The Last Protector (48 page)

"Wow,” she said, “I didn't know you could jump that high without your boots."

"Neither did I,” he replied, reaching for another beer. “I'm just feeling really strong tonight."

An insistent chiming from the softscroll interrupted them. “Good news!” Jape said. “They cracked the Technolepathy files."

Scrornuck put the disc away and knelt to look at the scroll. “Anything good?"

"Hmm.” Jape scanned the report.
"Technolepathy: UniFlag's trademarked name for a system of artificial mind reading and writing, in which people could experience each other's thoughts through an Observational Reality Buffer, or ORB. Four devices were built at UniFlag's corporate R&D facility between 2118 and 2119 C.E. ORB I was a proof-of-concept model, connected to eleven test subjects. ORBs II, III and IV were pre-deployment prototypes, each linked to fifty subjects. In 2118 C.E., ORB II was installed on the Olympus Experience themeworld (STC2108), where it was to be used in a Greek-mythology-themed simulation."
He stroked his chin as he read further. “Wow, talk about a ride—they were going to let Guests experience dangerous adventures like dog-fighting on dragon-back or fighting the Hydra, by linking their minds to a stunt-man through a master connection in the Orb. It's a ride simulator that would actually work. Brilliant!"

Scrornuck's mind moved in a different direction. “A master connection? Would it allow one man to control an army with his thoughts?"

Jape read a little more and nodded. “It looks like it could."

"So that's why our friend Draggott wants it."

Nalia frowned. “Something must have gone wrong—in that meeting, the big boss said McGinn got in trouble over Technolepathy."

"Uh-huh.” Jape continued reading. “Here it is:
ORB I suffered powering and stability problems and was shut down during testing in 2119 C.E., causing permanent brain damage to the test subjects. UniFlag settled out-of-court with the victims, accepting severe financial penalties."
He looked up from the scroll. “Eleven people suffering brain damage? I'll bet the penalties were severe—and I'll bet that's when McGinn had to start going by his middle name."

"They had people connected to the other ones,” Scrornuck said. “Fifty each, right? What happened to them?"

Jape read further.
"UniFlag abandoned Technolepathy development in 2120 C.E. The remaining ORBs were put into storage, as the company believed it would be too dangerous to destroy them while the test subjects were still alive. ORB II was stored on the Olympus Experience world, and remained there when that world was abandoned following the Safari World disaster in 2133 C.E. There is a 70% probability that Ranger Abe Matthews destroyed ORB II in 2242 C.E."
He summoned a report. “Uh-huh, there's Abe's report:
device imploded, mission accomplished.
ORB II must be the ‘device’ he was talking about.

"As for the others—
ORBs III and IV were stored at UniFlag's R&D facility until the company collapsed in 2137 C.E. By this time, nearly all the test subjects had died, some as young as 35 years. However, autopsies found no conclusive connection between their premature deaths and the ORBs. Following the company's liquidation, we find no further mention of the devices or the surviving subjects. However, we estimate a 70 percent probability that the telepathic interrogation-and-punishment device destroyed by Ranger Jape Phelps in 2244 C.E. was in fact ORB III, installed on the moon by a neo-Maoist cult possessing space travel."

"So that thing was a grown-up ORB,” Scrornuck said.

"Looks like it,” Jape said. “And then there was one left:
Dr. Franz Niedemeyer, UniFlag's former ethics officer, headed a syndicate that acquired many of UniFlag's assets. He became attached to a neo-Nazi cult and fled to STC274 in 2145 C.E. From the fragmentary records, we estimate a 55 percent chance that he took ORB IV with him to that time stream. If so, the device was destroyed in the crossing of 2244 C.E., although it is not mentioned in the report filed by Ranger Jape Phelps."

Jape raised an eyebrow as he set down the scroll. “Dolph had an Orb? Well, that explains how he controlled his Storm Troopers. And it explains why the crossing was so destructive. It wasn't just the conflict between the two political systems; it was the presence of large-scale artificial telepathy. I wonder if Abe knew."

Nalia looked at the flickering light atop Darklord Castle. “What about that one?"

"It's not mentioned. After the lawsuits, I suspect McGinn did his final work in secret.” Jape looked at his ring. It was a deep, dark red, almost black. “These things are even more dangerous than I thought."

