Spheres of Influence

by Ryk E. Spoor

  “I’m not the one doing the declaring,” she corrected. “The Arena decided I was the boss. And I spent time trying to get away from that—time that got me kidnapped and could have lost us more than you can imagine.

  “I was damn tempted to give it up right there when I realized how badly I’d screwed up, but you know what? The person who’d replace me is someone you’d want less in that position. And—just by the way—the first thing you’re all going to do in confirming my position is to confirm my line of succession, so that if something happens to me, we’ll still have someone with a clue running things in the Arena.”

  “Why should we do that at all?” General Esterhauer asked bluntly. “Why shouldn’t we simply declare someone else our Leader, if necessary?”

  “Because it won’t work, unless you convince me to ratify your rules.” Ariane stared levelly into Esterhauer’s eyes. “And I’m not doing that, because what Oscar and Michelle showed me is that politicians from here don’t understand the stakes.”

  She held up her hand. “That’s not meant as an insult. Most of you haven’t been to the Arena. All the recordings in the world aren’t going to make you get it. Even jumping over and visiting for a day is only going to start the process. Ambassador Naraj and Deputy Ambassador Ni Deng—they started out from the basic assumption that I simply wasn’t the right choice for the job, and everything they encountered in the Arena they viewed through that lens—a lens that assumes that you can play the same kind of politics there that you can here.

  “But the truth? Earth and its solar system are some no-account backwater whose people have managed to surprise the hell out of the Arena’s residents—and piss off some of their worst. What happens here in normal space isn’t important in the Arena—but it’s damn important to us, because we haven’t got a thousand spheres and ten thousand colonies out there to waste. This is our homeworld.”

  “And it’s the only Sphere we have,” General Esterhauer said bluntly. “Speaking theoretically—”

  “Actually, that’s not true.”

  The room went silent. Saul said, with a slowly dawning smile, “Captain Austin?”

  “I mentioned that I was kidnapped. I did not describe precisely how I was rescued from that situation—and I’m not going to right now. But upon my return, I sent . . . an ultimatum to the Minds, the true Rulers of the Blessed. And they agreed completely to my terms. We are now at peace with the Blessed To Serve . . . and the human race now has three solar systems, three Spheres, to its name.”

  For another moment there was silence. Then Representative Fenelon started to laugh. Saul joined him, and suddenly more than half the room resounded with triumphant, joyous laughter.

  “An . . . impressive reversal of position,” Representative Camilla said as the laughter died away. “Especially for one who admits to having no experience as a negotiator. Still, I wonder then why we need to worry about these issues. As I understand it, we can close the Outer Gateway and the Straits and it doesn’t matter what sort of force the Molothos might bring, they cannot take the Inner Sphere and thus not our solar system. We could still travel to Nexus Arena, and through there to these other solar systems, whose location they have no idea of, and build up our forces there for many years. Why can we not, in essence, ignore this threat?”

  DuQuesne looked about ready to explode, and she saw Wu Kung gritting his teeth so hard she was afraid they’d break, but Ariane held up her hand and shook her head ever so slightly to tell them No. Keep it under control. “Why? Three reasons, Representative.

  “First, because that’s the coward’s approach. Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but it bothers the hell out of me. And the Factions in the Arena value courage, style, and so on a very great deal. They think I’m more than half crazy, yes, but they also respect me, DuQuesne, Simon, Gabrielle, and the rest of us because we’ve met every challenge head-on and somehow come out of it alive.

  “But that’s the least important. Second, since the Sky Gates are active, if we pretty much abandon the Upper Sphere, any invaders are going to get our sentry stations knocked out in short order—and then they can start dropping invasion forces into normal space. They’ll be about a light-year out, and we’ll have a bunch of nasty weapons to use on them . . . but they’ve been doing this for tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of years, and they can afford to send unending waves of assault craft at us. And don’t you think for a split second that they won’t. The Molothos made their attitude abundantly clear. If you haven’t seen what their response was to Ambassador Naraj when he tried to negotiate with them, you damn well better review it. Scares the living hell out of me every time I see it, and I knew what they were like from the moment I met them.

