Nyklos nearly ran Sinklar down, breaking him from his paralysis. Sinklar hurried over, noting the recorder by Staffa's side. The message in light was flashing on and off.
"Wait," Sinklar called as Nyklos reached for the golden helmet. "Let's see what he's up to."
"What if he's dying?" Nyklos shot him a calculating glance.
"Trust him, Nyklos. He usually knows what he's doing Further argument was postponed as Staffa struggled weakly to raise his arms. He managed to get his fingers on the rim of the helmet.
Sinklar nodded, and Nyklos helped the Lord Commander to lift the golden helmet from his soaked head. Staffa's face
had flushed. His eyes appeared feverish when he blinked them.
"Are you all right?" Sinklar asked, studying the pupil dilation, seeking some signal of disaster.
"Exhausted. Headache . . ."
"What did you think you were doing?" Sinklar cried as he gestured toward the machine. "That ... thing, could have killed you. Bruen says-"
"I'm fine, Sinklar," Staffa gasped. "Just exhausted. Contact Kaylla. Tell her she needs to cut Formosan textile manufacture by eight percent to reduce the demand for Nesian dyes. " Staffa swallowed hard. "I need something to drink.
Haven't been this dry since Etaria. " He winced. "What a headache!"
Staffa sat up, upper body reeling slightly as he struggled for balance. He propped himself, stiff-armed, head hanging. Sinklar saw him grin. "I think, Sinklar, that we'll be all right. "
"Why did you do such a foolish thing?" Nyklos asked, arms crossed. Adze and the others had arrived, the techs staring nervously at each other, Mhitshul still looking stunned.
Staffa seemed to be regaining his composure. "Talked to Kaylla. Just before I came down here. We're running out of time. I opened my mind to the machine.
Let it ... let it plumb the depths of my soul."
"The Mag Comm is known for corrupting the souls of the best of men, Lord Commander. " There was a flintlike hardness in Nyklos' eyes.
Staffa gave a weak nod. "I can understand why. But then, Nyklos, old enemy, when has the Mag Comm ever encountered a soul that has been as corrupt as mine? I let it see everything, all the memories, all the ghosts. I let it follow my entire career until I became exhausted. After that, I don't remember much except fatigue."
"Why?" Sinklar continued to ask, worried about the ramifications. "Why didn't you let me know?"
"so you wouldn't talk me out of it." Staffa nodded toward the recorder in Sinklar's hand. "I left you orders. If I was killed, you'd find the instructions recorded there. With them, you could blast the mountain from space. Chrysla
could do it." Staffa slumped. "The machine confirmed my suspicion. We could kill it."
"Then perhaps we should do so," Nyklos grunted. Staffa smiled wearily. "I think not. It's not just a machine anymore, Nyklos. When Sinklar blasted Makarta prior to his assault, the machine became aware. As part of the attack, it realized that it, too, could be killed. Not only that, the Mag Comm knows that if we die off it won't have anyone to communicate with. " He wiped at the trickling sweat "It's afraid of being left alone."
"So there aren't any aliens on the other end?" Sinklar glanced warily at Nyklos.
"Oh, they're there, all right." Staffa glanced up, sweat dripping from his chin as he looked into Nyklos' suspicious face. "I'll bet the machine has never admitted that before :'No. "
'And there's more. It claims to be . . . to have been one of them. "
Sinklar straightened. "Yes, but, Staffa, how do we know whether you're just buying the machine's propaganda? This is all still suspect. Maybe the Mag Comm is trying to buy time. Who knows?"
Staffa licked his lips. "That's what we all have to find out. "
"What makes you think you're above its corruption?" Nyklos demanded, leaning forward.
Staffa chuckled. "You, of all people, ask that? I'm the perfect person to fence with it, Master. What corruption can it offer me? Power? Victory over my enemies? Wealth? Think, Nyklos, I've sated every human appetite, and when it searched my brain, it found the only thing I can be manipulated with."
:'And what it that?"
'The way to break the Forbidden Borders." Staffa shivered, and Sinklar reached forward to support him. "It does read the brain. From the sensations I experienced, it does so thoroughly. I have no doubts but that it rooted out my deepest secrets. It knows that we know how to destroy it. It also knows that unless it delivers, we'll do it."