"So how do we whack it?” Scrornuck asked.

Jape shrugged. “I don't know, yet. Abe didn't explain how he imploded Orb II."

Scrornuck's hand moved toward his sword. “Well, I blew up Number Three—and I just punched it hard with Ol’ Red—"

"I suspect that won't work this time. When you destroyed Orb III, you were on the inside—somehow, you'd been absorbed into it. I suspect slapping the thing with your sword won't have much effect. Hell, I don't know if it's physical at all. We may need to attack it in some totally different manner.” He returned his attention to the scroll. “What else is out there?
Additional documents: 724 pages of memos, design documents, meeting records, etc. were discovered and decoded to produce this summary."
He tapped a few buttons, frowned at the response and rolled up the scroll. “Transmission quality's not so good tonight. We probably won't see the rest of the stuff for a while."

"Seven hundred pages?” Nalia asked. “Who's going to read all that?"

Jape sighed. “I am."

"Something's wrong."

"Huh?” Scrornuck sat up and looked around. The view was unchanged: the dunes, the black castle topped by the flickering violet-white light, the Army milling about in its camp.

"Something feels wrong,” Nalia said. “I hear the soldiers’ thoughts, and they're afraid."

"Well, they should be. They're attacking that castle tomorrow."

"That's not what's scaring them—it feels deeper than that."

He stood up to get a better look. The Army wandered about its camp, and he realized they were looking at the sky, not the castle. He pointed, and Nalia nodded. “Blood on the moon,” she said.

"They think it's a sign?"

She nodded again. “Their thoughts are getting louder. I'm starting to feel scared myself."

"Don't,” he said. “Jape told me it's just a natural thing, something about the moon getting into the shadow of the world. Nothing to worry about."

"Tell that to the Army.” She rubbed her forehead.

Scrornuck picked up the Setron and ran his fingers along its fretboard, making the instrument's lights flicker in response. “Maybe I can settle them down.” Standing on the top of the dune, where the whole Army could hear him, he played a series of loud, aggressive chords layered over a screaming fiddle and a ground-shaking bass line. The few members of the Army who weren't already up came out of their tents to see what was going on.

Got their attention, he thought. Good. He dragged his left hand down the fretboard, pulling the whole song—the fiddle, the chords, the rhythm—down into a swirling, slowing sound, until all that remained was a single organ chord, which he held until even he could feel the Army's tension. Then, making a slight shift in his grip, he restarted the song. He played the same themes, but now they were slow, soothing, almost a lullaby. As he played, the soldiers relaxed, took their eyes off the moon, and one by one, they returned to their tents. He let the song slowly fade away as the last few soldiers retired. “Well,” he asked, “how's that? Feel any better?"

"A lot,” she said. “They all calmed down when you started the slow stuff. How'd you do that?"

"I don't know. I just did."

"They say music soothes the savage beast,” Jape said. Awakened by the first part of Scrornuck's concert, he'd watched the tune calm the Army. “But this thing's so powerful it almost worries me.” He took out the softscroll. “I should have looked it up a while ago.” His query received an almost instantaneous response.
"STC1689 Stream Crossing Report,"
he read,
"2233C.E.
It's a report by Abe Matthews:
Successfully removed anachronistic group of Re-Creators. Crossing disturbances resolved. Complications: physical, physiological, psychological effects of ‘Setron’ sonic weapon.
By Abe's standards, that's a long report—and look at this, there's a picture.” The scroll displayed an image that was unmistakably Scrornuck's instrument. “A sonic weapon, he called it. Mister Saughblade, let's have a look at this toy of yours."

Somewhat reluctantly, Scrornuck handed over the instrument. Jape inspected the grip closely. “It almost looks like it came off a fibersword."

"Yeah.” Scrornuck held Ol’ Red and the Setron side by side. Except for the color of the leather, the grips were identical. “They feel the same, too. And they can talk to each other.” He described how he'd used the Setron's music to set Ol’ Red's fibers dancing a few nights earlier.

"So it's a similar technology,” Jape said, looking very closely at the glassy, faintly glowing fibers that snaked across the instrument's body, connecting the grip to the frets and sound-generators. “And Abe called it a weapon..."

