Analog SFF, May 2011

by Dell Magazine Authors

  "Sure. Erik, did the Rinpoche explain the deception?"

  "No. But you can?"

  "Count on it. Queen Cori has the morals of a virus, but the Royals have always been heavy strategists. They calculate every move to accomplish as much as possible. They faked the plague to justify plenty: the annual lottery, executing the Newton Kin, and hiding the physical appearance of all Royals."

  "I still—"

  "Bear with me. A century ago, Newtons and Coris allied against the Tsui and Ramanas.” Gregor stopped Erik from interrupting with a raised palm. “All traces of Tsui and Ramanas were erased."

  Paat added, “Still, without them, your language and genetics would be far poorer."

  Gregor raised an eyebrow. “Skip the footnotes, Paat?"

  "I shall refrain."

  "Good. Anyway, the Newtons remained in favor until they got wind of the Royals’ plans to . . . expand their territory."

  Erik lowered himself to the floor because standing was suddenly too much work. “Expand? Didn't they already control everything by then?"

  "Everything here."

  "You can't mean they planned to invade other levels."

  "No?"

  "That's insane!” The idea of visiting such places thrilled Erik; the thought of attacking them appalled him. Disy alone had slaughtered a pack of monsters with some unknown weapon. How many unknowns would confront a human invasion? “But,” he asked, “wouldn't that take an army? A big one?"

  "Not with a smart plan and the right fighting force. They've been plotting this for decades."

  "Local time,” Paat insisted. “Your 360-day unit is far from universal."

  Gregor looked at Paat. “Mind ratcheting that restraint you promised another notch?"

  "I merely hoped to shift this young man's thinking toward the cosmopolitan perspective needed to grasp the full situation."

  Erik waved a hand. “Hold on. Not even the Queen knows anything about other levels including how to reach them."

  "He's almost there,” Liana called out.

  Gregor was less enthusiastic. “She means you've glimpsed our problem. The Queen definitely has the means to reach other levels."

  "Her has already sent and retrieved spies,” Disy volunteered. “Ours own brave spy uncovered this."

  Liana acknowledged the compliment with a smile. “You can thank my new skin."

  Gregor reclaimed the conversational wheel. “See the implications, son?"

  "Not really."

  Gregor's face turned bleak. “Queen's getting outside help. Maybe a traitor Gelpie."

  "Or a Captain,” Disy observed in a tone that sounded discouraged, even for him.

  * * * *

  Questions coalesced from the confusion in Erik's mind. He met the big man's eyes. “Why do Royals wear bandages if there's no plague?"

  "Queen's orders. Seventy years ago, she—"

  "You mean the last Queen? Vanessa isn't nearly that old."

  "Older, actually. Vanessa was Queen Alize."

  "What?"

  Liana cut in. “Gelpies keep long records, Erik. Seems that three generations back, our mystery traitor told Alize how she could carve out an empire, not just a dynasty. But not quickly. She'd be ancient or dead before she had an empire's worth of levels under her wrinkled thumb. So she had medical teams waste their lives trying to making the Royals immortal."

  Gregor dredged up a sour smile. “Her doctors didn't do badly. That's why for fifty years, Royals have wrapped themselves from head to foot whenever they appear in public."

  "Because longevity treatments turned them hideous?” Erik asked.

  "Because they look like teenagers."

  "That's . . . interesting. Look, I get how the Queen might defeat another Level if the people there can't or won't fight back, but how could she grab enough real estate to call it an empire? Obviously—” Erik pointed at Disy “—humans aren't the toughest species around."

  "It's doable if you know enough about the levels and conquer them in the proper order. You invade weak but useful levels first and exploit the locals for what's required to take over the next targets."

  "Supplies and materials,” Paat added, “personnel to be trained as soldiers or however needed."

  "Right,” Gregor continued. “When all's ready, you move on."

  Erik shook his head. “Sounds tricky. How do you control people who speak a different language? Or does everyone in the Tower understand ours?"

