Challenges of the Deeps

by Spoor,Ryk E

  “In truth, I would have to make a guess,” Relgof admitted, “since there are no surviving witnesses to a Molothos full-scale assault on a normal-space solar system, and their full resources are naturally a matter of great secrecy; in honesty, there are very few survivors of far smaller Molothos assaults. But as they have done this many times in their history, and have the resources of many, many thousands of Spheres, plus an uncounted number of colonized Upper Spheres …millions of vessels, at the least, and those carefully tailored for normal-space assault.”

  Millions of vessels. At least millions. Used as he was to cosmic numbers, Simon still could not quite get his head around the idea of that many military vessels. “Could we not—with the help of the Analytic—take our Sphere back before that becomes an issue?”

  “It would be a tremendously difficult proposition,” Relgof said bleakly. “They will control, and have completely fortified, the Sky Gates. Sending anything through without the proper codes would result in utter destruction, and we have no way of knowing proper Molothos security codes. Even if we did, that would only give us a moment in which to act, and I cannot imagine winning such a battle easily. It would require us to have a huge numeric advantage over our adversaries, and while I have convinced the Analytic to provide ships for this first battle, committing tens of thousands of ships—and their crews—for a battle to re-take a Sphere—”

  “—will be a much harder sell,” Oasis finished. “We understand, Doc.”

  “Then,” Laila said, with a glance at Carl to confirm her decision, “we have no real choice. We may be outnumbered and outgunned, but we will make the Molothos pay heavily for this attack, and—perhaps—they will decide to stop the attack when they realize we are truly in full alliance with the Analytic.”

  “I believe you do not have a choice, no,” Relgof agreed. “And in personal honesty, I do not think that the Faction of Humanity is the sort that tends to retreat when confronted.”

  “Nope,” Oasis said. “We’d rather go down fighting.”

  “You said it will be a near thing to get your ships there, Rel,” Simon said. “How near?”

  Relgof looked at them, moving his filter-beard in an inquisitive manner. “I confess I do not understand how it is possible that any of you could even know of this attack force, let alone its composition and course, but given the value of this intelligence I will not press you for its source.” His gaze halted and lingered penetratingly on Simon for an instant, and Simon suspected that Relgof was remembering his “luck” in finding the materials he needed in the Analytic’s vast archives.

  “Returning to the question …Well, partly that depends on whether our friends the Molothos decide to change their speed in the remaining time or not. If they were to suddenly accelerate to full speed, we would arrive too late. However, your information on current conditions indicates that the clouds around your Sphere are unusually dense right now, which should preclude any high speed approaches until they reach approximately fifteen thousand kilometers from your Sphere—perhaps even somewhat closer, if they do not detect any scouts.”

  His voice became softer, abstracted. “They will assume they have surprise and will not want to jeopardize that surprise by demonstrating high-energy signatures that might be detected. Now…” He paused, looking around, and a low laugh came from Relgof. “I apologize; I am analyzing the problem out loud. In short, if things proceed as you and I would expect …our few hundred vessels will be ready to transition a day or so before the battle begins.”

  Blast. Not nearly long enough to equip more than one or two of them with primaries. “Well …just make sure they are ready as soon as possible.”

  “I will attend to it personally, Simon.”

  Simon found himself staring at his alien friend. “Doctor Rel, you aren’t—”

  “Certainly I am. There will be no better way to prove our alliance to you than for me, myself, to transmit the Analytic’s demands for the Molothos to stand down.” He laughed anew. “Ahh, Simon, if only you could see your faces! I have learned much about reading your body and face-language, and I see I have managed to surprise you all!”

  Laila gave her own short laugh. “You have. After what you told us about basic risk aversion—”

  “Most precisely true, my friends, yet I will not risk much. I will remain on the rearmost vessel, and if and when the battle appears to be becoming too threatening, I will retreat. Not that I am unwilling to fight when necessary, understand,” he gave another flip-flop smile, “but I think the Faction of Humanity would like me to remain at the head of the Analytic for as long as possible.”

