Fiddleback Trilogy 3 - Evil Triumphant

by Stackpole, Michael A.

  I slapped him on the shoulder. "That's right. Pygmalion needed to prevent Fiddleback from coming through to Earth. He did it by removing the battery that Fiddleback wanted to use. Presumably he didn't just blow the maglev line because he knew it would be valuable some day for moving troops. He arrived, took Ryuhito away and made some vague threat about returning with Ryuhito to enslave the world.

  "That meant that all of us took his threat as being dependent upon Ryuhito in some way. We focused on Ryuhito and devoted a certain amount of our planning to ways to eliminate or neutralize the prince." I grinned wryly. "And if Pygmalion is even half as intelligent as we've given him credit for, he's already worked the same sort of failsafe into Ryuhito's brain that Fiddleback has with me, preventing either one of us from assuming the powers of a Dark Lord in opposition to our mentor's wishes."

  "Well, we've got Ryuhito now, so he's out of the equation." Crowley toyed with the tip of his goatee. "This puts us back to square one, but with a caveat: We know Pygmalion intends to conquer the Earth with an army of soldiers built on the Mickey prototype. What we don't know is where his staging area is. If what he needs is a place deserted enough to let him bring his armies in, he could be almost anywhere."

  "I don't think so, Damon. I think he made a mistake there." I smiled openly. "Pygmalion took Mickey from Flagstaff. Jytte Ravel was found somewhere in Arizona."

  "Kingman, I think," Hal offered. "She never said anything about it, but I recall Coyote or Marit mentioning one time or another."

  The shadow man canted his head slightly. "So, you think he's operating out of the northern area of Arizona?"

  "That, or the California badlands, or the Nevada desert, or southern Utah. There's a lot of open space out there."

  Hal dropped to one knee and plucked an azure strand of grass. "It'll be like finding a needle in a haystack."

  "No it won't," I assured them both. "We have Jytte, and she once lived in the eye of that needle. To find Pygmalion's base, all we need is to convince her that she wants to lead us back to the place from which she escaped."

  Crowley and I took an indirect route on our return to Earth. We walked through the dimensions within the same entropy sphere as Turquoise. Crowley carried on a vague travelogue that let me know why the Yidam and Will Raven had selected the proto-dimension they had used for their staging area. As always, I found the reasoning decidedly logical and nodded in agreement that the correct choice had been made.

  Crowley held out a silhouette hand to slow me as we approached Pygmalion's factory dimension. A grayish-purple fog filled the area surrounding it and appeared to be without surfaces or movement. By the same token, I could feel something solid beneath my feet, and I found the sensation of a gentle breeze in my face a constant.

  We pushed on forward and I found the breeze stiffening. By the time my kilt started flapping in the wind, the fog came to an abrupt end. Standing on the edge of a brilliantly lit void, I felt as if I had worked my way through the surface of some giant tennis ball and now stood looking at a miniature sun burning at its core.

  Crowley spit at the burning ball of a dimension suspended like a star in front of us. His spittle made it barely two feet from his mouth before crackling loudly and exploding into a wisp of steam. "No welcome mat here."

  I shielded my eyes against the light streaming out from the proto-dimensional sphere. "For someone who needs energy, isn't this a wasteful display?"

  The shadow man shrugged. "The heat layer is very narrow, but quite sufficient to hurt most things trying to crawl through it — present company included."

  "The sphere doesn't look very big."

  "It's bigger on the inside than the outside. I think he means it as a statement about himself, really." Crowley rested his hands on his hips. "Arrogance seems to be an attribute that all Dark Lords share."

  "As long as they continue to underestimate us, I don't mind." I pointed toward the dimensional ball. "Making it in there would require either a lot of energy to overwhelm the defense or a dimensional gate, right?"

  "As I understand it, yes." Crowley nodded slowly. "Pygmalion has to be devoting a certain amount of his concentration on keeping this dimension inviolate. While we can't strike at him, it does pin him into place."

  "So we know where we will meet him, but he's choosing the battlefield."

  "Right, which means he has a hell of a home field advantage. By the same token, it probably means he has not begun to ferry troops into Earth. He will be vulnerable when he does that, because the amount of energy required to establish a link will be more with his dimension armored like this. Sustaining that over the time required to move a billion troops, or even the number needed to secure a staging area, is going to be draining."

  I nodded. "So he will drop his defenses here at that time, you assume, which leaves him open to a strike."

  "Yes, but you know as well as I do that hitting this place at that time would be suicidal."

  "Because he'll have all his troops ready to go and just waiting to eat up opposition." I turned away from the burning sphere and headed back into the fog. "We have to pre-empt his strike at Earth, and we have to do it in his dimension, because we'll need Fiddleback with us, and giving him access to Earth isn't part of the game plan." Crowley slapped me on the back. "That's how I read it. Let's get back to Phoenix and see if we can find a spot where we won't mind letting two Dark Lords have a war."

