by Vic Davis
“Much to our discomfort I might add,” interjected Block. “I’m not complaining, Pilgrim Voor. I just would rather not know some things if I have the choice about it.”
“I helped build the main gate fortifications at Urta’s Rest,” announced Malador. “Before I came to the lord captain’s command.”
“That’s another thing I didn’t need to know, lieutenant,” joked Block. “Although I suppose there might be some use. Perhaps you built a secret entrance into the citadel there?”
“We were given no specifications regarding that,” signaled Malador overly seriously. “The walls and the main gates were simply reinforced and improved.”
“Enough,” ordered Xodd. “Groz, you must go forward and scout the village. We need to know where the barracks is and whether they have runners on duty. Do not let them detect you.”
Groz grinned on its form walls. “That goes without saying, Captain Xodd. I will not fail you.”
“I do not doubt it,” replied Xodd becoming somewhat unwontedly sentimental. “But be careful; do not take any extreme chances.”
Groz saluted and then headed off toward the town eventually disappearing into the ether as it moved farther away. Whether this was due to the haze or the Telzra cloaking ability, Xodd could not be certain.
“While Groz scouts the town we must make preparations,” announced Xodd. “We must watch for patrols and ensure that we are not spotted lurking here.”
“I will bring our platoons in closer together and tighten up our supply train,” offered Block earnestly. “There is not much cover, but we can shift over to that nearby swirling depression to gain some slightly better concealment.”
Xodd approved Block’s suggestions; they all went diligently about their business. Xodd found a spot at the edge of the swirling depression nearest the settlement and waited with the lookouts for Groz to return. Grivil lurked nearby advising Xodd of the passing of the cycle. Time dragged by; no patrols emerged from the town to discover their presence nor did the garrison suddenly mobilize and descend on them. So far so good.
Grivil perked up suddenly. “Something approaches.”
Xodd scanned the horizon. There was nothing. Then an instant later Groz twinkled into view dropping its cloak. Xodd heaved a shudder of relief on its form walls that was nearly imperceptible. “You are back! Excellent. What news do you bring?”
Groz seemed very pleased with itself. “It’s good to be useful again, captain. Despite its jumbled appearance, the town is laid out uniformly in a simple grid. There is a barracks with some type of command outpost in the center. I could not get an exact count, but I would guess as you indicated no more than fifty inert soldiers, perhaps significantly less. They have a runner compound on the edge of town on the far side from us. I could not get inside without giving myself away, but there was nobody on guard nor did there seem to be much activity. The same could be said for the main barracks. I did not even come across a roving patrol during my entire reconnaissance.”
“Any indication of an Omega? A large building or vault secured and guarded perhaps?”
“No, nothing like that. And I was looking for one of those monsters. The town itself is calm and nothing like Privil’s Landing. Workers move quietly from domiciles to the source farms. There is a small flow quarry on one side that the town has grown past and around. A few small market squares with modest activity. No defensive walls.”
Xodd was pleased. “What of the overseer’s house? Did you notice any building with its own special guard?”
“Yes, near the barracks on one side of the neighboring courtyard. Not a palace but multi-story with two guards out front at the entrance. I did not attempt to go inside.”
“Well done, Groz,” signaled Xodd enjoying the pleasure of having a more than competent ward and protégé. “Go summon the company command staff. We will attack immediately.”
Groz beamed with excitement. “Yes, sir!”
The attack went off without a hitch. Xodd orchestrated a multi-pronged attack to eliminate the runner outpost, then seize the barracks and overseer’s house simultaneously. The enemy’s complacency and unpreparedness had all but ensured success.
They met up in the central square and reported to Xodd. Groz had led a small force of soldiers with Block as their NCO in a lightning raid on the runner outpost. The soldiers were there only in case of emergency. “I entered the runner complex and found three inerts playing a game of chance. I dispatched these quickly and proceeded to the stables. There were only two Trissa there and some Drothgar in a very sad state. I did a second pass to make sure I had missed no one and also did a circuit around the building. Once I was certain that the job was finished, I left the soldiers there under the command of a corporal and returned here with Sergeant Block. On the way we heard explosions. We came as quickly as we could, but the fight was already over.”
