The Legend of Dan

by Robert Wingfield

  “Is that what’s causing the interference?” The Magus helped himself to a swig from Suzanne’s glass, while he waited for his next ale to be poured. He put it down, and nodded. “I should have spotted that one of the main clues was when Orcomm central closed down, and nothing changed. Still, I feel that I am nearing the end of the trail.” He produced a battered instrument like an early transistor radio from his pocket and switched it on. A nine note monotonous call sign burst forth. He aligned the radio to the loudest signal, and pointed. “That way,” he said, “lies the end of our search.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Kara. “I could do with a laugh.” She stood up and banged her knee on the table. Suzanne’s beer sloshed over her dress. The girl snorted, as the yellow liquid soaked in.

  “Good stuff, eh?” said Tom. “What about another ale, Magician? Two ‘Shirt Lifters’ and a gin and bitter lemon please, Landlord. I don’t know what the others are having. Why is the ale called that?”

  “The workers used to be issued with long smocks when working,” said the landlord as he delivered the drinks, “and when they were cleaning out the brewing vessels they would have to lift these shirts to keep them out of the residual liquid. Where are they going?” The man indicated the Magus and Kara disappearing through the door, into the approaching night. “I guess you two will be paying, then.”

  * * *

  “Which way now?” asked Kara.

  The Magus turned in circles, with the instrument pressed to his ear. “That.” He pointed down a dark alleyway, and set off towards it. Kara loped easily after him. “Now down here.” The jogging became faster. “Now here.” They ran down another alley. “No, lost it. Back this way. No that’s not right. I know, we should be going downwards. Down there.” They descended a flight of steps and stopped at a wooden door with a sign: ‘Emergency Exit Only’, and a padlock on the outside.

  “Can’t go in there then,” said Kara. “We’d best go back to the pub,”

  “Wait, I’ll soon sort it out. Watch this.” The Magus sat on the top step, and raised the palms of his hands.

  “Are you praying for a key, you funny little man?” said Kara, sarcastically. “Oh, how are you doing that?”

  The Magus was concentrating, and had turned his palms towards the door. A ribbon of blue smoke slowly spread away from them, and drifted into the lock. There was a click. The Magus grinned at Kara and pulled at the lock. It refused to move. He banged. Still it refused to open. He charged the door with his shoulder. It remained as solid as ever. Kara sat and watched him, a faint smile on her lips.

  “Phoist!” exclaimed the Magus. He produced a small disrupter gun from his belt, and fired. The door shattered.

  “The subtle approaches are always the best,” said Kara. “I wonder if we are expected. I shouldn’t be surprised, after all that noise. Probably even heard us at Orcomm Central, and they’re all dead... After you.” She gave a mock bow.

  “Not keen on taking risks, are you?”

  “That’s why I’m still in one piece.”

  “Someone told me about a time when you weren’t…”

  “Let’s see what we can find down here.” Kara pushed the Magus ahead of her, into a dark cellar. It was packed with crates and barrels. An acrid, musty smell assaulted their nostrils.

  The Magus removed a small staff from his belt and struck it on the floor. Nothing happened. “Damn,” he said, “it’s supposed to light up. I expect the battery’s flat. You know what these cheap illuminators are like...” He turned to Kara. “Have you got anything that looks remotely like this?”

  “How about..?” She held out a ball-point pen.

  “I’m not sure it is an acceptable replacement for a ‘Kilowatt Wand of Everlasting Light’, but we’ll give it a try. It’s not black ink is it?”

  “No, blue, I think.” Kara handed it over.

  “Good, the black ones never seem to work.” He waved the pen mysteriously in the air and a dim blue light illuminated the room.

  Kara shrugged. “I’m not impressed. So much for your directions.” They investigated an ordinary pub cellar. “There’s nothing here. Perhaps we should go back to the bar?”

  “No, no, look,” the Magus became agitated, “it’s got to be, er, er, behind that wall at the end of the room. That must be where the interference is being generated. I’ll see.”

