by Ryk E. Spoor
None of the others looked like they were laughing. DuQuesne’s brows were drawn together like a line of thunderclouds, Gabrielle’s lips were tight, and Laila Canning had the cold clinical stare of a scientist looking over a dissection table. And Marc didn’t sound like he was in a great mood to begin with when I called him in. Well, that’s okay; Wu needs to face a little hostility now.
She had not called in Naraj, Ni Deng, or Abrams. This was her problem.
“You were specifically told to avoid confrontations, Wu Kung! I gave you permission to see the Arena, not to fight it!” She transferred her angry stare to DuQuesne. “He was under your wing when you left. What happened?”
DuQuesne waited a moment, making sure that Wu Kung saw his directed glare before he looked up. “Ariane—Captain. Captain, I had a talk with him just before we parted. I said, and I quote, ‘try to stay out of trouble.’” He looked back at Wu, who seemed to be trying to shrink inside his flamboyant robes. “God-damn it, Wu! I should have known it was a lost cause, but for cryin’ out loud, couldn’t you have managed one multiply-qualified hour without getting into a scrap?”
“I’m sorry!” the little Monkey King said, and he sounded almost on the verge of tears. Emotional swings. What did they do, those bastards of Hyperion, in the name of making some twisted dreams come true? “But I couldn’t ignore it, I just couldn’t!”
He leaned forward. “DuQuesne, you know! They were mocking him, and he couldn’t do anything!”
DuQuesne’s face showed just a momentary flicker of softness, but it hardened immediately. “Wu, the problem isn’t just what you did, it’s what you could have done.”
“I don’t have all the details yet,” Ariane said, keeping her voice at the same deadly level tone, “but I did ask Mandallon to give me what he saw. He says that you, in effect, promised that your opponents could make YOU issue a Challenge—meaning we’d be stuck with it, and whatever they chose to use as the medium of the Challenge—if you lost.”
“Well . . . yes, I did, but—”
“No buts!” she cut in. “Sun Wu Kung, I have no doubt you were confident of your ability to beat them. You were obviously right, this time, in these conditions, with that particular group. But you did not have the right to take that risk.”
He fidgeted, started to open his mouth, then closed it. Good. She moderated her tone just a fraction. “Understand, Wu Kung, this isn’t about whether you know what you can do, or what you think you can do. It’s about the fact that you potentially exposed our Faction to a Challenge that we would have a terribly strong chance to lose, and—honestly speaking—we can’t afford to lose. Humanity’s only got so much to give, and we’ve got a war coming with the meanest bastards in the Arena. All it would have taken is one bad break—you being thrown just far enough that you fell off the Dock, someone sneaking in a weapon that could take you down for a minute, or a one-in-a-billion slip by you in combat, and suddenly you’re forced to issue a Challenge to someone who might be a stooge for our worst enemies.”
She sighed. “Wu, for all we know, the scene that drew you in was meant for you. These people play games exactly that deep.”
“Let’s be fair, Captain,” said Gabrielle. “I don’t think they’d know enough about Wu yet to be able to set up something like that ahead of time.”
“Probably not,” she conceded, “but there’s no telling for sure; the Shadeweavers might be able to guess a lot about him, and even if they couldn’t touch his mind directly, there’s nothing preventing them from arranging some kind of psychological test.”
Wu’s head tilted a bit at that, and the greeny-golden eyes flickered quickly towards her before dropping their gaze back down. “Um . . . Captain . . . The one called Amas-Garao did speak with me for a bit before then.”
Coincidence? I’d like to think so. Maybe it is. But . . . “So we don’t even know if it was a setup.” She sat slowly down, gesturing for Wu Kung to take his seat. “All right, Wu, I’ve given you the dressing-down you deserve—and you damned well better remember it. But right now I want the whole story, from the time that Marc left you to the time I called you back.”
The story that unfolded was as straightforward as Wu himself, and as clear. Damn. If that hadn’t been a setup, it should have been, because it was virtually flawless as bait for someone like Sun Wu Kung.
