Quinn blinked. “A what?”
“A hole. A region of your mind isolated from the rest. I’ve never observed anything quite like it. I’ve attempted to probe it, but it remains inaccessible. My guess would be that the Elinare are responsible. You’ve spent a lot of time with them, and this bears all the hallmarks of Elinare meddling. Damise offer open guidance. Elinare prefer to work in the shadows, bending lower races to their will without their knowledge or consent. How are the nightmares?”
“Nightmares?”
“Yes, I imagine they’re quite vivid. Whatever’s trapped in there is trying to get out. Soon, the pressure will become unbearable. I can take it away if you’ll let me. Tell me, what have the nightmares shown you?”
“They’re just dreams. Dreams don’t make any sense.”
“But these aren’t ordinary dreams, are they, Quinn? I think they represent information—information that the Elinare don’t want anyone else to have. And they’re using you as a receptacle, which leaves me with a dilemma.”
Ximun sat opposite Quinn, removed the playing cards from their box, shuffled, and dealt—one card facedown to each of them then one card faceup. Quinn showed the queen of clubs, and Ximun showed the three of diamonds.
“Do you know this game?” Ximun asked?
“Looks like five-card stud poker.”
“Have you played it before?”
“Not since college.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
“I just got fed up of losing money.”
“I’ve been studying this game,” Ximun said. “Games can tell you a lot about the race that conceived them. This one is deceptively simple. Fifty-two cards that don’t change—most of those in play are visible to all, yet the mathematical probabilities are skewed by each player’s attitude to risk, which can in turn be altered by a thousand and one things: hunger, tiredness, mood. Players can even lie, suggesting by their actions that their position is far stronger than it really is.”
“It’s called bluffing.”
“Right, yes. A simple computer can determine the probability of any particular card emerging at any given time, but when you factor in the vagaries of the sentient mind, I believe the quantum mapping required would likely be beyond even my most powerful machines.”
Quinn pressed his lips together. “That’s why I ended up playing for pennies, items of negligible value.”
“Ah, but suppose the stakes were far higher. Suppose you were playing for the fate of all humanity.” Ximun dealt again—a four of diamonds for himself and the queen of hearts for Quinn. “The subset of probable outcomes just narrowed. I now have the three and four of diamonds. That sequence could end in a straight flush. Even an ordinary flush or a straight would beat three of a kind. But suppose you acquired four queens? Then any of my possible combinations would lose. You have two queens showing. You put in a high wager. Do you have the third queen, or are you attempting to deceive me?”
He dealt the ten of spades for Quinn and the jack of clubs for himself. “See, the probabilities have shifted once again. You have a pair showing. I have nothing. You wager high, expecting me to fold, but owing to overconfidence or indigestion, perhaps, I match your wager. The final cards are played.” He turned over the two of hearts for Quinn and the jack of diamonds for himself. “You still have your pair of queens showing. I now have a pair of jacks. You stand to win, unless my hole card is a third jack, in which case you lose. There is only a small possibility of that, but the survival of humanity is at stake. Dare you take that chance?”
Quinn leaned back in the chair. “This is all very interesting. But I don’t see—”
“Do you know why the Damise chose to ally themselves with the Agantzane? They are a Founder Race with insights over space and time, but we are the master tacticians. We plan. We analyse. We eliminate risk so that the outcome of any scheme is assured.
“The Haven has fallen. The bulk of the Damise fleet has reentered this universe and is headed here—hundreds of AI-reinforced ships that cannot be destroyed by any conventional means. I have scoured your mind. We have the winning hand. Except that there is a gap in your mind, a hole card that I cannot read. The chance that it might affect the outcome is vanishingly small, but the fate of the entire Consensus is on the line. The Agantzane cannot take that risk. You must reveal to me what is hidden there.”
From the legs and armrests on Quinn’s chair sprang clamps that wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles. A fifth clamp whipped around his neck, holding his head fast.
Ximun rose, towering over him. “This is the final round, Quinn. The cards have all been dealt. You must show your hidden card to me now.”
