The Return of Nathan Brazil

by Jack L. Chalker

  The bartender broke off his discourse. "Hey! Wait a minute, you two! You owe me for the drinks!"

  Gypsy turned and smiled. "Why, I'm surprised at you, sir. Oppressing the masses like that by asking for something as common and distasteful as money. The root of all evil, you know."

  "What're you? Some kinda anarchist creep?" the bartender sneered, reaching under the bar. "Pay up or I seal the door and we wait for the cops."

  The Chugach stopped, reached into his jerkin, and pulled out a folding wallet. "But, dear sir, I am the police," he pointed out.

  They were outside before the bartender could decide whether or not to risk it.

  The High Priestess was royally pissed, enough so that her manner betrayed her inner rage even as she strove to keep her features properly impassive. "You were due here long ago," she accused, like a queen snubbed by commoners. She addressed Gypsy with her opening comments.

  Marquoz let her ramble on for a bit, and the unfortunate Gypsy took it, while the little dragon studied her. It was almost impossible to tell if she were the same one he had encountered on the freighter—she had exactly the same coloration and was otherwise a perfect copy. He finally decided that they'd never met. The original would not have mistaken Gypsy for himself.

  Finally, when she paused in her tirade, he stepped in. "Citizen Yua, if you are quite through berating my good friend, who otherwise has no connection with the government, I shall be happy to discuss the matter at hand with you."

  The Olympian started, puzzled at first by the sudden turn, then embarrassed—not by her mistake but for being caught in it—and finally once again, this time at the proper target. "How dare you treat me like this?" she fumed, and it seemed as if Gypsy and Marquoz were to be favored with an instant replay of her first assault.

  "Shut up and sit down," Marquoz responded quickly, cutting her off.

  "What?"

  "I said shut up and sit down. It is you who have to impress me, not the other way around. Priestess or whatever, I am not a humble Policeman or a citizen of the Com or a Chugach at this point—I am the Council and the Com! My time is valuable and has already been wasted too long in foolishness. You have ten seconds to yell, scream, and do whatever stupid and demeaning things you wish. After that, I will walk out this door unless we are discussing things rationally in another ten."

  Four Acolytes would have their minds wiped of the day's activities for being so unfortunate as to have been within earshot. As for Yua, she had never been spoken to so rudely. Hers was a race born to command and securely in charge of its own destiny. Even outside, she had been drilled on her innate superiority to other humans and found that they were easy to stupefy and control—which, of course, had made Marquoz the perfect choice for this particular job.

  The Chugach, observing her carefully while feigning disdain, dared to take a cigar out of his case and light it.

  Gypsy, who was an empath, read the fury, rage, and confusion that churned inside the Olympian priestess and admired how she regained her composure. She swallowed hard and said without expression, "Very well, sir. We will talk as equals." For her, that was quite a compromise, but it didn't suit Marquoz.

  "Oh, no madam, we are not equals. I represent fourteen races on over a thousand worlds; I represent the power that is, and the power that your people have spurned. Your Council seat is ever-vacant, or we wouldn't be having this meeting. Your own planet came from the Council and your seed money was given by its then President. Now, as with many planets, you wish government services although you appear to contribute nothing to the support of those services. I am the Com, madam—convince me. First tell me what you want, then why I should give it to you."

  To Gypsy, the woman seemed on fire. Had it been within her power, he knew she'd have incinerated them with a glance. But what Marquoz said was true, and it was galling to her.

  "Very well, sir. During the recent war the computer files and seals were opened. I know that the weapons locker has already been secured—but, while the seals on other files are still inactive we seek to use them to fulfill the aim of our faith and our life's work."

  Marquoz nodded thoughtfully, dragged on his cigar, and blew a thick smoke ring in her direction. "Okay, you think you can find Nathan Brazil in there. Let's say you could—why should we allow it? He's a citizen of the Com, and if he chooses to bury himself it is none of our concern. We don't want him, and I'm certain I would not like hordes of people trying to find me if I didn't want to be found."

