The Dragon Never Sleeps by Glen Cook
The Traveler rumbled and shuddered and surged. Jo staggered, grabbed for a handhold. The anchor point swelled. So did the darkness surrounding it. The strand grew more turbulent, the ride rougher. The Traveler creaked, groaned. There was a shriek of tormented metal somewhere aft.
The aft view showed a glowing egg ploughing through Web stuff, swelling. Timmerbach raged. “That bastard can see us! He don’t care if he kills us! The goddamned arrogant asshole! Seligo. Pick a strand coming off the anchor. Now!”
“Sir, if I guess wrong...”
“Do it! Chances are five to one for us.”
If they didn’t catch the Presence first, Jo thought. If the Guardship didn’t shove them off the Web headed toward J. Duosconica....
Timmerbach continued to rage, demanding more speed. The Guardship closed. Features became distinct. Jo blurted, “That’s IV Trajana!”
Haget gulped air. For the first time he was rattled. “Can’t be. Nobody’s seen IV Trajana since the Enherrenraat incident.”
“More speed!” Timmerbach fumed. “Damned Web, you can’t go anywhere but in a straight line. Seligo! Calculate a cut course to the nearest away strand in case we get knocked off.”
Jo guessed they were two light weeks from the anchor point. Seconds on the Web. Months in starspace.
Her communicator whispered. “Klass? Vadja. Messenger was on a rampage when I went past. Seems catatonic now. The other one hasn’t done anything.”
“Right. Klass out.”
“We may make it,” Timmerbach said. He whirled toward the rear view screen. IV Trajana filled the field. “One extra minute, you bastard. Give us one extra minute.”
Glorious Spent shook like it was coming apart. The dread had grown as thick as fog. Jo could almost smell it. She thought its smell was old death.
— 23 —
The Tregesser Voyager Elmore Tregesser broke away from the Web well off Tregesser Prime’s Optimal. Lupo Provik signed. Two went aft to inform the passenger. Lupo nodded to Three, poised to send false ID if challenged. They had to get in unnoticed by Canon agents and Valerena’s partisans.
Provik eased the Voyager toward P. Benetonica 3F, a trivial station supporting insystem mining. If there was no challenge, the Voyager would pretend to be insystem itself.
It was the usual way Simon Tregesser slipped in and out of his home system.
There was no challenge. Traffic control was inept, haphazard. Simon Tregesser preferred it that way.
Lupo sent a code to his people on station. When the Voyager nosed in, its three-bay section had been closed. Only trusted people were on hand.
No sense taking chances.
When it was time to move Simon, none of the crew looked like Lupo Provik. They looked like rough asteroid miners who maybe belonged to the same family. The kind of people who would move a dangerous cargo without asking questions. The kind Lupo Provik would hire.
Soon a battered lighter headed toward a port north of Tregesser Horata. Six hours later it touched down. An hour later still, the lighter’s operators delivered Simon Tregesser to the basement of a building not far from the Tregesser Pylon, a six kilometers-tall tower that rose from Tregesser Horata DownTown through UpTown, and up and up, through the sprawling torus of Tregesser Horata High City and up a kilometer more. The Simon Tregesser Other waited in a ball that tipped the Pylon’s peak.
Lupo stood at a window, stared up the immense height of the Pylon. He did not like it. Too vulnerable. Big showoff thing. A monument to Simon’s ego. He could take it down a dozen ways. Did Simon think nobody was crazy enough to kill thousands to get just one? He’d do it himself.
“This’s the touchy part,” he said. “This’s where Valerena will move if her intelligence sources are what they should be.”
“They aren’t,” Two said. “She doesn’t have what it takes. She’s lazy.”
“She is. I hate Tregesser Horata.”
“That’s because you can’t control it.”
“Yes.”
