by Jack Conner
“Enough,” Sheridan said. “We’re all working together and with a common end in sight. Using the decrypted Codex to wake the Sleeper.”
Avery leaned forward. “And then what?”
Silence.
All eyes turned toward him, and he could almost feel them wondering how they could be working with someone who didn’t even know the answer to that simple question. Furthermore, if they couldn’t trust him to know that, should they be working with him ... or tossing him out the nearest airlock?
Captain Marculin let out a breath. “Fine,” he said. “You want to know?”
“Don’t tell him,” Lasucciv said. “He’s an enemy, I know it.”
“Yes,” Avery said, ignoring her. “I want to know.”
Marculin nodded. Avery tensed. Was he actually about to hear the reason for this whole affair?
“Here it is,” Marculin said—Lasucciv sighed—and began: “The Ygrith built what they considered a monastery on this world, long, long ago, but it was not anything we would recognize as such. It was a great city, and with their arts and power they had many ... I would call them slaves, but they became willing servants. Disciples, worshippers. Of many races, some even human, at least eventually. We came later. In any event, they revered the Ygrith as the gods they were, assisting them in their contemplation of the mysteries of the Outer Spheres. In return, the Ygrith altered their worshippers, or some of them. Their worshippers lived in sprawling cities surrounding the central hub of the Ygrith monastery, each governed in its own fashion, usually by a ruling family or priesthood. The Ygrith altered the servants’ rulers, made them more than they had been, so as to better assist them in their labors, as well as to keep order among their own communities.
“We don’t know what happened to the Ygrith, or where they vanished to, but when the Great Ones arrived –” another bow to Uthua “—the Ygrith were not here. The Great Ones searched for them in vain for many years, finding traces here and there in ancient ruins—ruins mostly left, we think, by these old worshippers of the Ygrith, the servant races. What little we know of them come from studying engravings and artifacts left in these ruins. We’ve tried to find out what became of the Ygrith, or the servants, but ... nothing. Not until the Starfish forced a group of islanders to flee their home, thus giving the Octunggen present access to a certain ruin and what they found inside.”
“The artifact from the Atosh Islands,” Avery said.
“Exactly. It enabled us to create the weakness in the Starfish to certain extradimensional signatures. We knew you people would be scrambling to find a way to combat the creatures, and that they would highly encourage you to do what we could not—find either the Key or the Codex, however inadvertently. We knew from studying ruins that these artifacts existed. Well, the ploy worked. You led us straight to the Key, and by following the frequencies it vibrated to, we found the Codex—and, at some pains—” he looked to Lasucciv “—have retrieved it.”
“So now what?” Avery said.
“Now we decrypt it. Engravings on those ruins indicated that the Ygrith had left the Key and the Codex behind in the hope that some of their higher followers would one day find them, placing the artifacts in widely-separated structures that only such higher beings could access, but, just in case, making it so that both artifacts had to be retrieved and put together to ensure that they weren’t stumbled over by accident and put to ill use. Only serious, devoted followers of the higher orders could or would locate them.”
“But what does the Codex do?”
“It’s supposed to contain the location of the Sleeper and the method of rousing it. Some say the Codex itself is a key of some sort, but that’s conjecture. The engravings indicated—and, again, none of us are certain about anything, only piecing together clues from many ruins in many places—but they indicated that at least one of the Ygrith has remained on this world, that it has put itself into a state of suspended animation, waiting for some unknown trigger. The Sleeper, as the beings you encountered near the Crothegra Dome called it. We believe it’s waiting for someone like us, or rather the Great Ones, to decrypt the Codex and awaken it. Once awake, it can lead us to this great city of theirs, this monastery, and all of its marvels will be ours.”
“Ours,” Uthua said, and there was no mistaking the iron in his voice, or whom he meant.
Marculin bowed, suddenly nervous. “Of course, my lord. I only meant us as an extension of your will.”
Hesitantly, Avery said, “And what will you do with these ... marvels—assuming, that is, the Sleeper lets you use them?”
“Subdue the world, obviously,” Marculin said.
“What?”
Marculin studied him in annoyance. “The Ygrith had weapons and devices that bent every race to their will, and even if they’re gone those weapons should remain. We only have to get the Sleeper to lead us to this city, and the world will belong to the Great Ones. I’d hoped Octung could subdue the world for them, but even without the Device’s activation world conquest would have taken us generations. And the Starfish could only have affected the coastal regions. But the weapons of the Ygrith ... if we can rouse the Sleeper, very soon the world will belong to our masters.”
Avery stared from Marculin to Uthua, and then, feeling sick, to Sheridan. She said nothing.
* * *
“You lied to me!” Avery said. “You said the only way to save the world was to awaken the Sleeper! Gods damn you, Jessryl! I helped you in good faith—”
“Betraying me every chance you got.”
“—all for the chance to wake the Sleeper and undermine the R’loth, not help them.”
They were in her cabin. He was pacing back and forth angrily, smoking a rare cigarette in his agitation, while she stood at the bar gazing at him over the rim of her whiskey.
“You used me.”
