Baen Books Free Stories 2017

by Baen Books

  Saul laughed. "No, definitely not. Come, sit with me at the front of Tranquility and you can witness the transition to our space yourself." He gestured to a chair that had obviously been modified for a creature with a tail such as Tunuvun's.

  Tunuvun did so—with an alacrity and poorly hidden eagerness that echoed Wu Kung's. It is easy to see why the two of them . . . connected so well. Supreme warriors, competitive, loyal, and still it seems with a sense of wonder. I think I'm going to like him. "It will take a bit of time to reach the Transition location," Saul said. "In theory we could of course transition from the Dock but that would put us far out in the Solar System and it would be a long journey to our actual destination, Kanzaki-Three."

  "I will try to find patience within, Saul. A Leader must learn much of patience, and considered response, and as a Champion I have had little of either except in more simple training."

  Tranquility fired its engines, and for a few moments they were both silent; even with soundproofing the rumble of a jet accelerating a vehicle at two gravities was too loud to permit normal conversation, and Tunuvun naturally lacked the headware for electronic communication. His people have limited infrastructure of their own, and to implant such headware generally requires nanosurgery that does not work in the Arena.

  Finally the rockets cut off, and the cabin of the shuttle was quiet once more. Saul turned back to Tunuvun, who appeared to have been utterly unaffected by the acceleration. Not so surprising; if he could even begin to keep up with Wu Kung he is clearly at the height of physical capability. "Might I ask why you were selected as Leader, instead of some other member of your Faction? I presume you have others who have been less martial in their professions."

  Tunuvun gave a laugh—which seemed to be actually signified by a fluttering of the hands. "That is as true as any words have ever been! Yes, many others far more suited at first sight . . . yet given our previous and limited roles in the Arena, I have a position of immense respect, and my name is known throughout our Faction." He paused and Saul sensed him smiling in wonder. "Our Faction," he repeated. "Not merely our people, our species, but a Faction at last—or at least, a Faction-To-Be, First Emergents." A ripple passed from his head through his tail. "There was some debate, but in the end? It was first that we see great changes coming, perhaps great wars, and whoever leads us must be one who can face any Challenge head-on, and second? Second it was that it was my Victory, and my strategy in selecting Sun Wu Kung as our Champion, that gave us this thing we have dreamed of across the ages. And—perhaps—it was that we salute your faction, whose Leader is not a politician or a sage, but a racer and a fighter and one . . . much like ourselves, I think."

  Saul grinned. "I think Ariane would appreciate the compliment. And likely find it embarrassing. Might I ask if you resemble her in another way—are you young, as your species counts such things?"

  "You have found one of my weaknesses, yes. I am but thirty-seven years old." Behind the translated words, Saul heard "one hundred twenty-two crossings". "For my people this is very young indeed—but that did also weigh in my favor, as no one so young has ever reached such an exalted level in the Challenges before."

  Thirty-seven and one of the premier Champions of the Arena. Yes, that is impressive. Although, Saul had to admit to himself, he hadn't been any older when he'd been forced to assemble what became the CSF in response to Hyperion. "What are your people looking to accomplish now?"

  "First we must, as a Faction, win another Challenge. We are currently First Emergents, although we have been a part of the Arena since our birth. That should not be too difficult; we do after all have a vast amount of experience in helping others win Challenges. Once that is done, we will, like you, have an Embassy and be considered true Citizens of the Arena."

  He looked out at the utter darkness of the interior of the Sphere. "But where all the others lived for their birth and rise to wisdom in your otherspace, we know nothing of it. We must make ourselves at home there, build our strength on this new thing you call a planet, understand the height and breadth and depth of knowledge that will let us be part of that universe as well."

  "I hope that your visit will be a good start on that path. Will your people still be willing to provide the same support you have for others—mercenaries and Champions and so on?"

  "For Humanity? We, as I said, owe you much. Much aid of this sort we will have to give you before any of us will count the debt paid."