  "Hardly. That's another area where the Queen would be stuck without the traitor.” Gregor's eyes flicked toward Paat, then back. “You wouldn't believe Captain-level technology. Sure, Disy's grammar could use buffing, but then again, he learned Pol in five minutes. By taking a pill."

  "It were ingested,” Disy objected, “not taken."

  Erik barely heard the Theill. “A pill?"

  "Think. Every kind of brain has to store information, right? So it figures there's a way to, uh, stuff it in artificially. Not that different from tailoring bacteria to recode DNA; even barbarians like us manage that much."

  Erik surprised himself by speaking his mind. “It's very different. This may not apply to Disy, but I can't see human soldiers fixing inter-level communications with tablets. Aside from trivialities like ferrying drugs through our digestive system and the blood-brain barrier; DNA is information, but language involves associative habits, neural arborization, muscle memory. And we're talking about alien languages and alien physiologies. The Captains would have to know a hell of a lot more about us than . . . us."

  Gregor looked thoughtful. “Seems they do. Couple years ago, Paat sent me solo to a level where primitive humanoids live. Right away, I had to talk with them plus know my way around. One pill did the trick. Changed my tongue shape for days."

  "Huh. Language, a mutagen, and a map."

  "So the Queen's all set, assuming the traitor comes through for her. Her main problem is that our species isn't adapted for alien environments. That's why it's taken her so long to prepare."

  Erik let Gregor's words percolate through his mind.

  "Erik?” Liana called.

  He hadn't realized his eyes had closed. “Little tired,” he murmured. “Sorry."

  "No worries. But are you getting the picture?"

  "Starting to. I see how the lottery fits in. The Queen wanted test subjects for some fancy gene work.” His lips felt thick and awkward, but describing what he understood deepened his understanding. “She's got to have soldiers who can handle at least two kinds of atmosphere.” He couldn't stifle a yawn. “Wherever they start and wherever they invade. She'll probably need specific change drugs for each level.” He yawned again.

  Liana moved closer and patted his hand. “Been a long day, huh? Know what else the Queen might need? Soldiers that can breathe water and swim really well."

  Erik's eyes opened. “Oh. That explains the new me."

  "Not entirely,” Paat said. “We added modifiers to your change cocktail. The original recipe didn't include multiple tails, your skin color, your enhanced strength, or your . . . elastic qualities."

  "I see.” Erik tried to sound calm, but anger leached into his voice. “You gave me a way to escape. Much appreciated. But why the hell turn me gold?"

  Paat's huge eyes seemed to glow with empathy. “We regret the necessity, truly. But we had to insure that you were taken to the castle for final assessment, not to Laoyu. Laoyu's prison cells lack large drain pipes."

  "Our Queen,” Gregor said, “figures that anyone who comes out too different from human norm might identify with aliens and betray her. She has the, uh, dubious cases brought to Chokorgon. If the subject can still think after a change gone wrong, they're slaughtered on the spot unless the attending doctor finds reason to study them."

  "And if they can't think?” Erik's fury had snuffed itself out, leaving him weak and empty.

  Paat took over. “Your Royals possess change drugs with appalling effects. You've witnessed one result yourself. Those unfortunate creat
ures Disy dispatched in the forest had mostly been lottery selections. Sadder still were the results from the Queen's initial attempts to develop amphibious humans."

  Erik felt too numb to be properly horrified. Why, he wondered, had he thought this room quiet? Or was the roaring inside his head? Liana's lips were moving, but he only heard the words “lost a lot of blood."

  "Wait,” he said in a croak that would've fit in perfectly at his favorite pond. “What do you all want from me?” He made a tremendous effort to focus and was startled to realize that he faced the ceiling. When had he gotten so . . . horizontal?

  "I want you to rest,” Liana said. “Tonight, you need to be ready."

  For what? Erik tried to ask, but a dark blanket seemed to float down on him and when it covered his eyes, everything faded away.

  * * * *

  According to King Rickard Cori's autobiography, required reading in preparatory school, Chokorgon Castle had been situated to exploit the level's only known gravity anomaly. The anomaly maintained itself some fifteen meters up from ground level and birds had initially revealed its existence by rising so abruptly in that spot that they'd often perform a midair summersault. The anomaly measured a meter in depth and fit perfectly on the king-size mattress Rickard installed in his new treetop-level bedroom. He described how lying on that mattress, he felt practically weightless, making sleep extraordinarily refreshing.