Sheer size made Tregesser Horata remarkable. Neither the High City nor UpTown could accommodate their appropriate populations. After the heart of DownTown had been cleared for the base of the Pylon, UpTown had dribbled down and taken the near ground. Now the social gradient ran downhill from the Pylon to the Black Ring, then rose again. Thirty klicks out there were hill-straddling palaces of a new superclass a step above the hoi polloi cluttering Tregesser Horata High City.
The biggest, a fairy fortress perched precariously on a precipice overlooking the natural absurdities of Fuerogomenga Gorge, belonged to Valerena Tregesser.
Lupo’s House Security department occupied ten levels of the Pylon, even with the High City. He hated the structure but lived there when he was home.
Airboats drifted across the arc of sky between the bottom of UpTown and the polished ivory face of the Pylon. Insects, Lupo thought. Deadly insects. He watched every one, half expecting a suicide assault. It had been tried. There was a permanent dark stain a kilometer up.
Two said, “If you’re that worried, call T. W. See what she’s got.”
“Can’t reach her without telling somebody who I am. I’m not supposed to be on Prime.”
Four said, “We’re within time parameters. It’s not like you to be impatient.”
True. Usually he was patient as a spider. “It’s that place. It’s a deathtrap.”
Two observed, “Valerena may pull it down if she takes over.”
“If she takes over. When I talk to Simon about the succession, he gets shifty. He has notions. And I have mine.” The others eyed him. “Blessed has the real stuff.”
“Valerena isn’t worried about him.”
“She has all the Tregesser ego. Considering her horizontal lifestyle, it’s doubtful she can imagine any male as dangerous.”
“What would she put up in place of the Pylon?” Four wondered.
“Something as ridiculous as that castle, a hundred times bigger.” Provik glared at the Pylon. If will could bring Simon down, he was breaking the sound barrier.
Three returned. “He’s coming.”
“Get him moved. I want the Voyager gone before Valerena even thinks about setting a watch.”
The bell in the cellar was identical to the one that had departed. All identifying marks and serials had been duplicated. The creature inside had been mutilated to become an exact duplicate of Simon Tregesser.
Lupo studied the Other as they loaded the bell. He frowned. Simon liked to be clever. Would he outfox himself by pretending to be his Other going back, leaving his true Other in place?
He might. He damned well might.
Some test was in order. He mentioned it to Three and Four, made suggestions. They would take the voyager back to the end space. He and Two were staying.
He had identities he and his family could assume. They belonged to people who arrived and departed mysteriously, with no apparent reason or rhyme.
He made a call after the lighter lifted. He and Two became a man and woman who were the scandal of Tregesser Horata. They pretended to be man and wife. Everybody knew they were brother and sister.
It gave people something to distract them from their own dark sins.
A tsunami of light hammered Tregesser Prime.
“Guardship!” Lupo cursed the fading starburst. “What the hell?”
What a time to have one break off the Web here.
— 24 —
Lupo One met Lupo Three in the docking bay. Three said, “Simon didn’t make the switch. He’s pretending to be his Other.”
One looked at Four. She nodded, gave him the rest. “A Guardship broke away while we were in transit from Prime to 3F.”
“We seem doomed to nothing but glad tidings. Which one?”
“VI Adjutrix. It took station out of traffic and just sat there. No signal of any kind.”
Three asked, “Could it mean something? Could something have leaked?”
“Not likely. Nothing to be done about it, anyway.
The Simon whose bell appeared on deck boomed, “Lupo Provik, you old bastard! I haven’t seen your ass since my big brother dragged it out here.”
Not true, but One did not correct the Tregesser vision of reality. Simon was into his role. In private the Simon Other cultivated quirks in a grasp at identity, pretending it was more than a useful phantom.
“So this is the great endspace hideout. I want to see every nook and cranny.”
“I’ll arrange something. Right now we need to get you down where you can do a show. The staff are used to having you in their hair.”
“Ha! If they have hair. I suppose. Did your people tell you a goddamned Guardship broke off the Web at Prime? Bastard like to ran us over.”
