The Dragon Never Sleeps Read online

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “Assume the Simon Other codes haven’t been compromised since even I wasn’t there when you programmed him. If your Other acts weird, we can consider the news about the codes disinformation.”

  “What? Your logic eludes me.”

  “Think Valerena. If she really had the codes, you’d never know. Right?”

  “That’s how you and I would handle it.”

  “Yes. That’s worth remembering. We aren’t dealing with people who think the way we do. Valerena can be brilliant, cunning, blind, and stupid all at the same time. That’s why she’s so damned dangerous.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “Assume the worst. Do what your enemies want you to do, only as fast as you can move. Switch places with your Other.”

  “But...”

  “Right now. As fast as you can. Make the change before they’re alert. They’ll expect you to move with your usual deliberation.”

  “So I’d play the Other. When the time came I’d trade, and they’d have the real Other across their sights.”

  “If we need the double switch.”

  “I like it, Lupo.”

  “Nobody can know. I mean nobody but you and me. Don’t trust anybody.”

  Simon Tregesser grunted. “There could be nothing in the shadows.”

  “In my experience there’s always something in the shadows.”

  “Have a Voyager readied.”

  Lupo watched Simon out of sight, then yielded to his chief of staff. He headed for the vast suite he maintained. He spoke a code word. His door opened. It was the only entrance and Lupo Provik was the only being the door would pass.

  Lupo called, “One! We have a job to do. Get everyone together.”

  In moments six more Proviks joined him. No one, not even Simon Tregesser, knew there was more than one. Provik had done the vatwork himself. The even-numbered Lupos had been altered there to become female.

  “Update time,” Lupo Prime said. The universe saw most of him, but Lupos One, Three, and Five sustained his tireless, workaholic reputation.

  The dread, mysterious mastermind behind the ascendant fortunes of House Tregesser was a sort of hive creature.

  The ambiance became semi-telepathic. Little external boosting was necessary. The update took only a moment because it had not been long since the last. Provik insisted on two a day now the Guardship game was running.

  When it was over he gave orders. “Two, Three, and Four go with me on the Voyager. One, take control here. Keep an eye on the artifact Noah.”

  Below, Simon Tregesser was leaving his Outsider ally. Once more he had been able to get no sense from it.

  It just kept on about something called the Destroyer, blowing steam because the Destroyer was being thwarted. It acted like it was about ten percent there, with most of its minds trapped in a far abyss.

  Weird. But without it there would be no ships, no guns, no screens, no ambush, no wealth to siphon off to House Tregesser. For all that he could stand a little weirdness.

  — 21 —

  Turtle felt the sound shield go down. He glanced at Amber Soul. How long could she continue the total commitment needed to hide from VII Gemina? Not long enough, he feared. Even he could feel the probing edges of the great slow booming pulse of the somnolent thing that was the Gemina within and beneath the VII Gemina of ceramics, plastics, and metal.

  It was the thing that was the sum of all that the Starbase builders had wrought, all the Guardship had learned, and all that had been input by Deification. It was the thing that made the Guardship so fearsome. It was the thing that, vaguely sensed, made all Canon shiver in dread and overrate a Guardship’s terrible might.

  Turtle knew the Guardships were not invincible. Not yet.

  He noted movement among the silent, seated hundreds staring down at them, forgot Amber Soul.

  So.

  He did not recognize individuals, only uniform styles.

  That was enough.

  Here came people who knew that he knew about Guardships being vulnerable.

  They surrounded him. And for a long time they just stood there, staring.

  And for a long time he just stared back. Were these living creatures as old as he? Or were they VII Gemina’s dead somehow recalled to life? “They are great necromancers, humans,” old Kote had warned him before he had donned the K’tiba and had taken up the sword of honor. “They master sorceries beyond our ken.”

  “The mightiest wizard falls at one blow of the sword.”

  Kote had clicked his tongue in amusement. “Become a wizard, warrior child. Become the greatest wizard of the Ku. For it is their wizards who wield the mightiest swords.”

