Oracle

by Mike Resnick

  “That's the official story. In point of fact, the Seventeenth Fleet was positioned to, shall we say, pacify the inhabitants of Hades. Then she showed up. I don't what she did, but suddenly the Fleet retreated and Hades was an independent world again. I also know that the Democracy has sent in five or six of their top operatives, and none of them has ever been heard from again.” He took another sip of his brandy. “I don't have to know what her abilities are, Mr. Chandler. I know that she can hold the Democracy at bay, and that's good enough for me. In fact, I'm surprised they were able to convince you to come here.”

  “They didn't,” answered Chandler. “I'm working for a private party.”

  “This Iceman you mentioned?”

  Chandler nodded.

  “Well, whatever he's paying you, it isn't enough.” He took a puff of his cigar. “What have you actually accomplished tonight? You were fortunate enough not to die at dinner, and you've killed one of her operatives. And my answer to that is: so what? There are two hundred million more Blue Devils where Boma came from.”

  “But only one Oracle,” said Chandler. “I wonder if it's possible to lure her away from Hades?”

  “How?”

  “I don't know yet. Perhaps by killing more of her operatives?”

  Lord Lucifer shook his head. “I'm sure they're all expendable.” He paused. “Why don't you just find some way to obliterate the whole damned planet and be done with it?”

  “First, because contrary to what you may think, I'm not a genocidal maniac. And second, because my instructions are to kill her only if I can't bring her out.”

  “Bring her out?”

  Chandler nodded. “She's a very valuable commodity. Nobody wants her dead—unless it looks like they can't have her any other way.” He paused. “That's the real reason the Fleet backed off when she arrived. They didn't want to risk harming her.”

  “You've piqued my curiosity more in fourteen minutes than she has in fourteen years,” said Lord Lucifer. “What is it about her that everyone wants? What powers does she have?”

  “Just one: precognition.”

  “She sees the future?”

  “As I understand it, she sees a number of futures, and by her actions she's able to bring about the one she wants.”

  “That's some talent!” said Lord Lucifer admiringly. “How do you approach someone who knows what you're going to do long before you yourself know?”

  Chandler shrugged. “I suppose I've got to put her in a position where there are no viable futures.”

  “I don't see how you can do it from Port Marrakech.”

  “I know. They wouldn't give me permission to land on Hades, so I thought I might at least establish a valid reason for being here while I probed for weaknesses.”

  “So that's why you killed the Surgeon.”

  Chandler nodded. “If a killer comes to town, he'd better kill someone quick or people will wonder what he's doing here.” He grimaced. “Obviously it didn't work.” He paused, frowning. “At least, I don't think it did.”

  “You seem puzzled,” noted Lord Lucifer.

  “I am. If I fooled her, why did she try to kill me? And if she tried to kill me, why did she fail?”

  “Ah!” said Lord Lucifer, his expression brightening. “So she does have her limitations! Obviously proximity has something to do with it. She could foresee that you eventually planned to kidnap or kill her, because that would involve your being in her presence—but she couldn't see what could happen here, some 300,000 miles away from Hades.” He stared at Chandler. “You look unconvinced, Mr. Chandler. Why? It makes perfect sense to me.”

  “If she can't see what will happen on Port Marrakech, how did she even know I was here?”

  “Perhaps in one of those futures in which you confront her, you tell her so, and she worked backward to try to kill you.”

  Chandler shook his head. “Boma was in place at the Green Diamond the day after I accepted the commission—and that took place a hell of a lot more than 300,000 miles from Hades.”

  “An interesting point,” agreed Lord Lucifer.

  They sat in silence, each sipping his drink, for a few moments.

  “You're going to have to go to Hades, you know,” said Lord Lucifer at last. “If she knows you're alive, she'll just keep making more attempts to kill you ... and you'll never get her to come out to Port Marrakech.”

  “I know,” said Chandler. “My immediate problem is getting there. Then I'll worry about approaching her.”

  “Oh, getting there is easy enough,” answered Lord Lucifer expansively. “I'm not the Lord of the Underworld for nothing. But what you do once you get there—that's the problem.”

  “You know what I have do to.”

  “I'm not making myself clear. I can smuggle you down to Hades easily enough—there's a transport ship for Blue Devils every other day, and depending on how much money you can spread around, we can disguise you as a co-pilot or navigator, or at least hide you in the cargo hold—but if you have no official status, you'll be picked up the moment you show yourself.” He shook his head. “No, let me think further on the matter. There's got to be a better way.”

  Chandler stared thoughtfully at his beer glass. “Why are you going to all this trouble for me?” he asked at last.

  “First, because I like you,” answered Lord Lucifer. “And second, because the sooner you leave, the sooner there is, shall we say, a power vacuum at the top of our profession here on Port Marrakech, one which I hope to fill myself.”

  “Are you a criminal kingpin, a killer, or what?”

  “I am an opportunist,” answered Lord Lucifer calmly. “The Surgeon's death and your departure present me with an opportunity.”

  “Whatever your reasons, I want to thank you for your help.”