When a ship broke away local space had to adjust. An energy storm raged till the shock damped out. With Travelers that energy ranged from long wave to visible light. With a Guardship the blast of white light was just the bottom end of the discharge.
One asked, “Were you inside the corona?”
Four nodded.
“Did you get any data?”
“Not much.”
One grunted. That was the way luck went. They had not been a research ship sitting there waiting for it.
Simon Tregesser drifted across the great cavity, feeling smug. He could come up with a twist of his own still. He got the bell integrated with the systems at the center, went inside to check his Outsider.
The damned thing was comatose. He could get no response. What the hell was with that thing?
Instrumentation indicated continued biological activity. It was not the body that had gone. It was the minds. If what it thought with were minds. If it thought.
The hell with it. He didn’t need it to tell him what was happening. Every Traveler leaving P. Jaksonica was howling for a Guardship. It would not be long before one came sniffing up the backtrail.
Time to get on with it.
He lowered the bell and began playing with his thunders and lightnings and image makers. A little clumsily. He summoned Noah.
Noah came looping down between the lightnings, swooped to his perch. “Yes, Lord? Have you been unwell, Lord?”
Mad Simon Tregesser laughter hammered the cavity walls. But it was Tregesser laughter a calculated touch off key. “Let’s just say I set aside the Great Mission momentarily. In order to confound my beloved offspring.”
Simon’s attention was fixed on Noah absolutely, seeking nuances of treachery.
Simon stood accused of countless crimes. But stupidity did not appear on the True Bill.
Noah gone a while. Acting a little odd when he returned. Lupo suggesting he trust nobody with news of the switch. Meaning Lupo knew about Noah. So what? Lupo knew about every damned thing. Lupo made knowing his business.
A few questions in the Pylon. Enough oddities about Noah’s itinerary on Prime to convert suspicion into intuitive certainty. To give him an idea for doubledealing Valerena into a corner. Teach the little bitch that she was playing with the big boys.
Noah covered well but not well enough. His reaction damned him.
Tregesser understood instantly how he had been reached. Valerena had bought him with women. He had not given enough weight to the artifact’s lusts.
He would not make that mistake again.
Noah would get no more chances. But he would make himself useful.
Carefully, carefully, Simon led Noah to the suspicion that he was dealing with his master’s Other, swiftly switched the moment Provik had sniffed Valerena’s move. Then he sent the artifact off on a trivial task.
Lupo One secured the communicator, yielded to his chief of staff, headed for the suite.
The family gathered. He said, “Simon just told me to ready a Voyager for a trip to Prime.”
Six said, “And the artifact will go along? Under the impression the switch has been made already?”
Three said, “If we’re going back, we’d better think about that Guardship. Be a bitch to sneak in without it noticing.”
“I’ll leave you to that,” One said. “Consider, too, the chance Simon is being too clever.”
Lupo One was studying a holochart of Canon space when Simon entered main sector Central Staff Info Center. It floated in midair, away from normal business. It had a beanish shape fifty meters long, thirty-three wide, twenty-four high. Three million plus stars and stellar objects were represented. At a touch he could add or delete or zoom.
One had the chart retreating into the past, one hundred thousand years to the minute. He had only a few select strands portrayed. Without looking away he asked, “What happens when natural stellar motion moves anchor points so the strands connecting them come into contact?”
“I wouldn’t know, Lupo.”
“We can find out a little over six years from now. The strand connecting B. Shellica and B. Philipia will cross the strand connecting N. Nuttica and B. Belnapii. It’ll be the first such impact since humans reached the Web.”
“B. Belnapii? Didn’t we have an interest there?”
“We still have a strong interest. Shaga timber.”
“Why are you playing with this?”
“Knowledge. Knowledge is power, Simon.”
“Firepower is power. I had that put in so you could track Guardships, not so you could play games.”
“Do you suppose they have something like it?”