  In short, learn to think like the enemy, then outthink the enemy — instead of going on trying to outgut him and outfight him.

  And so he had done.

  “Kez Maefele. Greetings.”

  He turned to the woman. Now he knew her. She had been WarAvocat VII Gemina when the Surrender was signed. When he and the Dire Radiant had defied lawful orders to yield their arms and had, instead, fled into the waste reaches of the Web to continue the struggle.

  It had been she, and perhaps these others, who had stalked the killers of the Dire Radiant till no ship but his Delicate Harmony, tired and torn and limping on wounded legs, remained. Till he had given the order that he had despised.

  He clicked his heels and bowed slightly, after the fashion of the conquerers. “Greetings, WarAvocat. It has taken you three thousand years.”

  “Close enough as makes no difference. What are a few centuries from this perspective?”

  Turtle now knew the thing he faced was nothing of flesh. They are great necromancers....

  “What mischief have you been up to, Kez Maefele?”

  “Staying alive in a hostile universe.”

  “You’ve had more than your share of luck.”

  “Perhaps luck had nothing to do with it, WarAvocat. Till now.”

  “Luck has run out. The Ku Question has run its course. The symbol is about to receive its final blow.”

  “You do nurture a grudge beyond any rational limit, WarAvocat. I, who suffered the loss, do not recall your name, but you have fed a hatred so old and so strong you want to do murder after thirty centuries.”

  “Not murder. An overdue...”

  A voice cut across the woman’s. ‘There’ll be no killing, whatever you call it.”

  The woman turned furious but betrayed herself as a being not of flesh. She did not look at her contradictor.

  Turtle did, plundered ancient memories to get an estimate of the man. A Dictat. But he wore the insignia of a WarAvocat and was among the living still. The combination would make him the most powerful being aboard. And more dangerous than the ghost, whose motives were not shrouded.

  The woman and her companions went transparent as their attention turned inward. The woman appeared determined to argue.

  “This is a valuable resource,” the living WarAvocat said. He descended from his throne. “I won’t waste it to satisfy an ancient grudge.”

  A stir rippled those figures seated at either hand. Turtle realized they were all Deified. The man approaching was the only living being of stature present. Had it come to that here, too? That the dead ruled VII Gemina and the living obeyed in hopes of being elected to the company of immortals?

  The woman spat at the living WarAvocat. Her spittle vanished instantly.

  There were limits to their sorcery.

  They are ghosts, he told himself. But ghosts with a will to kill. Ghosts whose will could shape the universe.

  Amber Soul screamed.

  The psychic wave staggered Turtle. WarAvocat halted. His mouth dropped open. His skin became more pallid. His eyes bugged and his hands fluttered. But he did not remain rattled. He came on.

  Turtle glanced behind him. Midnight crouched over Amber Soul, wings spread. Good. Her mind was not empty all the time. The others followed her lead, m
asking Amber Soul.

  WarAvocat paused beyond jumping distance. “You are the Kez Maefele of Dire Radiant legend?”

  “I was a long time ago, WarAvocat. These days I’m Turtle, a nonhuman spacer stranded by the strictures of Canon law.”

  “The Ku are long-lived.”

  “Wizards and warriors, WarAvocat. Other ghifus have shorter lifespans.”

  “That’s right. Your geneticists wanted those castes to live till somebody killed them.”

  Caste was no synonym for ghifu. But why correct the man? It was not worth the trouble. “It was a hope.”

  “And you came from a breed designed to combine both castes.”

  “An idea that bloomed too late.”

  “I’m a student of your tactics in the waste spaces. The Dire Radiant was effective far beyond its strength.”

  Turtle shrugged. “In the end it did no good.”

  “It never does. But they never stop trying.”

  “What do you want? None of us have done VII Gemina or Canon any violence.”

  “The Deified were interested. You made fools of them once. Now I’m interested. You refused to take part in the rebellion. You tried to warn the authorities. Why?”