  “My dear Mr. Chandler, I have every intention of letting you thank me in a substantial manner before you leave Port Marrakech for Hades.”

  “How much do you want, and when can I leave?”

  “I don't know the answer to either question yet,” admitted Lord Lucifer. He paused and stared at Chandler. “Getting you there will be my problem. Staying alive until then will be yours.” He paused. “There are a lot of Blue Devils on Port Marrakech. If she tried to kill you once, she'll very likely try again.”

  Chandler got to his feet. “I'd better be getting back. When you're ready, leave a message for me at the Wolfman's.”

  “Not the Green Diamond?”

  Chandler shook his head and grinned wryly. “I've lost my faith in their cuisine.”

  “Poor Charles! I hope he doesn't take it personally.” Lord Lucifer suddenly arose. “I'd better escort you back,” he said. “It will keep you from getting lost, and it might also add to the longevity of some of my more aggressive subordinates.”

  Lord Lucifer led the way through the labyrinth of ascending tunnels. Eventually they passed through the chamber where Chandler had killed Boris and his companions; nothing remained but a few bloodstains.

  “Here we are,” said Lord Lucifer, when they reached the small circular chamber beneath the manhole through which Chandler had entered. “Do you know your way from here?”

  Chandler nodded. “Yes. My driver should be waiting for me at the Green Diamond.”

  “Maybe I'll walk over there with you,” said Lord Lucifer suddenly. “I never did get around to having my dessert and coffee.”

  They emerged into the alleyway, then walked the two blocks to the restaurant.

  “There's the landcar,” said Chandler, gesturing the Gin's vehicle, which was parked near the door to the Green Diamond.

  Gin saw Chandler approaching and got out to open the door for him. As Chandler reached the vehicle, Lord Lucifer's voice rang out.

  “Chandler—watch out!”

  Chandler hit the ground instantly, his projectile weapon already in his hand as he rolled over. Gin was slower in reacting, and screamed an instant later as a laser beam seared the flesh of his left shoulder.

&n
bsp; Chandler fired at the source of the beam, and a body that had been hiding behind another vehicle fell heavily to the pavement.

  “Thanks,” said Chandler, getting to his feet and walking across to the corpse.

  “Just dumb luck,” answered Lord Lucifer, joining him. “If I'd been looking in any other direction, I'd never have seen the movement.” He looked down at the body. It was a human male. “You've got more enemies than you thought, Mr. Chandler.”

  “You don't think he worked for the Oracle?” asked Chandler.

  “If he did, he was the first human I've even known her to use.”

  Chandler crouched down and began going through the body's pockets. “Let's find out,” he said.

  He withdrew a ID packet, and frowned.

  “You look troubled,” commented Lord Lucifer.

  “I am,” said Chandler. He tossed the packet to Lord Lucifer. “He worked for the Democracy.”

  “So?”

  “It was the Democracy that hired the Iceman to bring her out. I'm just the subcontractor.”

  “Then why did they try to kill you?”

  “I don't know,” answered Chandler. He frowned again. “Something's very wrong here.”

  Part 2:

  THE INJUN'S BOOK

  9.

  The dark-haired man hovered three feet above the floor, sprawled comfortably on his airbed, watching an adventure holo that was taking place about four feet away from him.

  “Hey, Injun—you got company!” said one of his guards over the speaker system.

  Suddenly the holo screen deactivated, and the door to his cell slid open. A tall, well-dressed man with a shock of white hair walked in and stared at him.

  “So you're Jimmy Two Feathers,” said the man, staring at him.

  “If I'm not, you're gonna get a hell of a nasty letter from my lawyer in the morning,” answered the Injun.

  The man smiled. “They told me you had a sense of humor.”

  The Injun shrugged and waited for him to continue speaking.

  “You've got quite a reputation, Jimmy.”

  “As a comedian?”

  The man's smile vanished as he shook his head. “As a thief, an arsonist, an extortionist, a blackmailer, and a murderer.”

  The Injun shrugged. “I take it you disapprove of versatility?”

  “No,” said the man. “Just of you.”

  “You came all the way from Deluros VIII to tell me you disapprove of me?” said the Injun.

  “What makes you think I'm from Deluros?”

  “I can spot you government types a mile away,” answered the Injun. “And you're too well-dressed to be from around here.”

  “What else do you think you know about me?” asked the man.

  “You act like you think your shit don't stink. That makes you Military.” The Injun paused. “I know I was flying pretty high when they brought me in, but I'll be damned if I can remember killing an officer.”

  “You didn't.”

  “What a pity,” said the Injun, laying back and relaxing.

  “Aren't you interested in why I'm here?” asked the man.

  “You'll tell me when you're ready to.”

  “I'm ready right now.” The man paused. “How would you like to get out of here?”

  “I suppose I could adjust to it.”

  “You didn't the last four times.”

  The Injun shrugged. “A series of misunderstandings.”

  The man smiled caustically. “You call twenty-seven dead men a series of misunderstandings?”

  “Actually, I was performing a valuable social service. Most of them would have wound up in here; look at all the money I saved the government.”

  “You have no regrets at all, do you?”