  “But most importantly? Because even if that weren’t true, you still can’t run and hide from the Arena. The Arena isn’t going away. It’s already set the rules. It’s not stopped by turning your back.” She took the entire assembled SSC and CSF in with a single glance. “This room is sealed. The image projectors are off. So now you should watch me—very closely indeed.”

  She focused, remembered the feeling, channeled it. These people . . . some of them went along with Ni Deng. Maybe even told her what to do. I was kidnapped! Simon was nearly killed, thousands of people died, all because of this stupid, irresponsible . . .

  The tension built up . . . but it’s not happening! What happens if it doesn’t work?

  For a moment she experienced a spurt of real panic, but that was exactly what she needed. Something within her drew tight, tighter, like a bowstring—

  And there was a flare of golden light that enveloped her; she felt Kanzaki-Three beneath her vibrate, heard a bone-shaking chime . . .

  And she was standing in midair, slowly descending, clothed in the uniform that had materialized about her in her first Awakening, in the moment she defeated Amas-Garao, midnight-blue with touches of gold, a ship-and-cup symbol shimmering on her breast. “You can’t turn your back,” she repeated softly, as her feet gradually came to rest on the floor again, “because the Arena will always be before you.”

  CHAPTER 53

  Oh, my.

  As soon as Ariane told them to watch, as soon as she made a point of saying that there were no projectors active, Simon knew what she was going to do. There was no other possible alternative, no other climax to her argument—

  And then that light shone out, enveloped Ariane Austin in radiance that blinded . . . and then she was there, floating without support, impossibly levitating against the rotational gravity of Kanzaki-Three, dressed in the alien, formal uniform that had materialized around her in her ultimate triumph against an invincible foe.

  I’ll be damned. That’s why I didn’t ever see that outfit again, DuQuesne’s local relay voice said with chagrin. Disappeared when she banished the power. And that’s what she was doing in her cabin last night, and probably the last few nights back in the Arena—trying to duplicate that momentary flare she had against Vantak and channel it.

  “And she bloody well did it,” Simon murmured, still stunned.

  “Sugeeiiiiii!” Wu said, eyes shining. “That’s amazing!”

  Oasis, who like Wu had never really seen the magic of the Arena, was startled, maybe slightly awed.

  Simon became aware suddenly that distant klaxons were sounding. Alarms?

  “Of course,” Simon said after a moment, and looked around at the assembled CSF and SSC. “You understand now, don’t you?”

  The rest of the room was silent, but the stunned, incredulous gazes showed they did indeed understand.

  “Those alarms . . . which I now note have gone silent—were from the detection of an energy surge, one which you all now will have verified proceeded from no detectable instrumentality. Captain Austin has on her no equipment capable of such displays, the projectors can be verified to be inactive, and in short there is no known method—within the limits of our science, or indeed any of the sciences of the Arena I have yet st
udied—which could produce that effect under these conditions.” He looked at Ariane. “In short, it is no trick.”

  “It is no trick,” Ariane agreed. “That is a taste—a tiny, insignificant, almost irrelevant taste—of the power of Shadeweaver and Faith. And it reaches here, even here, to our world on, as they might say, the other side of the sky. How far and deep is the reach of the Arena itself, then?” Though the light had almost entirely faded there was still something about her voice, a voice that resonated for a moment in Simon’s bones in a way he’d never experienced before . . .

  No. Not quite true. Amas-Garao had that same quality in his voice, when he chose to use it. So did Nyanthus, I recall, during that ritual they used to seal Ariane’s powers.

  “An . . . impressive trick, or manifestation, if you prefer,” General Esterhauer said after a moment. “And I understand the point.” She flicked a glance, almost too fast to follow, but Simon caught it, read the direction. Looking at White Camilla. Same clique, then. Not surprising. “What, then, do you want us to do—exactly?”

  Ariane looked to Saul. “Mr. Chairman?”

  “Oh, go on, Captain. You rather took over the meeting—and I completely agree with your tactics, this time. Do it your way.” Saul leaned back, smiling.