She set the glass down. “I never lied to you, Francis. I told you the only way to save humanity was to find the Codex, and so it was. I told you that if they couldn’t subdue the world, the R’loth would simply destroy it, or all life on it, and start afresh. Or else they’d warp this reality so greatly that our kind wouldn’t be able to survive it. Then they can use their pet creatures, or design new ones, as the slaves we failed to become.”
He ran a hand over his face. She’d said similar things before, but the circumstances had been much different then, though just at the moment he couldn’t say how. Maybe I’m the one who’s changed. Not her. She never changes, although her version of the truth sometimes does.
Taking a deep breath, he said, “You’re saying the only way humanity can survive is to become slaves and food to the R’loth, and that the weapons of the Ygrith will help the R’loth bring us to that happy state.”
She snatched her glass up and knocked back a swallow. “There’s no other way, Doctor. The R’loth cannot be defeated. They can only be annoyed to such an extent that they lash out and destroy us. Better to serve them. In time we might become the same sort of trusted and worthy vassals that the world’s races once were to the Ygrith. Highly placed and regarded servants, given special gifts and responsibilities.”
“Twisted into inhuman monsters.”
“Grow up. We didn’t choose this fight. It chose us. But we can damn well end it on our terms. The R’loth came here searching for the Ygrith, hoping their gods could help give them a new start, defense against the Muug, perhaps even a launching pad to new conquest. Now they think they can use the Ygrith’s weapons for the same purpose. The R’loth don’t care about humanity, but we can make them care. We can show them how valuable we can be. It’s our only hope. If we don’t find that monastery, the R’loth will destroy us. We only have a few weeks until the appointed time.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know exactly, but not long. If we don’t retrieve the secrets of the Monastery by then, we’re dead. All of us.”
There was genuine emotion in her eyes. Pleading, even. It was the most open he had ever seen her
... if he could trust what he saw.
“This is why you wouldn’t tell me what you were about,” he said. “You knew I’d never help if you told me the truth.”
Quietly, she said, “You knew. Deep inside, you knew. You knew that there was no easy out, no magical, fairy-book slaying of the monster and restoration of peace and happiness. There are only tough choices and tough consequences. We only need the courage to make those choices—and we have. You have. You couldn’t admit it to yourself before now, but you have.”
“No. I would never ...” He shook his head, suddenly weary. Could she be right? Had he known the truth all along? He hated to think it, but it was possible that somewhere down deep in the cellar of his brain he had realized the reality of the situation long before.
He let out a groan. “It doesn’t matter. I was a fool, and you led me like a fool. I guess I can’t blame you for that. You are who you are.”
“I think I resent that.”
“Do you? Do you really? But that’s not what I mean. This whole discussion doesn’t matter. Think about what you’re doing, what you’re trying to accomplish. Finding this city, this holy place. Where is it? Why isn’t it on any map? Or if it is, lost in a jungle somewhere, why aren’t there legends about it? Surely something as impressive as this so-called Monastery would attract a bit of interest.”
“We think it exists outside of space and time, at least as we know it. The Ygrith seemed to exist both in time and out of it. It was a dimension they could dip in at will, or so the myths among the R’loth say. That’s one reason the R’loth want to find them: they believe that the Ygrith can peer into the future. That they can tell the R’loth how to prevail, not just over us, but, ultimately, the Muug.”
“Fine. The Monastery’s outside of our reality, or time-stream, or what-have-you. But why did the Ygrith abandon it?”
Sheridan took another sip. “We don’t know.”
“It could be cursed. Overrun. Who knows? If these god-like beings were driven from it, how can we hope to handle whatever’s there?”
“Very, very carefully. And with the help of the R’loth, obviously. The plan is to cross that bridge when necessary. At any rate, we’re hoping the Sleeper can open the way to the city safely. It will open to him or her—or it—but not us.”
Avery slumped to the bed. “This is all a mistake, Jess. Who knows what you’ll unleash on the world? And even if you succeed, your version of success is something I shudder even to think about. There has to be another way. Layanna—”
“Layanna what?”
She glared at him, and suddenly he felt sweat gather in his mustache. “I ... would like to consult her.” He tried to keep his voice neutral. “I’m sure she could give us some perspective on this whole thing. Enslaving humanity or destroying it—surely there’s a third option.”
“You think I wouldn’t like that? That I wouldn’t fight for that?” She grimaced, then approached him, her face softening. “Of course I would, Francis. But there’s no other way, no magical third option. As Uthua said, it’s either in his way or by his side.”
Or behind his back, Avery thought again. And I’ll make sure to have a VERY sharp knife ready when the time comes. He still had his god-killing knife, after all. It was in his bedside table.
Sheridan cupped the side of his face, then kissed him on the lips, letting the contact linger. Parting, she said, “I didn’t use you. At least, I didn’t mean to. I truly thought you understood, if not on a conscious level, than an unconscious one.”
“I ... might have, Jess. That’s what scares me.”
She smiled, faintly, and kissed him again. “Forgive me?”
Before he could answer, alarms blared overhead, almost deafening. Avery and Sheridan shot to their feet.
“What the fuck?” she said.
Avery pressed his palms over his head, but still the noise seeped through. “Is it just here?”
