Result: standoff.
The Deified began pummeling WarAvocat with questions.
He scanned the ranks of screens and allowed himself a smile bordering on contempt.
The Deified Ansehl Ronygos spoke for everyone. “What are you going to do about this, WarAvocat?”
“Nothing, Deified.”
Babble of protest and criticism.
“Explain yourself, WarAvocat.”
“I am bemused, Deified. With all the resources you command... But, then, those no longer among the living forget how the living think. Deified, the most effective thing VII Gemina could do was break off the Web. By now the rebels are scattering. The household troops are in pursuit. Access.” The shimmer jumped his shoulder. “Communications, WarAvocat. Are you in contact with House Goriot?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any reports on current rebel activity?”
“The insurgents have begun to disperse, sir, in anticipation of the arrival of our troops.”
WarAvocat surveyed the Deified, case made. Some vanished in a huff. Some returned his smile, approving. Some looked like they had gotten a taste of something bitter. The Deified Makarska Vis lingered for a moment, glaring at him with a displeasure almost too intense for an electronic entity. Had a cabal of bitter kindred led XII Fulminata to become what it had? XII Fulminata’s style would suit Vis well.
He thought of the artifact. Arousal was immediate. He tried to put her out of mind. He had not given the other two prisoners enough attention. The one continued her efforts at sorcerous dissimulation.
He laughed. To think of what the alien was doing in terms of witchcraft — he was letting the Ku’s outlook intrude upon his own. Who could credit it? A spacefaring race so primitive in thought it still looked at the universe through lenses of mysticism and magic.
So the Ku were a species defeated and commercially enslaved, and when they died they stayed dead forever, unlike Guardship humanity, where immortality was assured. No one stayed dead long, though OpsCrew and ServCrew did not recall their former lives.
But Gemina remembered. Gemina forgot nothing and forgave everything.
He started thinking beyond the noncrisis of M. Anstii.
— 26 —
The breeze off the sea carried the murmur of spirits and sprites and a coolness that kissed Blessed Tregesser’s cheeks. He stared out at the waves, watched one after another roll in and smash itself on the foot of the cliff, a hundred meters below. Darkness slithered over the water. The sun was setting behind him. As it did the evening’s party came to life.
He shifted his kaleidoscope and thought that his grandfather’s scheme would be just one more wave crashing against the cliff of the Guardships. The waves might demolish the cliff in time, but not in one year or ten thousand. Maybe the smart thing was to accept reality and operate within its constraints. Most of the Houses did, and prospered.
And in the genes of others, rebellion simmered on, a quiet inferno, consuming generation after generation. And nowhere was that more true than in House Tregesser. He could not shake his heritage. But he did not have to stoop to the stupidities of his forbears.
Behind him somewhere Valerena laughed. Blessed thought her laugh tight, contrived, premature for the progress of the evening. But she was the guest of Linas Maserang here, and was working hard to keep him entranced.
Maserang showed signs of becoming disenchanted.
“Blessed? Won’t you come join us, son? You perching up here, staring out at Linas’s bleak dark sea, is creepy.”
Blessed faced the fraudulent smile and dead blue eyes of Myth Worgemuth. Behind him, Cable Shike shrugged as though to ask, “How could I stop him?” Beyond Cable servants began lighting paper lanterns. Blessed said, “Myth, I’m still young enough to be excused anything. You’re too old to be forgiven anything.”
A shadow moved behind those dead eyes. “What do you mean, son?”
“That you’re old enough to know better. That there’s no reason anyone should forgive you anything.”
Worgemuth’s smile remained fixed. “I think I’ve missed what you’re trying to tell me.”
“I doubt it, Myth. But I’ll spell it out. A long time ago you helped my great-grandfather take the House. Then you turned on him and helped my grandfather take control. Now you’re scheming with my mother to oust him.”
Worgemuth’s smile vanished.
“I’m not stupid, Myth. I can see what you’re doing. I can even puzzle out the fact the poor senile old Commodo Hvar is being set up to take the blame if the plot unravels.”