  “To prevent pointless slaughter. The Concord were idiots. They could not hear the cries of four millennia of idiots who preceded them and dragged countless innocents down with them. But the High City people were as stupid as all their predecessors. So they died. The Concord fools died. And the innocent are dying still. For nothing.”

  WarAvocat responded only by looking thoughtful.

  Turtle wanted to check Amber Soul again. She continued to radiate something that frayed his nerves. WarAvocat was not affected.

  “What’s wrong with her? Does she need medical attention?”

  “She needs to be removed from VII Gemina. She is psionically sensitive. The gut of a Guardship festers with souls, all electromagnetically active, some marginally psionically active. She’s straining to maintain her identity.”

  Turtle had no idea of the truth. That sounded good. “She’ll lose unless she’s moved out.”

  WarAvocat did not appear concerned. He started to ask a question.

  “I’ve said enough. I owe you nothing. You’ve dragged these people here without right, unjustly, and illegally. I won’t abet your crimes.”

  WarAvocat laughed. “You amuse me. I am the law. Justice and right are whatever I say they are.” He started to ask a question.

  Turtle turned away.

  “Way of kokadu? That’s a certain path to death, Kez Maefele.”

  “Death comes.”

  “Access.” Turtle glanced back as a greenish shimmer slid over WarAvocat’s shoulder. “WarAvocat for Peacekeeper One.” The shimmer buzzed like insect wings. “Peacekeeper One, suspend all medical services and disaster relief till further notice.” The insect buzzed. “It’s being considered.”

  There was power at its rawest. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  “It’s all the same to me. Relief efforts cost us time better spent tracing the carrier of the rebel disease.”

  “Send the others home and I’ll cooperate.”

  The shimmer buzzed at WarAvocat. He lifted an eyebrow. “Personal protection. Activate.” A shimmer enveloped him. He moved forward, pushed the Immunes aside, lifted Midnight off Amber Soul. “That one stays. And the winged artifact. The rest go back to Merod Schene.”

  It was the best Turtle would get.

  WarAvocat ordered the Immunes moved and the relief effort resumed. He settled into a seat. “Come here, Kez Maefele. Sit down.”

  Intensely aware of the scrutiny of several hundred Deified, Turtle sat.

  “What is that creature?”

  “Amber Soul? I don’t know. Nobody does. I don’t think she knows herself.”

  “How did she become an Immune?”

  “Because she’s so damned dangerous.”

  “Psionic?”

  “Yes.”

  “There was a creature of her species aboard the Traveler that carried the krekelen to P. Jaksonica. It called itself Seeker of the Lost Children. That mean anything to you?”

  “No.” Turtle watched Guardship security lead the Immunes away. Midnight looked at him, lost, her wings drooping sadly, colorless. He tried to look apologetic.

  Amber Soul screamed.

  — 22 —

  Commander Haget paced. His clomping abraded Jo’s nerves. She wanted to tell him to sit down and stop fidgeting.

  “Sergeant.”

  “Sir?”

  “Any suggestions about how to fill unstructured time? I’ve never had to do nothing before.”

  Write your memoirs. That’ll keep you busy for ten minutes. She shrugged. “In WarCrew we freeze down for the long waits. Short waits we sleep, we drill, we play games. We screw a lot. Sir.” She bit down on a grin. His reaction was what she expected. In WarCrew they would have a lot to say about an officer like him.

  “Why were you selected for this mission?”

  “I screwed up. I got noticed.”

  “You don’t want to be noticed?”

  “It’s the same as volunteering.” Where did this guy live? OpsCrew! Poor short-lifers. This guy wasn’t old enough to remember Kole Marmigus alive. “We don’t volunteer. How old are you, sir?”

  He was surprised. As though that was too personal a question. Maybe it was. They did things differently in OpsCrew.

  “Thirty-nine.”

  “You’ve done well, then. Made full Commander.”

  “I suppose I have. How old are you?”

  “I was elected four thousand years ago.” She grinned at his reaction. “Twenty-six, physical. But I got killed during the Enherrenraat business. I don’t know how old that me was or how much experience I lost.”

