakfast and discussion—DuQuesne brought the others up to speed.