  "Oh, but He does want to be found!" she protested, the fire of fanaticism replacing the anger. "For He is God, don't you see? It is the goal of all to find the true name of God, which we have, and then to find Him. If we do so, then shall Paradise be ours!"

  Marquoz settled back on his tail and rocked slightly. "But, surely you must see our position. You are but one religion out of tens of thousands. More, you're a human religion that is racially biased. There are uncounted billions of solar systems, tens of thousands of galaxies, all containing an almost infinite number of planets inhabited by just about every type of race you can imagine and a lot neither of us could. The Com is not antireligious, but it is nonreligious. We have no way of choosing the right from the wrong, the real from the unreal, higher spirituality from superstition and fakers. We don't try. Consider the precedent, madam! If we allow even one religious group to have access to classified files, why, then, why classify them at all?"

  "But we wish to find only one thing!" she almost shouted.

  The little dragon shrugged. "This fellow, Brazil, has the same rights as you. From the Com point of view he has stated, by his actions and his use of rather political leverage, that he does not wish to be found. Other than your religious beliefs, can you give me one reason why the Com should allow this?"

  "Other than—" Yua spurted, then stopped. Here was quite a challenge, yet she understood it. To this creature her beliefs were as nothing, so what sort of practical reason could she give? She wished that she had been better prepared, that they had sent older or wiser heads, that she might have the chance to commune with Her Holiness. But, no, she'd been convenient and properly located, she'd been offered the chance to refuse, and she'd taken the challenge.

  Suddenly Gypsy interrupted. "Someone else is here."

  Thankful for the opportunity to stall, the Preistess responded with a wave of her hand. "The Acolytes are all about, taking down the sound system and such."

  The strange, dark man shook his head. "No, not them. Somebody is listening in on us deliberately. Someone is in this very room with us."

  Both Yua and Marquoz looked around. The room was small and barren of any obvious places to hide, nor were closets or trap doors in evidence. "You are mistaken," the Priestess said.

  "He is rarely mistaken," Marquoz replied in a very low whisper.

  They sat in total silence for a moment, trying to hear what Gypsy heard or sensed, but the only noises were the muffled pounding and calls of the Acolyte and State Hall crews outside.

  Finally Marquoz shrugged. "What difference? We discuss no state secrets here." He turned again to the Priestess. "I ask again, is there any reason—other than your beliefs—why you should be allowed access to the files?"

  Yua was about to answer when Gypsy said nervously, "More than one. Several creatures are here in this room with us, listening to us."

  Marquoz and Yua looked at him with concern. Marquoz was afraid that the odd nomad was cracking up. He turned back to the Olympian. "Well?"

  Yua had had some time to compose herself. "Your own researches have proved our beliefs-—surely you must know that. Your own scientists state that a master computer exists somewhere, that Zinder was right—and we are Zinder's children, we Olympians. You have been dabbling in the forces that led to our creation so you know that's true. Then why not indulge us on this one additional thing? If we are wrong, then little is lost. None need ever know—you can bury this precedent as easily as any other fact you wish. If we are correct, then this is s
omething the Com must know."

  Marquoz considered the argument, but finally shook his large head. "No, sorry. As you say, we can bury the attempt, but there's simply nothing in it for us. Brazil could have our necks for violation of privacy."

  Yua pounced. "Ah! Then you admit that such a one exists!"

  The dragon nodded. "Oh, yes, there is—or was—someone named Nathan Brazil, all right, although preliminary evidence seems to indicate that, if he's god, he's not the god you'd want."

  Yua looked at him strangely. "What do you mean by that?"

  "I've researched him as far as I could," the Chugach told her. "He's something of a legend among freighter captains. The oldest alive by far, a loner, a hard drinker and brawler for fun. Not exactly your image of god, is it?"

  She shrugged. "Who can pretend to know or understand God or what He does?"

  Marquoz sighed. "I'll admit you've got a point, but, no, I'm afraid you haven't given me enough to present to the Presidium. Sorry." He turned and glanced up at his distracted companion. "Gypsy? You coming?"

