Denner's Wreck

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  Bredon shrugged. Gamesmaster had warned him, but he had thought it was worth trying. That had been foolish. One high-order artificial intelligence, given another similar one's exact design specifications, can predict that one's reactions pretty closely, and Gamesmaster had the Skyland's complete original plans in memory. Geste had ordered them downloaded from Mother years ago, to help in planning a stunt that he had hoped to pull. If the Skyler had made any modifications, they hadn't been enough to loosen up the original programming for dealing with trespassers.

  Well, he told himself, maybe the Skyler has a sense of humor and will play along. He crouched down more deeply into the bushes.

  Light suddenly blazed up, washing across the lawn and the shrubbery, turning them vividly green. The stars overhead vanished in the glare. “All right, Bredon, come out of there,” Geste's voice called.

  Bredon cursed, then slid out of the bushes and got to his feet. The lawn was lit almost as brightly as full sunlight, and he could see a thousand previously-hidden details of the Skyland—bushes trimmed to resemble mythological beasts, small animals and machines skittering about on mysterious errands, the main house like a dozen villages pressed together into a single structure, little pavilions and follies scattered across the entire island in a myriad of shapes and sizes and colors, the whole panorama neat, orderly, incredibly complex, and somehow sterile and dull.

  The Trickster, still in his red outfit, was coming around a corner of a nearby pink gazebo; a globe of golden light accompanied him as far as the edge of the lawn, then vanished.

  He stopped, hands on his hips, and smiled at Bredon. “I take it you want to come along,” Geste said.

  Behind him was a woman, tall, thin, and obviously nervous, with curling, ill-kept black hair and a dusky complexion, clad in a gleaming, tight-fitting green gown. Bredon guessed that this was the Skyler herself. If he could ingratiate himself with her, Geste might find it that much harder to order him off the Skyland. He bowed formally in the manner of his people, and as he groped for flowery greetings he said, “My apologies, lady, for coming here uninvited."

  “Who is he, Geste?” the woman demanded. “What's he doing on my island?"

  Geste mockingly returned Bredon's bow, and then waved theatrically as he announced, “Skyler, this is Bredon the Hunter, son of Aredon the Hunter, of a village in the grasslands for which I know no name. Bredon, this is the Skyler, mistress of the Skyland, on which you stand."

  “I receive an honor such as I have never imagined possible even for the gods themselves, my lady, in being permitted to see you even briefly,” Bredon said, taking his speech from an old story Atheron liked to tell, about a mortal who so charmed the Nymph when she carried him away to her home beneath the river that she kept him there for a year and a wake, rather than the usual dark or two.

  The Skyler stared at him, but still spoke only to her fellow immortal. “Geste, what is he doing here?” she demanded.

  Geste sighed. “Skyler, I apologize. I got involved with him in the course of one of my little games, and he was with me when I discovered that Thaddeus was causing trouble. I left him at Arcade, where I thought he would be safely out of the way, but it appears that he doesn't care for my hospitality, and would prefer to sample yours."

  Bredon could think of nothing appropriate to say, so he simply bowed again.

  “Well, I don't want him here!” the Skyler said.

  That, Bredon thought, was that. With nothing left to lose, however, he decided to try arguing.

  “Geste, you can't leave me there. I want to help, I want to see what happens. I can help, if you let me; Gamesmaster taught me to run some of your machines."

  Geste was startled. “It did?"

  “Of course!” Bredon replied, startled by the Trickster's surprise. “You told it to do what I wanted, and you were gone for almost four wakes; what else was I supposed to do?"

  Geste smiled. “When you put it that way, I don't really know. I would have just waited—eaten, slept, played a few games, perhaps. I keep forgetting how impatient you mortals are, and how easily bored."

  “Some mortals would have done the same,” Bredon said, “but I'm too restless for that."

  “So I see,” Geste replied.

  “May I come along, then?” He did his best to sound casual, to make it a polite request rather than begging.

  Geste contemplated him, still smiling, clearly thinking it over.