  “That we do, and yes, please retreat as soon as you feel you need to,” Simon said.

  “Then it is agreed. I am sorry it comes to this, my friends, but at the same time, what an opportunity!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “As I said, there are vanishingly few survivors of military conflict with the Molothos. As with most of us, they prefer—”

  “—curb-stomping to a fair fight,” Oasis said bluntly. “So usually they totally wipe out their opposition.”

  “That translated phrase was rather vivid. Yes, exactly. So to be in a position to actually witness such a military action, with virtual assurance of safety? This is a wonderful chance to expand knowledge of a topic which is usually terribly perilous to pursue.”

  Simon sighed, but felt an involuntary smile on his face. “I suppose so, but I confess I will not be nearly as impartial an observer as you.”

  “Perhaps not, but—rest assured, Simon—I will be far from impartial! The Molothos are no one’s friends, and you are most assuredly ours.” He rose from his seat. “I must be off. If I am to lead our forces, I must depart soon to join them.”

  Everyone else rose. “Doctor Relgof,” Laila said, “Thank you again, and convey the most heartfelt thanks of Humanity to the Analytic once more. If we have any chance of stopping this assault, it will be through your aid.”

  “Say nothing more of it,” Relgof said. “Alas, our hopes all depend on one, rather fragile, frond of hope.”

  “No kidding,” Oasis said, and her voice was grim. “Our whole plan depends on the Molothos deciding to be reasonable.”

  “You make a grave mistake, Oasis Abrams,” Relgof said to Oasis.

  “What?”

  “The Molothos are nearly always reasonable …from their point of view. And as I noted, they always prefer to deal from a position of overwhelming power—as do essentially all of us in the Arena.

  “No, it is not their reasonableness we depend on. It is their empathy.”

  Simon stared at Relgof. “But they have no empathy.”

  “A pretty conundrum then, yes? But no, they have empathy. A minuscule amount, true, but they can translate their feelings and compare them to others.”

  “Why do we depend on that, though?” Carl asked in a puzzled tone. “I’d think it’s just a rational—”

  “Rational, my friend, is often very much dependent on the perspective of the one doing the evaluation. To the Molothos, the thought that the Analytic would truly put its full force behind Humanity? That one of the Great Factions would risk war with the most vicious and almost eternally victorious Molothos for the sake of First Emergents barely a year present in the Arena? This is not rational in any sense.”

  Relgof made an elaborate shrug with shoulders and arms. “And in truth? It is not rational, especially without the information as to why we have chosen to ally with Humanity at this time. Even with that, this is at least as much a choice of emotion, of doing what is right, of standing with the weak against the strong, as it is a rational choice to defend our interests.

  “So in the end, my friends, we depend on the ability of the Molothos to understand that even the Analytic can choose to take a stand on principle—because we feel it is right. If they do not …then they will press the attack, sure that we will retreat as soon as their dominance becomes clear, and only realize after our ships are engaged with
theirs—after the moment has passed—that we were, in fact, utterly serious.”

  “Kuso,” Simon muttered.

  Chapter 38

  Wu Kung had a problem. He had a big problem, and he found himself pacing the dark hallway outside of their living quarters, trying to work it out.

  He was pretty sure that this Vindatri, whatever he was, had been …influencing Ariane. Her scent had changed more than once in ways that basically didn’t make sense otherwise. Caution and suspicion had faded away without anything being said that should have caused that. At least he didn’t think so.

  The problem was that even people like Ariane sometimes had kind of complicated motivations and made their decisions in ways that were …well, not the way that made sense to him. Diplomacy, doublethinking, whatever, it makes my head ache.

  Normally, of course, that wouldn’t be a problem. Someone tampering with his mistress, his responsibility? He would break their heads! Simple as that!

  This Vindatri, though …he had a lot of fancy magician’s tricks, that much was clear. Wu hadn’t forgotten the humiliation of being separated from Ariane, the way in which Vindatri’s power had caused him to change direction and position without so much as an instant’s pause. Attack someone like that, you could find that you had just leaped out a random window, or even swing your staff to find your friend’s head in front of it!