They rushed outside, finding others popping their heads out of their cabins, and alarms bleated here, too, apparently throughout the ship. A squad of troops bustled down the hall as overhead a voice said: “ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS. REPEAT: ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS. ENEMY VESSELS CLOSING IN.”
“Oh, to hell with this.” Sheridan pitched her voice over the alarm. To Avery, she said, “Come on.”
They pressed through the suddenly crowded hall, the alarm still pounding. Avery wanted to shout at it to shut up. More troops rushed past, faces hard, some tugging on uniforms as they went. One had a dollop of shaving cream sticking from his cheek. Avery and Sheridan burst onto the bridge to find Captain Marculin barking orders to tense-looking men and women, and through the wide, curving windows that fronted the bridge Avery could see the Atomic Sea stretching to the far horizon, bubbling and noxious. Lightning flickered up from it sporadically, and a giant gas bubble exploded in yellow-green light directly ahead, then faded like a starburst.
A pair of purple-robed priests hovered nearby, representatives of Uthua. Perhaps he was linked through them psychically, controlling them like puppets; it wouldn’t surprise Avery. It didn’t even surprise him that Uthua wouldn’t come himself to monitor an attack; the god was above such trivial human concerns as mortality. The only reason he even sent the priests was likely because losing the zeppelin would hamper his ability to deliver the Codex.
“What’s going on?” Sheridan said.
After snapping out one more order, Marculin turned to her. “Ysstral airships. Warships. Zeppelins and dirigibles. I don’t know what they’re doing here, but they’ve spotted us and are approaching. Should be on us in less than ten minutes.”
“The Ysstral envoys,” Avery said, seeing it. “The bidding party. This must be the battle group that dispatched them, or the one they’re operating out of.” He let out a laugh that had no humor in it. “They could have ordered a strike at any time.”
Sheridan rubbed her jaw. “Why didn’t they?”
“They didn’t come for the Codex, that’s why. They must have sent this fleet north before they even knew about it, or Uthua’s ... misfortune.” He swiveled to see the priests frowning at him, clearly waiting to see if he would blaspheme their god; he was all too aware that they possessed the power to have him thrown in a cell somewhere, probably in their network of suites to await sacrifice.
“You’re just guessing,” Marculin said, then rapped out another order. Around them the Valanca shifted, groaning under a new strain. They had increased speed considerably. To a radio operator, he said, “Have you heard from them?”
“No, sir.”
“Heard from whom?” Sheridan said.
Marculin frowned briefly at her—he didn’t seem to enjoy being questioned in the middle of a combat situation—then let it go. He might be a captain, but she was a colonel in Military Intelligence, and that was a high-ranking spy indeed. Avery knew that the ghostly corps of Military Intelligence officers were feared through Octung; they could make people disappear with every bit as much impunity as the priesthood. And Sheridan in particular had been given what amounted to a blank check, not just in terms of money but authority, by Central Command—at least, that had been the case the last Avery knew. That could have changed by now.
“Segrul’s airborne fleet,” Marculin said, answering her question.
“Excuse me?” Avery said.
Sheridan was smiling.
“What is it?” he said. “Do you understand?”
Marculin had gone back to administering orders, which his minions frantically obeyed.
“The pirates haven’t just captured ocean ships over the years,” Sheridan said. “They have many dirigibles, zeppelins, even aeroplanes. Since the defeat of the Over-City, they’ve been amassing even more, with our help and guidance, and the whole of it has come under Segrul’s command.”
“That’s a lot of authority for such a creature.”
“He has a lieutenant in charge of the air fleet, but the lieutenant operates through Segrul. Anyway, the aerial fleet
had been on the way to Xlatleb to help break the blockade there.”
Avery felt as if he’d been slapped. “You mean ...”
She didn’t smile. “Yes. I’m afraid your little act of defiance would have been meaningless.”
“Would have ...”
“It appears Captain Marculin has requested the fleet adjust its course to meet us.” To the captain, she said, “How far away are they?”
The captain lowered the binoculars he’d been peering through. “Too far. Perhaps twenty knots. I’d contacted them before you joined us again. I didn’t feel secure transporting the Codex, or Lord Uthua, without some strength in numbers. I know stealth had been our strategy, but it’s not one I’ve ever been comfortable with. Then there was the ... shadow.”
Avery tried to control his face. He knew the captain meant a blip that had appeared on their radar screens periodically for several days following their departure from Ghenisa. They had looked for it every day, every hour, since then, but it had yet to make a reappearance. Still, they feared it was back there somewhere, trailing them for some unknown reason. Avery thought he knew who it was. He prayed he did.
“Anyway, I felt it necessary to divert the pirate airships to escort us,” Marculin went on. “Damn! They were almost to us ...”
The radio operator started, pressed his headphones over his hears, then spun to Marculin. “Sir, Admiral Qasch is dispatching his fighters to our aid. They should be here within a few minutes. The big ships are coming as fast as they can.”
“Bless the Collossum,” Marculin said, and actually lifted the jade trident he wore about his neck to kiss it. The priests muttered and made religious gestures.
“Who’ll get here first?” Sheridan said. “The pirates or the Ysstrals?”