Fire coursed through Quinn’s veins. He stared at Ximun, wide-eyed.
“Show me!” Ximun cried.
~
“You look awful! What happened?”
Quinn’s vision telescoped in and out as if he were experiencing the worst hangover of his life. A warm sun smiled down from an unbroken blue sky. He tried propping himself up on one elbow but then gave up, lay on his back, and closed his eyes.
Salt and ozone drifted on the air. A gentle breeze stroked his face. Then he heard that voice again, the voice of someone who no longer existed.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?”
Quinn turned over and covered his head with his arms. “Go away!”
The image of Vil-gar appeared out of thin air, bending over him. “And why would I do that?”
“Because you’re dead, that’s why!”
“Really? Could a dead person do this?” In a flash of light, Vil-gar appeared in a black-and-red harlequin’s costume. Madrigal music drifted towards them. Vil-gar broke into an ungainly dance.
Quinn forced himself upright once more. He sat on a cliff top overlooking the sea. Far off, a sailing ship bobbed on the waves. This was the last place Keiza had taken him before leaving for good.
He turned his attention back to the wizened creature, still swaying to the music. “Who are you? Why are you torturing me?”
Vil-gar ended his dance with an unsteady pirouette. “You know who I am. I’m Vil-gar, the cleverest and most resourceful being in the universe!”
“You died. The avatron that was sustaining your life stopped functioning, and you died.”
“We-e-ell technically, I suppose that’s true. But then Keiza had a brilliant idea. I’m sure I would’ve thought of it myself, had I not been indisposed. Of course, she had very little time to implement it, which was why she was forced to abandon the Osei. At the time, you were engaged in a re-creation with the Elinare who called herself Rahada, so there was no way to let you know either. She sends her apologies.”
“Where is she?”
“Back with the Osei, of course. The Osei is helping to outfit our ships with my stealth technology as we speak.”
“I see,” Quinn said, his mind still a fog.
“Don’t you want to hear about my spectacular comeback?”
“Uh, okay. Sure. Why not?”
“Well.” Vil-gar sat cross-legged on the grass, the bells in his hat tinkling whenever he moved his head. “It all goes back to the hole-in-the-universe problem. I told you the Elinare’s approach was flawed. When my physical form expired, all my accumulated reasoning and knowledge was destined to expire with me. Keiza persuaded the Qan-ho-nah that that knowledge was too valuable to lose. So they used the same technology they had used on themselves to create a noncorporeal form for my consciousness.”
“You’re saying what, that you’re Elinare now?”
“Yes… no… I suppose it all depends on your point of view. The Elinare are no longer what they were when they had physical bodies, and neither am I. The important thing is I’m inside you now just as Keiza was, and I’m going to stick with you, come what may!” He sat bolt upright. “Oh, no. I almost forgot. Sorry—have to go.” He vanished in an explosion of light.
Quinn felt himself sliding back into darkness.
~
When Quinn opened his eyes, his mind felt a great deal clearer. He was lying on wet sand, dressed in a thick crimson doublet, brown breeches, and black boots with silver buckles. The soughing of breakers filled his ears. Beside him on the sand was a black leather tricornered hat. He picked up the hat, eased himself up, and brushed himself off.
The beach stretched away in both directions. Out at sea, a three-masted galleon made steady progress against choppy waves.
He recalled his most recent encounter with Vil-gar. The memory had a fuzzy, dreamlike quality. Vil-gar was alive, and Keiza was alive—Vil-gar had told him everything he wanted to hear, even though it couldn’t be true. But if his mind was merely playing tricks, then who was responsible for bringing him here?
A burst of light erupted beside him, and Vil-gar appeared, clad in a pink shirt and a yellow bandana with black polka dots. A large pair of gold hoop rings pierced his long ears. “Greetings, Cap’n!”
So not a figment of my imagination, then. Quinn fought down the urge to laugh out loud at the pale creature and his absurd attire. “You left.”
“Yes, but I brought back the cavalry!”
