Logos Run (24 page)

“No, I’m not!” the runner replied emphatically. “Everyone agrees that Kahoun is
huge
! Even if I knew how to enter the city, which I don’t, how would I find a ratty old coat?”

“One-Two occupies a snakelike body.”

“Oh, terrific! A snake,” Rebo replied. “That makes the situation even worse. One-Two, as you call her, is probably slithering all over the place.”

“She probably is,” Lysander agreed. “But there are at least two ways to contact One-Two. The first involves Logos . . .”

“Who can’t be trusted,” the runner put in.

“And the second is to retrieve the ring I used to wear,” the disincarnate continued, “and activate the beacon hidden inside it. The star gates were critical to my empire, so when One-Two was created, I wanted a way to contact her in an emergency.”

“Sure,” Rebo responded sarcastically. “It will be a lot easier to find a ring instead of a snake.”

“Yes,” Lysander said gravely. “It
will
be. Because I know where it is.”

“Okay,” the runner allowed wearily. “I’ll bite . . . Where is it?”

“It’s on my finger,” the onetime emperor responded calmly, “which is attached to my mummified body, which is suspended within the largest of the four pyramids.”

The curtains billowed in response to an evening breeze, and there, floating along the edge of the horizon, four sun-splashed pyramids could be seen. Rebo shook his head in disgust. “I should have known.”

“Yes,” Lysander put in smugly. “You should.”

Much to his chagrin Logos realized that he had been out-maneuvered. But the AI wasn’t about to surrender Socket to One-Two without a fight. More than a dozen possible scenarios were conceived, reviewed for flaws, and gradually winnowed down to a single option. The
right
option. One that would almost certainly succeed. Logos couldn’t smile, but he could process a state of completion, and did.

The sun had just broken contact with the eastern horizon
when Shaz, Phan, and Dyson/Kane emerged from the Caravan Hotel, followed by a squad of robed metal men. Three large angen-drawn chariots were waiting to accommodate them, and there was a good deal of unnecessary shouting as the drivers argued over matters of precedence. Finally, whips cracking, the teamsters urged their animals into motion, and the two-wheeled conveyances rolled down a long, dusty street before passing between gates that hadn’t been closed for more than fifty years.

The road that led out of the oasis at Zam, and the thriving market town that had grown up next to it, was at least fifteen freight wagons wide and straight as an arrow. That made navigation easy, but there were occasional dust storms to deal with, which was why twelve-foot-high metal pylons had been placed at regular intervals along the center of the busy road. And, having been polished by more than a thousandyears of windblown silicon particles, the markers still stood metal-bright.

Station Chief Anika had volunteered to come along— and stood next to Shaz. “Look!” she said, pointing up into the sky. “The wings are watching us.”

A heavily laden wagon rolled past headed in the opposite direction as the operative held on to a grab bar with one hand and made use of the other to shade his eyes. The unsprung two-wheeled conveyance bounced every now and then, so the off-worlder was forced to use his knees as shock absorbers. He saw that Anika was correct. More than a dozen winged humans
were
circling above, and with no thermals to support them, were forced to beat their wings. “The one in red belongs to Kufu,” Anika explained. “The one in green reports to Menkur, the one clad in black is sworn to Horus, the one wearing orange flies for Quar, and the one sporting blue works for Chairman Tepho. It won’t be long before he knows that we’re on the way.”

Even though Shaz had once served as Tepho’s bodyguard, the combat variant had never been ordered to accompany the executive to Haafa, or been aware of how important the planet was. And why was that? Because knowledge equates to power? Or because Tepho didn’t trust him? There was no way to know. But whatever the reason, the revelation was disturbing. Tepho was not very forgiving where failures were concerned, and since Logos had been allowed to escape into hyperspace, some sort of punishment could be expected. His jaw tightened, the chariot overtook a column of orange-clad heavies, and the sun inched higher in the sky.

The better part of three hours had passed by the time the floating pyramids came into view, the road split into dozens of sand-drifted tracks, and a flight of blue-liveried wings took up station overhead. The combat variant felt his stomachmuscles tighten at the prospect of the confrontation to come. The Techno Society’s wooden tower appeared not long thereafter, soon followed by rest of Tepho’s encampment, which lay sprawled around it. The angens had begun to tire by that time, but picked up speed as familiar scents found their widely flared nostrils, and food beckoned them home.

