Norr felt a sense of hopelessness as the wings carried Hasa across the abyss toward the platform that hovered beyond. And now, with nothing to distract her, the sensitive could see that the interior of the globe-shaped chamber was covered with what looked like a complicated map. A star map that illustrated the full glory of the empire Hios ruled prior to his descent into madness and his death at her hands.
But that was before ancient sensors were tripped, the beams of sunlight began to converge on a single point, and gradually became brighter. There was no reaction at first, but that changed as tendrils of smoke began to emerge from leathery wings, the variants began to scream, and two of the warriors burst into flames. The rest attempted to escape, but the beams of light followed wherever they went, killing the variants one at a time.
Hasa was falling by then, his arms windmilling uselessly as he tried to fly, only to fall facedown onto the platform below. Rebo watched in horror as the minder landed on the ancient lever and uttered a horrible scream as the bloodied handle emerged between his shoulder blades. Then, after a two-second pause, the device gradually gave way under the weight of Hasa’s dead body. “Uh-oh,” the runner said grimly. “I don’t know what that lever controls—but I have a hunch that we’re about to find out.”
Rebo’s words just hung there, and his prophecy went unfulfilled for a good five seconds, before the antigrav generator located in the base of the pyramid suddenly went off-line. Rebo and Norr experienced a momentary sense of weightlessness as the now-unsupported structure fell fifteen feet to the desert floor. Then, with nothing to hang on to, the two of them fell. The runner made what amounted to a crash landing, while Norr landed on her feet and allowed her knees to accept the shock. Having added more bruises to his still-growing collection, the runner was delighted to discover that none of his bones were broken as the sensitive helped pull him up onto his feet.
But, while the two of them were all right, the emperor’s mummified body had not fared as well. In fact, as Rebo peered down from the gallery above, he could see pieces of the dismembered corpse scattered across the surface of the now-broken burial platform. “We’ve got to get down there!” the runner exclaimed. “You can imagine what’s taking place outside. . . . The entire pyramid will be crawling with looters twenty minutes from now.”
Norr was in complete agreement. Rebo freed the coil of rope that had been slung across his shoulders, secured one end to the curved railing, and tossed the rest over the side. “I’ll go first,” Norr volunteered, and was already lowering herself over the side before the runner could object. Then, once her feet touched the floor, it was Rebo’s turn to slide down the rope.
Norr had already completed a survey of the scattered body parts by then and was down on one knee when the runner arrived at her side. “There it is,” the sensitive declared, and pointed to the large, somewhat gaudy ring that still graced a badly withered hand. The green gemstone seemed to glow as if lit from within.
“Well,” Rebo responded, “let’s pull that sucker off his finger and find our way out of here.”
Norr was about to respond when the entire pyramid began to vibrate, dust rained down from above, and the light began to fade. Rebo took hold of the hand. It was dry, leathery, and still attached to a skeletal forearm. His first attempt to strip the ring off the mummy’s bony finger failed, so rather than attempt to work the piece of jewelry free, the runner broke the emperor’s arm over his knee. The wrinkled brown-gray hand came off at the wrist. The runner tossed the rest away and was in the process of shoving what remained palm down in his pocket, when the pyramid began to fall apart.
Viewed from atop Kufu’s blood-drenched tower, where the king was licking his wounds in the wake of the disastrous battle with Tepho, the now-grounded pyramid was a sight to see as beams of bright light shot up into the sky, all four of the triangle-shaped sides collapsed onto the ground, clouds of dust and sand exploded into the air, and a globular burial chamber was revealed. Then, before anyone could properly assess what was taking place, the globe split into six segments, they fell away from each other, and a pair of badly shaken tomb raiders were revealed. The rest of the floating pyramids, seemingly unaware of what had occurred, continued on their way.
Kufu was so shocked that he simply sat and stared for a moment before bringing a powerful monocular up to his eye and peering out into the quickly gathering twilight. Once he saw the two figures, and realized who they were, a quick flurry of orders followed. “Send the wings! Send the chariots! Bring the man and woman to me!”
