But that morning was to be different, as quickly became apparent when the runner brought his head up and put his feet down. Because, as Rebo stood, he saw that Norr’s hands were bound in front of her, and three heavily armed phibs were waiting for him on the beach. The runner knew that the amphibians, like sensitives, heavies, and wings, were the result of genetic tinkering carried out thousands of years before. In this case the goal had been to create a strain of humanoids equipped to more fully exploit the water worlds that the ancients had colonized, thereby lowering the costs associated with construction, mining, and aquaculture.
Later, once that goal had been accomplished, some phibs had migrated to worlds like Zeen, where they not only took up residence in the oceans, rivers, and lakes, but where they frequently displaced thousands of norms who made their livings on or near the water.
The phibs had sleek, hairless skulls and double-lidded eyes that helped them see underwater. They also had respiratory systems that could extract oxygen from water, as well as streamlined bodies, and webbing that bridged both fingers and toes. The phibs also had shapely breasts, or at least one of them did, which identified her as female. Sogol, who had apparently been mistaken for a piece of expensive jewelry, was wrapped around the woman’s left biceps. The amphibians wore what amounted to G-strings and watched impassively as the nude male made his way up out of the water. “I’m sorry,” Norr said miserably. “I was asleep.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” the runner replied stoically.
“Drop the spear,” one of the males said, as he pointed the 9mm pistol at its previous owner. Like members of many local populations, the phib spoke with what the runner regarded as a thick accent although he knew the man with the gun would perceive the situation differently. There was nothing Rebo could do but drop the fish, the water pods, and the spear.
“Now the knife,” the female added sternly.
The runner, who had begun to wish that he’d gone swimming with his clothes on, bent to remove the knife from its sheath.
“This is a waste of time,” the second male said irritably. “They’re pirates. . . . Shoot them and be done with it.”
“That’s what the norms would do to us!” the female added emphatically.
Norr could see the dark, threatening thought forms that swirled around the other variants and felt frightened as a result. But the first male, the one who seemed to be in charge, refused to acquiesce. “We’re supposed to be better than they are . . . remember? Not to mention the fact that the spooks will want to interrogate this pair. So shut the hell up, grab their belongings, and destroy the lean-to. It could attract even more pirate trash. . . .”
Rebo was tempted to engage the first male in conversation, in the hope that he could convince the local that they weren’t pirates, but he decided to let the opportunity pass when Norr gave a subtle shake of her head. The runner knew the sensitive could see things that he couldn’t—and had reason to trust her judgments.
Fifteen minutes later the phibs and their prisoners were seated in a miniature version of the larger trains that blasted through the tunnel twice each day. Rebo had been allowed to pull on some pants by that time, but was otherwise unclothed, as both he and Norr were strapped into their seats. Though still a little bit sore, the variant’s wound was mostly healed, which meant she could move without pain.
When the minitrain took off, it departed with near-neck-snapping acceleration, and was soon traveling so fast the tunnel’s walls were little more than a gray blur. The off-worlders were on their way—But to where?
The attack on the village of Wattl came in the early hours of the morning when most of the citizens were still asleep. There were watchmen of course, posted on the ancient breakwater to warn their fellow villagers should the phibs launch an assault on the sleeping town, but two had been drinking and passed out. The third saw dozens of water-slicked heads break the surface of the water, and was about to ring the warning bell, when a beam of coherent energy drilled a hole through his chest. A smoke ring rose from the circular wound as he fell, and the first wave of heavily armed variants marched up the stony beach. Having lost three fishing boats and seven people to the shore-based pirates over the last thirty days, the local amphibians were extremely angry.
That’s why all of the cutters that were drawn up on the beach were holed, nets were piled up to be burned, and even the wharf dogs were shot down. But, unbeknownst to the phibs, they were attacking the Techno Society as well. And even though Wattl’s watchmen failed to deliver a timely warning, a sharp-eyed robot had detected the presence of multiple heat sources before the phibs surfaced, and radioed a warning to Shaz.
Once alerted, Tepho rolled out of bed and was already shouting orders as sleepy attendants hurried to dress him. Then, having made his way downstairs, the technologist rushed to climb into his raptor. Shaz and Phan were already present, along with a dozen heavily armed mercenaries. They followed the bipedal machine as servos whirred, weapons swiveled, and death stalked the streets.
Some of the villagers were up by then, firing projectile weapons at the oncoming horde or running for their lives as their fellow citizens were cut down by blue death. Formerly solid walls exploded, wood houses burst into flame, and angens screamed as they tried to escape from their pens.
But then, just when it appeared that the phibs would destroy the entire village, Tepho guided the raptor around a corner and opened fire. In spite of the fact that the raiders possessed energy weapons, too, surprise combined with superior firepower made it possible to cut the variants down.