Unlike his peers, Tepho’s birth defects were such that it was difficult for him to climb the stairs to the top of the wooden tower, which was why he typically held court in a large, airy tent. And, once the chariots came to a stop, that was where his guests were received. But the first thing that Shaz, Phan, and Dyson/Kane noticed as they entered the soaring tent was
not
their host, who sat cradled within a specially made chair, but the blue machine that crouched within a few feet of him. It was either the same raptor Shaz had been introduced to back on Anafa, now painted sky blue, or one just like it. And, in spite of the fact that the egg-shaped control pod was currently empty, the machine clearly possessed some intelligence of its own. Because servos whined as the group entered, and two side-mounted energy cannons tracked Tepho’s guests as they crossed the rug-covered floor to stand in front of him.

Shaz started to speak, but was forced to stop when Tepho raised a childlike hand and examined the newcomers with coal black eyes. Phan had never seen the man before, but even though the combat variant had described him in advance, she was startled by the full extent of his deformities. The bumpy head, uneven eye sockets, and protruding ears would certainly take some getting used to. The rest of Tepho’s body, including his misshapen spine, was concealed by generous folds of white fabric. The executive frowned, sniffed the air in much the same way that a dog might, and looked from face to face. “The rest of my body may be something less than perfect,” he allowed, “but my sight, hearing, and sense of smell are quite acute. One of you smells like rotting meat.”

“I guess that would be
me
,” Dyson/Kane said sheepishly, and pushed the white cowl back off his head.

Tepho was shocked. The last time the technologist had seen the sensitive, he had been a good-looking if somewhat raggedly dressed man. Now large portions of hair were missing, the variant’s once-smooth countenance was marred by open sores, and it looked as though his nose was half-rotted away. Even though the malady was probably painful, or possibly terminal, Tepho’s first thought was for himself. “Is that condition contagious?” he inquired cautiously.

“No,” Shaz answered definitively. “Kane enjoys occupying Dyson’s body so much that he decided to stay. But there’s something wrong with the fit—and that accounts for the decay.”

“
Yes!
” Dyson screamed in a place where no one could hear him. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Save me! Please save me!”

But Tepho was oblivious to what took place on other planes of existence, Kane was determined to squeeze what pleasure he could from the steadily decomposing body, and Shaz had his own outcomes to worry about. In fact, the only person who was the least bit interested in Dyson was Phan, who had a soft spot for the unassuming sensitive. But she, too, had her own goals to consider—and wasn’t about to stick her neck out for him.

Tepho wrinkled his nose in disgust. He and Kane had never been friends, and there was no particular reason to like the man now that he was dead. “Okay, have your fun,” the technologist said permissively. “But take it outside where the odor can dissipate. That goes for you, too, my dear. . . . Your boss and I need to talk.”

The combat variant waited for his subordinates to withdraw, made a note of the fact that there had been no invitation to sit down, and steeled himself against that was bound to come. “So,” Tepho said calmly. “What the hell happened? My spies tell me that people identical to those you were supposed to follow suddenly materialized in front of King Kufu and have since been added to his household! I was about to send a local asset to investigate the matter when you and your scruffy band of misfits arrived. Please explain.”

The question was reasonable, as was the tone, and the combat variant felt himself relax slightly as he related everything that had taken place since first contact on Thara. There wasn’t much of an opportunity to shade the truth, not with two alternative witnesses waiting right outside, but Shaz took advantage of what few opportunities there were before describing the manner in which Logos and his human handlers had departed from Derius. Not by ship, but by a means that couldn’t be anticipated, or stopped.

At least thirty seconds of silence followed the report. During that time, Tepho hummed to himself and stared into space, as if viewing something mere mortals couldn’t see. Finally, his ruminations complete, the technologist shifted his gaze to the variant in front of him. “Tell me something, Shaz . . . Can you honestly say that you did a good job?”

