Oracle

by Mike Resnick

  “You'll never find him without me.”

  “I'll never find him if I waste any more time with you,” said Chandler.

  “I'll make a deal!” gasped the man. “Get me to a doctor and I'll help you find him.”

  “He'll be back on Hades before you can get to a hospital.” Chandler turned toward the tunnel once more.

  “You can't leave me here!”

  “That's precisely what you were going to do to me,” replied Chandler. “You might consider it poetic justice.”

  “Who are you?” demanded the man.

  “I'm the man who killed you,” answered Chandler, heading off into the tunnel. The man's protests and curses grew weaker and weaker, and finally vanished as Chandler turned a corner.

  The tunnels were illuminated by a dim Eternalight every ten yards, and he soon saw a pattern to them: most of the lights were purple, but an orange one preceded a fork and a green one a chamber where two or more tunnels joined.

  He continued going from one tunnel to another, borrowed laser rifle at the ready. From time to time he could hear the shuffling of feet in distant corridors, but by the time he approached them they were gone.

  He realized that if the Blue Devil knew its way around the tunnels he was never going to catch up with it, than indeed it had probably already surfaced through some other manhole or exit. But Gin had never mentioned Blue Devils when describing the tunnels, and the man he had just killed hadn't referred to the Blue Devil by name, so there was a better-than-even chance that the Blue Devil he was chasing had no more business being in the tunnels than he himself did, and that in turn meant there was at least a possibility that it was even now undergoing the same treatment that he had been threatened with in that first chamber.

  A green light told him he was approaching another chamber, and he slowed his pace, listening intently. When he was within ten feet of the entrance he could hear two people—a man and a woman—conversing in muffled tones.

  He made his way to the chamber in utter silence. They both had their backs to him, and were still speaking softly.

  “They say it was the Whistler,” the man was saying. “He killed the Surgeon earlier today.”

  “Why would he want to take over the tunnels?” asked the woman. “We're small change to a high roller like him.”

  “When you want to be a kingpin, you don't worry about large or small,” answered the man knowingly. “You grab for it all.”

  “Well, if he comes down here, he's going to wish he'd stayed up top.”

  “He's already down here,” said the man. “Who else could have killed Boris and the others? It's got to be the Whistler.”

  “Whistler or not, if he shows his face, I'll slice him.”

  “Freeze!” said Chandler softly, stepping into the chamber. “Not a word, not a movement.”

  Both of them tensed, but neither moved.

  “Nobody's slicing anyone,” continued Chandler, approaching them. “Turn around.”

  They turned to face him.

  “You're the Whistler?” asked the man.

  “Some people call me that,” answered Chandler.

  “You're not taking over the tunnels!” snarled the woman. “I don't care how good you are, you can't kill all of us!”

  “I don't want to kill any of you,” said Chandler. “I just want some information.”

  “Then why did you kill Boris and his men?” she demanded.

  “They wouldn't give it to me.”

  “We don't turn on our own, Whistler,” said the man defiantly. “You might as well shoot us right now.”

  “I don't want one of your own,” replied Chandler. “I'm after a Blue Devil.”

  “We got no Blue Devils down here,” said the woman. “Just Men.”

  “He doesn't work for you, at least I don't think so. He entered the tunnels a couple of minutes ahead of me.” He paused. “I want him.”

  “What for?”

  “That's none of your business, but it has nothing to do with the tunnels. I want no part of them.”

  “Why should we believe you?” she persisted.

  “Because the only other reason I could have for being here is to kill you, and you're still alive,” said Chandler.

  The man and woman exchanged looks.

  “If we take you to the Blue Devil, that's all you want?” said the man. “You'll take him up top and leave the tunnels to us?”

  Chandler nodded. “That's all I want.”

  “And you won't ever come back down here again?”

  “I can't promise that. But I won't come back down without a reason.”

  The man stared at him for a long moment, then nodded his head. “All right, you've got a deal.”