Tepho, who was secure within the comfort of his armored cockpit, laughed out loud as blips of blue light raced the length of the waterfront to snatch phibs off their feet. Others came apart so that heads, arms, and legs pinwheeled through the air. But most of the invaders were simply incinerated as bolts of blue energy wiped them away, leaving little more than black streaks to mark the places they had stood.
The raptor took hits, half a dozen of them, but the shoulder-fired weapons didn’t pack enough of a wallop to hole the machine, so the surviving variants had no choice but to retreat into the harbor, where the water would protect them from further harm. Tepho continued to fire as the amphibians pulled back, but Shaz ordered his mercenaries to conserve their ammo and was the first to take notice of the fact that some additional combatants had arrived on the scene. The combat variant saw the wings sweep in from the south, circle above, and fire down at the phibs.
Then, just as Shaz was about to warn Tepho, what looked like a yellow comet arced high above the village and exploded at the center of the harbor. There was a boom, as a huge geyser of water shot up into the air and hung there for what seemed like a minute but was actually little more than a second or two. The column of water was translucent, which meant that Shaz could see the phib bodies suspended within the spout, along with what might have been large sea creatures and the remains of fractured boats.
Then, as the geyser started to collapse, the combat variant realized what would happen next. He yelled, “Run!” and turned in order to follow his own advice.
The tidal wave ramped up the steeply shelving beach, exploded over the seawall that had been built to protect the village, and sent fingers of frothy seawater raging up Wattl’s streets. Tepho had just started to turn the raptor around when the water hit, lifted the machine off its pods, and carried the construct a good thirty feet before putting it down again. But the water would be forced to return, the technologist knew that, which was why he directed the raptor into a side street and took refuge behind a sturdy stone house. The seawater ran back toward the harbor a few moments later, where it poured over the seawall, taking most of the dead phibs along with it.
Tepho knew his machine couldn’t stand up to a comet like the one that had just caused so much destruction, and was already in the process of making a run for it, when a detachment of Lord Arbuk’s wings dropped a wire net over the raptor. It might have been possible to blow holes in the mesh with
his energy weapons, but that was before a team of twelve angens appeared at the other end of the waterfront, wheeled to bring a huge mortar to bear, and were immediately released.
Tepho took one look at the artillery piece, knew that it had produced the comet, and tilted his weapons up toward the sky. Or tried to, since the netting got in the way and kept the administrator from opening the canopy as well.
Once it became clear that both the phibs and the strangers had been neutralized, Arbuk’s carriage rattled through the village and down onto the seawall, where with some help from Hitho Mal, the fat man was able to exit the coach. The netting had been removed from the raptor by then, thereby revealing a machine ten times better than the one that resided in his war museum. “Look at that,” the nobleman said approvingly, “it’s practically new! And who, pray tell, is the strange-looking cripple?”
Tepho, who had heard every word, stood trapped between two members of Arbuk’s household guards. And rather than mount a suicidal attack on the nobleman’s troops, Shaz, Phan, and all the rest of the administrator’s mercenaries had allowed themselves to be disarmed.
“I’m told that the cripple was piloting the machine,” the sensitive whispered into his superior’s ear. “And, judging from the thought forms that hover around him, he’s very angry. It seems he’s sensitive about his appearance, which, interestingly enough, bears a close resemblance to the man who leveled the village of Kine.”
Arbuk nodded. “Yes, I can see the resemblance. Still, anyone who likes to kill phibs can’t be all bad, so let’s see what the rascal has to say for himself. We’ll put him on the rack if he proves to be too obstreperous.”
That being said, the nobleman waved Tepho forward. “My name is Arbuk, Lord Arbuk, and you are?”
“Tepho, sire, Omar Tepho,” the off-worlder responded carefully. The comments about his body, plus the fat man’s tendency to talk about him as if he wasn’t there, were infuriating. But the technologist was powerless to do anything about it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Arbuk replied evenly. “Or it might be, depending on what you’re up to. Now, if you would be so good as to enter my carriage, we will retreat to a more comfortable location. Once there I’m going to ask you where you came from, how you got here, why you chose to destroy the village of Kine, and what makes the island of Buru so important to you. Shall we?”
Having been stripped of all power, Tepho had no choice but to agree. Especially given the fact that the fat nobleman was very well informed. A pair of footmen boosted the off-worlder up into the coach. Arbuk and Milo followed. Once inside, the nobleman couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. But what Arbuk didn’t know, was that Tepho was wearing the real prize, who, thanks to his ability to link up with Socket, was watching the whole scene from the very edge of space. The carriage jerked into motion, wings wheeled high above, and the villagers of Wattl began to bury their dead.
Lassa Pontho swam up into one of the bubblelike meditation pods that floated in and around the city of her birth, sat on the curvilinear seat, and took air straight into her lungs rather than through her gills. Spread out around her, in a valley between two undersea plains, lay the city of Shimmer. It consisted of fourteen domes of various sizes, each having dozens of locks and a variety of purposes. Seen from a distance, and bathed in shafts of sunlight that slanted down from the surface, the city looked like something from a fantastic dream. Gardens of brightly colored plants swayed in the cleansing current that flowed through the valley, shoals of tame fish patrolled the rocky bottom, and sleek sea sleds came and went, each trailing its own stream of bubbles.
