by J. L. Doty
He kept to a crouch and took each step carefully. He had reached half way to the second floor when a servant came scurrying down the steps hugging the rail against which Jack crouched. Jack froze, waited until the last instant, then stepped out of the servant’s way as the man passed him. He quickly stepped back to the rail and crouched in the shadows there.
The servant paused, turned about and glanced slowly around with a frown on his face. Jack stood ready to activate the nerve prod in the hilt of his sword. He didn’t want to kill the man, a sad irony since it was people like him he was here to save. But the servant shook his head, turned, and continued down the stairs. Jack waited for several seconds before proceeding. By the time he reached the fourth floor he’d had three more incidents like that, once for a young couple sneaking off to a liaison somewhere, but all ended without difficulty.
There were two guards at the top of the stairway on the fourth floor. Each leaned casually against a wall on either side of the stairs, both propped up by their halberds. One had closed his eyes, while the other struggled to remain awake, his head nodding forward slowly until his chin almost touched his chest, then jerking upright suddenly. He kept repeating that process over and over again.
Moving carefully, Jack made it up to the last few steps just below them. He waited a few seconds for the guard’s head to tilt toward his chest, moved quickly and slipped between the two men and into a shadow in the hall behind them.
The hallway was long and wide, with several doors along one side, glassless windows overlooking the gardens at the back of the palace on the other. Jack took each door one at a time, and opened it slowly and carefully, just enough to peer inside. The first few chambers were unoccupied sitting rooms of one kind or another, meant for day-use, and elaborately furnished and decorated. A young woman lay asleep in a large canopy bed in the third chamber. But as Jack eased open the door to the fourth, when it was only open a slit he saw shadows from the light of a taper dancing along one wall. He eased the door open another few centimeters, and saw a dark figure seated casually in a high-back chair at the far end of the room.
“Come in, traveler,” the figure said in Tranquility’s voice.
Jack scanned the room quickly, confirming they were alone, then stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He activated the reactors in all his weapons, thinking he’d have to kill the fellow quickly.
“Ah, traveler!” the warrior said. “I knew you would come. I knew you would see the wrongness of my master and try to correct it. Unfortunately, he can’t be killed with any of your weapons.”
Jack asked, “Are you an ally, or my enemy?”
The warrior stood, and Jack noticed then that he held the harness and sheath to the long sword in his left hand, as he had done so frequently in that tavern in Jack’s dreams. “If you could kill him, traveler, then I would be your ally. But you cannot, so I must be your enemy.”
The warrior reached across to the hilt of the sword and began drawing the blade. Jack didn’t wait for him to complete the motion and fired three rounds from the grav-gun. But the warrior no longer stood where he had an instant before, had moved faster than humanly possible. Knowing a counter-attack was imminent, Jack lunged to the side into a shoulder roll, came up just as the warrior closed on him. Three more rounds from the grav-gun, and again the warrior moved inhumanly fast.
Jack sensed the warrior coming from his left, spun, and as the warrior swung his sword Jack met it with his. With the filaments in his blade activated, Jack’s sword sliced cleanly through the warrior’s blade half way up its length. The warrior stood stunned as half his sword clattered to the floor. Jack raised the grav-gun at point-blank range, and didn’t see the hilt of the warrior’s sword as it hit him in the side of the head.
9
Intervention
“FORGIVE ME, TRAVELER.”
Jack sat at the table in the dream-tavern, the warrior seated across from him, the usual cup of water in front of the warrior, the tankard of beer in front of Jack, no recollection of how he’d gotten there, no sense of the dream beginning.
“I do apologize, traveler,” the warrior said softly. “But you cannot kill him with your physical weapons. In only an instant he could feed from a thousand souls, repair any damage you might cause. He’s been doing it for over four hundred years, and he’s quite adept at it.”
“Then how do I stop him?”
The warrior shook his head sadly, swirled the water in his cup and stared at it as if seeking some enlightenment there. “You cannot. You don’t know how. You don’t have the skills. Only I do, but he controls me as he cannot control you. Why is it he cannot control you, traveler?”
The warrior looked up from his cup, and looked at Jack’s face. “I still cannot see your visage in these dreams,” he said. “What blocks me so? It also blocks Deland, you know.”
Jack recalled the one time he’d met the warrior in the flesh in his office, and that odd sensation of being watched from within. His implants had warned him of a possible intrusion attempt of unknown origin and unknown type. Unknown origin and unknown type meant it hadn’t been a probe by any technology familiar to the Commonwealth. Unknown origin and unknown type! The intrusion had been unsuccessful probably because of the firewall built into his implants, and apparently because of something else inherent in Jack.
“Circuitry?” the warrior asked. “Wired into your brain? Walls of fire? A most intriguing technology!”
Not metal wires, not copper or gold or platinum, but enhanced neural synapses and conductive pathways grown in place, organic circuits with a complex processing architecture and a number of sophisticated security measures. The firewall was intended to thwart electro-magnetic intrusion, but it must somehow blunt Deland’s and Tranquility’s mental probes as well.
“Brilliant!” the warrior said. “Truly brilliant! We focused on developing the mind, never thought to enhance it artificially. Beware, traveler, for while he can’t control you, he can harm you. He can steal the life from you.”