Nyklos slapped his hands against his thighs, turning away. "Just once, Lord Commander, I would like to be in a position where I didn't have to take your word!"
Staffa turned to Sinklar with glazed eyes. "It's in the recorder. Everything.
If anything happens to me, get to the ship. Three grav disrupters; will bring this whole mountain down. A crust-buster, landing on the sand that remains, will send a seismic shock through the crustal plate that will effectively kill the Mag Comm. Ryman's been working on the data. "
"I'm still having problems with this," Sinklar said stubbomly.
Staffa's eyelids had drooped. "It's all right, Sinklar. I used the most persuasive argument I had. I didn't try to hide a thing. The Mag Comm knows how desperate I am. It knows what it will take to dicker for its survival."
Nyklos stood defiantly, shaking his head.
Staffa began to wilt. "I've got to rest. If I don't, I'm going to fall over .
. . and I think I might get very sick." Sinklar turned, " Mhitshul! Go find an antigrav. Hurry." Staffa had rolled back into the recliner, head sagging to one side as he dropped off to sleep.
"Well?" Nyklos asked, his penetrating brown stare boring into Sinklar. "Do you believe him? Or is the Star Butcher the latest of the Mag Comm's victims?"
Sinklar shrugged, worry eating at him as he inspected Staffa. He cradled the recorder close to his side. "Adze? As soon as we get Staffa out of here, I want this room under constant surveillance. See Nyklos to his quarters and make sure he's settled in."
"Sir!" Adze snapped a salute and made a polite gesture to the Seddi Master.
Nyklos gave Sinklar a frosty glance, nodded, and left ahead of the STU.
Sink sighed wearily, placing a hand on Staffa's hot shoulder. "The Rotted Gods help us if you've made a mistake, Staffa. "
In the background, the machine flashed its lights, the polished casing reflecting twisted images of the room's occupants.
CHAPTER 26
The Mag Comm devoted its considerable resources to the analysis of the data recovered from Staffa kar Therma's remarkable brain. The machine segregated a fragment of its capacity, inaugurating analytic functions premised on different baseline assumptions. Null hypotheses were generated and tested by statistical exercises which then sought to determine the probability of Staffa kar Therma's ultimate goals. Other processors reviewed the interview, searching for any hidden motives which might have escaped the machine's scan of the man's brain.
The alternate hypothesis remained valid. Nothing had been hidden. The Lord Commander of the Companions had opened himself totally. In essence, he had offered complete surrender to the Mag Comm's probing.
The Mag Comm couldn't even ponder the question of why. The answer lay there for the machine to read-as exposed as Staffa's fear of the nightmares and the guilt that drove him.
The essential facts were as follows: First, humanity needed the machine to take over the day-to-day governing of its economic concerns. Second, that governing would be monitored by random checks through a computer network Staffa was building on Farhome. The monitoring would attempt to ensure that the Mag Comm wasn't taking advantage of its position. Third, Staffa kar Therma had no ulterior motive with which the machine could manipulate him-except the Forbidden Borders. And finally, if
the Mag Comm failed to help the humans, or betrayed them, Staffa would return to destroy the terminal at Makarta Mountain.
And then I would be cut off forever. Locked in the darkness.
Nevertheless, a surg
e of excitement played across the machine's boards.
Comparisons of Staffa kar Therma's awakening to self-awareness with the Mag Comm's own, demonstrated statistically similar experiences.
His path to awareness was so similar to mine. Are we so different? Such a revelation only reinforced the notion that Mag Comm and humans shared more in common than Mag Comm and Others.
For the present, the game had begun. Unlike the cat and mouse played with Bruen, these dealings would be for the future, for both of them. And besides, the Mag Comm had never dealt with an honest human before. Would integrity make any real difference in the end?
Or will I finally be forced to destroy humanity ... and myself?
Nyklos entered the communications dome and settled himself in the chair beside Sinklar Fist. The small dome measured no more than ten meters across, yet it contained a complete comm center from which the Companions could coordinate activities all across the planet by means of an up-link to Chrysla which maintained a geosynchronous orbit overhead.