"That's just an expression,” Scrornuck protested, “like calling a guitar an axe."

"Maybe, maybe not.” Jape queried the scroll again. “Hmm. Sound waves are known to influence attitude, cause exhilaration or depression, induce digestive distress and vomiting..."

Nalia laughed. “Well, I've heard singers who made me want to barf."

"This machine's working at a level far more basic than musical taste."

"It put some funny chords in that incantation I played at the tower,” Scrornuck said. “Is that why the Captain's army puked?"

Jape nodded. “I wonder what it's capable of? Last night, when I was so discouraged, you played a song..."

"Yeah, it perked you right up."

"And it contained some odd harmonies."

"You played something for me the other night when I couldn't sleep,” Nalia said. “It sounded a little funny, too, but it made me feel really calm."

Scrornuck frowned slightly. “And now that you mention it, there was that whiny singer in the bar. After we played together, the Setron wanted me to play something. I couldn't even hear it, but you saw how he changed."

Jape nodded. “Confidence and energy, a complete turnaround. And now, with just one song, you got the Army over its fear of the eclipse.” He looked at the Setron with new respect. “This thing is powerful. And it suggests things for you to play?"

Scrornuck nodded. “Yeah, it talks to me, just like Ol’ Red."

"Hmm.” Jape stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I suggest you be careful with it. Abe called it a weapon, it's got components from a fibersword, it can affect people physically and emotionally, and you say it's suggesting things to play. It could be dangerous."

"I can handle it,” Scrornuck said, feeling a bit defensive.

"Just don't let it become your master."

"I won't."

They sat, watching the moon reappear from the shadow of the world, until Nalia got up to use the privy. “I've been thinking,” Scrornuck said.

"Generally a useful activity,” Jape replied. “About anything in particular?"

"That supply world you talked about yesterday. It's all machines, right?"

"Probably. Haven't visited, so I can't say for sure."

"Machines break down.” Scrornuck remembered well the continuous struggles to keep his old bikes running.

"Eventually."

"What happens then? These people get everything from the Temple. They can't even feed themselves."

"That's not really our concern, Mister Saughblade."

"Maybe it should be. We say we're here to save the world, but if somebody doesn't teach these people to grow their own food, I don't think we're saving anything."

Jape shrugged. “Short of settling down here and teaching the people farming, what do you suggest?"

"I don't know. I just think we should do something."

"I think we should get some sleep. If we don't take care of Draggott and the Orb tomorrow, Taupeaquaah won't have a future to worry about.” With that, Jape headed for his tent and was soon asleep.

Nalia soon returned and sat down next to Scrornuck. He sighed. “Tomorrow's going to be nasty."

"Maybe not,” she replied. “Taupeaquaahns are pretty peaceful."

"Our late friend the Captain said Draggott taught her people to kill. Tomorrow's going to be a war, not a nice, civilized little duel."

"We still outnumber them—the Army's over a thousand, and the disappearances and kidnappings only add up to about four hundred."

"I'm not sure that matters,” Scrornuck said. “If Draggott controls his soldiers through the Orb, they'll be ruthless. If the Taupeaquaahns don't fight for real..."

"You'll protect them,” she said confidently.

"Yeah.” He gazed across the dunes at the Army's camp, the castle, and the Orb. “If they don't kill me first. Back at the pub, I heard people saying I should be marched back to the Temple and sacrificed. They figure this whole thing's my fault ‘cause I wouldn't give the lizard my boots.” He let out a long sigh. “Twice in one week. Sometimes this job just sucks."

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Scrornuck awoke from a fitful sleep. He'd spent the night tossing and turning, grinding his forearms into the coarse sand as he sought relief from a fiendish itching. Sometime after the lunar eclipse ended, Nalia had given up trying to share the blanket and retired to her tent, leaving him to squirm and mutter in his sleep.

Now, just after dawn, he felt like crap. His nose was clogged, his vision was blurred and his face felt puffy, like he'd spent the night sleeping in a field of Kansasian Sneezeweed. Gotta find some food, he thought, sitting up and groping for the pack. Two beers remained in the cooler. He opened one and drank, hoping the heavy stout had some nutritional value. To his surprise, he felt a little better.
Hair of the dog.
He drank the second beer, and felt better still as his nose started working.