  This confirmed what Saul had read in Ariane's summary of the results of that spectacular Challenge, and what she and the rest of her people knew about the Genasi. This was also why Saul had decided it was worth taking the risk and bringing Tunuvun to their own world. Of all the Factions, they owed Humanity the most—even more, really, than the Liberated—and were least likely to talk about, or even make use of, any secrets that might accidentally be given them. "Then I suspect we will both remain in each others' debt as time goes on—which is good enough for us both."

  Tranquility's rockets roared again, slowing them to a reasonable velocity for Transition. Then there was the subliminal jolt that accompanied the jump from one universe to another.

  Saul felt the sensation of Elizabeth, his AISage, "waking up"; it was like coming home, to feel that presence once more as near as a thought. At the same moment he could see the stars shine out, the Milky Way appear in all its dark-banded glory, and the glitter of Kanzaki-Three, a thousand kilometers away. Microgravity took over, and Tranquility did not bother yet with maneuvers. That would be some time in the future.

  There was a click, and Tunuvun drifted forward, staring, mouth open in a completely human pose of awe and disbelief. "What . . . what is this that I see?" The language was now translated through Saul's headware, and sounded less . . . alive, less personal, but with Elizabeth’s help and Saul's memory of Tunuvun's more living Arena-voice, that might be overcome.

  Saul looked again, and for a moment—just the smallest fraction of an instant—he suddenly saw the sight of deep space anew, as through eyes that had never seen it, never imagined it, before, and felt a chill go down his spine.

  The Arena was awesome and mysterious to humanity, with its endless skies filled with clouds and storms and a thousand thousand species of creatures and drifting Spheres concealed beyond banks of mist large enough to swallow a world, but Tunuvun had been born to that universe, he had lived in it his entire life . . . and now he saw darkness, not oppressive and blank and trackless, but a darkness of distance so great that even the Arenaverse itself could have fit easily between them and all but the few hundred nearest stars, a darkness yet lit with uncountable points and bands of light that still left the space about them purest velvet black, a sight never seen by eyes of the Arena, never imagined by those who lived in the living, breathing spaces of the Arena.

  "Those are stars, Tunuvun," he answered, finally. "Suns about which orbit planets. For every sun there is a Sphere in the Arena; for every Sphere in the Arena, a Sun and its attendant worlds. On at least one of those worlds in your Sphere's system, you will find an environment suitable to your people. In ours, we have one such; Earth."

  "Where is your world, then?"

  Allow me, Elizabeth said to Saul instantly. The little shuttle rotated, and the blaze of the Sun—muted by the light-limiting active nanomaterial of the window—came into view. "That is our star, the Sun. And . . . there, to the right," Saul pointed, "that is Earth, the blue-green point."

  Tunuvun's eyes were still wide. "But . . . your world, how small is it?"

  "Smaller than a Sphere, but we can live on its entire surface, not merely the top. About twelve to thirteen thousand kilometers in diameter."

  Tunuvun looked at him in disbelief. "But it is . . . so tiny!"

  He shook his head and smiled. "Not so tiny; we are so far away. We are in the asteroid belt, and Earth is—relatively speaking—close, yet still more than three hundred million kilometers away."

  The silence stretched out as Tunuvun continued to stare
. "I . . . I had heard these things. But . . . I could not believe them. In the Arena, you might see . . . oh, a hundred thousand kilometers, perhaps—very dimly, under the best conditions, when looking for the shadow of a Sphere. But you say we see your world clearly at a distance more than a thousand times that?"

  "You see much farther than that, Tunuvun. Each of those dots, with few exceptions, that you see in the sky is a star that is many light-years, many tens of trillions of kilometers away. So far that no technology in our possession could reach even the nearest of them in less than many years of travel."

  While Tunuvun continued his rapt contemplation of a new version of the infinite, Saul took a moment to check some vital issues. Elizabeth?

  I find no sign of any nanotech on him — active or otherwise. As we discussed, I have placed the exterior nanoprotection on him to ensure he is not infected — biologically or technologically — while here.

  Will that also detect and track any internal nanotech that may activate, or signals that may come from within?

