Logos Run

by William C. Dietz

Rebo was somewhat taken aback, since he knew The Way was divided into two sects, the red hats and the black hats. Both were united, or supposed to be, but the reconciliation had taken place only recently, and it might be months before word of the change arrived on Haafa. If so, the medallions that the runner and the sensitive wore around their necks might have no value at all, or worse yet, could elicit suspicion. But that was a chance he had to take. Rebo forced a smile. “Is the abbess available? If so, we would like to speak with her. Please show her this by way of an introduction.”

  So saying, Rebo removed the chain from around his neck and passed the bronze medallion over to the novice. If the aspirant was curious about the medal, or the people who had given it to her, she gave no sign of it as she bowed her head. “Please wait here. . . . I will convey your message to the abbess.” There was a swish of fabric as the young woman left.

  Now that Rebo’s eyes had adjusted to the relative darkness within the reception area, he could see that while the walls were nearly bare in keeping with black-hat sensibilities, a lushly green garden was partially visible through an intricately carved wooden screen. And it was from that direction that the young woman returned. “Please follow me. . . . The abbess is in the garden.”

  The off-worlders followed the young woman out into a large inner courtyard, where Norr expected to find the abbess seated on a chair. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Rather than sit and meditate in the early-morning sun, the abbess was down on hands and knees, pulling weeds out of the nunnery’s vegetable garden. She stood as the couple stepped out of the shadow cast by the inward-slanting roof that ran the perimeter of the courtyard and wiped a wisp of hair back out of her face. The hand pump, along with the well that it served, was the nunnery’s pride and joy. And the medallion had been hung from its spout. “Hello,” the abbess said as she gestured toward the medal. “That’s an interesting medallion. May I ask where you got it?”

  Rebo didn’t want to answer the question, especially since doing so would inevitably give the holy woman power over both Norr and himself, but knew there wasn’t much choice. Not if they wanted a safe place to stay. “The reincarnated spirit of Nom Maa presented that medal to me within the holy city of CaCanth,” the runner answered truthfully. “My companion wears one exactly like it. His Holiness told us that should we ever be in need of food, shelter, or some other form of assistance, all we would have to do was present the medallions to any monastery or nunnery.”

  In spite of the fact that the abbess had white hair, her face was unexpectedly free of lines, as if somehow frozen in time. Although her voice was even, Norr could see the tendrils of skepticism that continued to swirl within the other woman’s aura. “How nice,” the abbess said lightly. “So, tell me, does the Inwa still affect chin whiskers?”

  “The present Inwa isn’t old enough to have whiskers,” Rebo replied. “And, based on the portraits I’ve seen, the last Inwa didn’t have chin whiskers, either.”

  The abbess smiled and came forward to embrace them. “Forgive me,” she said. “But the streets of Pohua are thick with liars—and it’s my task to protect the sisters from them. A ship landed in Omu about three weeks ago, and it was about a week after that the good news arrived in Pohua. My name is Kartha, Sister Kartha, and you are welcome to stay with the sisters and me as long as you wish.”

  The merchants who owned stores in the area around the Techno Society’s headquarters stood in their various doorways, sipped their morning tea, and watched wagon after wagon arrive in front of the heavily guarded building. A sight they had witnessed before. It wasn’t the number of crates that the metal men carried into the structure that made them wonder—but the fact that they rarely saw more than a half dozen boxes come out. It was a much-discussed phenomenon that would probably go unsolved given how inhospitable the technos were.

  None of which was of the slightest interest to Shaz, who had not only been up all night, but wound up in charge of the off-loading process, which had been under way for hours by then. Many of the crates were headed for Techno Society headquarters on Seros, but there were other destinations as well, depending on what the boxes contained.

  Shaz felt the sun warm his shoulders as it climbed up over a building across the street, and was just about to follow the last box inside when Phan emerged from the mouth of an alley halfway down the block. The assassin was on foot, and a squad of metal men marched behind her. “You look like hell,” the combat variant observed tactlessly, as the assassin drew near. “Any luck?”