Be honest with yourself, her conscience spoke up. It probably would have worked on you too.
Another part of her protested that she knew better than that. I would think I’d be smart enough not to risk our whole Faction for something like that.
But the events that had brought them into the Arena and farther into their challenges—her intervention between Orphan and the Blessed, the Challenge that led to a desperate race between her and Sethrik, her direct Challenge to Sethrik, which turned out to be a trap by Amas-Garao—those had all been caused by her own actions. Amas-Garao was influencing me on two of those, yes . . . but I can’t say for sure that I wouldn’t have done any of those myself. Maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn’t.
She waited for Wu to finish, which he did and sat there with the expression of a child waiting to be scolded—something very much at odds with the overconfident, brash, dynamic Monkey King. I can’t cut him much slack yet, though. So she paused another several seconds—an endless time in that tense silence—before speaking.
“Thank you for telling us the whole sequence of events, Wu,” she said finally. “That did make everything clear. Does anyone have any questions or comments before I go on?”
Laila spoke up. “I find coincidence of that level very difficult to swallow.” Gabrielle nodded, as did DuQuesne. “At the same time,” she went on, tones as precise as her scientific work, “I find it hard to imagine how it was arranged so swiftly, if arranged it was, unless Amas-Garao did so.”
“And I just don’t think he did,” said Gabrielle reluctantly. “Maybe I’m just an optimist, but I think he was satisfied with the last results and wouldn’t be playing games with us now.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” DuQuesne said. “But I’ll admit, it just doesn’t quite feel right for one of that Shadeweaver’s tricks. But that might just be because we don’t know what he’s planning to get out of the whole mess.”
Ariane nodded. “In any event—plan or accident—this could have been disastrous. Sun Wu Kung, I want your word that you won’t ever do anything like this again, at least without consulting me.”
Wu opened his mouth, closed it, and then sat there, a startling agony of decision on his face. “I . . . San . . . I mean, Captain! Captain, I . . . I can’t promise that.”
That brought her up short; she had assumed he would give his word when directly asked. And what was it that he almost called me, and why? “You can’t? Wu, do you understand how serious this is? Why I have to ask you not to do things like that?”
“Yes! I do understand, Captain! I’m not stupid. I’m sometimes distracted and I get excited and I don’t have patience, I guess, but . . .” he muttered something in that mangled language she didn’t understand. “I . . . I see things that are wrong and I can’t ignore them, Captain.”
She found herself looking to the ceiling as though for guidance. And do I want to order people to ignore things that are wrong? Ariane pushed her hair back, as it had started to fall forward over her face, and rubbed the back of her neck. “Wu . . . All right, I don’t want you to ignore things that are wrong. But you have to weigh the cost to us. It’s wrong to endanger the rest of us without us even knowing, isn’t it?”
He looked down. “Y . . . yes.”
“Then all I’m asking is that you talk to me before taking action like that. Or if I’m not available, DuQuesne, and if neither of us, any of the others of the original eight—Gabrielle, Simon, Steve, Carl, Tom, Laila.” She looked at him steadily. “I realize there still may be exceptions—if it looks like someone is about to be killed and you really feel you must act, I can’t argue with you about it. I can’t tell you not
to be yourself, or—to be honest—not to do what I would probably do in your position. But in this case you could have called ahead, given me at least some idea of the situation, let me make the call as to whether to intervene.”
“And would you?” Wu Kung’s eyes were a hair brighter, and the question held a hint of the old energy.
She hesitated, then with a sigh she nodded and smiled. “Yes, I suppose I probably would, though I would hope I wouldn’t offer a free-for-anyone Challenge as the prize to the winners.”
“So does she have your word, Wu? That you’ll ask her before you act, if it’s at all reasonable to do so?” DuQuesne’s voice was just the tiniest bit less hard, following her lead.
“Yes. Yes, Captain, you have my word. I won’t do anything even the tiniest bit like that without asking you if there’s even a little bit of time to ask in.”