  “Thank you, Saul,” she said.

  Simon felt a tension in the air. No, not the air. Though doubtless there, too, but . . . it’s inside me.

  Could it be? That . . . ability, here? But I had thought it had to do with the Arena, with knowledge of that alien space.

  He concentrated. DuQuesne, something’s . . . wrong.

  The black eyes narrowed. You think so too, huh? Too smooth so far, by about a thousand rows of little green apple trees. A sense of sudden surprise. You getting that . . . sensation you got on Zounin-Ginjou?

  Something like it, yes.

  Dammit. Okay, I’ll make sure the others are ready. Keep an eye on her.

  Ariane was continuing. “First, the whole Council—SSC and CSF—have to confirm that the designated Leader of Humanity is, in fact, their leader. Exactly what that leadership entails we have to hammer out in detail, yes—but don’t even think about trying to make it an ineffectual figurehead. I’ll put up with reasonable opportunities for debate, but whoever’s in that position—me or, later, someone else—is going to need the authority to actually do things.

  “Next, you’ll accept my designated line of succession in case something happens to me. That line being the original Holy Grail crew, in the following order: Marc C. DuQuesne, Dr. Simon Sandrisson . . .”

  Oh, great Kami, I hope it never comes to that . . .

  “. . . Dr. Gabrielle Wolfe, Dr. Carl Edlund, Dr. Laila Canning, Dr. Stephen Franceschetti, and Dr. Thomas Cussler.” She grinned. “Though I think we’ll come up with a saner way of deciding the selection of Leader of the Faction before we go nearly through that list. But for now, that’s the succession, because I’ll be damned if I’m trusting anyone who didn’t go through that first fire with me. I’ll trust any of them with my life—and with your lives. Most of the rest of you have a lot of work to prove that you really, truly get what we’re up against. And until you do prove that . . .”

  “I . . . see.” The general surveyed the group, and Simon’s sense of foreboding grew stronger. But I have no sense of direction. That bothers me. A great deal. “But given normal lifespans in this era . . . that means that you, or your immediate successors, would be effectively rulers of Humanity for centuries—longer than many empires of the past.”

  Ariane raised an eyebrow, then laughed. “I see what you mean. Then let us say this agreement holds for ten years, and during that time we work out a more democratic method for selecting the Leader of Humanity. As far as I can tell, the Arena doesn’t care HOW you do it as long as you play by the rules.”

  Esterhauer nodded, but her eyes were still grim. “It’s now quite plain what you meant, Captain Austin,” General Esterhauer said slowly, “when you said that the person you would have replace you would be someone we would like even less. If we don’t accept you as Leader of Humanity, our next choice is Marc C. DuQuesne . . . of Hyperion.”

  “Son of a . . .” muttered Marc.

  “His past is not—”

  “Not relevant, you were going to say?” General Esterhauer’s face was stony, and her voice as cold as iron. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But the fact that his origin has been hidden from us for all this time does not leave me inclined to trust you—any of you. We have more than enough evidence of what the Hyperions are capable of. We know many were unstable, dangerous, and unpredictable. We should have known what we were dealing with, as well as who.”

  Ariane’s eyes had narrowed to near-slits, and her next words were spoken through her teeth. “If it weren’t for Marc DuQuesne, General, we would not be citizens of the Arena. Our Upper Sphere would be a Molothos colony and we’d still be marooned back in Nexus Arena, looking for some way home.” A faint hint of golden light shimmered around her hand for an instant. “And no one talks about my friends as though they are things.”

  Simon, this is extraordinarily bad, Mio said. Her voice was filled with tension, even fear.

  What? What is it? I know this argument is not going well—

  It’s much more than that. Mentor and I have detected coordinated movements—

  —and other stuff, Gabrielle’s Vincent broke in. Esterhauer’s had some kind of encrypted, stealthed feed going on for the past ten minutes. Took this long to trace it to her!

  MARK DUQUESNE, SIMON SANDRISSON—MY VISUALIZATION IS NOW CLEAR ON THIS: THERE IS ANOTHER FORCE AT WORK HERE, MOST LIKELY COMMUNICATING TO GENERAL ESTERHAUER THROUGH INTERMEDIARIES.