  “Lead the way,” said Chandler.

  “I've got to find out where your Blue Devil is first.”

  “Can you do it without leaving my sight?” asked Chandler.

  “Yes.”

  As the two men conversed, the woman's hand had moved down to her belt and closed over the handle of a knife.

  “Pull it out and you're going to spend the rest of your life with one arm,” said Chandler ominously.

  “Don't be stupid,” snapped the man. “This is the Whistler you're facing!”

  She glared at him for a moment, then relaxed and dropped her hand to her side.

  The man looked around the chamber, picked up two small stones, then walked to one of the corridors and clicked them against a wall in an irregular pattern. The sounds were still echoing in the dank air as he walked to a second corridor and clicked them again. He then repeated the procedure at the entrance to the corridor from which Chandler had emerged.

  “It's our own code,” said the man, returning to the center of the chamber. “If your Blue Devil is anywhere in the tunnels, we'll know it in a minute or two.”

  “If you've called for help,” said Chandler, “I want you to know that I have no intention of dying alone.”

  “If we all keep calm, nobody has to die at all,” said the man. “You just make sure you take your Blue Devil up top and don't come back.”

  They fell silent again, waiting for a reply to the message. About 90 seconds later they heard a faint tapping, followed by a shrill whistle.

  “All right,” said the man, turning to Chandler. “We've got the Blue Devil.”

  “Let's go.”

  “It's not going to be that easy. They've figured out that you're the one who wants him.” He paused. “They're willing to sell him to you.”

  “How much?” asked Chandler.

  “It's negotiable.”

  “You're sure this is the one who entered just ahead of me?”

  “It's the only Blue Devil that's entered the tunnels all night. They know what's likely to happen to them down here.” He paused. “So are you willing to bid for him?”

  “I'm willing to pay a reasonable price,” said Chandler.

  “And if we don't agree to your price?” asked the woman, still staring sullenly at him.

  “Why don't we worry about that when the time comes?” suggested Chandler. He turned to the man. “Lead the way.”

  The man headed off into the right-hand corridor, and the woman stepped aside to let Chandler follow him.

  “You go next,” he said.

  She glared at him, but fell into step behind her companion, and Chandler brought up the rear.

  They went almost fifty yards, then took a hard left, bore left at another fork, and then began a gradual descent. When they were almost a quarter-mile beneath the surface of the moon, they came to the largest chamber Chandler had yet seen.

  The Blue Devil was tied to a post, and it was obvious that it had been badly beaten. Four men and two women stood near it, and another man, quite burly, with a neatly-trimmed beard and clad in colorful satins, sat on a crudely-constructed stone chair behind a makeshift granite desk at the far end of the chamber.

  “Ah, Mr. Chandler!” said the seated man. “How nice of you to pay us a visit.”
>
  “He's not Chandler,” said the man who had guided him there. “This is the Whistler.”

  “That is merely his professional name,” replied the man at the desk. “He is Joshua Jeremiah Chandler and"—he smiled—"he has had a busy day.”

  Chandler stared at him, but made no reply.

  “But where are my manners,” said the man, rising to his feet. “Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Chandler. My name is Lord Lucifer.”

  “Interesting,” said Chandler noncommittally.

  “Accurate,” was the reply. “Lucifer's domain is the Underworld of Earth, and mine is the underworld of Port Marrakech.” He paused. “Would you prefer that I call you Chandler or Whistler?”

  Chandler shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy.”

  “Excellent!” said Lord Lucifer with a smile. “I can tell that our negotiations are going to be cordial.”

  “How did you know who I was?”

  “I asked Charles to point you out to me.”

  “Charles?”