Meanwhile, deep within the subterranean city of Kahoun, the AI known as One-Two felt the ground shake, wondered what was taking place, and processed a sense of anticipation. Something, the computer didn’t know what, was going to happen.
The sun was little more than an orange-red smear along the western horizon by the time Shaz made his way across the body-strewn battlefield and back to the relative safety of the much-enhanced “blue sector,” where Tepho sat triumphant within the comfort of his huge tent. The chairman of the Techno Society had changed during the last eight hours, something that was apparent to the combat variant the moment he was shown into the shelter and saw the way the technologist sat slouched next his raptor. It had been hot within the machine’s cockpit, very hot, and the sweat marks were still visible on Tepho’s clothes. Not only that, but, judging from the way that the entire right side of the raptor had been scorched, both man and machine had been through close combat. Been through it and survived, which was why there was something new in the technologist’s eyes. A confidence and pride that Shaz had never seen there before. “Congratulations on your victory,” the combat variant said evenly. “I had to cross the battlefield in order to get here. Your enemies are still collecting their dead.”
Tepho searched his subordinate’s face for the slightest sign of insincerity, was unable to find any, and felt an unexpected sense of warmth suffuse his crippled body. Because if Shaz respected what he’d been able to accomplish, then it was real and couldn’t be taken away from him. So, even though the technologist would normally be furious regarding the combat variant’s apparent failure to retrieve Logos, Tepho found himself in a forgiving mood. “Thank you, Shaz. . . . We taught them a lesson they won’t forget! Kufu was successful in one regard, however . . . Did you see the emperor’s tomb? The bastard brought it down! We took a lot of territory but couldn’t capture it. Still, the initial reports from our wings seem to suggest that there wasn’t anything valuable inside. Not unless you like mummies that is!”
The joke was a poor one but a sure sign of what kind of mood the administrator was in. The combat variant’s laugh had a harsh, barking quality. “No, I didn’t see the pyramid, but that would explain the lights I saw to the south. Kufu and his people must be very disappointed.”
“I certainly hope so!” Tepho said cheerfully. “But enough of that. . . . You were on an adventure of your own. How did that go?”
Tepho clearly believed that the mission had been a failure, but being in a good mood, was prepared to accept a negative report. But Shaz had a surprise for him, a rather pleasant surprise, which made the moment all the more enjoyable. Slowly, so that the other man could appreciate the implications of what he was doing, the variant worked his way out of the now bloodstained jacket. Though slightly damaged, the raptor was on-line, which meant that servos whined and energy weapons tracked Shaz as he took six paces forward and laid the garment across Tepho’s lap. “I’m happy to report that the mission was a success. Chairman Tepho—I give you Logos.”
Even though the technologist knew that the fabled AI was housed in a mutable piece of clothing, his expectations had been low, and it wasn’t until the combat variant began to remove the nondescript jacket, that the truth suddenly became clear. Slowly, and with some difficulty, the technologist stood. Then, having slipped his arms into the computer’s sleeves, he allowed the fabric to settle over his misshapen body. The jacket was too big at first, but that changed as Logos made so
me adjustments. “My God,” Tepho said breathlessly, “it’s real!”
“Of course I’m real,” the AI responded waspishly. “And so is Socket. I suggest that we leave immediately.”
Tepho decided that the voice, which seemed to originate from behind his neck, would take some getting used to. As would the AI’s rather acerbic personality. “We’ll leave when I’m ready,” Tepho said firmly. “Besides, what’s the hurry? Socket has been on hold for more than a thousand years. A few more days won’t make any difference.”
Logos wanted to say that a few more days could make a difference, especially if Rebo and Norr managed to get their hands on One-Two, but didn’t want his new biologicals to learn the truth about Sogol. Because once they knew about the other AI, they would inevitably want to possess her as well, a possibility that wasn’t likely to help Logos obtain what he wanted. “Yes, well, what you say is true,” the AI allowed carefully. “But the sooner the better.”