  Phan shook her head. “Nothing,” she said disgustedly. “It’s like they vanished into thin air.”

  “I know how you feel,” Shaz said sympathetically. “Well, once we step through the gate onto Zeen, someone else can worry about them. The chances are good that some bounty hunter or other will nail them. One thing’s for sure, though, if they plan to break in and use this gate, they’re in for a big surprise. I tripled the guards.”

  “Zeen?” Phan inquired halfheartedly. “I thought we were going to a place called Socket.”

  “And so did I,” Shaz replied. “But that was before Logos announced that Socket is in orbit around Zeen. . . . And the only way to reach Socket is via a gate located on the island of Buru. The single point of access was part of a security system put in place by Hios.”

  The assassin frowned. “Will the gate be operational?”

  “Logos says that it will be,” the combat variant replied. “As to whether we should trust him, well, you can be the judge of that.”

  Phan laughed, followed Shaz into the building, and went in search of a bath.

  The inside of the curtained four-wheeled hearse was scrupulously clean, but Rebo didn’t like the notion of riding in the same vehicle that had been used to transport hundreds of dead bodies, and he fervently hoped that he would still be alive at the conclusion of his journey. Though still tired, the runner felt better in the wake of a two-hour nap, even though it was oppressively hot in the back of the wagon.

  The hard-faced nun who was in charge of the hearse whistled to her team as she guided them around a corner. The wagon had only a minimal suspension, and the runner bounced up into the air each time the iron-shod wheels dropped into each pothole only to be jerked out again. But, unpleasant though the tour of Pohua was, examining the city from the back of a hearse was better than making the same journey on foot. Especially since Tepho’s metal men were out looking for him.

  The objective of the reconnaissance was to take a look at Techno Society headquarters with an eye toward breaking in and using the star gate concealed within. No small task in the best of circumstances but especially iffy without the element of surprise and Hoggles to back him up. Still, the possibility existed, and was therefore worthy of consideration. Especially since Sogol said that while she could “sense” the presence of a gate seed in Pohua, the artifact was bound to be under lock and key and difficult to get at.

  But as the wagon approached Techno Society headquarters, any hope of breaking into the building was crushed. As Rebo peered out through the dusty curtains he saw that a force of metal men had been stationed out front along with one of Tepho’s raptors. The machine’s energy weapons tracked the hearse as it rolled past.

  And it was then, as the runner eyeballed the building’s defenses, that he saw Phan walk toward the entrance with a combat variant at her side. Then the scene was gone as an old man bowed to the body in the hearse and the wagon rattled through a drainage ditch. Once the ride smoothed out, the runner rolled over to stare up at the canopy. Six or seven insects buzzed around over his head. There might be some way to get off Haafa, the runner thought to himself—but it sure as hell wouldn’t be through Techno Society headquarters. The nun whistled, the angens plodded down a side street, and the afternoon sun scorched the sky.

  The lamp, which was not fueled by oil, or any known source of power for that matter, had burned day and night for the entire three-hundred-plus years since a long-dead member of the Alzani clan
had purchased the object more than a thousand miles south of Pohua. And, because the merchant family had prospered during the years since, many members of the family, including the current patriarch, Ubri Alzani, had come to believe that the clan’s material well-being was somehow linked to the lamp and its seemingly inexhaustible source of power.

  Now, as Alzani and his number three son sat at the ancient counting table totaling the week’s profits, light from the lamp cast a soft glow over stacks of gleaming coins and threw black silhouettes onto the wall behind them. Both men had black hair, aquiline noses, and long, narrow faces.

  A breeze found its way in through open double doors to stir the gauzy curtains and cool the room’s interior. The abacus made a steady clack, clack, clack sound as the younger Alzani flicked beads along their various wires, and distant laughter could be heard as a flock of children chased each other down long, empty halls.