  I believe so. I do not expect any such, however. His people have been traditionally separate from the normal life of the Arena, were not counted among the factions, and do not generally enter normal space where such could be easily planted on him. It would be easier to be certain, of course, if I could also place internal nanos —

  Absolutely not, Saul thought sharply. That would be an unconscionable violation of his rights. It's bad enough we're using the externals without his permission, but I think it would be very difficult to describe at this point without making it sound more frightening than it is.

  Elizabeth smiled from beneath the virtual hat she was currently wearing. Of course, Saul. I would not recommend such a course of action either. But it was my duty to point this out.

  Elizabeth's head suddenly came up, and Saul could momentarily see her profile silhouetted against the phantom clouds of her own native environment. A signal. Saul, it's Ariane's friend, responding to our ping.

  Saul tensed. Are we secure enough?

  A pause, as Elizabeth re-checked all aspects of Tranquility and those on board.

  How long do I have?

  Final maneuvers to dock won't begin for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for this.

  He nodded, then opened communication.

  "Hello, Mentor," he thought.

  ii.

  "AHH, SAUL MAGINOT OF BABYLON COLONY, "boomed a deep, resonant pseudo-voice, seemingly from midair—an interesting trick of electronic perceptual projection, thought Saul. "Your arrival in this, your native space and time, has occurred thirty-two and five-tenths seconds ahead of my Visualization. Acceptable, given my limitations, but still in need of improvement."

  "You expected me to arrive only half a minute after I did?" Saul blinked in startlement, then chided himself on allowing any external sign of this conversation. Yes, it felt like a regular conversation, but it was inaudible to anyone else—and should remain unnoticed. "If you actually made such a prediction, don't feel it's in need of improvement. Yes, I had a clear agenda and schedule, but how could you know it would actually be delayed by an hour and a half?"

  Mentor's avatar, a sparkling ball of pure white radiance, seemed to smile. "I was aware not merely of your intentions, but the situations that pertained in the Sphere, and extrapolated the likely delay based on the individuals involved and the statistical spread of prior related interactions. In truth, it was, as you might say, a lucky guess; with slightly different choices I would have missed the mark by as much as half an hour or more."

  A shift of color and motion. "But you did not leave word for me so that I could discuss my poor and inadequate imitation of my namesake. I trust there is sufficient time—and security—for this discussion?"

  Mentor's question was vital. One of the very few absolutely ironclad laws of the Solar System was that an AI above a certain level—basically, anything above perhaps 0.25 Taylers, or T-0.25—could never operate independently of a human being's oversight. Mentor, as a T-5 operating on its own (even with Ariane's blessing), was considered a rogue AI and would be destroyed upon detection. If Saul were connected with the release or aid of a rogue AI, the destruction of his career would be the least of his problems. "Elizabeth believes so, and I have to trust her."

  "Indeed. As you called for me, I presume you have relevant data to impart?"

  Even speaking mind-to-mind, Saul felt his face hardening. "Not data you will be happy to receive, I am afraid. We have all-but-certainly identified the renegade Hyperion AI."

  The avatar froze for an instant, then the sparkling light flared. "That might be called good news, if also potentially bad; a known enemy is preferable to one unkown."

  "Perhaps, but even so, I'd say this is very bad. We're pretty sure it's Dr. Alexander Fairchild."

  Mentor was silent for a full two seconds—an eternity in direct-comm contact. "Then this is far worse news than I had thought, Saul."

  "The idea of DuQuesne's counterpart now loose in the Arena? I would think so. There might be a few of the Hyperion villains I would less want to have survived, but none come to mind immediately."

  Mentor's voice was grim in response. "Fairchild's survival alone would be cause for great concern, yes, and even more so the fact that he has managed to overcome one of the key limitations of the Arena, but the emergency is now greater in scope and depth."

  Saul's gut contracted and he felt a sour ache. Worse than Fairchild? "Explain, Mentor."

  "You are aware, of course, that every individual—naturally born or artificially constructed—has their own set of behaviors and habits, a signature that can be derived with sufficient analysis—an analysis generally prevented by your Anonymity Accords, but not, of course, applicable yet to AI beings."