Technicians sat at consoles, efficiently monitoring their equipment. A slight whisper came from the ventilation system overhead, offering scant competition for the mumbled conversations directed to the terminal pickups.
Sinklar had leaned back in his seat, lost in thought. Nyklos took the moment to study the young man. In spite of the fact that he was Staffa's son, he didn't look like much. Short, thin, his black hair unruly, one would have thought he'd be a mirror image of the Lord Commander. Nevertheless, when Nyklos had first met Fist's odd yellow and gray eyes, he'd experienced a sense of awe. What was it about Fist? He seemed so much older, tested and tried. Haunted.
Yes, that was it. The look of gangly youth didn't last past a glimpse of that unsettled and unsettling gaze. And when it turned on Nyklos, his soul shivered.
It's no wonder he hates us. Bruen's legacy might be with us for years. So which strategy should he pursue? How far did he go to bridge that gap of hatred propagated by years of interference in the boy's life and compounded by the senseless waste of the Targan war?
"How is Staffa?" Nyklos ventured, taking a hesitant step onto the thin ice.
" Still asleep." Sinklar shifted his attention to Nyklos. Are we ready?" At that, Fist activated the privacy field, and the muted. sounds within the dome vanished.
"Before we start, I'd like to clarify some things between US. "
That probing bicolored gaze ate into Nyklos as if it could see through him.
"Go ahead, Master."
" We have a great deal of mending to do. All of us." He made a nervous gesture with his hand. "I would like to point out that I serve Kaylla Dawn. Not Bruen.
:,I understand that." 'Lord Fist--
"I'm neither a Lord nor a member of the aristocracy. That appellation, no matter what its political realities, was given to me by Ily Takka. If you must use an honorific, I am a Division First. Otherwise, I'd like to be called Sinklar.
, ,As you wish." He paused and smiled. "I'm afraid this isn't very easy for me, but I think it needs to be said. I understand your feelings about the Seddi. I would ask you only to judge us by our present not by policies of the past. For better or worse, we have been thrown together in the same traj ectory-to fall or fly as we will."
"I'm aware of that, Master. We are all what events have made us. We can no more divorce ourselves from the past than we can cut off our right arms. "
' 'Yes, of course, but consider this: I don't know all the details of Bruen's manipulation of your life. I certainly don't know the history of everything that occurred on this planet. For the present, we must work together as a team. Despite
the past, I'm willing to offer my services, such as they might be.
"I understand. Thank you."
Nyklos wet his lips, hating to push, having to nevertheless. "In that spirit, what was your impression of what happened down there?" What did the Star Butcher do to us?
A weary smile bent Sinklar's lips. "No matter what you might think of the Lord Commander, he doesn't waste time dithering in the galactic drift. Before we can formulate any policy, we must answer our concerns over the machine. Will Bruen have the final laugh? Are his dire warnings prophetic? Staffa is going to find out. "
"Did you listen to the instructions on the recorder?"
"I did. In case anything goes wrong, Staffa's orders are explicit. I am to retrieve the documents in the archive room, then level the mountain.
"And afterward?"
"That depends on what the machine does to Staffa. If it kills him or disables him to the point that STO Ark and I don't trust his judgment, I will assume command.
"Let's say it kills him."
Fist took a deep breath. "He asked me to use the Regan military in conjunction with the Companions and what remains of the Imperial Sassan military forces under Than Jakre to maintain order while a new comm system is constructed on Farhome. Magister Dawn, Tap Amurka, and I are to form a triumvirate to oversee the transition."
Nyklos twirled the end of his mustache and lowered his voice. "You fought Staffa here. You're familiar with his record. Granted, you're his son, but .
"Do I trust him?"
Nyklos nodded. "Do you? After what he's done, the atrocities he's committed, are you ready to turn human destiny over to him?"
"In other words, has the terrible butcher really become a saint?"
"We're betting a great deal on that unknown. " Nyklos leaned forward. "The Mag Comm isn't the only despot that many of us fear." How will you vote in the end, Fist? For Yourfather ... or for humanity?