  Erik's impression upon rising to the surface of consciousness was that he'd found his way into the Royal bed. He seemed to be floating and the caress of cool air beneath him buttressed the illusion. Eyes still closed, he reached down to determine what supported him, and his hand encountered a horde of fine bristles. His eyes sprang open. Up and ahead, shadowy leaves drifted past and between them stars glittered. A moonlight hint edged the sky. He turned to look downwards; the ground was surprisingly distant. Was he riding a magic carpet? He turned his head the opposite way and found six beady eyes gazing down at him, each one reflecting a ruby glow.

  "We suppose,” Disy said in his death-of-the-party monotone, “yous will want we to put yous down now.” To add to Erik's disorientation, the voice had come from below him.

  "Yes. Please."

  The forest appeared to twirl as he was flipped upright and set on his feet. A cascade of audible snaps sounded as Disy released him; long bristles on the Theill's arms were practically glued to his skin. He barely managed to keep his balance, and then nearly fell anyway—this time from shock as Disy straightened up.

  The alien had converted himself into a biped by extending and standing vertically on his long middle legs, stabilizing them by hooking his last pair to the central joints. His abdomen hung between the bowed double legs like a horrendously swollen testicle, and his torso had swiveled to sit directly above it, leaving the breathing and speaking sacs tilted. Disy's head, centered over the torso, gazed down at Erik from over three meters from the forest floor. In this configuration, the Theill seemed twice as big. He no longer resembled any Earthly creature.

  Now that, Erik thought, is a living nightmare.

  "No doubt,” Disy said, “yous do not intend to intimidate. But might we impose on yous to turn those eye beams off?"

  "You find me intimidating? That's funny."

  "We fail to see why."

  Maybe it wasn't so funny. Erik could imagine what he looked like at the moment: glowing eyes and tail-sections lifted and writhing in response to his anxiety. “Sorry, I don't know how to kill the glow without closing my eyes. Can't imagine why that was added to the genetic recipe. Was it the Queen's idea or Paat's?"

  "Paat's. Surely yous don't believe that this variation inhabits current human technology? Its purpose is to allow yous sight in dark places. Personally, we would've expected the glare to spoil yours vision."

  "It doesn't. I only know it's there from reflections. Where are we? This doesn't look like the Wild. And where are the others?"

  "Yous name this place Zaiger Orchard."

  Erik froze in place and began whispering. “Disy. This area isn't safe. We're practically on top of Laoyu. Wardens pass through here constantly. They'd kill me, but what happens if they spot you? You want the Queen to know outsiders are working against her?"

  Disy remained silent for long enough to make Erik frantic. “Yous find us easy to ‘spot,’ as yous phrase it, in mine present coloration?"

  "There's enough moonlight to count those stripes on your, ah, belly. And you tower standing up like that. You'd be hard to miss."

  "So. Us have learned something."

  For once, Disy didn't sound like someone who'd be committing suicide if only they had the energy. Erik found the change startling and he became uncomfortably aware of how much he'd been interpreting Theill behavior by human standards.

  Open your mind, he warned himself. “What have you learned?"

  Disyl whirled around, plucked a flower from a nearby shrub, turned back and leaned over to hold the flower close to Erik's eyes. “What do yous see?"

  "Huh?” Erik's brow tried to furrow, but his changed skin merely bulged. “Looks to be some new hybrid. Calendula-shaped, but normal marigolds aren't so dark in the center."

  "Such patterns, Paat says, are meant to guide insects to pollen. Them should be invisible to humans. As a biologist, yous must be familiar with the phenomena."

  "I'm seeing into the ultraviolet?"

  "As S'Theill do, although in ours case, the perception provides sexual cues. Yours optics, it seems, must emit more than simple red light, because what other ultraviolet source is present? Perhaps yous can also view what humans term the ‘infrared.’ Pardon us for any errors in personal pronouns. Mine language has none and that is one aspect of Pol we cannot digest."