The combat variant shimmered slightly as he made use of his peripheral vision to check on the raptor. Fast though his reflexes were, he knew that the machine could beat him and swallowed the lump in his throat. “No.”

Tepho nodded. “You’re honest . . . I admire that. But incompetence cannot be tolerated. Lysander taught me that. So, rather than drag the whole thing out, we might as well get this over with.”

The combat variant saw the technologist flick his wrist, felt the small self-propelled disk flatten itself against his forehead, and reached up in an attempt to pry the device off. But the artifact refused to break contact, not until a preprogrammed dose of pain had been dispensed, or it was ordered to do so.

Phan was outside the tent, sitting on a wooden crate, and honing one of her knives when the long, undulating cry of pain was heard. The assassin looked at Dyson/Kane, who lowered the handheld mirror that he’d been staring into. “What goes around, comes around,” the disincarnate commented philosophically. “Having suffered so much pain himself, Tepho likes to share some of it with others.” The second utterance was even worse than the first, but there was nothing Phan could do but test her blade with a thumb and wait for the noise to stop.

lt wasn’t visible yet, but the sun had already announced its
coming with a spectacular sunrise that continued to unfold as Rebo, Norr, and Hoggles finished climbing a steep flight of stairs. But, as the runner stepped out onto the neatly kept platform located at the very top of Kufu’s tower, it was the big red-and-white-striped hot-air balloon that claimed Rebo’s attention rather than the incredible display of color off to the east. The aircraft’s pilot fired the burner mounted over the basket and sent a volume of hot air up into the already inflated envelope above. The roaring sound lasted for no more than two seconds. But the additional lift was sufficient to send the balloon surging upward, and the device would have floated away, had it not been for the combined weight of four heavies assigned to handle the ground ropes.

It was cold,
very
cold, but both the runner and the sensitive had chosen to dress lightly, knowing how hot it would be later on. Both of them were armed and wore backpack-style water bags. They also carried coils of rope slung crosswise over their shoulders.

Both because Hoggles was too heavy for the hot-air balloon, and because of the need to guard Logos, the variant had agreed to remain behind. He wasn’t especially happy about the arrangement, however—and continued to glower as the others prepared to board the balloon. “So they’re leaving you behind,” the AI observed slyly. “How does that make you feel?”

“Shut up,” Hoggles growled. “Or I’ll take a shit and use
you
to wipe my ass.”

Meanwhile, out where the aircraft tugged at its ropes, Rebo, Norr, and a minder named Hasa mounted some portable stairs. Once on the platform above, they were level with the balloon’s woven basket. Hasa made the transfer first—quickly followed by Rebo and Norr. The additional weight caused the aircraft to sag, but it recovered when the pilot opened the burner for a full three seconds, thereby generating more hot air.

Like most the aviators employed by the artifact kings, Kufu’s pilot was female and therefore lighter than the average male. She wore a padded skullcap to protect her head during the spills often associated with landings, handmade goggles to protect her eyes from windblown sand particles, and a well-worn leather flight suit. A bolt-action rifle was clamped to one side of the basket and hinted at occasional bouts of air-to-air combat. “Hang on!” the young woman ordered, and turned to wave a gloved hand at her ground crew.

In spite of the fact that Norr had traveled between solar systems, the sensitive had never been in a hot-air balloon before and felt her stomach lurch unexpectedly as the heavies let go of their ropes. But then, as the burner roared, and the aircraft began to ascend, the sensitive felt her fears start to melt away. The sun was peeking over the horizon, and the normally harsh desert was bathed in soft morning light as the balloon floated out over the underground city of Kahoun.

But there was scant time in which to enjoy the flight because the passengers had a job to do, and it wasn’t going to be easy. There had been hundreds of attempts to enter the floating pyramids over the years, mostly by teams of wings, but none had been successful. The structure
had
been damaged, however, which could clearly be seen as the westerly breeze blew the balloon and its passengers toward the floating monuments and the pink-lavender sky beyond. The largest, the one they planned to intercept, was so cratered that Norr theorized that a large artillery piece had been used to fire at it. Probably in hopes of causing damage to whatever mechanism kept the structure aloft so it would fall to desert below and thereby become vulnerable.