“Yes, it was exactly as Lieutenant Groz tells it,” signaled Block. “I have never witnessed such a thing. It was slick, fearsome work. If we had a dozen of Lieutenant Groz, we could just hover into Urta’s Rest, fix things up and then rob them blind.”
“It was merely three inerts,” grumbled Malador. “We had a serious fight on our hands here.”
Xodd laughed. “A near disaster of your own making Malador! Your little war wagon is not quite ready for field use and must be improved.”
“My lord captain, we—”
“You did fine, Malador. Although your weapon broke down, it did obliterate most of the group that emerged from the barracks. It has potential. We did not need to breach the front door, nor did we need to just demolish the place, and you showed admirable restraint when you started using your lance grenados. We should be pleased with what we have accomplished. We lost but two soldiers and those are easily replaceable.”
Xodd did not notice some of the group cringe at the last remark and continued. “The overseer’s house has been captured as well with but a small scuffle. I decohered both the guards at the front door. The squad sent inside reports that the Overseer is incapacitated and alone.”
The Old Alchemist began to chuckle. “You could say that. It looks more like a case of withdrawal from intoxicants if you ask me. A most severe case. Your Pipper is of the same mind and tends to it now.”
Grivil perked up at the mention of intoxicants. “Has anyone noticed a tavern or some such similar establishment in this little dump of a town? Surely, they must have something of the sort for the soldiers and peasants to make use of? Inerts still have such needs I presume?”
“Indeed, they do,” lamented Malador. “Although the process of rendering a soldier or worker inert removes the anamorph cloning capacity, and tempers the will to disobey, it does not completely remove certain proclivities and vices. It may even exaggerate some. Maintaining order was sometimes even more challenging.”
“I have tasted these inerts,” announced Codex. “They are attuned to domination in a most simplistic manner. The imprisoned ones have developed a technique to shape the information patterns of their minions in such a way as to facilitate their compliance. It is most interesting.”
“Could you dominate them and add them to our army?” asked Xodd now interested in the conversation.
“Some, even many perhaps, but maintaining control would be laborious and inefficient. Better to implant suggestions. But that would require too much time I suspect. I could free them with some effort. Undo their programming but there is no guarantee they would now obey you.”
“Hmm. It is worth consideration,” mused Xodd. “But first we must inspect this overseer. If we dominate it and use it as a puppet, perhaps we could find some advantage.”
“Sir, begging your pardon, but what is it exactly that we are doing here?” asked Block. “Eventually Urta’s Rest is going to figure out what is going on here and send out a force to retake this little town.”
“I would hope so, sergeant. I am counting on it actually. When the time is right, we will move on to another town and gra
b what we can. We will draw out the garrison of Urta’s Rest in drips and drabs and defeat it in detail. Then we will use Codex here to have them open up the gates; the city will be ours. We will use Urta’s Rest to build an even bigger army. Soon—”
Voor had listened calmly to Xodd’s pronouncements with growing unease. Finally, the Djenirian felt it could listen no longer. “Captain Xodd, that is not at all what we had in mind. It’s a grand plan no doubt but it requires far too much time. The evils within the prison orb will have broken loose and your fortress of Urta’s Rest will fall if it hasn’t already been overwhelmed by the Council’s armies.”
“There is an approximately 98.67% chance that the third seal will be broken if we wait more than twenty cycles,” announced the Codex cheerlessly.
“Bah! So the parasite urges as well. What would you have us do Djenirian? Tell me how we take this pathetic army past Urta’s Rest, through the defended slip point, across one of the Council’s core nodes, through another fortified slip point, to the center of the next node, through the gates of Instrumentality, up the Grand Esplanade, into the Citadel proper and then down into the chamber below. All the while opposed by their armies that will outnumber us a hundred or more to one.”
