04. The Return of Nathan Brazil (12 page)

On the Well World, the creators had placed limits on the technological capabilities of the hexagonal eco-spheres to simulate difficulties the races would eventually face on their "native" planets. Some could use all energy sources; some were limited to gunpowder and steam; in others no machines would work that were not powered by muscle or tension. This seemingly random system also served as a check on aggression. A high-tech civilization would be helpless in a nontech hex whose military had trained swordsmen and archers; similarly, a low-tech or no tech hex would find it impossible to invade one that had sophisticated weaponry.

"Obie—the Well World's maintenance isn't performed by the main computer, is it?"

"That's correct. After all, something has to power the big machine. From all evidence, it appears that the Well World Computer is in excellent shape. That means the main computer—the one that maintains you and me and everything else—is the problem. I feel the discontinuity, the wrongness now, but I dare not open contact with the Well, you understand."

She did. Long ago, when they had first come here, Obie had contacted the master computer and then found himself unable to disconnect.

"My analysis," the computer continued, "based just on what energy output I can monitor, is that something terrible has happened. As you know, the energy that enforces the natural laws of our Universe originates on the Well World and it's usually a one-way street. Not now, though. I detect massive feedback pouring
into
the Well Computer. The Well is trying to correct for it but doesn't seem quite able to do so." That sounded ominous. "What do you think happened?"

"Hard to say. Looking at the situation, I'd guess that somebody else discovered the principles just as Zinder did, built a huge dish—which is stupid without understanding what you're dealing with—then misused it, causing this feedback, damaging the Well of Souls. And the energy level of the feedback is increasing."

Mavra had a queasy feeling in her stomach. "Obie, that computer is all that stands between us and total annihilation. Can it handle the problem or not?"

"I won't know that until we isolate the cause. From the slight increases I've been measuring, though, I'd say not. Mavra, the Well World Computer can snuff out a white hole! What could have happened that would be beyond its power to correct?"

"Let's find out," she suggested. "Trace the feedback back to its source, but don't get too close. We don't want to be killed by whatever it is."

"I'll be careful," Obie promised. As he did, the big dish on his underside glowed, a violet field enveloped the whole planetoid, and it vanished.

Dolgritu

"CULTS  MAKE   ME   NERVOUS,"  GYPSY  SAID  UNEASILY.

Marquoz was silent, staring at the huge central city square now packed with what seemed to be millions of people. Only his odd form and fiery breath kept him from being tossed about by the mob.

"And to think that only a few months ago it was a little nut-cult with few followers," Gypsy continued. "Hard to believe."

"Desperate people manipulated by circumstances they can't control almost always turn to the supernatural," the little dragon growled back.

The Fellowship of the Well had indeed grown; it was now the premier religious group in the Com. The cult itself was hard-pressed to handle this sudden success and acceptance; it couldn't "process" its followers but found they were more than eager to join and stay joined anyway.

The Zinder Nullifiers had been too rushed. Neither they nor their origins could remain hidden long. When Tortoi Kai's presentation on the history of Zinder's discovery, the nature of the Markovians, the origins of the Olympians, and even of the Well of Souls name itself, was made public, the data seemed to confirm everything the cult had been saying. When, at the time, the people realized a hungry giant was growing in the void and that the Com was powerless to stop it, locating the god implied by Zinder's math to get him to save the Com provided a powerful new incentive to belief in the Olympian creed. Even the nonhuman races seemed interested, although they rejected the idea of a god in human form that the cult sought.

So an awful lot of people were now looking for Nathan Brazil. If in fact he were as real as Gypsy said he was, Marquoz hoped he was well hidden.

Marquoz and Gypsy weren't present to watch the ceremony or listen to the speeches, but to meet with the High Priestess, who would address the crowd. The Olympians had made overtures to the Council about use of the newly declassified computer files. Marquoz had come to talk about that point.

The Council was scared, too.

Gypsy was entranced by the size of the crowd. He looked at it unbelievingly, admiringly. "What a scam!" he breathed. "What a wonderful scam!"