  "Don't worry about it.” Erik inspected the flower again. “Funny, I've been noticing odd flower shadings for some time, but didn't pay much attention. It's not like seeing new colors. Just . . . I don't know. New tints of the usual spectrum, sort of."

  Disy straightened up, held the marigold up to his pug nose, sniffed, and quickly hurled the flower away. “That is a brain development issue. Returning to present risks, mine body is camouflaged for ordinary human eyes."

  "Nice to know. But where are our friends?"

  "Them has gone ahead to certify that prison guardians follow routines. Us may not get a second chance to try this."

  "Try what?"

  "Yous must search the fundament—the basement—of Laoyu then report back on every kind of human variation imprisoned there. Us must know which levels the Queen selected for hers initial assaults."

  Erik searched for words strong enough to match the absurdity of Disy's idea. “Laoyu's surrounded by a moat."

  "True."

  "Do you know that it's extremely wide? And infested with . . . things?” Erik fought to keep from shouting. “Don't know what kind of things, water's too murky, but everyone knows that if you dunk a toe in it, you'd better kiss a leg goodbye. They only lower the drawbridge when—"

  "Lottery victims inhabit that water. Queen Cori plies more than one kind of change drug."

  "Oh."

  "Paat speaks of long-toothed, narrow creatures: ‘eels.’”

  "Nice. So how do you expect me to get into the basement? Even if the urz floats me over, Laoyu's a fortress. Its doors are kept locked."

  "Yous must swim the moat, dive to the bottom, and find a barred opening. The eels can pass between bars, and yours improved body can too."

  You first, Erik thought. “I'm supposed to find this opening under that water?"

  "Paat will explain how."

  "What's to stop the monsters from eating me alive?"

  Disy answered by using a flat finger to follow the figure-eight movement of one of Erik's tails.

  "Really?” Erik said. “How could they defend me against teeth I can't even see? Again, that water isn't just dark, it's murky."

  "Paat claims those appendages will suffice. Is that comforting?"

  "Hardly. They'd probably
suffice as appetizers before—"

  A blast of displaced air interrupted the argument as the urz, bearing Paat and Gregor, came to an abrupt stop next to Disy.

  Erik took one look at Gregor's face. “What's wrong?"

  "They've got Liana."

  The words hit Erik like a gut punch. “How?"

  Gregor jumped off the steed. “Don't know. She was scouting north of me. Heard her voice and ran back in time to see two janissaries dragging her over the drawbridge."

  "She's in Laoyu?"

  "'Fraid so."

  Erik whirled like an adrenaline-powered top. Choreographed by urgency and developing instincts, he vaulted onto the urz by leaping as his tails pushed against the ground, landing just behind Paat. He gripped the machine with thighs and hands. “I'm ready for that swim,” he announced softly.

  Paat didn't turn the steed around. The urz accelerated backwards. Erik's tail-section's whipped the air to keep him balanced as he watched his standing companions vanish in the distance.

  "How can I save Liana?” he shouted above the howling wind of their passage.

  "One moment,” Paat answered, her fluty voice nearly inaudible. The urz decelerated quickly, tilting forward until it stopped to keep its riders from being thrown.

  Erik hopped off and glanced around. Between tree trunks, branches, and leaves, the fortress moat glistened in the developing moonlight. “So tell me."

  Paat slid down next to Erik, and pulled a thin tube from her pouch. She tugged on it with her compound hands and the material stretched into a sizable rectangular sheet, stiffening in the process. Images formed on its surface. “Attend the display,” she said, holding the sheet with one double-hand and using the other, touch-screen style, to expand one image until it nearly filled the screen.

  Erik surveyed this, an overhead view of a massive, moat-encompassed structure. With another twitch of alien fingers, the walls remained opaque, but the moat's water turned diamond clear, so pellucid that ten long shapes within the moat seemed to levitate rather than swim.

  Paat spoke quietly. “The simulacrum originates from a sky-mounted optical device."

  "But it's daylight in the picture."