Voor’s pilgrims hovered silently without reply. “Well?” prodded Xodd. “I am waiting. Please enlighten us with the brilliance of your strategic minds.”
“Well,” sputtered Voor. “I’m not certain exactly. I have been improvising to this point. We pray for guidance from the Ancients as well.”
“‘Improvising?’, ‘Praying?’” signaled Xodd sardonically. “I was a fool to follow you this far. All of you! I should have ripped this parasite out and taken my chances. Well, enough of your dreams and prayers. Now we do it my way.
“Come Groz, Malador, Block. We will leave these philosophers to their contemplations and undertake some useful work.” Xodd turned and headed for the Overseer’s house to inspect their captive. The named ovoids followed close behind leaving Voor’s Pilgrims and Codex behind in front of the barracks. Grivil and the Old Alchemist paused seeming to consider their options, then followed Xodd somewhat reluctantly as well.
The Overseer lay on the floor of one of the upper rooms of the mansion: a utilitarian structure of three floors with a suite of private chambers, a well-equipped source preparation kitchen, and a small barracks and armory for bodyguards, which seemed to have deserted their posts.
Pipper hovered attentively ministering to the sprawled-out ovoid: a corpulent form that radiated an impressive aura of authority and command. The mender noticed the arrival of its captain and focused its transom on Xodd as it entered the room. “It’s going to be fine; I think. It’s not a withdrawal from intoxication though, at least not from anything that I’m familiar with in Limonur or the Free Cities.”
Xodd examined the form walls of the Overseer intently and was stunned. “Impossible!”
“No sir, Captain Xodd,” insisted Pipper earnestly. “This isn’t from any intoxicant that I am familiar with. Remember Fullfeffer? Now that was a bad case but this—”
“No, you idiot. Do you know who that is that you are treating?”
“The local overseer? That’s what the Old Alchemist called it when we found it.”
“What else could it be,” signaled the Old Alchemist. “It’s an impressive ovoid, well despite the sickness, and it’s dwelling in the Overseer’s House is it not?”
Xodd started chuckling in a very disconcerting way. “What is it my lord captain?” asked Malador beginning to grow concerned.
“Providence. Or perhaps some grand irony,” replied Xodd. “My transom spins at the prospect of trying to figure out how we can use this to our advantage.”
“I don’t understand, captain,” signaled Block. “You think we can ransom the Overseer? To whom?”
“You fool. This is Baloris, Endarch of War. A prize more valuable than any treasure vault. With the Endarch we can pass through the slip points all the way to Instrumentality if we play our game right. We must not let it succumb to whatever it is that afflicts it. Pipper: can you keep the Endarch from decohering?”
Pipper raised two tendrils in a gesture of helplessness. “Captain, I’m not sure what is wrong with it. I will keep feeding it and tend to it as best I can, but I cannot guarantee anything. Most likely it will recover.”
“Good, that is all that I can ask,” signaled Xodd. “I will leave some guards here to protect our newfound treasure. Send a runner to me when it can converse. I have much that I would ask it. Now we must see to securing our new operations headquarters.
“Malador! Block! See to the deployment of our troops. Put a watch down the road to Urta’s Rest and on the secondary roads that lead to other settlements as well. We must be prepared for anything that approaches. Set watches and patrols int this town as well, then secure our supply train at the garrison across the street from here. Repair it as best you can. I am going to tour the town. Groz will come with me.”
There was still much work to do; Xodd set about it with a renewed vigor and a quiet sense of satisfaction. With the capture of Baloris there would be no need to put up with Voor, or for that matter with Grivil. It was tempting to cut them loose right now, but there was no need to throw away any useful tools just yet, thought Xodd. First, Baloris must be interrogated: its willingness to cooperate considered. It might even be necessary to intoxicate it or drug it to make it more compliant. Xodd snickered at the irony of that. They would revive the Endarch of War only to then send it once more into a deep state of inebriation. Better yet, Codex could make itself useful and drain Baloris of whatever it knew, then dominate it to make it a puppet. That would suit Xodd just fine. Baloris had always been a gluttonous, pompous bore.
