by Ryk E. Spoor
“Good work, Carl,” DuQuesne said. “We’re walking a fine, fine line here, and anything that gives us better relationships with the other Factions without giving away the store is great.”
“Thanks, but honestly, I didn’t need much arm-twisting to go. It’s a dozen sports all in one, with real stuff at stake.” He looked over at Ariane. “I wasn’t your main mechanic in the Unlimited just for the tech challenge, after all.”
“Can’t blame you,” Gabrielle said. “Though I could sure do without any more heart-in-my-mouth Challenges like the one that almost got Ariane killed.”
“Yeah,” agreed Carl. “So anyway, that’s about it—we’ve talked with some of the others off and on but nothing of substance.” He raised an eyebrow. “So . . . what now?”
Everyone was looking at her now. You’re the Leader of the Faction, Captain Austin. You don’t like it, you don’t want it—even less now—but it’s your job for now, so suck it up and get moving. Though she would much rather have left it to DuQuesne or someone else, Ariane straightened and tried to look properly captain-like.
“Honestly, I had hoped to return with a lot more people to help us get things done here. Instead, as Carl points out, I seem to have managed to return with no more people but a lot more problems. We need to address all of those problems, and the others we already knew about.” She looked at Simon. “Dr. Sandrisson, in your best estimation, how long will it be until the Duta and Mr. Naraj’s people join us here in the Arena?”
Simon frowned, pushed the round-lensed glasses that were one of his affectations up his nose slightly, then leaned back, obviously thinking. “It’s somewhat difficult to say; the Duta is a larger vessel and the design is quite different when compared to the Grail, and they will be getting their own cargo together. However, they have many more people working on this . . .” Another pause. “No less than three days, no more than a week, I would say.”
Damn. I had hoped for more than that. “All right. So we need to decide how we’ll deal with them when they arrive. Our other problems . . . Dr. DuQuesne, how would you rank them?”
“Hard to say, Captain. Leaving aside Naraj, Ni Deng, and whoever they bring with them—and let me just say that even if they only bring one or two, that’s going to be a royal pain to watch with only eight of us—our other major problems are the Molothos, possibly the Blessed, getting ourselves ready to defend our Sphere, figuring out how to expand our territory—we have got to get at least one more Sphere—and of course our unexpected visitor Maria-Susanna.” He paused, a brooding expression on his face, before continuing. “We’ve got to increase our ability to project our presence in the Arena, which means we have to get those Sky Gates they talk about up and running. We need ships that will work in the Arena proper; I think the Duta is being designed with that in mind, but . . .”
“But,” Ariane finished, “we can’t build or buy them here without resources.” She looked around. “We may have to send one or two of us back to get some kind of ship built back home that we can use.”
DuQuesne winced, and she shrugged. “I know, Marc. I hate the idea myself—we honestly can’t spare any of us. If I have to I’d probably have to send Steve and Tom—Steve oversaw the Holy Grail’s construction, Tom did the maintenance, the two would have all the right knowledge.”
“But without them, work on our Sphere installations will slow way down,” DuQuesne said. “I guess a lot will depend on how much we can get for the cargo you brought, Gabrielle.”
“I’d guess, yes,” Gabrielle said. “I’ll go back shortly and get it unloaded and bring it back here. We want to get first on the market, before Duta gets here. I’m pretty much certain, Arrie, that some of the pieces I couldn’t get were ones the SSC already had put an option on. But if we start selling ours first, we get the initial interest spike.”
“Okay, Gabrielle.” Ariane felt a quick, small spark of satisfaction; Gabrielle had remembered that Arena residents were interested in real, non-nanotech manufactured products from new worlds and had gathered a surprising cargo while they were away. One positive thing to do, anyway. “I think that’s an obvious and necessary step and it’s something we can get on right away.” She looked back to Simon. “What about the Sky Gates? Those are supposed to be activated by Sandrission Drives somehow, correct?”