Sinklar rubbed his hands together, palms making a rasping sound. "'Oddly enough, I do trust him. I think I've come
to understand what drives him. He knows what he's done. Just like when he placed that helmet on his head down there, he's willing to sacrifice himself if it will buy the rest of us time. "
Nyklos crossed his arms and stared at the floor between his feet.
" Nyklos," Sinklar added, "I think that speaks with a great deal of authority.
We all must take responsibility for fixing this mess."
" Of course. You're right." Nyklos responded automatically, unbidden memories rising to plague him.
:'Staffa mentioned that you hated him. Why?"
'He ... Staffa kar Therma killed my parents. Sold me into slavery.
From the moment Bruen bought me off the slave block in Myklene, I've trained to kill the Lord Commander. It was no accident that I was on Etaria. I worked like a dog to get that assignment. I knew he'd show up there eventually. "
Sinklar nodded after the pause had stretched, then reached forward to access the comm. A woman's face formed on the monitor. She wore the epaulets of a Companions Comm Specialist. "This is Sinklar Fist. I would like a subspace link to Itreata, please. I need to speak to Magister Dawn." "Affirmative. One minute, please."
While they waited, Sinklar said to Nyklos, "I may not be able to forget the past, Master, but I can look toward the future. Can you?"
Nyklos chewed at his mustache as Kaylla Dawn's face was projected on the monitor. To his surprise, he found himself suddenly unsure. During the journey from Itreata, he'd come to the conclusion that Bruen's mind hadn't failed him.
The bitterness in the old man's soul festered because of the machine.
Now, when Nyklos looked at Kaylla's haggard face, the comparison was sharply drawn. She didn't look like the leader Bruen had been. Magister Dawn clearly wanted the machine to take over. Why? Because she couldn't carry the load? Or had she, too, fallen so completely under Staffa's magnetic spell that she couldn't properly evaluate the needs of either the Order or humanity?
Rotted Gods! She, too, hadn't come to love Staffa, despite the pain he'd dealt her?
"Magister Dawn," Sinklar began, reservation in his voice. "I am Sinklar Fist.
I'm sure you know Master Nyk-, los."
Kaylla's square face betrayed concern. "What's happened? Where is Staffa?"
"He has made direct contact w
ith the Mag Comm. At the moment, he is asleep.
The time under the helmet exhausted him and left him feeling ill. He did, however, ask me to relay some information."
Nyklos wrestled with his emotions as Fist relayed the machine's analysis of the Nesian dye futures market. For expediency's sake, I can ask Fist to forgive us, but how can Iforgive the Star Butcher?
"And Staffa?" Kaylla asked. "Is he all right?"
Yes, listen to the concern in her voice, the worry bright in her eyes. She's his ... as surely as if he were taking her to his bed every night.
Sinklar shrugged. "We won't know that until he awakens. From first appearances, he appeared unaffected. I took the initiative to order med techs down from Chrysla. They are running diagnostics while he sleeps. "
"Why didn't he wait?" Kaylla's brow had pinched, worry in her tan eyes.
Each expression playing across her face only served to harden Nyklos'
conviction.
"After talking to you, he didn't feel he had the luxury of time." Sinklar hitched himself forward. "I need you to be aware of several developments. In the event that Staffa has been compromised by the machine, I am going to supervise the removal of the Seddi archives in the cavern, then destroy Makarta Mountain and the Mag Comm. Immediately thereafter, I will space for Itreata aboard Chrysla. When I arrive, we will attempt to form an interim government consisting of you, me, and Tap Amurka. "
Kaylla's tired nod registered her acceptance. "And if Staffa has been corrupted by the machine? What then, Sinklar? How will you do these things?"
Sinklar's hand knotted into a fist. "Staffa's orders to me are to use my best judgment. STO Ryman Ark has been briefed, and understand's Staffa's orders. He tells meprovided he concurs that Staffa has been manipulated by the machine-that he will support my decision."
:'And what will that be?" Kaylla asked.
'I will remove the Lord Commander from command, Magister. "
:'And if that proves impossible?" 'Then I will kill him."
Nyklos started, turning his head to stare at the resolute young man beside him.
' 'Are you sure that you can accomplish that task?" Kaylla asked woodenly, a pained look in her eyes.
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