  "Perhaps I can give you a good enough reason," said a new voice, a woman's, deep and rich, without accent. Yua and Marquoz both started, and Gypsy almost jumped out of his skin.

  "See? I told you!" he said, voice quivering.

  Marquoz's large head took in the apparently empty room. "Who speaks?" he demanded. "Where are you?"

  "Here," the voice said from just behind him. He turned and saw a young woman dressed completely in black, slight of build and not much taller than he, wearing leather boots and a belt whose buckle was the joining of two dragon's heads.

  "Who the hell are you?" he asked. "And where were you hiding?"

  The woman smiled and cocked her head toward Yua. "Ask her. She can do that trick as well. I am someone who knows the truth behind this silly religion and I have the reason you will find Nathan Brazil or allow us to."

  "You propose force?" Marquoz almost laughed at that.

  She shook her head. "No, not force. The reason you must find Nathan Brazil is that he's the only one who knows how to fix the Well Computer—and if it isn't fixed that gaping hole in space-time your blundering military opened will swallow the Com in less than a hundred and fifty years."

  Yua was on her feet now, long hair blending into her magnificent tail. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Who can enter a place guarded like this and do the things only Olympians can do?"

  "Answers later," the mysterious woman replied. "Okay, gang, time to come out now."

  Suddenly, six more shapes materialized about the room. Three were male, three female. All were large and imposing, and all held pistols of unknown design and type.

  Yua, to the surprise of Marquoz and Gypsy, suddenly seemed to fade to invisibility before their eyes. The newcomers, however, were not deceived. Looking straight at the spot where Yua had vanished the woman said, evenly but in a tone of command. "That will get you nowhere. We can see and track you despite that little vanishing act. We know all about it."

  As if to emphasize that point one of the women moved close to where Yua was last seen and tracked her outline roughly with the pistol.

  Yua admitted defeat, though she still didn't understand what was going on, and faded back in, glaring not at the strangers but at Marquoz. "This is some kind of trick! What are you trying to pull, anyway?"

  Marquoz sighed. "I assure you, madam, that I have far less an idea of what is going on than you do. My only hunch is that we've just been captured by some new alien menace, a scenario that is becoming repetitious."

  "Just don't make any moves," the woman in black warned. "We're about to take a little trip, all of us."

  Marquoz looked around, then at Yua. "How many security guards and Acolytes you got around here, anyway?"

  The small woman chuckled. "We won't meet any of them." She smiled sweetly at Yua. "What's the matter, honey? No respect for Nathan Brazil's great-granddaughter?"

  Blackness suddenly swallowed them, and, briefly, they felt as if they were falling. Then there was light again, artificial light. They had materialized in a laboratory of some kind, in exactly the same positions they had occupied in Yua's chamber.

  Marquoz stared at the strange surroundings; Gypsy allowed himself to breathe again; Yua just stared at the small woman in black.

  "Welcome to the Nautilus, citizens," the woman said. "I am Mavra Chang."

  Nautilus—Underside

  It was some time before anyone spoke. Finally Gypsy asked, barely audibly, "You got patents for that transportation gadget?"

  Mavra Chang laughed. "No, and I daresay nobody ever will." She looked over at Marquoz. "You can keep your energy pistol. It will not work on the Nautilus. Only our weapons work here."

  Marquoz looked around him. Since he was an alien both in form and mind, and one schooled in human reactions, it was almost impossible to tell what really was going on in that mind of his. Even Gypsy was aware that much of the reptile's humanity came from feigned mannerisms, that, deep down, something was going on no human could quite understand. And that was more or less a bond they shared, for of all humanity, Gypsy was the one individual the Chugach had never figured out.

  Until now. Until this mysterious woman appeared.

  The truth was that Marquoz was scared, although he never betrayed the fact even to Gypsy. He was suddenly faced with a total unknown, something that had powers beyond any science of the Com or even the Dreel. He felt like a small child among the wisest of adults: totally helpless. And he didn't like it one bit.