“As I understand it, yes. If you enter one of the Gates and activate the Drive as one would for a normal Transition, you are transported to the other side of the Gate instantaneously, whether that ‘other side’ is to the next Sphere over, to Nexus Arena, or even to a Sphere corresponding with a world halfway across the entire universe.
“If you invert the Sandrisson field, you are dropped back into the normal universe at some distance—I believe roughly a light-year—from the associated star system.”
“How do we locate these Gates?”
“I . . . do not know, yet. I was intending to research this as one of my first projects after our return.”
Another clear priority. “I think that’s necessary. You should contact Dr. Relgof of the Analytic as soon as we’re done here.” Simon nodded, and she continued, “All right. Now, as to the imminent arrival of our SSC representatives . . .” Bite that bullet, Ariane. “I’ll meet with them as soon as they arrive—I want them escorted here immediately. No chance for them to go somewhere else or get involved with anything until they’ve been brought to the Embassy and been briefed here. If possible, I’ll escort them myself.”
“I will be with you,” Wu emphasized.
She smiled faintly. “You and Marc have already made that clear. But this does bring up something else—maybe not quite as important . . . but maybe so, in the long run.” She glanced at DuQuesne. “Marc, a good bodyguard needs to understand the territory. I understand that I will have Wu with me essentially all the time when I am outside of the Embassy or other secure areas. However, if I am staying here in our Embassy, I want Wu to spend some time familiarizing himself with Nexus Arena, with some of the people we know, and with our Sphere—Inner and Upper. He needs to grasp this . . . place,” she still didn’t know what to call the Arena as a concept; world? Universe? “at least as well as we do. His instincts need to be adjusted to all the differences of the Arena.” She smiled at Wu. “Plus, even the best bodyguard needs some time to himself, and in a place this amazing . . . can we really cage the Monkey King?”
“Ha!” Wu Kung laughed joyously. “Only the Buddha managed it before! Thank you, Ariane! I do want to see this place myself!”
“You’re right, Ariane,” DuQuesne said, echoing Wu’s smile. “And I’ll hammer some rules of behavior into him so he doesn’t, hopefully, wreck our most delicate negotiations.”
“Good,” she said. “Getting back to the earlier discussion . . . I will also let them in on our joker in the pack when I meet with them.”
“Are you sure?” Gabrielle asked. “I am certain they will be very unhappy with that little piece of information.”
“Ariane’s right,” DuQuesne said. “No way do we want them finding out Ariane’s the Faction Leader from anyone else. If we brief them right away, they’ll be peeved but we’ll keep them from making fools of themselves, or forcing themselves into a Challenge or something by making assumptions that aren’t correct.”
“Thank you, Marc.” She thought a moment. “As for Maria-Susanna . . . we have to find out where she is, and what she is doing, but I’m not sure it’s easily done. I could of course just try to use the Arena’s abilities to contact her and ask what her intentions are, but she could refuse contact or lie, as it suited her.”
“Yeah. If she didn’t come to the Embassy in the first place, she has a plan that doesn’t involve using us as intermediaries, for which I guess I should be grateful. We’ll have to try to figure out how to ask around subtly. We might get the chance when our new friends arrive—they’ll want to be introduced, and maybe we could drop hints then—or even earlier, if the Factions know we’re here—”
A brillia
nt green ball of light popped into existence over the table; Ariane mostly repressed the startled jump. From it came a familiar, deep, somehow ironic and humorous voice. “Captain Ariane Austin, welcome back to the Arena.”
She couldn’t repress a smile at that voice. “Orphan! Nice to hear from the great Leader of the Liberated!”
As Orphan was the sole member of the Liberated, this would have been possibly risky humor from someone else; but as Orphan had, himself, used similar jests in her presence, he took it with good humor. “I did think of delegating the contact to my First Minister Orphan, but Ambassador Orphan reminded me that it is best to maintain good relations by personal interaction.”
“Good that you have such sage advisors, Leader. What can we do for you, or was this simply a welcome call?” Somehow, she doubted it was so simple. Little in the Arena was, after all.