  “The headwaiter at the Green Diamond,” answered Lord Lucifer. “When I heard that you had killed the Surgeon, I knew it was only a matter of time before you showed up at the Green Diamond; sooner or later, anyone who is anyone shows up there. And since I myself am a member, I merely tipped Charles to tell me when you had arrived.” He paused. “When I saw you enter the kitchen, I became curious. And when you didn't return, I found out that you had left in pursuit of a Blue Devil. Had the two of you stayed on the surface, there was no way I could enter the equation—but on the chance that the Blue Devil had escaped to the tunnels, I passed the word to my people to capture but not kill it, on the assumption that it might be of considerable value to you if it was still alive.” He smiled again. “And here you are.”

  Chandler looked at the Blue Devil. “Does it speak Terran?”

  “If it was working on Port Marrakech, it would have to,” answered Lord Lucifer.

  “All right,” said Chandler, turning back to Lord Lucifer. “How much?”

  “Well, we must take into consideration that you murdered five of my operatives this evening,” said Lord Lucifer. “And then there's the effort we went through to capture the Blue Devil, and there's my own time and overhead. And of course, both you and the Blue Devil can now identify me, so I shall have to take that into account too.”

  “The price,” said Chandler in bored tones.

  “On the other hand, I like you, Mr. Chandler, I truly do. How many men would actually place themselves in my power and continue to look so calm and collected? Make me an offer, my friend.”

  “Five thousand credits.”

  Lord Lucifer shook his head sadly. “I couldn't possibly place such a small price on my fallen comrades.” He paused. “I really couldn't consider less than thirty thousand.”

  Chandler reached into a pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, then peeled five of them off and put the rest back. He then walked across the chamber and placed the bills on the desk.

  “Five thousand credits,” he repeated.

  “You are either a very brave or very foolish man, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer.

  “I'm on a budget.”

  Lord Lucifer threw back his head and laughed. “Excellent!” he said at last. “I think you and I are going to become great friends, Mr. Chandler.” He paused, and the smile vanished from his face. “You can have the Blue Devil for five thousand credits, on one condition.”

  “What is it?”

  “You asked if the Blue Devil could speak Terran,” answered Lord Lucifer. “That implies that you wish to question it before killing it or giving it its freedom.” He stared at Chandler. “My condition is simply this: I want to be present when you question it.”

  “Why?”

  “You have done no harm to any Blue Devil since landing here, and I know that you haven't been to Hades. No Blue Devil on Port Marrakech is in our particular line of business, Mr. Chandler, so I would like to know why this one wants you dead.”

  “Still why?”

  “Don't be obtuse, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer. “Murder is one of my organization's most lucrative enterprises. If the Blue Devils are thinking of going into competition with me on Port Marrakech, I want to know about it.”

  “I can assure you that they aren't,” said Chandler.

  “Doubtless you can,” answered Lord Lucifer. “But I would prefer to hear for myself.”

  Chandler shook his head. “What it has to say doesn't concern you.”

  “Let me be perfectly clear, Mr. Chandler: my business interests start and end on Port Marrakech. If the Blue Devil had any other reason for attempting to kill you, it is of absolutely no interest to me. If you are afraid that I will act on such information as I may hear, let me assure you that I will not.” He met Chandler's gaze. “I will order my people to leave the chamber, so that only you and I are here when you question the Blue Devil—but this is the only way I will accept five thousand credits as payment.”

  Chandler considered Lord Lucifer's statement for a moment, then nodded his assent.

  “You heard us,” Lord Lucifer said to the others. “Leave us alone until I send for you.” He turned to Chandler. “If you should kill me, please believe me when I tell you that you will never live to see the surface again.”

  The five men and three women filed out of the chamber, and Chandler and Lord Lucifer walked over to the post where the Blue Demon was bound.

  “Have you got a name?” asked Chandler.

  The Blue Devil stared at him and did not answer.

  “Its name is Boma,” said Lord Lucifer.

  “How do you know?”

  “I wasn't in quite as much of a hurry as you were,” replied Lord Lucifer with a smile. “I asked while I was in the kitchen.” He paused. “It's been working at the Green Diamond for about two weeks.”