The Chugach seemed amused. "Why are you surprised? Nothing has taken more money or killed more people in the history of your race than religion, and for all its mummery this one has more going for it than most. When the true nature of god is being seriously argued by two dozen hard-headed astrophysicists, this is indeed the line to be working in."

Gypsy laughed. "So how are we gonna get through this crowd? It's gonna take us a year to get
near
the State Hall."

"One of your people's religions has a tale of a fleeing people caught with their backs to the sea while a hostile army presses. At the proper moment the sea parts. You do it like
this."
The dragon removed a flask hanging from his belt, drained it, then replaced it. Then he formed an oval with his wide mouth, inhaled, and slowly blew. There was the smell of brimstone, and fire shot forth. Marquoz, with Gypsy close at his side, had absolutely no problem clearing a path through the crowd.

A greater obstacle was the horde of security Acolytes surrounding the entrances to the State Hall steps from which the High Priestess Yua was to address the multitudes. Their stun rods and stern expressions implied they would not be intimidated by a little hell-fire.

Gypsy looked nervously at the guards, chosen partially for their size and bulk, but Marquoz simply chose the biggest, toughest, nastiest-looking of the lot and walked right up to him. The stun rod rose slightly.

"None may pass!" the Acolyte intoned in the deepest voice Gypsy had ever heard. Gypsy believed him.

"Stand aside, man," Marquoz replied, his own foghorn voice not a little intimidating. "We represent the Com Council."

"None may pass," the guard repeated, and raised the stun rod a little higher for emphasis. Gypsy could tell by the man's manner that he was just itching to use it, perhaps even more painfully than its designers intended. There was no doubt the fellow could use it as a club to break heads.

"Didn't I say we were from the Com Council?" Marquoz repeated patiently. "I am Com Police, and any attempt to prevent me in the performance of my duty is punishable by death."

The big man was not impressed. "None may pass." This time he added, "Not even the Com is above the will of God."

Gypsy was somewhat relieved to learn that the man knew more than three words. If he knew several more he might still be reasoned with.

"Your mistress sent for
me,
"
Marquoz told the guard. "Your group seeks our assistance in matters concerning your quest. We were nice enough to agree to talk about it, and your mistress set this as a convenient meeting place. Now, it's your people who want something of us, not the other way around. You can admit us, tell your mistress that we are here, or send us away. We will convey indirectly to her who prevented the meeting. Your choice. In ten seconds I'm leaving."

The little dragon had made a tactical mistake. The guard had been provided with three choices and that was one too many. He looked puzzled, trying to resolve a conflict that was beyond him. Finally he resolved it by falling back on orders. "I have been told to expect no one and admit no one," he responded.

"Not even Nathan Brazil?" Marquoz shot back.

The guard blinked. "But—of course, if the Lord God should—"

Marquoz wasn't even going to let him finish. "Ah, but your orders said
none
shall pass, and surely you were not told to expect Nathan Brazil—yet you would admit him. Either you make exceptions or you don't. If you don't, you'd bar even Brazil; if you do, then please let us in to go about our business."

That was too much for the guard. He turned to a younger, slightly less imposing Acolyte. "Brother, tell the mistress that there's a giant lizard out here who says he's a cop and wants to see her."

The brother nodded, turned, and left. Marquoz reached into his jerkin and extracted a silver cigar case inlaid with a very odd coat of arms. He removed a cigar and lit it in his customary manner. The guard blinked in fascination. Marquoz composed a grin revealing numerous nasty teeth and held up the case. "Have a cigar?" he asked pleasantly.

The guard just continued to stare, and the Chugach shrugged and put the case away, settling back on his huge tail to wait. Gypsy rolled his eyes and turned to watch the crowd.

Eventually the other Acolyte returned and whispered to the big guard and several others. Finally he sauntered over to them.

"The High Priestess will see you," he told them, "but not until after the services, which are due to start any minute now. Please wait until then."

Marquoz sighed. "How long will these services take?"

"Usually two hours," the Acolyte replied. "They are quite inspiring, and with this crowd should prove an experience that will move mountains." His eyes shone. "I have been with them since the beginning, you know," he added proudly.