  We arrived in Phoenix late in the evening. Appearing the suite of rooms I maintained at the top of the Lorica Industries corporate citadel, I left Crowley to call Jytte while I took a shower and dressed in jeans, an aquamarine shirt and a pair of docksider loafers. I took my time dressing because I needed time to think a bit.

  Oddly enough, feeling the starchy stiffness of the shirt's collar and cuffs helped focus me. The shirt felt uncomfortable, but I wore it because it helped define who and what I was. The kilt, while functional, was not me. I was not a Greek hero coming back from a time in the underworld; I was a Dark Lord's minion, and I sincerely doubted that made me a hero in anyone's book.

  I realized that, in creating me, Fiddleback had forged a formidable weapon indeed. My predecessor had seen that and had chosen me to replace him. I had no doubt that his choice had been motivated by his belief in my ability to oppose my former master. I also had to imagine he did not discount my ability to face off with another Dark Lord. If his causing me to destroy a Reaper base was an indication, he expected me to destroy the Empress of Diamonds when push came to shove.

  Things had changed from what he had envisioned. Pygmalion supplanted Fiddleback as the primary threat to humanity. Eliminating that threat called for an alliance with my former master. I could imagine Coyote approving the alliance and even my striking a bargain with the Empress of Diamonds to ambush Fiddleback, if necessary.

  What I couldn't tell is how he would take what I needed to force Jytte to do to eliminate Pygmalion. For as long as I had known Jytte, which was not, granted, that long a time, she had been a gorgeous doll, a living automaton. She did everything she could to downplay her beauty. She dressed down, she acted in only the most subdued ways and seemed to do everything she could to distance herself from all other human beings.

  It occurred to me that the only emotion I had seen her display came after I had spoken with the ghost of my predecessor. In the back of my mind, I had wondered if Coyote and Jytte had been lovers or otherwise emotionally entangled. Certainly if Coyote had helped to rescue her from Pygmalion, she would have been greatly in his debt. I knew that he was the only member of his group she trusted with the secret of his plan concerning me, which means he had also confided in her the reason he needed to be replaced.

  Given the likelihood of some ties there, I had to wonder what he would have thought of my need to have Jytte lead us back to the place where Pygmalion kept her before her escape. She would resist — she had to resist if she wished to maintain the minimal control she had over her life. She used her amnesia as a foundation, but I
had to get her to dig deeper. I had to sacrifice the welfare of one for the good of the many, or so I meant to be doing, but I really did not know if my plan would work.

  It also occurred to me that in doing what I would be doing to Jytte, I would be no better than a Dark Lord using someone. My only hope, my only difference with those we opposed, was that I would try to get Jytte to listen to reason first. I would try to get her to work with me. I had to at least try that, or there was no reason in trying anything at all.

  I left my dressing chamber and threaded my way through the corridor to the central sitting room. The white upholstery of the couch and chairs matched the white marble covering the floor. A teak coffee table with a glass top pinned a small piece of carpet in place in front of the couch. The room's northern wall looked out toward Squaw Peak and Camelback Mountain, with both of them rising above the black, Frozen Shade ocean like distant islands. The white drapes had been pulled back to allow full view of the peaceful vista.

  The far end of the room had been arranged as a media center, but the stereo and monitors remained dark. Sinclair MacNeal stood at the little bar mixing two drinks, but he barely acknowledged me at all. His attention appeared focused on Rajani, the Yidam's daughter. The expression on her face told me she had been informed of her father's death and that she grieved for him. The feelings I read from her included more grief, but split between mourning her father and regretting their inability to rediscover each other as father and daughter.

  MacNeal brought her an amber drink in a small tumbler, then sat beside her on the couch. She took refuge beneath his arm. Beyond them, Crowley stood at the window and looked out. Jytte stood near him, then turned toward me as I entered the room. "I am glad to see you here, Coyote."

  I stopped dead in my tracks as Jytte flashed a brief smile. I caught a feeling of relief from her, then a quick stiffening like a child realizing she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. That faded after a second or two, then Jytte crossed to an overstuffed chair and sat down. Her movements flowed naturally, not stiffly, making me wonder if somehow the Empress of Diamonds was controlling her as she had controlled Natch. Her outfit, an olive jumpsuit, did not look as sexless as other things I had seen her wear, but it had not been augmented with diamond jewelry, so I was left assuming other forces were at work here.

  I bowed my head to Jytte. "I am pleased to be here, Jytte. Rajani, I am very sorry about your father."

  The black-skinned woman nodded once. "He used to be fascinated with the heroism that some people exhibited during wars. I know he died happily if what Mr. Crowley has described to me is the truth."

  "It is, Rajani, it is," Sinclair assured her with a hug.

  "It is," I echoed him. "Jytte, did Damon tell you why I need to speak with you?"

  The blond woman nodded and crossed her long legs. "He said I have some information that is important. He suggested getting it might be unpleasant."

  "It probably will be, and interrogation might get downright rough. I want you to know, though, that I respect you and would not ask this of you if there were any other way."