  Perhaps, had the two men been paying more attention, they might have detected other sounds as well. Like the soft thump as someone vaulted over the low wall that defined the space just outside the double doors, the subtle rasp of steel as a sword left its scabbard, and the gentle rustle of Norr’s clothing as the sensitive positioned herself just outside the counting room.

  But before Norr entered the room, it was important to make sure that the object she sought was actually there. With that in mind, the sensitive shifted the sword to her left hand and elevated her right hand so that Sogol could see into the room as well. Then, having pulled the serpent-like AI back beside her ear, she listened to the construct speak. “The object you want is sitting in the middle of the table,” One-Two whispered urgently. “Somebody figured out a way to tap the power core—and turned the gate seed into a lamp.”

  The sensitive shifted the sword back into her right hand, peered into the room, and stared at the lamp. The shade was yellowed with age, and the lower edge wore a dark red fringe. Below that, suspended within a wrought-iron framework, a shiny sphere could be seen. There was a sudden stirring inside the room as coins were added to already bulging leather bags, and the men stood, ready to call it a night.

  Fearful that the merchants would take the lamp with them when they left, Norr stepped through the door and placed her left index finger against her lips. Both men froze as the woman appeared, but only for a moment, as the younger of the two made a move toward the pull cord that dangled nearby. But the sensitive was fast. Three quick strides and a jump carried her up onto the surface of the table. Coins scattered as Norr turned, the blade flashed, and the pull cord parted. Then, having spun full circle, the variant paused. The razor-sharp edge was in contact with Ubri Alzani’s throat. The younger man stood by the door. “If you run, he dies,” Norr told the younger man emotionlessly. “The choice is up to you.”

  The sensitive saw emotions swirl as the son battled temptation. It would have been easy to run and thereby receive his portion of the family business years early, but the better part of him won out. The younger man held both hands palm out. “Take the money. . . . I will do as you say.”

  “Good,” Norr replied equably. “Except that I don’t want your money . . . Both of you—back into the corner.”

  “What then?” Ubri Alzani wanted to know, as he and his son backed away.

  “The lamp,” Norr answered, as she bent her knees to the point where she could grab the object. “All I want is the lamp.”

  “No!” the patriarch objected. “Please! I beg of you! Not the lamp. . . . Take the money. All of it. I promise no one will follow.”

  “I’m sorry,” the sensitive replied sincerely, “but it’s the lamp that I need. Now, assuming that you want to keep your heads on your shoulders, stay right where you are.” There was a gentle thump as the variant landed on floor, the curtains billowed, and Norr was gone.

  No more than two seconds elapsed before the two men sprang into action. Ubri drew a curved dagger and circled the table, intent on following the thief through the double doors, while his son jumped up to grab what remained of the pull cord. Bells rang in a distant part of the house, additional guards poured out of the servants’ quarters, and those who were on duty ran every which way.

  Meanwhile Norr, who was dressed all in black, retraced the path followed earlier. An almost impossible feat for anyone other than a sensitive, who could “see” the psychic energy emitted by the Alzani family’s guards even in complete darkness should that be necessary. But thanks to the fact that one of the planet’s two moons had broken company with the horizon, there was more light than there had been before.

  That worked two ways of course, as became apparent when a sharp-eyed youth spotted what looked like a swiftly moving shadow and fired his muzzle-loader. A long red flame stabbed the night, a loud bang reverberated between the compound’s protective walls, and the sensitive heard something buzz past her head as she made a mad dash toward the still-dangling rope.

  That was when Rebo, who had been waiting outside the compound, could finally spring into action. It had taken Norr more than an hour to convince the runner that she was the right person to enter the walled complex and abscond with the gate seed. And now, as he felt her tug on the other end of the rope, his counterarguments came back to mind as more weapons were discharged.

  Norr heard bullets smack into the wall around her as she discovered how difficult it was to climb one-handed, yelled a warning to Rebo, and threw the lamp up over the top. Then, with both hands free to grab the rope, and the runner pulling from the other side of the wall, the variant was able to “walk” up the vertical surface as a half dozen guards pounded their way across the courtyard.