Shimmer had been built hundreds of years before, back when the artificial satellite called Socket had first been commissioned, and thousands of phibs had been brought in to work on projects related to the newly created tides. And, thanks to the power provided by their precious tidal generators, the variants had been able to sustain their underwater culture during the years since.
But the land-lords were not only jealous of what the phibs had but determined to bring their society down and profit in the process. That fact had everything to do with the disastrous raid on the village of Wattl, a raid that had been justified by the loss of phib fishing boats but was actually part of a larger effort to keep the norms landbound, lest they build ships and use them to attack phib cities.
But even more worrisome was the fact that those who survived the raid reported that the land-lords had deployed a new weapon, a machine that walked upright on two legs and was equipped with powerful energy weapons. All of which suggested that the norms were in the midst of an unprecedented technological resurgence.
Further evidence of that could be seen in the reports submitted by paid agents. They claimed that three ironclad warships were being built inland, where they were safe from coastal raids, and would eventually be transported to Esperance by rail. And once the vessels arrived, Lord Arbuk and his cronies would probably launch them as quickly as possible and immediately put to sea. There was no way to know which phib city they would attack first—but Shimmer was closest to the harbor.
But could paid agents be trusted? They were norms, after all, therefore automatically suspect. Pontho had very little choice but to trust them, however, since it was almost impossible for a phib to pass as a norm and vice versa. The mayor’s reverie came to an end as a series of beeps came in over her headset. “Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” a male voice said respectfully, “but one of our security came in with a couple of pirates in tow.”
Pontho felt a twinge of annoyance. Couldn’t they handle anything without her? “So?”
“So, they’re somewhat unusual,” the functionary responded evenly. “And the master-at-arms wants you to participate in the interrogation.”
Pontho took a look at her wrist term. She had a million things to do. “Tell him I’m busy.”
“The pirates claim to be from another planet,” the voice added. “And they’re looking for the island of Buru.”
“Buru?” Pontho demanded. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Tell the master-at-arms that I’m on my way.”
Like most such facilities, the interrogation chamber had dingy walls, a floor that could be hosed clean, and harsh overhead lighting. What didn’t show, was the fear that had been etched into the ceiling, walls, and tiled floor. It couldn’t be seen, not in the usual way, but it was real nonetheless. In fact Norr could “hear” the screams as they echoed back through the years, “feel” the hopelessness of the prisoners who had been tortured there, and even “see” one of them standing in a corner. He was crying, and judging from the thought forms that surrounded him, had been for a hundred years. But there was nothing Norr could do to help the hapless entity because both she and the runner hung suspended in midair, clasped within the embrace of a force field they couldn’t see.
Rebo tried to speak, to tell the phibs what he thought of them, but couldn’t move his lips. The guards thought that was funny and laughed. The master-at-arms stood with arms crossed over a well-muscled chest. He smiled grimly. “Save your energy, pirate. You’re going to need it.”
Norr’s attention was elsewhere. With one exception, all of their belongings were spread out on a table, where they had been repeatedly inventoried. But now, as new guards arrived, the female was about to depart with Sogol still wrapped around her arm! Would the master-at-arms approve? No, the sensitive didn’t think so, but he didn’t know. And, since Norr was unable to speak, the variant did the one thing that she could: She made an attempt to reach out with her mind.
The 9mm pistol was heavier than any object that she had ever tried to levitate, but if were she to succeed, Norr felt confident that the ensuing ruckus would be sufficient to hold the female guard for a bit longer. So in spite of the difficult circumstances—the sensitive sought to find the peaceful place within. Once there, the variant summoned all her mind-force, shaped it into an invisible pseudopod, and directed
the newly formed limb over to the table. Then, having wrapped the weapon in a cocoon of psychic energy, Norr ordered it to rise. But nothing happened as the female security officer paused to say something to the burly master-at-arms, laughed as if in response to a shared joke, and turned to leave.
Desperate now, the sensitive bore down, and sent even more energy out into the center of the room. That was when she heard a cry of astonishment. Norr’s eyes were open, and had been throughout, but now she “looked.” Everyone in the room, master-at-arms included, stood frozen in place as the pistol floated, barrel upward, two feet above the surface of the table!
And that was the tableau that met Mayor Pontho’s eyes as she entered the chamber. “And what,” she wanted to know, “is going on here?”
The gun fell, hit the table with a loud bang, and fell to the floor. And, because Sogol was the only one free to answer, it was she who spoke. “My name is Logos 1.2,” the AI responded assertively, “and I need your help.”
THIRTEEN
The city of Shimmer, on the Planet Zeen
And in the 226th year of the 3rd epoch, strange machines will walk the land, those who live in the deeps will rise up, and the emperor will return from the dead.
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