I suppose that will have to do. “Thank you, Wu.” She leaned back. “And it wasn’t, in this case, a disaster. We gained face, didn’t lose any, and you’ve just made a personal ally—one that we know from prior observation is both honorable and formidable.”
“More than that,” DuQuesne said with a slow smile.
Laila raised an eyebrow, and then suddenly both lifted, wings of surprise. “Ah. Of course. They will be the newest Faction, First Emergents, if they succeed in their Challenge. And an excellent set of allies, if we maintain close support to them prior to that time.”
I hadn’t thought of that. It was obvious once mentioned, though; those who arrived in the Arena with a single Sphere to their names were First Emergents like Humanity; what else would the Genasi become, then, except the first native Emergents? “And we can use all the allies we can get—as could they.”
Gabrielle tilted her head in thought, straight gold hair forming a momentary curtain. “Well, they haven’t won their Challenge yet. It’s a nice thought, but you know what they say about counting your chicks before hatching.”
“They will win,” Wu Kung said positively.
Ariane remembered the tiny Genasi battling down to the wire against the huge Sivvis—and how the honor between the two led Sivvis to send his opponent to victory, undoubtedly pissing the Vengeance off mightily. “They’ll sure try,” she said, “and I think we should be ready to help them any way we can.”
Because, she thought, it sure couldn’t hurt to have the best warriors in the Arena on our side before the Molothos come calling.
CHAPTER 21
“I’ll want to talk to you later, Wu,” DuQuesne said as they got up to leave. “But first I have to talk with the captain. Privately, if she will.”
Wu looked to Ariane, who nodded. “Stay in the Embassy, Wu Kung,” she said, warningly.
“I already promised . . .” Wu Kung began, then, seeing her start to straighten, quickly said, “I mean, yes, Captain!”
Once the room was empty except for the two of them, Ariane slumped back into a chair, chuckling. “Do you know how hard it is to stay mad at him?”
“Of course I do,” he answered, taking his seat again. “None of us could be ticked off at him for long, no matter what he did. But you handled him like a pro. He won’t forget that talking-to for a while, at least.”
“I sure hope not. Marc, I don’t want to keep him penned up, so to speak, but I won’t have much choice if he can’t keep from getting himself—and potentially all of us—in trouble.”
“I know. And I think he understands that, now. He had to go through a similar thing on his own Journey to the West, and with luck you won’t have to make his headband into a pain generator.” He studied her, the deep-blue hair, the eyes just a shade lighter, the slender body that hid startling strength (not to mention an electric-eel derived biomod that she’d used to great effect once on Amas-Garao), the shape of the face . . . “And you could probably get away with it, too, if you had to.”
“What?”
“He almost called you ‘Sanzo’ during that raking over the coals. You look a lot like her. And she was just about the only one in his world who got away with talking to him like that . . . well, except for Sha Wujing, after he was more friend than enemy.”
“Shouldn’t ‘Sanzo’ have been a man? Or do I misremember my admittedly very faint grasp of the mythology?”
DuQuesne laughed. “No, you don’t misremember. There were at least fifteen or twenty different versions of the Monkey King myth that got put into a blender and used to produce what we have out there,” he jerked a thumb at the closed door. “And some of those versions were . . . very far from the original, let me say. That’s not necessarily bad, but it means that only the broadest outlines of the myth are still there. Anyway, that’s probably one reason he’s willing to listen to you.”
He straightened. “But I didn’t hold you up here just to talk about Wu. Ariane, when I left, Simon had already located one of the Sky Gates.”
Her face lit up. “That’s wonderful, Marc!”
“Well, with a slight caveat that it depends on exactly where they go, but yes, I think it is. I’m guessing we may have an above-average number of gates, unless Simon just got real lucky on his first pass.”
“The Sky Gates are just outside of the high-gravity area, right? So we should be able to put some kind of permanent station-keeping guards around them once we’ve located them all.”