  He got that funny look. Like he was talking to a ghost. They never really understood. But dealing with the Deified did not bother them, and the Deified were nothing but electronic spooks. Weird people.

  Someone tapped on the door. Haget disappeared. Jo opened up. “Chief Timmerbach. Come in.”

  “I need to see the Commander.”

  Haget appeared. “Chief?”

  “Could you come to the operating bridge, sir?”

  “What is it?”

  “The Presence, sir.” The Chief’s fear was palpable.

  “You want me to stand witness to the fact that this isn’t an inconvenience created for my benefit, Chief?”

  “I guess that’s one way of putting it, sir.”

  “Very well. Sergeant, will you accompany us?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jo felt more excitement than unease, and was surprised she felt no fear.

  She’d never been into the command center of any ship. And the Presence was something she understood only intellectually. It was not something Guardships feared. It fled from them.

  There was no hard proof it bothered smaller ships, either. Except that ships did disappear, and others had brushes with the Presence that left everyone aboard shaken.

  Dead silence reigned on the bridge. They were not the only spectators. Hanhl Cholot was there, sober and grim. He crossed gazes with Haget. Haget nodded, accepting his presence. This was a Cholot Traveler at risk.

  Haget joined Timmerbach before a screen four meters high and six wide. Jo stayed with them. Cholot followed.

  A ribbon of yellow smoke curved away into apparent distance on screen. Jo got the impression the Traveler was moving through the outer fringes of the smoke.

  Haget grunted. “We must be close.”

  “We’re as near the edge as we dare go, moving dead slow for the Web. But we’re gaining on it. The disturbances and the fogging are getting worse. Can you feel it, sir?”

  Jo felt the directionless dread, the creeping spine chill. Something close was hungry and deadly and getting nearer.... But that made no sense. There was no concrete object for her dread.

  “Yes. I don’t suppose we’d have a turn node coming up?”


  “No, sir.” Timmerbach reached up to indicate a remote starburst. “This is J. Duosconica, anchor for eight strands. We’ll be all right if we reach it.”

  The starburst moved closer slowly.

  Jo had thought you were supposed to see stars from the Web same as in starspace. This space could not be vacant, could it?

  There were points of light on the periphery of the screen.

  Something ahead was masking everything but the brilliance of that anchor point.

  The dread grew.

  The foggy ribbon grew foggier.

  That was not right. A healthy strand looked like a cable of fiber optics, brilliant with light, solid, gleaming when seen from afar. Like the strands coming off that anchor point.

  Hager asked, “Can you break away at J. Duosconica? Lay over till it’s safe?”

  “The star is a white dwarf. Nexus is too close in. Too hot for us. We have to go on. And hope we get there behind the Presence.”

  The dread grew.

  The shaking started. It began as vibrations Jo barely felt through her soles. In minutes the Traveler was bouncing like a light aircraft in heavy turbulence.

  Timmerbach shouted at his bridge gang.

  “We can’t hold it any farther off the centerline, sir. We’re risking premature breakaway now.”

  Jo grimaced. If they dropped off now, they would be almost a light year from the overly hot J. Duosconica. Climbing back on might be impossible. Misty as the strand was, instruments might not locate it.

  Jo palmed her communicator. “Colonel Vadja. Klass.”

  After a moment, “Vadja here, Sergeant. What’s happening?”

  “Trouble with the Web. I’m on the bridge. I thought it might be interesting to see what our aliens are doing. Can you cover it?”

  “Will do, Sergeant.”

  Commander Haget nodded. “Good thinking, Klass. Chief, time estimate to the anchor point?”

  “Ten minutes. Roughly. We may have to move back into the strand if...”

  “Chief!” someone shouted. “We got something coming up behind us. Fast! Gods! It’s a big mother... Saldy. What the hell is that? It’s going to run us over!”

  Timmerbach ran around, cursed, shook a fist at a secondary screen. “Take us in to the core! Maximum ahead. That’s a Guardship! That’s a goddamned Guardship, and it’s going to smash us right off the Web!”