  "There's somebody else here," Gypsy announced suddenly. "Not that invisibility trick, either. Somebody's here, all around us, something really weird."

  Marquoz and Yua felt it too—an almost supernatural presence, hanging in the air.

  Mavra Chang gestured silently to her team, and they immediately holstered their weapons and departed.

  Mavra, Marquoz, Gypsy, and Yua were standing on a raised platform in the center of an oval room. A large parabolic dish hung overhead. The platform would have been beneath the antenna—or whatever it was—if it were swung out and fully extended. Several meters above a balcony circled the chamber; a metal stairway opposite them led up to it. Sliding doors might have provided exits from the balcony, but it was too hard to distinguish shapes and a solid safety fence and guardrail further blocked the view. All was silent, except for a slight thrumming, as if the entire room were located in the bowels of some gigantic machine.

  "Are you really related to Nathan Brazil?" Yua asked at last.

  Mavra Chang smiled slightly. "In a way, yes. Many, many years ago, of course. It's been a long time since we've been back to human areas."

  "What is this place?" Marquoz wanted to know.

  "You are on a planetoid well out into space, away from normal commercial channels and any habitation," she told him. "It is, in fact, a fully self-sufficient vessel. We are well into it at this point, and below the equator. The Northern Hemisphere, as you will soon see, has been Terraformed and is quite beautiful. My crew and I live there most of the time."

  Marquoz looked around thoughtfully. "This is Zinder's computer, isn't it?"

  It was Mavra's turn to look startled. "Hmmm . . . Yes, it is. I see we shouldn't underestimate you."

  Marquoz was more at ease now. He looked up at the still-stunned Yua. "My dear, I suspect you arc standing on holy ground here. I would bet that your ancestors were created on this very spot over seven hundred years ago."

  Yua was awestruck. She glanced at each of the others as if seeking an answer.

  "Come, I am neglecting my manners," Mavra Chang said. "Please step off the platform—here, just a meter or two away will be okay, if you don't lean in." They did as instructed, and, satisfied, she called out, "Obie, how about a table and chairs, and perhaps some fine food to fit?"

  There was no reply. All they heard was a quiet whine above them as the little dish swung out over the platform. There was a purplish glow, the glow disappeared and the little dish swung ba
ck.

  A banquet table had materialized, heaped with food of all sorts; plush, padded chairs were set around it, one apparently form-fit Yua, who had a tail to consider. One place had no chair; it was assumed, correctly, that Chugach sat on their tails.

  Gypsy was first to the table; he had concluded he wasn't going to be killed, and, since he was hungry, he just accepted the situation. "Jesus! Look at all this stuff! A king's dinner!" he gushed, then suddenly looked a little fearfully at Mavra Chang. "It's all real?"

  She smiled and nodded. "A hundred percent. Not even synthetics. You might not like all of it after the plastic food you've been used to all your life, but try it."

  There wasn't anything else to do, so they all approached the table. Marquoz was surprised to find a large roast at his place. "Takliss!" he said, amazed. "Broiled takliss! You don't know how long it's been!"

  As they ate, Mavra explained a few things to them.

  "First of all, let me tell you, how we came to be here," she began. "We've been doing projects elsewhere, most recently off in M-51, and, frankly, after checking in a few hundred years ago and seeing how the Com had come to terms with its nonhuman races and how smoothly everything seemed to be going—surprised hell out of us, I'll tell you—we decided to go where we were needed. We'd still be there if Obie hadn't sensed something wrong. You see, we actually had a small quake here—I think just about everyplace in the Universe did."

  "Obie?" Marquoz broke in.

  "Good evening, citizens." A pleasant tenor voice materialized out of thin air. "My name is actually an acronym but the words are so out of date they have lost their meaning. Mavra, I thought you were never going to introduce me!" he scolded.

  She shrugged. "Sorry about that. I thought you might want to get a look at them before they knew you were here."

  "I knew," Gypsy pointed out between bites.

  "Yes, you did," Obie agreed. "There are some interesting things about you, sir."