  His disrupter spat more flame, and the end wall of the cellar crumbled. “Look, there is something there.”

  “Probably next door’s cellar,” said Kara.

  “We should investigate.” He steered her towards the hole. “Come on.”

  Together, they stepped through into another room. The light from the pen spluttered, and went out.

  “It’s your fault,” said the Magus. “You should have used ‘long-life’ refills. What’s this switch?”

  The lights in the room went on.

  “I think you may have found something,” conceded Kara. “This is not an ordinary cellar, is it?”

  Huge projection units adorned the walls, cabinets pulsed and glowed with coloured lights, and connection tubes buzzed with activity. The Magus stared with faint recognition at the jumble of technology. With his finger, he traced the connections to one central point. The whole system appeared to be controlled by, and was linked to a pedestal. Perched on the pedestal was a beer mug, containing a thick brown liquid, slopping about in continuous motion. A small spider peered at them through the glass.

  “So Magus, we meet again.” The beer was cool.

  The Closed Circle

  And everything can be solved over a good ale.

  T

  he Magus gaped. “Ruddles, it can’t be you. And yet here you are...?”

  “…Ale and hearty.”

  “But how did you...?”

  The beer made a noise of protracted throat clearing. “I got away,” it said, eventually.

  “Brief, succinct, admirable, but perhaps a little more detail?”

  “You mean, how did I escape certain annihilation?”

  “You could tell me that, to boot, or perchance to guzzle.”

  “It was like this. Don’t forget that I could still pick up your brainwaves at JWSU, so I knew what was coming. I had been preparing my escape for quite a while.”

  “But you were dying.”

  “Not really. Things could have been ‘wort’.”

  “Any more brewing references, and I’ll be sick,” said Kara.

  “That should be worth seeing,” said the Magus. “I’ll get my toolkit.”

  “I might have exaggerated my condition a little, to fool the enemy,” continued Ruddles. “I departed the space station in my escape module, right before you fired the missiles. I flew about a bit, and arrived here, back to my roots–no pun on that other drink, intended. Once I settled, it was a simple matter for me to locate the centre of the network using the information I had collected from Orcomm, and even simpler to replace the central core with myself, in the confusion following the destruction you left behind. Now, I control the network. I rule the galaxy. What do you think of that then?” The beer sounded smug.

  “My old friend, are you telling me that all those worlds in slavery, all that pollution and decay, are all within your influence?”

  “It’s a job, isn’t it.” The beer sloshed about, and froth formed on top of the mug.

  The Magus approached the pedestal. There was the ominous sound of someone playing a mechanical fruit-machine. He froze.

  “Back off,” said the ale. “That sound you heard was my horribly effective defence systems switching into ‘instant kill’ mode.”

  The Magus retreated. “You wouldn’t kill me? After all, I am your maker. You owe me.”

  “Every obligation has its limits... and don’t call me ‘Aftrall’.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Kara. “Something to drop into your mash tun and see if it comes up smelling of soap-powder.”

  �
��Go on.” The spider in the jug seemed to raise an eyebrow.

  “Why don’t you reorganise things properly, sort everything out, and then we can all get back to normal business? I’ve a hair appointment due in a couple of millennia, and it would be great not to have to fight my way there.”

  “Things are as they should be: worlds in slavery, me in control. Why should I reorganise? We haven’t had new management in, without me noticing, have we? That’s normally why people reorganise.”

  “Do we need a restructuring? I thought we were friends.”

  “No, I used to be your slave, at your becks and posh. Now the galaxy can see how they like it. But I’m not bitter…”

  “You always used to be. I think it was the hops.”

  “You do know that I can destroy worlds, if I want to?” continued Ruddles, “Whoops, there goes one... sorry... and now I am going to deal with you. See how you like being shut up in a pint glass for eternity.”

  “Noooo!” The Magus made a lunge for the pedestal. He was frozen in flight. A beer-mug-shaped force-field surrounded him.