“Actually, I have a proposition for the Faction of Humanity . . . and some information I believe you would find useful.”
“A proposition?” She glanced at the others. “We would be very happy to hear any offers you might have, Orphan. Despite certain . . . events, I still think of you as a friend and ally. So please, speak on.”
“Ahh, Captain Austin, I would rather you—and the others, if they like—come visit me at my Embassy.”
“Well . . . I’m sure I can arrange it sometime, but we have a lot of things complicating matters at the moment.”
“Oh, no doubt,” Orphan answered. “A new-minted Faction with some most interesting . . . challenges, if you will, to deal with, and I am sure some additional matters from your own people.” It was clear that Orphan understood the potential problems, even though he couldn’t have specific knowledge of just what those problems were.
But now there was an unmistakable dramatic edge to his voice, and he continued, “But I did, also, mention information, I believe. Perhaps it would intrigue you sufficiently if I were to mention that, a full day before the news of your return spread throughout Nexus Arena, I had a most interesting visitor . . . a most interesting human visitor?”
CHAPTER 8
“Welcome back, Captain Austin, Dr. DuQuesne,” Orphan said expansively as she and Marc entered, Wu Kung just behind her. Simon was visiting Relgof and the Analytic, starting discussions to find out about the Sky Gates, while Gabrielle and Carl were moving their merchandise from the Grail to the Embassy; Laila Canning was currently at the Embassy in case others came to call.
Orphan’s hard, chitin-like exterior seemed glossier than ever, the deep green and black like an exotic uniform as he completed a deep push-bow, then turned to their third member. “And a first welcome to you . . . ?”
“Sun Wu Kung. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Orphan!”
Ariane couldn’t restrain another smile. Whatever else he can do well, he’s made me smile more in the last few days than I’d ever have believed.
Orphan’s translated voice, too, held a note of humor. “No honorific, please. Just Orphan. It is my name and my condition. I welcome you, Sun Wu Kung. And you? No title? No honorific?”
“None, or far too many,” Wu Kung answered, staring around at the mysterious patterns ornamenting the entrance of the Liberated’s Embassy. “I am the captain’s bodyguard, and for that I need no title at all; elsewhere I have many titles but they are of no matter here.”
Orphan’s face was not as mobile as a human’s, and the twin crests of green-black on his head did not move. But Ariane had learned to interpret quite a bit of the semi-insectoid alien’s body language, and the scissoring of the black wingcases and shift in posture showed his surprise. “A bodyguard, you say?” He glanced to DuQuesne, clearly trying to read him. “I hope you take no offense at my saying that I find it hard to think that you would be as . . . effective a bodyguard as she might need, if she fails to be able to protect herself—which failure, in itself, would be no small feat, as I have seen her in battle. Dr. DuQuesne, for instance, would be more what I would have envisioned.”
Wu’s smile showed his sharp canines, and DuQuesne chuckled. “Orphan, you remember back when we had to fight Amas-Garao together?”
The sole member of the Liberated vibrated in a way that even an untutored human would have recognized as a shudder. “I could hardly forget it,” he said, with an uncharacteristic tension and nervousness in his tones, his hands making an abortive gesture outwards which would mean no.
“No, I would guess not. But you admit we worked well together.”
The wingcases relaxed slightly and the richer tones of Orphan’s voice showed that he was back to himself. “Indeed, I would. A terrifying battle, but a transcendant one in its own way, and ours was a marvelous dance with death.”
“Then maybe, in a couple of days, you’ll come over to our Embassy and we can do some sparring. With Wu.”
Orphan bowed. “I would be honored. I sense that you will be showing me the error of such simplistic assessments. It should be . . . entertaining.”
“It will be that.”
The alien drew himself back up dramatically. “But I did not call you here merely to meet your mysterious new—and, I note, tailed, which does not appear to be the norm with your people—bodyguard.”
“No, you said you had both some news and a proposition for us.”