  “And I talked to the Iceman about two weeks ago,” said Chandler. “She's good, I'll give her that.”

  “Who is the Iceman?” asked Lord Lucifer. “And what ‘she’ are you referring to.”

  Chandler ignored his questions and faced the Blue Devil.

  “When did she tell you to kill me, Boma—two weeks ago or today?”

  Boma made no answer.

  “Can you contact her from Port Marrakech?”

  The Blue Devil remained silent.

  “How do I get in touch with her, Boma?”

  No answer.

  “Just tell me how and you can walk out of here in one piece,” said Chandler.

  No answer.

  “You're sure it speaks Terran?” Chandler asked Lord Lucifer.

  “Absolutely.”

  “It understands what I'm asking it?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, Boma,” said Chandler, withdrawing his laser pistol. “She can't help you now. Only you can.” He paused. “If I have to burn off one finger and one toe at a time, I can. Then we'll go to work on the joints. Sooner or later you're going to talk to me.”

  Boma looked into Chandler's eyes.

  “Never,” it said.

  “See? You can speak when you want to,” said Chandler. “Now, just tell me how to contact her and you can save yourself a lot of pain.”

  Boma stared at him and made no reply.

  “Last chance, Boma,” said Chandler, deactivating the safety mechanism and holding the muzzle of the laser pistol next to one of the Blue Devil's digits.

  “You cannot win, Whistler,” said Boma.

  “You think not?”

  “She is the Oracle.”

  The Blue Devil clenched its jaws together, hard, and instantly slumped over, held upright only by its bonds.

  “Shit!” muttered Chandler, forcing the creature's mouth open. “One of its fangs is broken off. It probably had an old-fashioned suicide capsule in there.” He straightened up, frowning.

  “I should have guessed!” said Lord Lucifer, his face alive with dawning comprehension. “I knew Port Marrakech was too insignif
icant for you. You've come for her!”

  “You know about her?”

  “I know enough not to envy you, my friend.”

  Chandler stared at the corpse of the Blue Devil for a long moment, then looked up.

  “What kind of hold does she have over a member of an alien race, that it would rather kill itself than tell me how to contact her?”

  “That should tell you precisely what kind of hold she has, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer. “It preferred facing you in the flesh to displeasing her from a distance of some 300,000 miles. And it preferred death to relinquishing any information, no matter how trivial, that might aid you.” He paused, then shrugged. “Well, nobody ever said Blue Devils were smart.”

  “I don't quite follow you.”

  “It could have told you anything you wanted to know,” explained Lord Lucifer.

  “Why?”

  “I should have thought the answer would be obvious, Mr. Chandler,” replied Lord Lucifer. “She can't be killed.”

  8.

  They were sitting in a small chamber whose leather furnishings and woven rugs were in total contrast to its stone walls and floor. Lord Lucifer held a large Sirian cigar between his fingers, and was sipping a century-old Alphard brandy, while Chandler took a long swallow of his beer and then set his glass down on an exquisite table of Domarian hardwood.

  “Understand, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer, “I'd help you if I could. I would very much enjoy working with a man of your abilities.” He sighed. “I have no love for any human who has sold out to an alien race, and I would certainly like the opportunity to expand my operations to Hades itself, but there is simply no way you can succeed.”

  “You've never seen her,” replied Chandler. “As far as I can tell, nobody on this world except me even knows what her abilities are. So why are you so afraid of her?”

  “I know the power she wields,” answered Lord Lucifer. “It is not necessary for me to know how she wields it.”

  “All right. Tell me about her power.”

  “The Democracy has never been stronger than it is right now, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer. “It is expanding in all directions, gobbling up worlds right and left. It was all set to assimilate Hades about fourteen years ago.”

  “Just a minute,” interrupted Chandler. “I thought the Democracy had no interest in the Alpha Crepello system once the Ports were mined out.”