  Then Norr was on the top and poised to cross over, when the musket ball slammed into her back. The sensitive fell into a pool of blackness, felt her spirit exit her body, and knew she was dead.

  Rebo screamed “No!” caught his lover as she fell, and half carried, half dragged Norr toward the waiting hearse. The stern-faced nun ran to help. Together, they lifted the sensitive up into wagon bed. Though unsure of where the object had come from, the sister saw the lamp and tossed it to Rebo. Moments later she was up on the driver’s seat with the reins in hand. She issued a shrill whistle, and the hearse jerked into motion.

  In the meantime Rebo held a wad of fabric against Norr’s wound as he cradled the sensitive in his arms and whispered into her ear. “Hang on, Lonni, please hang on.” But there was no answer as the wagon rumbled through the streets, and tears streamed down his cheeks. Something had been gained—but the runner was afraid that something much more important had been lost.

  There was a hiss, followed by a roar, as jets of hot water mixed with a powerful disinfectant struck Tepho and his attendants from every possible angle. All of them were nude. And, since the administrator never allowed anyone other than his handpicked staff to see him naked, the rest of the expeditionary force, including Shaz and Phan, were scheduled to follow once the technologist was fully dressed and ready to receive them.

  Once the cleansing process was complete, Tepho and his attendants padded into the circular room where the star gate was housed. Boxes of food, equipment, and ammo had been stacked against the walls. Dry clothes were waiting for the administrator, as was Logos, who had taken on the appearance of a vest.

  Mindful of the fact that the first group of Tepho’s subordinates would be along shortly, the attendants hurried to towel the administrator down and help him into his clothes. Shaz and Phan arrived shortly thereafter. Neither was the least bit embarrassed by their nudity, although Tepho was staring at Phan, and the assassin wished he wouldn’t.

  Then, once everyone was dressed, it was time for one last conference. Because, unlike the tiles that represented planets like Seros, Ning, and Thara, the square labeled ZEEN remained dark and therefore nonoperational. Or so it appeared. But Logos, who claimed to be able to monitor all of the star gates via Socket, had the power to bring it back to life. Or so he claimed. The proof, as with everything else, would be in the doing of it.


  The technologist forced a smile. “Okay, then. . . . What are we waiting for? Let’s load the boxes labeled T-1 onto the platform.”

  It took the better part of fifteen minutes to get the first load of equipment and people onto the relatively small service platform, but once everything was in place, it was Shaz who reached out to press the tile labeled ZEEN.

  The square lit up, just as Logos had predicted it would, and the usual spiel began. The combat variant listened with eyes closed, but the explosion of light was so brilliant that he could see it through his eyelids. Then, as his body was literally ripped apart for the trip through hyperspace, Shaz momentarily ceased to exist. Then, as the operative’s molecules were reassembled, he was conscious once more. He experienced a sense of relief, quickly followed by the nausea that typically accompanied a transfer and exposure to the star gate’s power core.

  Judging from the grimy walls and the thick layer of dust that covered the floor, it looked as though the chamber hadn’t been utilized in a long time. Tepho was the first to speak. “Okay, Shaz, time to earn your pay. . . . Take a com set with you and let me know what you find. I’ll get things organized here.”

  The administrator clearly had no intention of venturing out of the chamber until he knew it was safe to do so, but Shaz didn’t find that at all surprising, and grinned at Phan. “Ladies first.”

  Given the fact that they had no idea what might await them beyond the confines of the star gate, both the combat variant and the assassin elected to keep their clothes on as they checked their weapons, approached the door, and cycled through.

  And that was just as well, because when they stepped out into what should have been the decontamination chamber, most of it was missing. What remained bore a close resemblance to a cave, which judging from the bones lying scattered about, had recently been home to a large carnivore. Filthy tiles covered most of the right-hand wall, plus portions of the floor, but the rest of the facility had been damaged. Roots had pushed their way down through the ceiling, and the left-hand wall had been ruptured, allowing soil to spill out onto the floor.