“Of course,” Tepho replied soothingly, as he glanced at the raptor. “But we’ll need to be ready for anything . . . which means I have some packing to do.”
That was when Shaz realized that if Tepho had been reliant on the raptor before, he was even more so now, having bonded with the machine during combat. Which meant the raptor would have to be disassembled and rebuilt each time they made a jump. Not that it mattered because the technologist was correct. Socket had been waiting for a thousand years. A few days, a week, even a month wouldn’t make much difference now.
The combat variant was about to leave when Tepho stopped him. “Shaz . . .”
“Yes?”
“You did a good job. Thank you.”
The variant delivered an abbreviated bow, shimmered, and disappeared.
A crack of blue-pink light ran the length of the eastern horizon as Norr bent to light the bottom of the funeral pyre. The sensitive was rewarded with a loud crackling sound as flames found their way up through the dry fuel. The pile of wood had been stacked on top of a dune, about half a mile east of Kufu’s encampment, and constituted but one of more than five hundred such fires that presently dotted the desert. Urgent fires, that were required to cleanse the battlefield before the sun could rise and turn the entire area into a sea of corruption.
But this fire was special because it was Bo Hoggles who lay on top of the pyre, his huge war hammer at his side. Rebo stepped forward to place a comforting arm around Norr’s shoulders, only to discover that the sensitive was crying. “He lives on,” the runner said quietly. “You, of all people, know that.”
Norr made use of a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “That’s true. . . . But I will miss his strength, loyalty, and courage.”
“Yes,” Rebo agreed somberly. “I will, too.”
The flames found the top of the pyre, tried to leap into the sky, and sent sparks up to touch it. And, as Norr watched the still-glowing embers float away, she knew there was another reason for her tears. Hoggles had been in love with her, and had it been otherwise, would probably be back on Derius, Thara, or Ning, building a life for himself. But the variant had chosen to follow her instead, to take care of the woman that he loved, even if that meant delivering her into someone else’s arms.
There was a mad crackling sound, followed by an explosion of sparks, as the funeral pyre collapsed in on itself. The only other mourners were six heavies who didn’t know Hoggles but had volunteered to help because they were brothers of a sort. They took half a dozen steps backward as a wall of heat sought to wrap them in a warm embrace.
“So,” Rebo said, as he guided Norr back to a more comfortable position. “What now? It’s pretty clear that the Techno Society has Logos . . . and it wouldn’t be realistic to think that we’re going to get him back.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” the sensitive agreed. “But we have the ring, which means that we can locate One-Two, which means we can activate Socket.”
“Assuming we get there first,” Rebo observed.
“Yes, assuming we get there first.”
Rebo eyed the fire. “So, we’re going down into the city of Kahoun.”
“I am,” the variant answered simply. “I have to. For the man who was my father, for Bo Hoggles, and for what remains of the human race.”
Rebo sighed. “Damn. . . . I was afraid you’d say something like that.”
Norr turned to look up into his face. Her eyes were huge—and still rimmed with tears. “You don’t have to come.”
The runner’s hand came up to cup her chin. “Oh, but I’m afraid I do,” he said gently, and kissed her lips. Something gave, the fire crackled, and a column of red stars took to the sky.
TEN
The Planet Haafa
Safe below the burning sands, and surrounded by his scientists, the emperor spent many happy days in the city of Kahoun.
—Heva Manos, advisor to Emperor Hios, in his biography, A Web of Stars
Having watched the funeral pyre burn itself out, and returned to King Kufu’s tower for some much-needed sleep, Rebo and Norr awoke at least somewhat refreshed. Having lost the battle fought the day before but taken possession of the emperor’s tomb, the king’s attention was focused elsewhere. And that was fine with them. After a quick breakfast, the twosome returned to their curtained quarters, where Rebo completed the process of removing the ring from the emperor’s leathery hand. Lysander took possession of Norr’s body a few moments later, and, with the ring on his/her right index finger, he/she sought to contact Sogol.