Worgemuth looked positively grim.
“And now, before you’ve even gotten my mother in place, you’re around sucking up to me. Maybe figuring on getting a kid in there that you can control. You think my mother is too stupid or too silly to notice? Don’t bet your life. She’s a Tregesser.”
Worgemuth’s mouth tightened into a colorless prune.
“But why worry about it? There’s a gala in progress. The interesting people are arriving, fashionably late.” Blessed went down to greet Tina Bofoku and her brother Nyo. Worgemuth remained where he was, as though he had relieved a sentry post that kept watch on the sea.
“Trouble with the old-timer?” Tina asked. She was in a sparkling mood.
“Only for him. Your mother is over there. Later?”
“Absolutely.” She made a face at Nyo.
Blessed entered the crowd without joining it. Even at the heart of the veranda he was an observer who watched from the outside. How many of these people belonged to Worgemuth? Not many. They would be innocents or, at most, potential recruits.
At first the guests seemed to be playing ocean, moving in little surges toward where his mother held court, rolling away. But soon Valerena retreated into Maserang’s house. The population divided into equally spaced groups with cometary individuals between them.
Sometimes someone spoke to Blessed. Always he replied courteously but coolly, cultivating an image of distance that, tempered by warmth in private, might lead some to think they had wormed their ways into his confidence. Those would be the people he used.
As he spoke with an executive who seemed to think she could further his education and her career in private, he caught a snatch of conversation. He froze. The words did not register. They did not matter. Only the voice mattered. There was something frighteningly familiar about it. Something that raised the hair on the back of his neck. Yet he could not identify it.
He spotted the man. “Who is that?” he asked his companion.
“Nikla Ogdehvan. He and his wife do something mysterious for the House. Probably something sinister. They come and go and nobody knows where or when they’ll turn up again.”
Subtle stress on wife. Why? Marriage was uncommon and quaint but not socially unacceptable. “Thank you. Excuse me, please.”
The woman’s lips tightened but she did not protest.
It took minutes of drifting. Once he had his target fixed he listened intently, not to words but to tone and rhythm. The man spoke seldom, but when he did everyone listened. There was a hard edge beneath his gentleness. No one knew what he did. No one wanted to find out.
Half an hour later, when he received the summons from his mother, Blessed knew exactly what Nikla Ogdehvan did for the House.
Linas Maserang, Myth Worgemuth, and a third man Waited with Valerena. Valerena said, “Myth tells me you’ve got everything figured out. With a mind like yours, you might be useful.”
Was that sarcasm? “I presume something dramatic has happened to make you bunch up with so many witnesses around.”
Valerena scowled. “Word just came. Father’s Voyager arrived today.” Exasperation. “Those morons up there didn’t figure it out till a few minutes ago. They wouldn’t have noticed if that damned Guardship hadn’t challenged him.”
“May I see the data, Mother?”
Maserang said, “Help yourself.” His sarcasm was thick. He indicated his personal Information Center.
“Just scroll the message from station.”
Irked, Maserang did so.
Blessed read. “Four hours twenty-three minutes since breakaway. Not enough time to dock and make the descent.”
Valerena snapped, “Of course not! He’s up there lying low. It says that right there.”
“What we see Grandfather doing and what he’s really doing aren’t the same things, Mother. I submit that he intended to be noticed.”
“Nonsense,” Maserang said. “Why?”
“Because this is my grandfather’s Other, who has been exchanged already, coming in to make the switch again.”
“Don’t let your imagination carry you away. It couldn’t have been managed without our agents noticing.”
“Neither you nor your agents have noticed that Lupo Provik is out on your veranda, among the invited guests, masquerading as Nikla Ogdehvan. And he’s been on Prime for a week.”
Dead silence. Stricken silence. Death might have drawn a talon through that room.
Maserang’s Info Center buzzed. Irritated, he muttered, “I told them I didn’t want to be disturbed.”