The galleon let off a ragged broadside.
“The Shasallah is in orbit. Kimn have disabled the Shade net. Nemazi squads are moving through Ximun’s four-space house as we speak, securing the building. Your son is safe. Ximun has fled. Vyasa has gone after him.”
“He’s dangerous. We have to stop her.”
“We have a more important task. The AI-augmented Damise fleet will be here in a matter of hours. We must retrieve the information stored in your head if we’re to stand any chance against them. I neutralised the chemical cocktail Ximun pumped into you, so your mind should be reasonably clear. I want you to think of everything Salahan told you about where and how she stored the data.”
Quinn frowned. “Okay, well, she said no one else could access it, not even an Elinare. She also said I would know when the time was right. I guess that would be now.”
“She didn’t tell you how to go about retrieving it, by any chance?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“No. Of course not. Clever, very clever… Was there anything else?”
“She said I would have nightmares.”
Vil-gar’s ears perked up. “Nightmares, what sort of nightmares?”
“One was in a circus. I was about to let a mythical creature out of its cage. Then I was back on Nemazi, being chased by gormgast, until I was swallowed by a time front.”
“Did they have any features in common?”
“Yes. In each case, I was shown a symbol.”
“Picture the symbols in your head.” Vil-gar closed his eyes.
“All right.” Quinn recalled the combinations of circles and triangles.
Vil-gar’s eyes snapped open. “Interesting.”
“What do the symbols mean?”
“Nothing. As far as I know, they’re meaningless.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said. “That’s all I have.”
Vil-gar’s proboscis twitched. “Then again, maybe that’s the whole point.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re assuming these dreams are leaking information from the isolated part of your mind. What if they were designed to leak false information, clues that would throw anyone else but you off track?”
“I see what you’re saying, but I still have no idea how to find what we need.”
Vil-gar scanned the beach and the line of trees. “I created this island to be a map of your mind. The answer is here somewhere. All we have to do is find it.”
“And how do we do that?”
Vil-gar’s wide mouth quirked. “If you don’t know where something is, try looking where it isn’t.” He set off up the beach on spindly legs.
Quinn spread his arms wide. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on,” Vil-gar called over his shoulder. “We’re going on a little treasure hunt.”
~
When Quinn was six years old, the thought of going on a treasure hunt dressed as pirates would have thrilled him beyond words. Today, he was pushing forty and had a smug, self-satisfied, one-metre-high alien creature for company. It felt more like a chore.
“I want you to describe everything you see,” Vil-gar began.
“Everything?” Quinn asked.
“Well, not every stone and shell. I’m guessing it would have to be a reasonable size. Just the main features, especially anything that looks out of the ordinary.”
“All right, well, we’re walking on a beach. The sea’s to my right. To my left, the sand rises towards the tree line.”
“You’re doing well. Keep going.”
“You mean I have to describe the whole island?” Quinn asked.
“It’s a small island,” Vil-gar replied. “You have a small mind.”
“Thanks.”
They strolled up the beach, Quinn mentioning everything as they went. He felt like a tour guide except nothing he pointed to was particularly interesting. Gradually, the land rose, revealing a cliff.
“I’d guess it’s about twenty metres at the highest point. And there’s a cave directly beneath it, about—”
Vil-gar raised a slender hand. “Stop!”
“What’s the matter?”
“The cave—take me there.”
Quinn led the way to the cave entrance.
“How high is it?” Vil-gar asked. “How wide?”
“I don’t know… four metres wide, maybe. And three metres high.”
Vil-gar extended a hand towards the opening.
“Fascinating. All I see is a sheer rock wall. This has to be it.”
“What do I do?”
“Go in and find out what’s inside.”
Quinn made to go and then pulled up short.
“You’re not coming?”
“I can’t. In my perception, there is no cave. The information in there is for you only.”
“All right. Be back as soon as I can.”
Quinn stepped past the threshold. The air inside was cooler though oddly stifling. At the far end was a smaller opening. He ducked through and entered a narrow passage.