  What? DuQuesne’s link-voice was sharp. Thought we’d sealed off comm.

  Barring physical cutoffs and shielding, any such sealing is of necessity one that can be penetrated or evaded by a sufficiently capable adversary, Mentor pointed out. Also, at this time it is not certain—though probable, at an 86.2% level—that the operator in question is outside; they may be one of those present.

  “My apologies for offending you,” the general said to Ariane after a moment.

  Notify Ariane, then, Simon sent to Mentor.

  I FIND IT DIFFICULT WHEN SHE IS EMOTIONAL, AND THE MANIFESTATIONS OF THAT POWER INTERFERE DIRECTLY WITH A REMOTE LINK.

  “This is, as I hope you understand, a . . . difficult thing for any of us to grasp,” General Esterhauer continued. “It would be better if we could vote on whether we are going to . . . follow your lead, as you said. Once that’s settled the rest of the . . . issues would be able to be addressed in a more reasonable atmosphere.”

  Ariane slowly relaxed and straightened. “All right. I suppose we should let you do that in private, as I’m technically not a member.”

  As she walked back, Simon saw Ariane stiffen; Mentor had obviously managed to get through.

  The three doors around the room slid open simultaneously, and multiple armored, armed soldiers poured in—most of them aiming directly at the Holy Grail crew and their friends.

  CHAPTER 54

  Many of the Councilors shrank back or leapt to their feet in consternation. Whatever they were expecting, it sure by all the hells of space wasn’t this, DuQuesne thought sourly. Wu Kung immediately interposed himself between as many of the newcomers and Ariane as he could. And if people don’t keep their heads, Wu’s going to start breaking them.

  But not everyone was panicked or confused. Saul merely turned his head slowly to gaze at Jill Esterhauer. “General? What are you doing?”

  “I said it would be better if we could vote on this,” the general said, her voice now even more iron-hard. “But judging on the interest vectors and reactions, I am afraid that Ariane Austin would win that vote, and I cannot allow it. We cannot allow it.”

  “General!” Saul was now on his feet. “Have you entirely lost your mind? I knew you were reluctant—”

  “And I have learned enough now to be more than ju
st reluctant,” she said. “You made a similar decision fifty years ago, Commander Maginot; one that, if you failed, would ruin you forever—if it didn’t kill you. The same is true here; I believe that we are faced with one of the most subtle and dangerous attacks we have ever seen, and it very nearly succeeded. It still may succeed, if I do not contain this problem here and now.”

  She looked down at Ariane, Simon, and the others. “Please do not resist. If this becomes a fight, innocent people will be hurt. That is not my intent.”

  “You will explain—or there will be a fight, and I do not think you will like the ending!” Wu Kung said. His teeth were bared, his tail lashing. DuQuesne gestured furiously at Wu to stand down, but he didn’t have much hope of having an effect. If this does go south, there’s nothing that’s going to hold Wu back . . . and these people have no idea what he’s capable of.

  “You are one of the clues, Sun Wu Kung.” She looked to DuQuesne. “Marc C. DuQuesne, hidden in plain sight. Survivor of Hyperion. You and Captain Austin traveled to another location prior to your return to the Arena—and came back with Wu Kung. Another Hyperion. Upon your return to the solar system, you then went to yet another location—one of the Counter Earth stations—and report some sort of murder of mysterious patients under the care of a doctor who has yet to recover. Instead of the local authorities, Saul Maginot sends a very specialized team to oversee the investigation.”

  Sweet spirits of niter, as Rich used to say. It does sound damn peculiar the way she’s putting it.

  “And you return, Captain Austin, having imprisoned both Ambassador Naraj and Deputy Ambassador Ni Deng . . . but their own intended bodyguard appears to have become a member of your inner circle. Oasis Abrams . . . or is that actually her name?”

  Great Space, I think I see where her paranoia’s going, DuQuesne sent to the others. And with the right guidance it’s gonna be convincing as hell.