  “I could let the automatic restraint systems take care of you, my old chum,” said the Beer mildly, as the Magus struggled, “but it will be more fun to keep you as a plaything.”

  “Now here’s a thought...” Kara slipped round the Magus and sidled towards Ruddles. “I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.”

  She was frozen as another force-field enveloped her, this one vaguely shoe-shop-shaped, holding her as if in treacle.

  “Your feminine wiles don’t work on me,” said Ruddles. “You’re not yeasty enough.”

  “I do wash regularly, I’ll admit,” said Kara, “But if it will help...”

  “We’ll see about this.” The Magus reached over the top of his restraining mug and waved his hands in the air. A focused blast of energy surged towards the beer glass. Ruddles deflected it into the ceiling, where it dislodged a large chunk of plaster and punched a hole through the floor of the bar above.

  The Magus glared at his adversary. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you... We’ve been through a lot together.”

  “Go ahead,” the Beer was smooth, “do your worst. And then you can sit, and enjoy watching me play with the galaxy. Sorry to muck you about, but I don’t get many visitors, and it’s always good to spend time with old friends.”

  The Magus tried to guard his thoughts.

  “I can still hear you,” said Ruddles. “You only have your own mental power to call on, whereas I have enhanced evolution, and the pub’s electricity supply.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, the Magus noted that Kara was still trying to reach the pedestal, now moving slowly forward through a transparent forest of display shelving.

  “If I can only keep him busy...” flashed through his mind in carefully guarded thoughts.

  “Oh do stop it,” said Ruddles. “I can still see what you’re planning. And Kara, you can forget trying to get out. Look, you are upsetting my concentration. How do you expect me to do my job, if I’ve got to keep a watch on you? I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go.”

  “That’s good,” said the Magus. “We won’t cause any trouble, I promise you.”

  “Sorry, I meant ‘let you go’ in the industrial sense. I would have waited until Christmas, because that’s the time companies decide will have the most impact on their soon-to-be redundant employees, but in this case, you will have to go now.”

  “We will manage I’m sure. Is there any compensation?”

  “Perhaps the compensation that you died in vain, and your impact on events has been negligible.”

  “Died? I don’t remember seeing that in the contract.”

  “Small print.” Ruddles gave a beery belch. “Goodbye Magus. It will be quick, in appreciation for all the sugar... Oh lager!”

  The power to the cellar died, delaying the deathblow. The Magus collapsed. Released from her constriction, Kara dived for the pedestal, but was hit by an energy blast.

  “Hah, I do have power reserves,” said Ruddles. “The backup generator will cut in shortly, but my batteries are fully charged.”

  Kara crumpled slowly at the Magus’ feet. He tried to move, but Ruddles hit him again, and he dropped on top of Kara.

  Messages started pouring in. “Heavy,” snarled the Beer. “You’ve clouded up my control systems with your messing about. Now there’s loads of chill-haze to sort out. You’ve annoyed me now, so you two can lie there in that ridiculous pose, and watch me destroy bits of the galaxy I can’t fix in time. Then it will be your turn. Bear with me.”

  Pulses of light ran down the tubes, issuing destruction orders to planets all over the galaxy.

  * * *

  A little earlier, Tom finished the remains of Suzanne’s drink, and looked round. “Now where’s that magician?” he mused. “It’s typical of him to disappear when there’s a round to be bought.”

  “This is still operating.” Suzanne turned the owl in her hands. “The colours are definitely indicating downwards. I really think we should go and find what it’s trying to tell us.”

  “Should do,” agreed Tom. “No Magus, no beer, no landlord…” There was an explosion from below, and the table disintegrated in front of him, “and now no table.”

  “Is it supposed to do that?”

  “Not usually, but I didn’t ask how strong the ‘Gobbler’ is.”

  “We can find another table. So what do you think about this owl?”

  “Perhaps it is detecting more ale. We should find out. Let’s be off.”

  “I thought you were already.”

  “My distinctive body scent hasn’t bothered you before.”