The silence turned toward disbelief. Valerena said, “Amuse yourself at someone else’s expense, Blessed. I no longer find your humor tolerable.”
Maserang said, “You’d better take this, Val.”
She went and snarled at the comm. She erected a privacy screen a moment after she started, though, so that Blessed did not know why she was growling.
She was deathly calm when she came back. “That was my father’s pet artifact.”
Blessed moved toward the door. “I’ll go irritate someone else, Mother.”
She screeched something obscene. He did not listen. He went out to see how life was treating Lupo Provik.
— 27 —
Timmerbach raged and wailed and scurried around, but not once did he lose control of Glorious Spent. He was a wonder. He railed against his deities, his employers, Canon, the Guardships, the Web itself, without prejudice — while occasionally pausing to give his techs advice in a calm voice. He sounded crazy most of the time but was just a man trying to save his ship and maybe his life.
Jo looked into the screen portraying the aft view. IV Trajana loomed ever larger.
One of the bridge crew beckoned Timmerbach. They muttered. Then the Chief jumped back and complained all the louder. “Commander, we’re not going to make that anchor point. We’ll come up several seconds short. We’ll hang on till these bastards bump us off, though. May they get hung up and never find a way down.”
Jo recalled stories of ships found caught on the Web, apparently unable to get back off.
Glorious Spent shuddered and jumped as though kicked. Warning lights went mad. Jo grabbed Haget and a stanchion. Alarms shrieked and hooted. Timmerbach yelled, “Kick it off! Kick it off now!”
And pray the systems had not been damaged.
Real Space. Starspace. The sense of having been relieved of a vast pressure. It took her several seconds to understand why.
The dread was gone.
She and Haget realized they were still in contact. She jerked away. “My apologies, sir.”
“None needed, Sergeant. Chief. We’re off the Web prematurely. Have you calculated the schedule delays?”
Timmerbach exhaled slowly, controlling his temper. “We were close to the anchor when we broke away, Commander. Assuming our numbers are good, we’ll be in starspace four days. We’ll pick up another strand and be gone.”
Jo did not listen closely. She was trying to keep an eye on Cholot and to watch for the monster star raging somewhere nearby, and for the school of stars in which it swam. Guardships’ soldiers seldom got to see such sights.
Haget said, “Thank you, Chief. We’ll get out of your way now.”
Jo’s communicator beeped. She raised a hand to stall Haget. “Klass?” the comm whispered. “Vadja. Seeker is on the move. Headed your way.”
“Got you. Klass out. Commander, Colonel Vadja says Seeker is headed for the bridge.”
Timmerbach heard. “That’s all I need. A goddamned creepy-crawlie... Keep it away from me.”
“Chief, I have no intention of allowing an alien near the controls of a Canon ship. Klass. Get everyone up here.”
“Yes, sir.” As she summoned Degas and AnyKaat, she checked the exterior screens. Amazing that something as terrible as the dread or as big as IV Trajana could pass unnoticed in starspace.
“Astounding, isn’t it?” Haget said. “Chief, we’ll wait for it in the passageway. Lock up behind us. Sergeant, check with Vadja. See if it’s still coming.”
She did. It was. “Why?” she wondered aloud.
Haget shrugged. He made sure the bridge hatch was secured, stood at an easy rest. “That business makes you appreciate the problems of operating a small ship, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” Surprise. That was too human a remark for Haget. Jo assumed a stance aping his.
“Here it comes.”
Seeker of the Lost Children looked taller and more regal. Jo battled an urge to kneel.
The impulse went as suddenly as it had come. It was replaced by a desire to step aside. “It’s trying to manipulate me,” she said.
“Stand fast.”
The thing slowed, halted. Era Vadja appeared behind it, then Degas and AnyKaat. Those two had brought sidearms.
Haget said, “Passengers are not permitted in this part of the Traveler. Please return to passengers’ country.”
Seeker did not move. Jo tried to stand outside herself while emotions and urges not her own tugged at her. She did not yield.