  “Well, I regret getting caught.”

  “You're a bright man, Jimmy,” said the man. “Why do you keep getting caught?”

  “You wouldn't be here if you hadn't read my record,” answered the Injun. “You know why.”

  “You're a seed chewer.”

  “When I'm on the seed, I feel like I can take on a whole regiment—so sometimes I try to.” He grinned wryly. “Next time maybe I should settle for a platoon.”

  “You've been clean for two years now.”

  “Yeah, well, the prison chef doesn't serve alphanella seeds with the roast beef, more's the pity.”

  The man stared at him and shook his head sadly.

  “You got a problem?” asked the Injun.

  “You're the one with the problem,” answered the man. “You're one of the most brilliant criminals of the past quarter century. You commit the insoluble murder or the perfect robbery, and then you start chewing the seed and tell everyone what you'd done. I wish I knew what makes someone with your talents just piss his life away.”

  “Are you here to lecture me or offer me a deal?” asked the Injun in a bored voice.

  “I'm here to offer you a deal,” answered the man. “You may not like it, though.”

  “I'm sure I won't—but why don't you tell me about it anyway, and then I'll tell you what I think of it.”

  The man nodded. “All right.”

  “By the way, have you got a name?”

  “You may call me 32.”

  “Well, I was close,” said the Injun.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  The Injun smiled. “You're Covert Operations. I thought you were Military.”

  “We frequently work in tandem,” answered 32 calmly. “May I proceed?”

  “Be my guest.”

  “What would you say if I told you that I have the authority to give you a full pardon, effective immediately?”

  “I'd say that's damned generous of you, and let's get the hell out of here.”

  “There are strings, of course.”

  “Aren't there always?” said the Injun wryly.

  “You would have to come to work for me.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “And you would have to submit to certain surgical alterations.”

  The Injun frowned. “Just what kind of freak do you plan to turn me into?”

  “I assure you that this particular surgery will make no difference whatsoever to your physical appearance.”

  “Yeah? And just what are your assurances worth?”

  “Your freedom.”

  The Injun stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, go on.”

  “The third planet of the Alpha Crepello system is home to a race of aliens known as the Lorhn, which are more commonly called Blue Devils. Over the centuries they have resisted all of our efforts to assimilate them into the Democracy.” 32 paused for a moment, then began speaking in lower tones. “On Alpha Crepello III is a human woman named Penelope Bailey, a woman possessed of certain extraordinary talents. We have been trying to get her to return to the Democracy for almost sixteen years. Thus far all of our efforts have failed.”

  “What makes her so special?”

  “She is gifted with the power of precognition,” answered 32. “Do you understand what that means?”

  “It means I'll never bet against her in a card game.”

  32 sighed deeply. “I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. This is a woman who can foresee the outcome of various political and military actions, and our best information is that she has become a renegade, totally opposed to the goals of the Democracy. She is therefore potentially the most serious threat to the existence of the Democracy, and indeed the primacy of the human race, that has ever existed, and as such, her continued presence is unacceptable.”

  “How many men have you sent after her already?”

  “What makes you think we've sent any?” asked 32.

  The Injun smiled. “You don't recruit from the jails until your own killers have failed.”

  32 stared at him for a moment. “We've sent eight men in. We would have been just as happy to bring her out as to terminate her—but new orders have just come down, and that is no longer an op
tion.”

  “What happened to your eight operatives?”

  “Seven are dead.”

  “And the eighth?”

  32 shrugged. “He's still there.”

  “But you've lost faith in him?”

  “No. From everything I've heard about him, he's as good as they come.”

  “Then why are you giving up on him?”

  “Because our policy has changed. As I said, the order came down yesterday that she is to be terminated. The man who is on the scene had orders to try to bring her out alive.”

  “He's already there. Why not just tell him that there's been a change in orders?”

  “He's operating covertly in enemy territory,” answered 32. “We don't want to jeopardize his position by attempting to make contact with him.” He grimaced ruefully. “Furthermore, he's from the Inner Frontier and has no interest in or loyalty to the Democracy. He's basically a subcontractor whose sole loyalty is to his employer, and it is possible that his employer has reasons of his own for wanting to bring the Oracle out alive, reasons about which we know nothing.”

  “Then why not just blow his cover, if you think he might screw up the works?”

  “If he can actually make contact with her where seven of my finest operatives have failed, I want to know how he managed it. Besides,” continued 32, “there is no such thing as a cover when you are operating against someone who can see the future. There is no question in my mind that she knows he's there.”

  “I don't understand,” said the Injun, frowning and running his hand through his unkempt black hair. “If she knows he's there, why hasn't she taken him out? And why are you concerned about contacting him?”

  “She can see what will happen, but we don't think she can see what's happening now,” answered 32. “In other words, she knows that he plans to abduct her at some point in the future, but she doesn't know where he is at this very minute.”

  “You're sure of that?” asked the Injun dubiously. “Maybe an hour ago she knew where he'd be right now.”

  32 sighed deeply. “We're not sure of anything. We know what her capabilities were when she was six years old, and from this our people have been able to extrapolate what they may have become...”