••••
Jack opened his eyes slowly. He lay curled on his side on a stone shelf in some sort of cell poorly lit by a lone shaft of flickering, yellow light. He sat up groggily, though even such a minor effort seemed to sap his strength. He took stock of himself. They’d removed everything: his clothing, his weapons, even the night-vision inserts. He wore a coarse woven garment more like a large sack with holes cut in it for his head and arms. Clearly, it had not been cleaned since being used by some previous occupant.
His implants still functioned, and by that he knew he’d been unconscious for most of a day. Any blow to the head severe enough to induce unconsciousness for that length of time would have been lethal. The blow the young warrior had delivered must not have been that severe, but serious enough to need extreme treatment, so his implants had placed him in a temporarily induced coma. His head hurt, and his hands trembled with weakness, which could be due to a mild concussion.
He stood carefully, his legs a bit wobbly, and explored the cell. It was a two-meter square with a single door made of heavy wooden planks. Face-high and in the center of the door, a grated opening about the size of his hand proved to be the source of the shaft of light. He explored the rest of the cell by touch, found nothing beyond the stone shelf and some filthy straw, though he heard something scurrying away from him, probably some local equivalent of rat.
He sat down on the stone shelf because he was too weak to remain standing. At some point he dosed off, but voices just outside his cell awakened him. Then the door swung open and a guard with a lantern stepped into the cell, followed by the warrior and Deland. Jack didn’t have the strength to stand.
“Mr. Strand,” Deland said softly.
Jack couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Yes, we know all about you. My control over your colleague is limited, but it grows each day.”
Jack asked, “What do you want?”
Deland shrugged. “Perhaps I want nothing from you, Mr. Strand,
other than to watch you die slowly.”
Somehow Jack knew that was not true. “But you do want something. You want off this planet.”
Deland raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Very perceptive, Mr. Strand. But I don’t need you to help me accomplish that, though your cooperation might be beneficial in other ways. I could offer you much.”
Jack closed his eyes and tried to fight the lethargy that threatened to overwhelm him. “You’re offering me favour?”
“As I said, Mr. Strand, I could offer you much. You appear to be in your middle years, but I can offer you the youth and vigor of early manhood.”
If Deland got loose in the Commonwealth he would offer favour to others, and he probably wouldn’t have to look too far to find powerful and influential friends who would be more than happy to take him up on it.
Jack shook his head. “No, thanks. I’d rather die than become a parasite.”
Deland smiled. “We’ll see, Mr. Strand. We’ll see.” He turned and left the cell.
The guard followed him, though the warrior remained. “He’s feeding on you. He wants you to see what it’s like to be one of the victims, believes that will convince you to accept his offer. Will it, traveler?”
Jack lay down on the stone shelf and closed his eyes. The warrior waited for a few moments, then realizing Jack had no intention of answering, he turned and left. The cell door clanged shut behind him.
••••
Palaski found Zarkovy alone on the bridge. The captain looked up from the screen in front of him and smiled. “Noah,” he said, “are you as bored as I am?”
Palaski returned his smile. “We’re survey. Boredom comes with the job, doesn’t it?”
Palaski had a terrible urge to pat the pocket of his coveralls with his hand to reassure himself that the small gun remained there. It took an effort of will to resist that temptation.
The captain looked carefully at Palaski and his eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”
Palaski shook his head. “Nothing serious. Little glitch in the recycler, spent all afternoon trying to trace it down. But I’ve got it now, should have it fixed in short order.”
Zarkovy nodded. “If you need help, let me know.” He returned his attention to the screen in front of him.
Palaski stepped around the captain to a small console, had to duck his head to keep from bashing it on an instrument cluster. He brought up a schematic of the recycler on a screen, but didn’t really pay any attention to it and instead glanced over his shoulder at the captain. He had maneuvered himself to a position behind his superior, and now he did reach into the pocket and retrieve the gun. Zarkovy cooperated by focusing intently on the screen in front of him.
Palaski held the gun down by his side and didn’t raise it. He couldn’t get himself to do what was needed, and he feared his God would be displeased.
You mustn’t hesitate, my child. He would never believe you, would stand between you and the glory of your God.
Palaski raised the gun and aimed it at the back of Zarkovy’s head. He said, “Yes, you’re right.”
Zarkovy’s head straightened. He said, “What was that?” He started to turn, to look over his shoulder at Palaski. The bullet punched a hole in his left temple.
God expressed his joy and pleasure.
Palaski found Stowicz munching on a meal in the mess. Having killed once, he found it easier to do so a second time. He put a bullet in the back of Stowicz’s head. The man still sat at the mess table, but now lay with his face resting on the blood and splattered food on his plate. Again, God was pleased.
Now, the young ensign.
He went to the shuttle bay and called her from there. “Ensign, this is PO Palaski. I’m down in the shuttle bay running some diagnostics on the boat, and I’m getting some readings I don’t understand. Can you come down here? You know more about this stuff than me.”
“Right,” she said. “I’ll be right down.”
He and his God had to wait only a few minutes for the young woman to show. “So what’s the trouble?” she asked pleasantly.