  If only I was …really Sun Wu Kung, and not just the best imitation some crazy people created. Then things would be different. There were demons back home that had similar powers, and he knew how to deal with them. But here? No. No, much as he hated the idea, he had to try to be subtle, control his impulses, think.

  He had the feeling Vindatri had been trying to influence him too, but, like DuQuesne, he had the same Hyperion protections. The …shifts had been subtle, enough to make him uncomfortable, and then they’d stopped, so he guessed Vindatri had decided not to push it unless Sun Wu Kung caused a problem.

  The obvious thing to do was to talk to DuQuesne. If there was anyone he trusted to make tough decisions in the middle of dangerous territory, it was DuQuesne; Marc reminded him of Sha Wujing, and that was a high compliment.

  Unfortunately, Vindatri was a problem there, too. Wizards like him could scry everywhere, maybe hear anything their name was mentioned in. DuQuesne called it ‘bugging’ and ‘security monitors’ and whatever, but no matter the name it amounted to a wizard seeing and hearing things inside locked rooms.

  Wu Kung suddenly smiled; a spectator might not have found the expression comforting, for it revealed his fangs fully and his green eyes glinted dangerously. Why, this was familiar! This was a problem they’d all faced before. Hyperion had used dozens of those AI-familiar-spirit things to watch everything going on. Orphan and Ariane, they didn’t know about that—even Ariane just knew the story, she hadn’t been there.

  But DuQuesne had. And that meant…

  DuQuesne opened the door almost instantly on Wu’s soft knock; Wu could sense that the big man had just awakened, but his eyes were clear and alert. “Wu? What’s wrong? It’s two in the morning, or whatever the equivalent is here.”

  “I just needed to talk to someone who would understand, DuQuesne, and you’re the only one who will,” he said. He tilted his head at just the right angle, moved a finger exactly this way.

  DuQuesne gave a loud sigh, but Wu Kung saw his eyes narrow the tiniest bit. His body posture shifted the tiniest bit, and Wu could read the signal as well as though DuQuesne had spoken. That bad, huh? Okay, come on. “All right, Wu, come in, sit down.”

  “It’s about Ariane,” he began.

  What followed was something that gave Wu a headache. He could only do this by following the teachings of some of his hardest masters, the ones that taught how to separate actions of mind and body and then bring them together, to make the flow of combat something that could be observed, dispassionately, at the same time as the observer was involved in the combat. He and DuQuesne carried on a conversation with two levels, often cueing the silent conversation from words or hints in the audible one, but with very different meaning.

  The surface conversation was about Wu’s—very real—frustration with being a “bodyguard” who knew his charge was constantly in the presence of a being that even Sun Wu Kung didn’t think he could beat; this was such a by-the-Heavens foreign thought to him that his distress with it was completely real and honest. That was what made Wu pretty sure he could get away with this late-night deception; the surface was still real and a problem.

  The other, hidden, conversation used a code and method of conversation that he hadn’t used for over fifty years, but that came back with need and memory. Technically it wasn’t words, and it was possible to misinterpret, but to Wu Kung it was a code of battle, the language of tactics and strategy, and for him it might as well have been a conversation.

  “Okay, Wu,” DuQuesne said. “That was damn good thinking on your part, treating this like Hyperion. Probably the best thing you could’ve done. So what’s the real problem?”

  “I think Vindatri is playing with Ariane’s mind, DuQuesne. She is changing her attitudes towards him without a reason I can see.”

  A pause, during which the surface conversation continued. “Yeah, not surprising. Even if he had connections to the Shadeweavers some time back, he’s definitely not one of them now, so he’s not restricted.”

  “You expected this? And did not warn me?”

  “Unless you’re thinking hard about it—like now—you’re not subtle, Wu. We didn’t want you suspicious any more than you are naturally. The more Vindatri underestimates us, the better. Is Vindatri actually teaching her stuff? She says so but she’s also claiming she’s not far enough along to be safe demonstrating it, so I’ve only got her word on it.”

