Spheres of Influence

by Ryk E. Spoor

  “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 with, once more, having 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.”

  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 1800s explorer expedition into Africa. Some of the life-forms 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 o
n 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 quick 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.”