Palaski stuck the muzzle of the gun in her face and she froze, her look of boredom turning to that of fear. “Get in the shuttle,” he said.
She backed away a step. “What for? What do you want?”
“You’re going to take me down to the surface.”
He watched comprehension slowly form on her face. “You berserked-out, didn’t you?”
He screamed, “Just do what I say.”
“Where’s the captain?” She backed another step. “Where’s Stowicz?” Another back step, then she turned and ran.
Palaski raised the gun, took careful aim at her back. No, my child, God said. No. You mustn’t kill her. She’s the only one who can pilot the shuttle.
••••
Tranquility subdued the guard easily, though he took care to leave the man unharmed. He lifted the key ring from the crude table where the guard sat unconscious, selected the proper key and, carrying a lantern, opened the door to the traveler’s cell.
Yesterday the poor fellow had been near death. His skin had taken on that grayish pallor common to Deland’s victims. But Deland wouldn’t let him die, had already reversed the process a bit. He’d done that to the poor fellow several times, taken him to the brink of death then force-fed him the same way he fed Tranquility. The man was better today, though still weak as a kitten.
Tranquility could wait no longer. Deland now had complete control of the one crewman, and would soon get the fellow to bring their shuttle down to the planet’s surface. Their ship would then allow him to again spread the abomination to the stars, and Tranquility could not allow that. “No,” he corrected himself out loud, speaking to the unconscious man lying on the stone shelf. “You and I individually could not stop him, but you and I together, traveler, we will stop him.”
He sat down beside the fellow, placed his hand gently on the man’s bare arm. It was clammy, cold, covered with an oily sheen of sweat. Physical contact would be helpful with what he needed to do. He just hoped it would work.
He closed his eyes, concentrated carefully on the man’s life force, sensed the strange technology in the man’s head and the firewall he’d spoken of. He could not defeat it, but perhaps he didn’t need to.
••••
Tranquility sat up. The coarse garment the traveler wore irritated his skin, and it felt odd to walk in the man’s body, now fully rejuvenated. He looked down at his own body, emaciated, lifeless, dead. No turning back now.
He stripped his own corpse of its clothing and gear, dressed the now useless flesh of the youthful brother in the coarse dungeon garment, dressed the traveler’s body in the clothing and gear of the Lord Enforcer. They were of a similar size, and with the brim of the hat obscuring his face in shadows, and everyone’s reluctance to face the Lord Enforcer directly, no one would notice that he now wore the traveler’s body.
He locked the cell and returned the key ring to the table. The guard would wake up, thinking he’d fallen asleep on duty and not daring to mention the fact to anyone. Deland had a reputation for being quite unpleasant to those who failed him even in the simplest of ways.
The guise of the Lord Enforcer, the broad brimmed black hat, black leathers, black cloak, it worked as he had planned. As he strode through the halls of the palace everyone skittered quickly out of his way, like mice evading a large cat. And as he approached the king’s residence on the top floor, the guards on the stairs stood aside and dare not question his desire to see the king.
••••
With God’s guidance Palaski had hunted down Candow and beaten her into submission, though he had been careful not to harm her in any way that would prevent her from piloting the shuttle. He dragged her to the bridge, let her have a look at Zarkovy’s body, dragged her to the mess, and let her see Stowicz’s body. So when he dragged her into the shuttle, strapped her into the pilot’s seat, then put the gun to the side of her head, she knew he mean
t business. “Now. Start this fucking thing up and get us down there.”
She sniffled back tears and sat there crying as she began activating the shuttle’s systems. Palaski spat, “I may not know how to fly this thing, but I will know if you try any shit.”
She nodded, continued sniffling and working at the pilot’s console.
God was pleased. God was very pleased.
••••
Since that night four hundred years ago when Deland had first established control over Tranquility, only rarely had he probed deeply into Tranquility’s mind. There really was no need, and Deland found the task distasteful since all he ever found in Tranquility’s thoughts was loathing and disgust. But whenever Tranquility came near, Deland always touched the surface of his thoughts, like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower. More habit than anything else, a habit established over four hundred years of absolute control, he would flutter in, confirm that Tranquility was Tranquility, then leave without further thought to the matter.
Tranquility had learned from the traveler’s knowledge that he didn’t need to disable the firewall in his implants to hide its existence. He could selectively allow Deland to touch his thoughts, and when he stepped into Deland’s presence he felt nothing more than the usual superficial probe. Deland found Tranquility inhabiting the body before him, but the shadows from his hat hid his face and concealed the fact that the body before him was not Tranquility’s.
“What do you want?” Deland said absently, focused on packing clothing and other needs.
“There is a problem with the prisoner, Your Majesty.”
Deland paused, looked at Tranquility, shook his head and waved the issue aside. “He no longer matters. The shuttle is on its way without him, so I’ll soon be off this god-forsaken mud-ball.” He returned to packing, Tranquility forgotten.
“I’m afraid we can’t allow that.”
Deland paused again and looked at Tranquility more carefully this time. “Do you think you can stop me?”
Tranquility shrugged Jack’s shoulders. “We have to try.”