  “Oh, he is! He is a hard old master, and I have seen his like before. But yes, she is learning, and faster than he expects. Why? We should still not let him—”

  “Damp it down, Wu, you’re getting excited and your surface conversation’s getting disjointed.”

  Wu paused, focused on continuing the discussion of how to deal with a seemingly invincible foe, or at least how to deal with having to trust said possible enemy around Ariane. DuQuesne is right. I have to keep this flowing perfectly. Maybe Vindatri isn’t listening …but if he is, he must be as completely fooled as the Hyperion designers were. “Sorry, DuQuesne. But you are letting him affect Ariane’s mind?”

  A gesture that conveyed an apologetic sigh. “Wu …yes. And aside from saying that Ariane knew this and we had a way to keep Vindatri from guessing, I’m not telling you any more right now. Will you trust me on this? We have to let Vindatri teach her, even if he’s trying to mindtwist her for now. Trust me that I know it’s happening, and that I know a way to fix it afterwards. I swear it, Wu, I can and I will fix it. Will you trust me?”

  That question lodged a sliver of ice in Wu Kung’s heart. Ariane Austin was his charge. He had ridden the sound-breaking back of Thilomon and fallen through the endless skies of the Arena, and then summoned an army of sky-monsters to come to her aid.

  An army I still owe a debt to, and I must find a way to pay it, he reminded himself.

  But the truth remained that he was responsible for Ariane, she was his to protect …and she is so very like Sanzo was, his innermost voice whispered. How could he trust her protection to anyone, trust her very mind’s safety to someone who thought it was worth risking that mind being changed?

  Yet…

  …this was Marc C. DuQuesne. This was the man who had entered their world and torn the veil away, and with K and Maria-Susanna and Tarell and Erision had led the way to freeing all those caught in the illusions of the Hyperion Designers.

  This was Marc, who had understood and let him retreat, go back to the illusion and the family within that illusion. The same man who had apologized for coming to him even when Wu Kung had hidden for fifty years, five decades, from the truth that had cost him so much …and that yet had
saved him, too.

  And this was the man who had shown him the Arena …and told him to protect Ariane in the first place. The man who, he knew, loved Ariane as deeply as anyone could; Wu Kung could smell his devotion and focus towards the Captain and her well-being …and his anger at having to allow anyone to tamper with her in even the smallest way.

  I owe him. Sha Wujin said so. Sanzo would be furious at me for doubting him.

  As he thanked DuQuesne for listening, in the surface conversation, he answered the deeper question. “Yes, DuQuesne …Marc. I will trust you, even though …though it is very hard.”

  “Thank you, Wu. I know how hard it is for you to take this kind of risk, and believe you me, I hate doing it. But if it helps …it’s also on her direct orders I’m doing this.”

  That did help; if Ariane knew the risks and had ordered it …well, he didn’t like it, but she had already made clear that she was the Captain and even her bodyguard would, by the Gods, follow orders! He smiled and rose. “Thanks again, DuQuesne,” he said aloud.

  “No problem, Wu. I’m just as worried, but we’re stuck, so we have to just accept the situation. Honestly, he’s way out of our league, and we knew that coming here. But if you have to talk it out, I’m always here.” Marc grinned. “But next time, could you wait until morning?”

  “Ha! My brooding knows no hours, DuQuesne!” He waved and left, heading back towards his own cabin next to Ariane’s.

  All right, Vindatri. We all know what you are doing, and DuQuesne has a plan. I will wait.

  But one day, I will break your head for what you are doing to my Captain!

  Chapter 39

  Reflexively Ariane dove aside as the swarm of violet-blue electric motes formed about her, barely evading as the electrical attack coalesced where she had been standing.

  “Your ability to dodge is not being tested here, Captain Austin,” Vindatri said with a condescending edge to his voice. “You were supposed to defend yourself.”