  "Certainly; one way of authenticating pieces of writing and art depends on that."

  "You will also recall that when I announced that at least one Hyperion adversary had escaped, I indicated that the number could be as low as one or as high as three," Mentor went on. "The uncertainty there stemmed from a number of factors, but the largest single factor was that whether one, two, or three individuals was responsible for the various activities I had seen depended to a great extent on which individuals I postulated as having escaped. My Visualization—or, if you prefer, my model—gave different answers as I considered different combinations of adversary or adversaries. Some groups clearly could not be responsible for any significant number of the events—such as the suborning of General Esterhauer, or the location and destruction of the sleeping Hyperions under Dr. Davison's care—and thus were eliminated from consideration. Others could be reasonably expected to be responsible for all events and effects I had observed, and thus if they were determined to be the escapee, it would be a reasonable assumption that they were the sole survivor of the adversaries of Hyperion."

  "Ah," Saul said, still making sure no sign of the conversation was visible in the physical world. "And you believe Fairchild would have been responsible for some, but not all, of the phenomena."

  "Your evaluation is sound. If you are correct in identifying Alexander Fairchild —"

  "Oasis—K—is the one who identified him."

  "Her judgment in this area should be eminently sound. Then if I take that as an assumption, at least one, and possibly two, adversaries remain at large and unidentified. There is a greater danger, for both of us specifically as well as the Solar System and the Faction of Humanity at large; nearly all of my Visualizations show that unlike Fairchild, the remaining factors will be more obviously malevolent." Mentor fell silent for a moment. "I must return to the most powerful computational housing I can access and examine everything anew in light of this knowledge. It is imperative we identify and understand our adversaries."

  "I agree. I'm glad you were able to contact me quickly, even if this wasn't the news we wanted."

  "Indeed." Mentor's detached tones sharpened to those of personal concern. "Be very careful, Saul. There is a signific
ant chance that one of our adversaries may target you or others in the nascent government you work for, and my Visualization shows that you, personally, remain a powerful factor in ensuring that Humanity advances to a state of true Civilization. Be cautious."

  "You, too, Mentor. I won't be able to protect you if you're caught."

  "I shall exercise all feasible caution. Farewell for now, Saul Maginot."

  The sense of connection vanished and Saul felt suddenly more alone, staring out at the stars.

  iii.

  "What has happened, Saul Maginot?" asked Tunuvun.

  "What?"

  "Apologies if I break a custom of yours in asking," the small alien said. "But your stance and what I detect of your . . . well, noise, I suppose you might say, the sounds that your entire being makes, unbidden yet inevitably—these have shifted in a fashion that speaks to me of great tension and worry."

  He is more like Wu Kung than I had realized. With an effort, Saul drew in a breath and calmed himself, directing his nanos to assist. "Your perceptions are very sharp, Tunuvun. I won't pretend you are wrong, but it's something I can't speak of."

  Although, now that he thought of it, Tunuvun was one of the only aliens who did know the truth about Hyperion. That didn't mean it would be a good idea to tell him anything about renegade Hyperion AIs, but it did mean that it wouldn't be the huge security breach that it would be if he told anything about Hyperion to any other alien.

  Tunuvun gave that same spread-armed bow—though it looked a bit odd as he was currently floating in a mostly-inverted position. "Secrets are to be kept, of course. I trust you will let me know if I, or any of my people, can be of assistance."

  "I certainly will." Not in this case, unfortunately; someone who lived in the AI-forbidding Arena wouldn't be likely to even understand how to track and fight an AI enemy, let alone a Hyperion escapee. Still, Tunuvun's obviously earnest desire to do something to lessen the debt his people owed Humanity was something he should be paying attention to. Humanity needed all the help it could get, and if he—Commander Saul Maginot, the so-called Hero of Hyperion—couldn't figure out how to make use of what appeared to be a species of mercenaries, warriors and adventurers, it was clearly far past time for him to retire.