As Xodd made the rounds of the town, checking out its defenses and the current state of the source-farming operations, the Librarian became more and more agitated. At first, they were polite inquiries; Xodd placated the parasite providing curt assurances. The thing was clearly distressed that Xodd was considering a precipitous, independent course of action. Eventually it gave up and sulked; Xodd welcomed the respite from its incessant babbling, despite having mostly mastered the art of tuning it out.
The small town was in a good state of repair. The dwellings were kept up, and the streets were well maintained, if somewhat devoid of traffic. The main source storage depot loomed up ahead: an array of domed buildings attached to a central square building with a large opening for loading and unloading of casks of source harvested from the fountains in the outlying fields. The yield here must be very rich, thought Xodd.
Xodd recognized the outlines of a well-ordered production facility. There were meticulously arranged piles of already processed containers ordered by grade and their time of harvest. In one corner of the large building stood a massive pile of unused containers; nearby was a vacant assembly line of stations intended to prepare them for receiving the precious, coherence sustaining, raw information. Xodd knew the principals of how source was recovered from the fountains, processed, and made ready for shipment, but had never seen such a facility up close.
“There is only one source-being here besides us captain. The rest of the workers must have fled or gone into hiding,” signaled Groz.
Xodd noticed the ovoid hovering at the table only now that Groz had mentioned its presence: a small, unassuming creature, perhaps a manager or foreman of some sort. They hovered over to it and were greeted as they approached. “If you are from the Endarch, you must understand that the circumstances are now hopeless for meeting the quota. I have explained this to the captain of the Endarch’s guard repeatedly. We lack the equipment and expertise to inculcate any type of sophisticated patterns into the raw source. What the Endarch requires of us is impossible. And now that we have been invaded by the Hegemon or bandits or who knows what, my workers are gone, and nothing can be done.”
“I don’t understand,” signaled Xodd. “What is it that the Endarch has ordered you to do?”
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The ovoid threw up two guide tendrils in a fit of exasperation. “It wants the impossible. I am in charge of organizing the efficient retrieval of the raw source from the local fountains. I am not a chef! The concept is ludicrous. Perhaps in Instrumentality there are all manner of such extravagances, but here in Lok, we exist by more modest means. I keep the garrison commander and its troops well supplied. I ship my quotas back to Urta’s Rest. The Overseer is a reasonable fellow. We have no one in the town who can do what the Endarch requires. I fear punishments will be meted out soon.” The ovoid froze suddenly and examined Xodd and Groz intently. “Were you both sent to punish us for our lack of compliance?”
“No, far from it,” replied Xodd smoothly. “The Endarch has decided upon a change in plans. You are to gather your workers again and resume your work. Deliver as many campaign rations as you can to the barracks in the center of the town. I will be sending a supervisor with guards here to coordinate with you. Is this understood?”
The ovoid looked at Xodd dubiously. “And what of the enemy? Word came that the town was under attack.”
“A misunderstanding. The Endarch has set things right. I am Xodd, Chief Enforcer and I have been given the authority to act for the Endarch in all matters. The Overseer has been removed due to— an utter inability to be useful. Mind that you do not make the same mistake.”
“It will be as you say, Chief Enforcer Xodd of the council. I have heard such a name before. You have a fearsome reputation. We will comply of course.”
“Good. You have decided wisely. There is a rebellion brewing against the council, and I will be taking decisive action. You will provide us everything that we require. Who was second in command here after the Overseer?”
“My apologies Chief Enforcer, I should introduce myself. I am Quz 21, Accountant First Class and in charge of the efficient farming of Lok. We make our quotas with pride here. The Overseer was assisted by Dram, the captain of the garrison. Have you not met?”