The dragon snorted, then turned to Gypsy. "I wonder if there's any place left in this dump to get a drink?"

Gypsy shrugged. "Probably not, but it's worth a try."

"We'll be back," Marquoz promised, "in two hours or so."

As it happened they
did
find a little bar open; the proprietor was a steadfast materialist who kept railing to his only two customers about how the cult was a plot by the ruling classes to further oppress the masses.

In spite of their distaste for the man's poorly reasoned polemics, the dragon cop and his strange human friend remained in the bar until almost a half-hour after they noted the first crowds departing the square. Finally Marquoz stood up and started for the door. "Well, time to go find out if somebody who asks for favors then cools the heels of the person she wants a favor from likes that treatment herself," he said cheerfully.

The bartender broke off his discourse. "Hey! Wait a minute, you two! You owe me for the drinks!"

Gypsy turned and smiled. "Why, I'm surprised at you, sir. Oppressing the masses like that by asking for something as common and distasteful as money. The root of all evil, you know."

"What're you? Some kinda anarchist creep?" the bartender sneered, reaching under the bar. "Pay up or I seal the door and we wait for the cops."

The Chugach stopped, reached into his jerkin, and pulled out a folding wallet. "But, dear sir, I
am
the police," he pointed out.

They were outside before the bartender could decide whether or not to risk it.

The High Priestess was royally pissed, enough so that her manner betrayed her inner rage even as she strove to keep her features properly impassive. "You were due here long ago," she accused, like a queen snubbed by commoners. She addressed Gypsy with her opening comments.

Marquoz let her ramble on for a bit, and the unfortunate Gypsy took it, while the little dragon studied her. It was almost impossible to tell if she were the same one he had encountered on the freighter—she had exactly the same coloration and was otherwise a perfect copy. He finally decided that they'd never met. The original would not have mistaken Gypsy for himself.

Finally, when she paused in her tirade, he stepped in. "Citizen Yua, if you are quite through berating my good friend, who otherwise has no connection with the government, I shall be happy to discuss the matter at hand with you."

The Olympian started, puzzled at first by the sudden turn, then embarrassed—not by her mistake but for being caught in it—and finally once again, this time at the proper target. "How dare you treat me like this?" she fumed, and it seemed as if Gypsy and Marquoz were to be favored with an instant replay of her first assault.

"Shut   up   and   sit   down,"   Marquoz   responded quickly, cutting her off.
"What?"

"I said shut up and sit down. It is
you
who have to impress
me,
not the other way around. Priestess or whatever, I am
not
a humble Policeman or a citizen of the Com or a Chugach at this point—
I
am the Council and the Com!
My time is valuable and has already been wasted too long in foolishness. You have ten seconds to yell, scream, and do whatever stupid and demeaning things you wish. After that, I will walk out this door unless we are discussing things rationally in another ten."

Four Acolytes would have their minds wiped of the day's activities for being so unfortunate as to have been within earshot. As for Yua, she had never been spoken to so rudely. Hers was a race born to command and securely in charge of its own destiny. Even outside, she had been drilled on her innate superiority to other humans and found that they were easy to stupefy and control—which, of course, had made Marquoz the perfect choice for this particular job.

The Chugach, observing her carefully while feigning disdain, dared to take a cigar out of his case and light it.

Gypsy, who was an empath, read the fury, rage, and confusion that churned inside the Olympian priestess and admired how she regained her composure. She swallowed hard and said without expression, "Very well, sir. We will talk as equals." For her, that was quite a compromise, but it didn't suit Marquoz.

"Oh, no madam, we are not equals. I represent fourteen races on over a thousand worlds; I represent the power that is, and the power that your people have spurned. Your Council seat is ever-vacant, or we wouldn't be having this meeting. Your own planet came from the Council and your seed money was given by its then President. Now, as with many planets, you wish government services although you appear to contribute nothing to the support of those services. I am the Com, madam—convince me. First tell me what you want, then why I should give it to you."