Haget repeated his admonition. He added, “Canon law forbids your presence on the operating bridge of any carrier not operated by your own species.”
This vessel must turn back. I have erred. I have overlooked one of the children. She is in danger.
Jo shuddered. That voice was inside her head....
“Sir, you must return to passengers’ country. This is a lawful order. If you fail to obey, I will be compelled to enforce it by force.”
Jo was amazed that he would be so patient and polite.
Seeker was not listening. Move aside. I will have this vessel turned.
Hammer blows, those thoughts of command. Excruciating, but not unbearable. Jo withstood them. Haget seemed to shed them without effort.
Seeker appeared surprised. And distressed.
Haget said, “We have us a situation, people. I can’t be sure it understands my warnings. AnyKaat, set to light stun. Degas, you for heavy. I’ll try talking one more time.”
If Seeker understood, it did not respond. Nor did it react to Haget’s repeated directive to return to its quarters. It tried its mind magic again. It failed again.
Jo said, “Careful, Commander. It’s getting pissed.”
It started forward.
“AnyKaat.”
AnyKaat drew and fired with Guardship soldier’s proficiency. The alien collapsed. Jo moved in carefully.
Haget snapped, “Vadja! Check the methane breather. Now! Degas. The krekelen. AnyKaat. Cover us while we lug this thing to its quarters.”
Chief Timmerbach cracked the bridge hatch, peeked out, squeaked, and locked up again as Haget said, “Don’t be shy about using stun.”
Jo knelt beside the alien. It was not entirely unconscious. It no longer looked much like the thing they had faced, though flickers of that semblance ran over it like scampering flames on a cotton wad moistened with alcohol.
The aspect beneath was no more real. Spots of black appeared on it and vanished as rhythmically as a heartbeat. Jo sensed sorrow radiating from it.
“I don’t think it’s really belligerent, Commander. I think it just doesn’t know how to make us understand.”
He knelt opposite her. “Ready, AnyKaat?”
AnyKaat eased around so she would be behind them. “Ready.” Very professional, Jo thought.
Her communicator squawked. “Vadja, Sergeant. We got us a s
nake circus back here. This methane sniffer has gone berserk.”
Haget said, “Tell him to stand fast. We’ll be there as soon as we stuff this thing into its den.”
Jo relayed the message. Before she finished, Degas checked in. “Nobody home back here, Sergeant. Our protean friend has gone AWOL.”
“Can it do that?” Jo asked. “I thought WarAvocat had it programmed.”
“Evidently not well enough. It has. AnyKaat, help Degas find it after we put this thing away.”
“Yes, sir.” She sounded worried.
Jo felt some feather touch from Seeker. She could make no sense of it. “It’s trying to tell me something, Commander.”
“It can talk us blue in the face after we get the bees back in the hive. But first things first.”
Bees? How did he know about bees? From a former life?
Seeker was light. Jo had guessed a hundred kilos beforehand but now she was thinking fifty. Fifty creepy kilos. She grew increasingly repelled....
“Vadja, Sergeant. You people better get here. The damned thing is trying to get out.”
“Shee-it!”
“Out?” Haget asked. “But...”
“No shit. Bang!” Jo said. “Shoot it if you have to, Era.”
“Where?”
“Good question. Hell, just smoke away.” She looked at Haget. “That all right?”
He nodded.
They reached Seeker’s quarters. “In you go, buddy,” Haget said. They dumped it and closed the door. AnyKaat set her weapon to Kill and welded the door shut. Then she ran.
“We’d better collect our own arsenal, Sergeant.”
That took only a moment. Then, hip to hip, they raced for the methane breather’s deck. Startled passengers dodged them and stared. Vadja kept Jo’s communicator squealing. “Shooting doesn’t do much good. It’s spread out all over in there and just getting madder. Damn it! It is trying to get out.”
Haget grabbed the communicator. “If you can’t stop it, get the hell away from it. Now!”