“Precisely so.” Orphan led the way to one of his own embassy’s meeting rooms, where human-style chairs were already extruded from the floor and one more suited for Orphan’s tailed, winged form rose up as he approached. “As I said, that most charming renegade of yours, Maria-Susanna, approached me the second day of her presence here.”
“Used that name, did she?” DuQuesne said.
“She did indeed.”
“How did she approach you?”
“Oh, quite directly. She came to this Embassy and requested an audience, which I naturally granted her as I am always interested in those with a personal approach, and she was, apparently, a new member of your Faction, and your people are still quite something of a novelty.
“She then got straight to business, as one might say, stating that she had a great deal of sympathy for the cause of the Liberated and that she was considering joining my Faction, if that were possible. A most . . . startling and emphatic opening move.”
“And you turned her down?” Ariane was somewhat surprised.
“Oh, hardly so swiftly as that, I assure you. Indeed, I was most flattered and at first very much interested. The Liberated cannot afford to turn down any applicants unless there is truly an overriding reason to do so. And she offered a great deal of value.”
DuQuesne grunted. “Like all of the secrets of humanity on a plate.”
“On a plate . . . yes, I grasp your idiom, and it’s quite a useful one.” Orphan looked momentarily pensive. “You know, this once more gives me pause to wonder how it is that the Arena will decide to translate versus transliterate. There are clearly times it translates one concept to another, while at other times it appears to merely translate the words into the nearest reasonable equivalent.” He gave the wing-snap which signified a shrug, and continued. “Yes, but then again, not nearly all, at least not to begin with. Clearly she was far from foolish; she wanted to offer the minimum of information which would be worth admission to my Faction, and hold the rest for later bargaining—with me, or with others outside of the Faction.”
“So,” Ariane said when he paused, “what made you turn her down?”
Orphan stroked one of his headcrests thoughtfully. “A number of things, really. She—quite wisely—was forthcoming about her legal status in your home system. This of course presented me with a problem which is, alas, vastly more important for me than it would be for Selpa, Nyanthus, or most other leaders of other Factions.”
“Got it,” DuQuesne said, nodding. “With your role as gadfly to the Blessed, you’ve got damn few allies, even personal ones. Selpa hasn’t had to rely on humanity to bail the Vengeance out, old Nyanthus doesn’t need us to support him in a pinch, the Analytic don�
�t have to worry that we might dump them, and it’s hard to imagine any of them ever would. You’ve had to rely on us, and might have to again.”
Orphan’s wingcases scissored in the pendulum-like motion that indicated either reluctant agreement or a “yes and no” state. “I would perhaps not have put it quite so bluntly. Yet . . . yes, I suppose there is no better simple way to say it. Despite certain temporary conflicts of interest, I have, I hope, been of signal service to Humanity, and in return you have assisted me in regaining much . . . face, would be the correct way to put it, as well as in truth showing me much of myself. While these debts are mostly even, still I am not so unwise as to sacrifice one alliance for another single individual. At the same time, that was not all.”
“Oh, really?” DuQuesne looked interested.
“Quite so. You see, I of course conducted quite a long interview with her. There is a phrase the Faith often uses, todai miriola in the language of their current leader, which is best translated as ‘the Way of Spoken Warfare’ . . .” he paused, chuckled. “And there again is that question of translation! Ahh, I have not thought about these things in centuries! But where was I? Ahh, yes. For the Initiate Guides who travel to new worlds, meet new species, this is meant as the description of how you defend and advance the Faith’s belief in the face of ideological opposition, but todai miriola is more often simply a reference to a conversation which is a genteel battle between two who seek to gain the better of the other in the discussion. And indeed was my interview with Maria-Susanna such a battle. I sought to discover more of her, her motivations, her long-term goals, her relationship with all of you, her history, as well as information about humanity. She was after more information about me, of course, my resources, my goals, and so on.” The wingcases tightened and released. “I pride myself on being a master of this form of warfare, but I found that in this woman I had met my equal. I am honestly unsure if she learned more of me than I did of her.