  Sinclair frowned. "Maybe there is another way, Coyote. Jytte is really the core of this operation right now. After you left, she took charge and has been very good at finding solutions to problems through very innovative techniques. Maybe she can think of something that will save her from the third degree. Lay the problem out and we can see."

  I nodded. "Fair enough. Jytte, we need to know the location at which Pygmalion held you before your escape. You'll have to lead us back there."

  Her head came up, but her face slackened into the emotionless mask I had always seen before. In my absence, she had risen out of her shell to direct the effort against Pygmalion. In her capacity as our communications coordinator, she often organized actions and had done so for the group when I arrived back in the beginning of the summer. Now, faced with the prospect of having to return to the prison that stripped her of her old body and stuffed her into the new one, her shell began to close around her once again.

  Jytte folded her arms slowly and seemed to sink deeper into the white chair's plush upholstery. "I remember nothing of the time before Coyote found me."

  Even as she spoke, I knew she was lying. "Then start there, Jytte. Start at the moment Coyote saved you and go back one second at a time."

  Stroking his goatee with a gray-gloved hand, Crowley turned from the window. "I can help you, if you wish."

  Jytte shook her head adamantly, and her bangs slid down to cover the left half of her face. "No. I do not want anyone intruding into my mind." Hostility rolled off her in waves that carried naked terror in the troughs. I saw Rajani shiver, and when she whimpered, Jytte's emotional output dropped. "Forgive me, Rajani."

  I walked over to Jytte and dropped to my haunches in front of her. "No one wants to intrude in your mind, Jytte. We know, or we think, Pygmalion has a base on Earth in this area. The fact that you were found nearby, that he dumps his failed experiments in Phoenix and the fact that he took Mickey from Flagstaff all point to it."

  "Why don't you get the information you want from Mickey?"

  I sensed in her question a desperation to deflect attention from herself, but I also took it as a sign that her defenses were beginning to crack. "We cannot because we do not know that he was ever at that base."

  Crowley nodded grimly. "In addition, Mickey is only a child. His grasp of geography, distances and other details would be impossible to decipher into useful material."

  "What if I was taken when I was Mickey's age?"

  "It wouldn't matter. You escaped as an adult." Crowley seated himself on the arm of the couch near Sinclair. "There are things that you know which are valuable. You have nothing to fear."

  "Yes she does." Rajani set her tumbler down on the coffee table. "She has a lot to fear."

  I looked at Rajani and frowned. "What can be more frightening than a Dark Lord being poised to take over the planet?"

  "Learning who and what you really are." The Yidam's daughter shook her head. "From what I have been told, Coyote, you should understand this better than anyone else. Imagine awakening one day with no knowledge of who or what you are. You don't know anything about yourself, but when you come to, you escape out of a nightmare existence. What you come to realize is that you do not recognize the face in the mirror, the body you wash in the shower or the voice you hear when you speak. You are trapped in a prison created by someone else, and the worst of it is that any number of other people let you know they would willingly trade places with you."

  "I do understand that, Rajani. I did wake up in a nightmare with no knowledge of who or what I was. I discovered things about myself, and I learned to live with who and what I am. I didn't run away from my past."

  Jytte's soft whisper silenced me instantly. "That is because you knew from the start that your skills and abilities gave you value. I had no such reassurances. You built on a foundation of strength. I have no such foundation."

  "How can you say that if you have not tried to find it?"

  "I tried, but there was nothing to find." Her hands gripped the arms of the chair in which she sat. "From the beginning, I learned things about me that frightened me. When Coyote found me, he had to clothe and feed me because I was unable to do that for myself. I was helpless.

  Coyote said it was because I was not used to my new body, but I knew he was lying to keep my spirits up. I could do nothing because I was nothing."

  Sinclair raised an eyebrow. "I've seen you work a computer unlike anyone else, and I've seen the best. You're better. Computer skills like that are more than just a gift — you had training and were very, very good. You weren't nothing."

  "No?" Jytte looked over at him, her voice filling out with the challenge in it. "At first I clung to my computer skills in the vain hope that it would help me puzzle out my true identity. I assumed someone of my skills would have been useful and, therefore, would have been noticed when she disappeared. Using my skills, I comb
ed all the records — all the records — looking for anyone who even came close to matching my description. I came up empty — no computer geniuses had suddenly gone missing without an explanation published later."

  The occultist's green eyes narrowed. "Poorly defined search parameters for your hunt."

  "Exactly. I started from another end and tried to decide how long someone would have to have worked with computers to gain my level of expertise. Even allowing for some inborn talent, I worked it out that I had been in computers for at least 20 years. The changes Pygmalion put me through made determining my age difficult, but I worked with an age of 30, plus or minus five years. That meant..."

  I nodded. It meant a lot of things, but primarily it meant she had been exposed to computers at a relatively young age. While it was true that most children did get to work with some computer equipment during their schooling, the only ones who got strong training were the children of privilege. There again, though, a close association with computers would have to be tempered by all the other things a child from a rich family would have available to him.