On the left wall, a wrought-iron sconce held a flickering torch. After taking the torch, he headed down the passage. About ten metres in, it opened onto a vast chamber. As he advanced, his boot struck something with a chink. Bending down, he saw pieces of vitrified stone and clinker, warped and fused by intense heat. A fragment of memory surfaced.
He rose again and crept forward more slowly. Before him was an immense pile of round stones. A tiny rockslide trickled down the mass then intensified. Stones bounced and rolled on the cavern floor. A green mass emerged, resolving into an eye socket. Wisps of smoke curled from the end of a long snout. The ground shivered, and Quinn staggered backwards.
A huge head rose and fixed the intruder with its yellow eye. “I aaam Paiiiste.”
Paiste, a dragon from Irish folklore—the creature had appeared in one of Keiza’s earlier simulations.
“Whooo enterrrs myyy dooomain?”
“I am Quinn.” He fought the tremors in his voice.
“Quiiinnn? The one who freeed meee?”
“Y-yes, that’s me.”
“Youuu may paaass unhaaarmed.”
“Th-thank you.” Quinn skirted the edge of the stone mountain.
Carved from the rock behind it was a square chamber. Torches on the walls highlighted a leather-covered treasure chest. Quinn pulled at the hasp, and the semicircular lid fell open. The chest was filled with gold coins, necklaces, and goblets encrusted with precious stones. At the centre, half buried by the gold coins, was a leather-bound tome. The cover bore symbols of interconnecting triangles and circles.
Quinn hefted the book from the chest, scattering gold across the floor, tucked it under his arm, and headed back to where Vil-gar waited.
~
During the journey back to the Shasallah in a Kimn transport,
Zothan spoke softly into Quinn’s ear. “Magatha rashan.”
“Magatha rashan. It is good to see you, too,” Quinn replied.
“We feared you were lost to us.”
“Never, my friend. Omesku jhazeel akhar.”
“A nucleus stands or falls together,” Zothan translated. “May it ever be so.”
“Tell me—how go the preparations?”
“Our numbers have grown. When news spread of Nemazi’s liberation, free peoples and vessels that had been in hiding headed for the nebula. Our combined fleet now numbers a hundred fifty-seven. Twenty-three of those are Shade: three Nemazi darts, three Omaka craft, and seventeen Yeshai raiders.”
“I thought the other Shades despised the Yeshai.”
“We have always disapproved of their preying on Fixed Race colonies and shipping. But this is no time for petty bickering. As you have said, we stand or fall together.”
“Agreed,” Quinn said.
“Thanks to the Osei, all the Shade vessels plus the Shasallah have Vil-gar’s AI-inspired stealth technology, though a few are still, as humans would say, working out the bugs.”
“That’s great news, although I’m sure the Nemazi engineering division must have toiled around the clock to make it happen.”
Zothan nodded. “As you say. The bulk of our remaining ships are made up of the Cethlan fleet and a smattering of others who somehow escaped AI absorption.”
“What do we know of our adversaries?”
“They have ten thousand four hundred and ninety-seven ships, the largest fleet ever assembled in Consensus history. They will be here in two hours.”
Quinn whistled through his teeth.
“If we prevail, they will sing songs about us for many years.”
“Let’s hope we’re here to hear them.”
“We do have a number of factors in our favour. First, coordinating such a massive armada will be a difficult undertaking. We anticipate they will react slowly to changes in tactical position. Second, well over half of their ships are AI-controlled vessels. We know from experience that those ships are slower to respond than those made up of free crews.”
“There’s one problem,” Quinn said. “I discovered that once the AI has sufficiently brainwashed a crew, it will withdraw, and they will continue as loyal puppets of the Damise/Agantzane alliance. The Damise were very keen to show me one converted ship, but only one, and it was one of their smaller vessels. That leads me to suspect that there probably aren’t that many converted ships yet, but you’ll need to be wary of them, as I suspect their reaction times will be as fast as ours.
The Crucible Page 28