  “Geste!” the Skyler exclaimed warningly.

  “No, wait, Skyler,” Geste said, still looking at Bredon. “He may have a point. Maybe he could help. Thaddeus will never expect a native to be a danger."

  “Why the hell not? I would! I don't trust these people!"

  “But, Skyler, Thaddeus is different, and you know it. He's so damn arrogant that he hardly considers us a threat, let alone some poor bastard who survives by killing rabbits with rocks. Bredon might be able to walk right up to him, where we couldn't get within kilometers without being probed down to our marrow."

  The Skyler hesitated, almost pouting, then gave in.

  “All right,” she said. “But keep him away from me. And Skyland, you watch him, every second. And I won't eat with him, and I don't want him in the main house.” She turned and stalked away.

  Geste and Bredon watched her go, and when she was out of sight the Trickster gave Bredon a smile that could only be considered conspiratorial.

  “Don't mind her; she's just nervous."

  “It's all right,” Bredon answered. “I don't blame her. According to the legends she has never spoken to a human—I mean, a mortal—before."

  Startled, Geste looked after the departed immortal. “She hasn't?"

  “So the stories say."

  “Skyland, is that true?"

  “Yes, sir, to the best of my knowledge it is. The Skyler does not believe any contact with the indigenes to be safe."

  “They aren't indigenes; they didn't evolve here."

  “My apologies, sir. Say rather, the previous inhabitants."

  “She's never spoken to any of them?"

  “Not to my knowledge, sir."

  Geste considered this. “She always votes to stay here, though, whenever anyone wants to go home,” he pointed out.

  “Yes, sir, she does,” the Skyland agreed.

  “Why does she want to stay, if she never has any contact with the people here?"

  Bredon thought that was obvious, even to someone as ignorant as himself, but he let the machine answer rather than risk making a fool of himself if he should be wrong.

  “She has never stated a reason, sir, but in order to carry out my duties most effectively I am required to understand the Skyler's psychology as far as I can, and based on that understanding I would say that she does not like any strangers, and prefers Denner's Wreck to Terra because the population here is far smaller and less intrusive."

  Bredon almost nodded. It was obvious.

  “I hadn't realized she had it that bad,” Geste said, more to himself than to Bredon or the Skyland.

  The two men stood silently for a moment, and then the Trickster roused himself.

  “Well, Bredon, the weapons are all aboard, and Imp is seeing to it that they're all linked to our central control system. We'll be heading for the High Castle as soon as the Skyler gets around to giving the order. It will take a few hours to get there; this thing isn't designed for speed. Have you had lunch?"

  Chapter Sixteen

  “In the southern portion of the desert west of the mountains, in the harshest part of the desert, where nothing grows, nothing lives, here is the domain of Madame O. The man who finds her is fortunate indeed, for not only will he be saved from death by thirst in that barren land, but he will be given food and drink the like of which most mortals dare not even dream, foods of spun crystal and glossy velvet, drinks like liquid song. He will see sights most mortals cannot imagine. Her chambers flow with light and color; the very touch of the air is like strange silks. The grass that grows in
her courtyard is as soft to the touch as a kitten's fur, and fountains on the amber terraces sing like silver bells as they pour forth flashing streams of stars..."

  —from the tales of

  Kithen the Storyteller

  * * * *

  “I want to go home!” Lady Sunlight wailed, turning about as if looking for an exit from the great stone chamber that served as Brenner's central guesthall.

  The others ignored her. “You're sure that he'll do it?” Sheila asked, shifting uncomfortably in her red pseudo-leather chair. She was not accustomed to chairs that refused to reshape themselves to accommodate her.

  “Of course I'm sure!” Brenner snapped, as he continued his slow pacing, each step timed to the ancient music that played softly as a constant background. “If I weren't sure I wouldn't have said anything. Barring a miracle, Thaddeus will be through the wall in the south tower within half an hour."