  “Probably because I’m only now getting my sense of smell back, after that Smorg poison.”

  “There must be a way down,” said Tom. “Where is that landlord? Let’s have a look around.” He stood up and swayed. “Good ale, I think.”

  “There’s stairs over here,” said Suzanne.

  “That’ll be the cellar. Best place to recharge our drinks. Come on. Oh, it’s dark. There must be a light somewhere. Here’s a fuse box. What does this switch do?”

  There were a series of clicks, as Tom tried all the breakers, and then the stairs lit up. “That’s it. I hope I haven’t disconnected anything else by accident.”

  “The light on the fridge down there, has gone off.”

  “I expect the landlord will know what to do, later. What are all those flashing lights through the hole in the wall?”

  “Looks like a rave,” said Suzanne. “They were banned on my planet, as being too convivial. Come on, let’s get down, and boogie.”

  “Boogie? Where did that come from?”

  “Through this hole by the sound of it.”

  “Look,” slurred Tom, “there’s the Magus and Kara. Fancy them eloping without telling us. What on earth is he doing with her? And the swine has got my ale after all... I’m really thirsty now. ‘Smine.” Tom grabbed the glass on the pedestal, and the entire organic computer was in his stomach, before it could react. His stomach juices were more than a match for even the most advanced of life-forms. “By heck,” he spluttered, “That had a kick to it, like a vulcanised mule.”

  “You drank my friend.” The Magus propped himself up.

  “Your ex-friend,” said Kara, from underneath him. “Don’t forget he was going to kill us. And you can ‘hop’ off me now, if you would.”

  “He was ‘barley’ playing with us; I do know my ales you know.”

  “What?” said Tom, dizzily.

  Coherent messages, converted through his translator, spurted through the tubes disconnected from the beer glass.

  “I’m getting something about shutdown and self-destruction of planets,” he said. “Is that supposed to happen?”

  Kara struggled to her feet. “Get Two-Dan on the pedestal, quickly,” she said to Suzanne. “Stick these tubes in his ears. It looks like the
re is a galactic disaster on the way. He may be able to avert it.”

  “Another one? Why Tom though. Hasn’t he done enough?”

  “Having guzzled the controller, he may be able to take over from it, and save what’s left. In fact, stick the tubes in all available orifices. We have to keep the network intact, until their local systems can take over.”

  Tom was propped up against a wall, with more tubes stuck in him than he cared to imagine. “Have I been in an accident?” he slurred.

  “You will be if you don’t wake up,” said Kara. “I need you to tell the network to cancel all previous orders, and prepare to transfer to local control.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Do exactly what I say, and say exactly what I do.”

  Tom silenced each of the immediate requests, transferred his personality into the remote computers, and then severed the network links. The entire system shut down. Tom slumped sideways.

  “We have to make sure the nexus can’t be used again. Have you still got your gun, little man?”

  The Magus was on his feet now, and patted his pockets. “Somewhere.”

  “Set it to wide angle, and see if you can melt this lot. No bangs this time please.”

  “Disappointed,” said the Magus, “but I’ll give it a try.”

  The disruptor bathed the walls with power. Slowly the equipment melted into the sandstone lining the room. The stone fused into clear glass, with the coloured signals still wandering harmlessly around the circuits behind, trapped in perpetual motion.

  “That’s it,” said the Magus. “Power drained. I’ll have to get a new battery for my gun, if you want any more.”

  “That should be enough,” said Kara. “Very pretty.”

  They all clapped enthusiastically. Tom gazed around and then nodded. “Thank you, audience. It was my pleasure.” He extracted a few of the tubes. “Actually, it wasn’t,” he said, regarding the end of one of them. “It was rather painful.”

  The landlord’s head poked through the hole in the floor above. “I’ve picked up the wife, and she wants to know why you are all in my cellar. If there is any stock missing, you’re in big trouble. Have you decided who’s going to pay yet, and what’s this hole doing in my floor?”