Meanwhile, deep below the Segenni Desert, the AI variously called Sogol, Logos 1.2, and One-Two had just completed preparations for another release of knowledge, when an incoming signal registered on her electronic senses. There had been a time when such a signal would have been her cue to contact Emperor Hios, but he’d been dead for a long time, and judging from the radio traffic that constantly washed around Sogol, a group of tomb raiders had breached his pyramid. That meant they had the emperor’s ring, and judging from the nonstop series of beeps registering on her receiver, knew how to activate it.
Fortunately One-Two had the means to kill the input and was just about to do so, when a long-dead audio channel suddenly came to life. “This is Hios. . . . Please refer to authentication sequence 7629H5t15.”
Of course Sogol knew that the actual code was 7628H5t15, and was surprised to hear a female voice, but the input was pretty damned close to what it should have been. And that warranted further investigation. “Emperor Hios?” the AI inquired tentatively. “Is that you?”
“Yes!” Lysander replied. “It’s me, or a version of me, speaking through a sensitive. I thought you were off-line— but learned otherwise when Logos 1 brought us to Haafa.”
“I spoke with him,” the tinny voice responded, “but I . . .” There was a burst of static at that point, and the rest of the AI’s words were lost.
“One-Two?” Lysander demanded. “Can you hear me?” There was a moment of silence, followed by more static, interspersed with garbled words. “. . . Pyra’s trying to interfere. . . . A lot of trouble when it opens. . . . Follow the tomb raiders down. . . .”
The words trailed off into noise after that—and Lysander shook Norr’s head in disgust. “Someone, or something, is attempting to block our transmissions.”
“That’s the way it sounds,” Rebo agreed, “but the situation seems fairly clear. . . . “Sogol can open a pathway into Kahoun. Once we’re down there, she can come to us.”
Norr’s face went momentarily blank, the sensitive’s head jerked, and her eyelids fluttered. Then she was back. “What happened?” the variant wanted to know, as she held the ring up to the light. “Did Lysander get through?”
“Sort of,” Rebo replied cautiously, and told the sensitive what had transpired.
“So when will the path open up?” Norr wondered out loud. “And how will we know where to go?”
“I don’t know when it will open up,” the runner replied, “although my guess would be soon. As for the second question, wel
l, that’s easy. The moment something happens, Kufu’s people will be off and running. All we need to do is follow them.”
The sensitive smiled crookedly. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Yeah,” Rebo responded, “but it never is.”
“No,” Norr agreed. “It never is.”
Absolute secrecy. That was the key to opening a successful pathway into the underground city of Kahoun. Because even though One-Two wanted to release technology to the outer world, Ogotho and Pyra were equally dedicated to blocking such events, which ran counter to their mutual goal of preserving the 450-square-mile tomb. So, conscious of the fact that radio signals can be tracked, Sogol was careful to keep moving as she sent the final signal to her army of spindly-legged utility bots. The plan was to open a pathway during daylight when everyone could see. Then, once three hours had elapsed, the portal would close. Anyone greedy enough, or foolish enough, to remain in the city would be sealed inside, a convention that the tomb raiders had long since become accustomed to.
As luck would have it, three of King Quar’s wings were riding a thermal two hundred feet above the pathway that had once been known as Surface Ramp-47, when a pair of Sogol’s utility bots brought a jumper circuit online, thereby diverting power away from one of Pyra’s main lines, which they used to open the ancient storm door. That consumed half a gigawatt of electricity, but only for a short period of time, which was just as well because it wasn’t long before Pyra cut power to that part of the city’s grid in a last-ditch attempt to prevent the subsequent invasion. But, as part of a chess match that had been played out many times before, Sogol wanted the other computer to cut off the electricity, thereby leaving Surface Ramp-47 open to the outside.
Logos Run Page 21