“Right. Armed to the teeth, too, at least until we know what’s on the other side of each one—and where any Sky Gates from those go to. Can’t afford to assume an innocuous-looking destination couldn’t be a potential staging-ground for the Molothos or someone else out to get us.”
She looked up and sighed. “Marc, there’s just no way we can do all of this ourselves.”
“I know. And there’s people coming through any day now. I’ve given strict orders that they’re not to come through Transition, though, unless you say otherwise. More people to work on the Inner and Upper Sphere, great. More people here? No, not until we’re damn sure where we stand.”
She nodded her agreement, and he moved forward to the next subject. “Okay, that’s where we stand on that for the moment. I also wanted to ask you about something else.”
Another nod. “Simon.”
“So you’ve noticed it too.”
“Something is bothering him,” Ariane agreed, “but he hasn’t said what it is, or why. He’s clearly trying to hide it, even from me—which has me a little worried. Why would Simon hide something from me?”
DuQuesne didn’t need that emphatic “me” explained. Simon’s affection for Ariane was quite open and obvious, and Ariane had often used Simon as a sounding board and advisor, nearly as often as she used DuQuesne. “I don’t know, either, and that’s definitely got my back up. Seemed to happen around the time he was doing his research on the drive physics and adapting them to being a sensor, but I’ll be damned if I can guess what it is that’s got him all twitchy.”
“Well,” Ariane said after a moment, “I suppose I’ll just have to ask him, if he won’t bring the subject up himself. I’ve let it slide for a while, but . . .”
“But it’s not Simon’s normal behavior, which means it’s something that worries him in some way, bad enough to feel he shouldn’t or can’t tell us.” DuQuesne shrugged. “Yep. I know you hate prying, but that’s just about the only way you can make this thing go.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll give him one more day, and if he doesn’t come to me, I’ll tell him he has to talk.”
“Good enough.” He rose. “Thanks, Captain.”
She saluted from a sitting position, so he left, not waiting for her. Just as well. I have to catch Wu.
He found Sun Wu Kung in his suite, practicing lightning-fast staff-work. The red-enameled, gold-tipped staff stopped in mid-action as he entered. “DuQuesne! What is it? Do you need me to go back to guarding?”
“In a minute, Wu. Look, I’ve been thinking hard about what happened back on the Sphere, and I want you to keep that a dead secret. From everyone, even Ariane, at
least for now.”
He looked puzzled. “Why?”
“Because I think what you did is pretty much impossible. I don’t think any of the other Factions can talk to their animals as though in their native language, and I think I know why you can. I’ve got a couple other pieces of evidence that tell me I’m right. And if I am right, Wu, that’s one big secret weapon, a whole armory of secret weapons, waiting for us to unleash.
“But that kind of secret tends to leak easy, and it’s a lot less effective if you know it’s there. Especially if learning one secret might lead you to another. The various Factions already might have enough to make some guesses—especially the Shadeweavers, who can cheat—but something like this might give the whole show away.”
Wu studied him, then nodded. “Okay, I understand. I think. But what is it that you’ve guessed?”
DuQuesne grinned humorlessly. “Sore wa . . . himitsu desu, as one particularly annoying guy we knew used to say. I’m keeping that secret, at least for now. Until I’m sure.”
“This had better not be anything that will put Ariane in danger,” Wu Kung said, and for a moment the eyes were green-gold stone.
Excellent reminder of what I chose him for. “No, Wu.” He gazed into the distance, guessing, estimating chances. “No, Wu. If anything . . . that secret might just save her life one day.”
CHAPTER 22
“Simon!” Laila Canning said, and there was honest surprise in her voice. “What in the world . . . or worlds, I suppose . . . are you doing here?”
Simon looked around at the soaring lines of the Faith’s great hall, and the lines of people of all species filing in. “Well, partly I have never been here before, and I admit to a great curiosity as to the workings of a faith which is held by members of almost uncountable species.” He smiled, though it took some effort to keep the expression natural. “After all, humanity has never managed to agree on one set of beliefs, and I would be—am—surprised that a single belief could draw people of such diversity to it.”