“Better. They’ve been prowling the Web forever. And you know I’m not the Simon Tregesser Other, don’t you?”
“I know.”
“Which means you’ve figured out what I’m up to. You know about my pet artifact.”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything you don’t know, Lupo?”
“I don’t know what happens when two strands collide. I don’t know what causes tag ends. I don’t know how the Web came into being. There’s a lot I don’t know.”
“Is the Voyager ready?”
“Yes.”
“There’ll be an extra passenger. But you knew that, too.”
“I anticipated it.”
“Damn! I ought to kick out and give the whole mess to you. The hell with Valerena and the Directorate. Let them chew dirt. Let somebody have it who can keep reins on the monster.”
Lupo One switched back to the display he had been running. “I wouldn’t take the Chair, Simon.”
“You wouldn’t, would you? You cold bastard. You don’t want it. I guess that’s why I trust you. I just wish to hell I knew what you do want.”
“I want to know where the Web came from. I want to know how new strands appear and feathery old ones suddenly get mended. That’s happened three times in my lifetime. Nobody knows anything but that it happened.”
“Single-minded bastard. Get a crew together. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
One toyed with the holochart for half a minute, then glanced at the departing bell. Time for an update.
— 25 —
A. Saarica. J. M. Ledetica. C. Phritsia. In each system Canon garrison had isolated the infection, then had eradicated it. White corpuscles on the job. WarAvocat was surprised. He had little respect for Canon’s troops or officers.
His own competence and motives were under fire. The Deified were at their meddlesome worst, carping and second-guessing.
It had been too long since VII Gemina had seen any excitement. They all wanted a piece. A bigger piece than anyone else got.
And there was the complication of his predecessor. The Deified Makarska Vis resented his having robbed her of old prey. If she could not rip out the Ku’s heart she would have his instead. So far she had been only a spiteful nuisance. Even so, he was glad he was Dictat. The honor gave him powers with which to suppress her pettiness.
VII Gemina broke off the Web at the Goriot world M. Anstii 3.
A patch of air in WarAvocat’s quarters buzzed, nagging him. “Damn it!”
“No.” It was too late to stop. He could not let go till it was done.
It was too late for Lady Midnight, too. The first tremors of pleasure had begun to torment her. Even with a man she loathed there was an early point when there was no stopping till racking, violent spasms reduced her to a comatose state of satiation.
The gene engineers had made her a slave to her flesh.
How could anyone have discarded a creature so exquisitely useful? Was there some hidden flaw in her?
“WarAvocat,” he told the shimmer. “I’m occupied. What is it?”
The artifact moaned, a little cry almost of despair.
The air murmured, “We’re off the Web, WarAvocat. House Goriot has appealed for help putting down a rebellion. Situation data suggests it isn’t as ugly as V. Rothica 4.”
WarAvocat gasped. Didn’t the artifact realize he had business? No. Of course not. There would be no thoughts in her head, only needs burning to be filled. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
His attempt to hurry Midnight was defeated by the skill of the engineers who had designed her. When held helpless, her body was more mercilessly demanding.
WarAvocat entered WarCentral dazed. He had trouble taking in the information displayed. Deified glowered down from their screens. Or, like the Deified Makarska Vis, they smirked. He had betrayed a weakness.
That damned artifact! She had the power to obsess a man with that body....
Awed realization. Never before had he considered an artifact as possessed of any power at all.
The M. Anstii uprising had followed the classic pattern. The rebels had broken Goriot Glume High City’s moorings and had destabilized its grav suppressors so that it was adrift in the planet’s upper airs.
Beyond the stupidities that plagued every insurrection, the local rebels had failed to take into account M. Anstii’s special circumstances. House Goriot’s principal business was natural gems tones. M. Anstii was blessed with a profusion, some existing nowhere else. Forever plagued by jewel thieves, House Goriot had developed an elaborate private security force. The rebels had overlooked it in the first blush of bloodletting. The force had had time to get organized.