  “We're doomed,” Lady Sunlight moaned. “All doomed!” Her pet clung to her neck and chittered in sympathetic distress.

  “Will you shut up?” Brenner snarled at her, still pacing.

  “No, I won't shut up!” she shouted back. “That madman is probably going to kill us all!"

  “No, he isn't,” Brenner replied, in a more moderate shout than her own. “And if you'll shut up I'll explain why not."

  “Thaddeus is certainly capable of murder,” Rawl pointed out quietly. “We all know what he did on Alpha Imperium."

  “Yes, we do know,” Sheila said, annoyed. “And we don't need you to remind us of it just now."

  “I never forgot it,” Brenner said, forcing himself to stop pacing and to maintain an even, conversational tone. “That's why I've always kept a closer eye on him than the rest of you, and I suppose that's why he attacked me first."

  “I had always supposed that you simply didn't like him,” Rawl remarked, settling back in his black pseudo-leather chair.

  “Why? Did you think none of us had any appreciation for justice but you?” Brenner's tone was harsher again, but he kept his voice down to a normal volume.

  Rawl shrugged.

  “And for all of that, if you're so concerned with justice and punishing those who have done evil, why didn't you ever do anything about him? You knew who he was."

  “Yes, I knew,” Rawl admitted. “And I knew I should have turned him in before we ever left Terra. I was weak. I chose not to get involved. I bowed to the obvious will of the majority.” The sound of an explosion penetrated the surrounding stone and forcefields. “Had I done what I knew was right, we would not be here now. I would apologize, but it seems a little late for that, and in any case you're all as guilty as myself."

  “He must be crazy!” Sunlight shouted, waving her arms and sending her floating polychrome dress into wild, billowing contortions that sent floral perfume out in thick waves.

  “Oh, yes,” Rawl replied. “He's obviously been quite mad for centuries."

  “On that we agree,” Brenner said.

  “Oh, we're all going to die!” Lady Sunlight said again.

  “No, we are not,” Brenner replied, rocking on his heels. “And if you'd all ever shut up for a minute and stop distracting me I'd explain why not."

  “Speak, then,” Rawl said. “'If thou hast any tongue, or use of voice, by Heaven, I charge thee, speak!’”

  “Really, Rawl, if you're going to start quoting Shakespeare...” Sheila began.

  “Hush, and let the man speak,” Rawl replied.

  “I will,” Sheila retorted. She turned, and said, “Go on, Brenner.” She and Lady Sunlight looked at him expectantly.

  “Right,” he said. “Yes. Well. We aren't going to die, because if that was all Thaddeus wanted I think he could have gotten in here a lot more quickly than he has. He hasn't tried anything really ruthless; he hasn't nuked us, for example. My castle could hold off a few small nukes, but if he laid into us with a series of serious high-yield thermonuclear warheads I think we'd all fry in pretty short order. There's something in here he wants intact, and I think it's probably us, or at least one of us."

  “That's not very much more appealing than dying,” Sheila remarked.

  “Speak for yourself!” Lady Sunlight snapped.

  “I did,” Sheila replied calmly.

  “It doesn't matter which is worse, because neither one is going to happen,” Brenner said. “I told you, I've been watching Thaddeus. I thought he might try something, and I'm ready. There's a way out of the High Castle that he doesn't know about. There are several secret ways out of here, actually, but I think he may have found some of them. There's one, though, that I know no one has been poking around, and that's the way we're going out. Rawl, you keep all your equipment with you, don't you?"

  “Generally speaking, yes,” the Adjuster agreed cautiously.

  “So if we get out of the castle, you can contact the others?"

  “Easily,” Rawl said.

  “Even if there's interference, and Mother isn't on line?"

  Rawl paused, considering, then said, “Not as easily, but still yes."

  “Can you transport us?"

  “For short distances, or if I leave two of you behind to anywhere on the continent."

  “Well, that's fine, then. We'll get out of here, and put through some calls, and get everyone together to take care of Thaddeus before he gets out of hand."

  “He may already be out of hand,” Rawl suggested.

  “Well, I mean before he becomes unmanageable."

  “He may already be unmanageable. We don't know what's been happening out there for the last hundred hours or more; he's got us completely cut off. He could easily have done a lot of damage already. Most of the others wouldn't be prepared to resist as you have."

  Brenner looked at him, disconcerted. “That's true,” he said thoughtfully.

  “What do you think he's trying to do, anyway?” Sheila asked.

  Rawl shrugged. “He probably wants to rebuild his empire."

  “Here? On Denner's Wreck?” Sheila waved an arm to take in the entire planet.

  “Why not? It's a start."

  “Can we stop arguing about all this and get out of here?” Lady Sunlight demanded.

  Something crackled loudly, and a nearly-subliminal flicker ran through the chamber's lights.

  “Yes,” Rawl said, “I think that would be a very good idea."

  “Right. This way.” Brenner turned and marched out, leading the way from the guesthall. Lady Sunlight ran after him, so close on his heels she nearly collided with him, her pet clinging for its life.

  Sheila rose and followed more calmly, and Rawl brought up the rear, glancing about with interest as they passed through passageways he had never seen before.

  At the end of a winding corridor a dropshaft took them down into the depths of the mountain, where they followed a twisting and circuitous route through the surrounding bedrock, Brenner pausing every so often to point with pride to some security device or other, only to be hurried along by Lady Sunlight before he could explain it adequately.

  The lights flickered and died while they were still deep inside the mountain, and Rawl provided illumination for the rest of their journey in the form of a free-floating energy field radiating a warm yellow.

  “How much further?” Lady Sunlight asked as they rounded yet another curve.

  “Not far,” Brenner replied. “Look ahead there—you can see daylight."

  Rawl stopped dead in his tracks, and his light vanished, plunging them into darkness.

  “Rawl, what the hell...?” Sheila began, as she, too, stopped.

  “Shh!” he hissed.

  “What's the matter?” Lady Sunlight demanded.

  Brenner seemed determined to ignore the Adjuster's action. “Come on,” he said. “I see light ahead!"

  “That's why I stopped,” Rawl said. “Have you all forgotten? It was dark out when we came down here. According to my internal clock, the sun won't be up for almost half an hour."

  “Then what..
.” Sheila began.

  “Your clock is wrong,” Lady Sunlight said. “Come on."

  “It's not,” Rawl insisted.

  “That's right,” a new voice said, as light again filled the passageway, a harsh blue-white glare. Brenner began cursing.

  “The sun isn't up,” Thaddeus said, “but your time is. Now, come on out, and I won't have to hurt you."

  Lady Sunlight began sobbing; Brenner continued to curse, switching from one language to another every few phrases.

  “And if we don't?” Rawl asked.

  “Believe me,” Thaddeus said, “you don't want to know. Now, step on out and let my machines collect you. I have a fine welcome for you all here in Fortress Holding."

  In the new light they could all see the little silver darts of heavily-armed floaters cruising slowly in toward them, weapons trained forward, ready to fire.

  Still cursing into his beard, Brenner reluctantly raised his hands. Lady Sunlight continued weeping. Sheila spat, and Rawl shrugged, but none of them put up any further resistance as the floaters surrounded them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “The Lady of the Island, it is said, watches over all the islands of the coast, as well as her own, and whenever a boat founders, she is there, looking over its crew. She inspects them closely, and chooses the best, the strongest, the smartest, the most handsome, to come to her own island to be her lovers. Those who are almost good enough she takes as her servants. The rest she leaves to the mercies of the rocks and the sea.

  "But be not too joyful, if you go to sea and find yourself wrecked upon the rocks, only to be carried away to her island, for when she tires of a lover she relegates him to the servants’ hall, and whenever any servant displeases her, or grows old and slow so that he can no longer fulfill her every whim as quickly as she demands, she transforms him into a beast. And if one of these beasts should trouble her, then it is killed and fed to the others—or perhaps not killed first.