Shadows of Hyperion: Chapter 6

DuQuesne conducts an interesting experiment, and a discussion with Orphan about a dead Champion...

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Chapter 6.

Orphan held his head slightly tilted, one hand absently stroking his crest on that side. "Please repeat that, Doctor DuQuesne. I want to be sure I understand what you are asking."

 

"I want to find out if I can read your mind – with your permission. Telepathy, in other words. The ability to directly make contact with another mind through no physical intermediary or technological aid such as the implanted radio-contact devices we all have used at one point or another." DuQuesne considered, then gave a cynical grin. "Well, aside from the Arena's technology, which I would presume is actually behind this."

 

Orphan drew back from DuQuesne; it was a subtle thing, almost a compression of the alien's body rather than an actual movement, but DuQuesne was sure of what he was seeing.

 

They were alone in one of the private conference rooms – the most assured private location DuQuesne could arrange at short notice. He'd made sure that there were no bugs of any sort he could detect, and Wu Kung had done his own sniffing around for any form of "magical" influence – not, he devoutly hoped, that there should be any, but none of them really knew, for example, the limits of the Shadeweavers or the Faith.

 

Orphan relaxed a fraction. "This is also a power you believe you have? Similar to the unheard-of abilities I observed on Halintratha and later on board my own Zounin-Ginjou?"

 

"I know I have this ability with my own people," DuQuesne said. Normally he'd have tried to dance around things, but he was asking Orphan to take a risk even human beings might be really reluctant to take; they'd already agreed part of his payment was knowledge. "I've tested it with Ariane, Simon, a couple others. What I haven't done is used it on any alien species."

 

"Ah, Doctor, it becomes more clear. You have need to know whether this power will work on such, and yet an equally strong need to keep the secret of your impossible powers from others. Thus… myself as the only reasonable candidate."

 

"As usual, got it in one, Orphan. Even Relgof, while he's seen some strange things, doesn't have the faintest idea of what's really going on. You were the one who introduced us to Vindatri; you even figured out what was strange about us before we did."

 

"Indeed." Orphan leaned back, studying DuQuesne narrowly out of dark alien eyes; his disturbingly humanoid face was even more immobile than usual, betraying nothing of his thoughts. "And if I say I decline to participate in this little experiment?"

 

"Then I shrug, maybe curse a little, and start trying to figure out who I can go to next while revealing as little as I can, I guess. Not going to force you to do it, Orphan."

 

"Nor, in honesty, would I expect you to." Orphan rose and paced for a few moments, his tail twitching, his wingcases tight. DuQuesne saw his hands unconsciously make the outward flick that meant no at least once. "When you say 'read my mind', what exactly would you expect? What would you 'read', and what would I sense?"

 

"The idea – and the way it works with my own people – is that it's not much more than you'd get by talking. I'd probably pick up a few side-thoughts that you didn't direct at me, but no deep secrets, and I'd be concentrating on only straight-up communication. You'd just get words and images and I'd get the same."

 

"Dangers?"

 

"Minimal to you. We strained our abilities in that last battle, so there may be some to me. Partly I want to learn how much harder it is to connect with an alien mind than a human one, just in case I have to."

 

Orphan went momentarily still. Then his wingcases relaxed and he tapped his hands together in a yes that seemed to indicate not assent, but understanding. "Byto Kalan's murder. You were present, and you do not intend to leave it as it was."

 

Always knew he was sharp. Never underestimate this guy. "On the beam and in the green," he agreed.

 

"And you think this may help?"

 

"Help now, I don't know. It's more that it could have helped, if I'd known I could do it safely."

 

"Hm, yes, I see." Orphan gazed up and out, then looked back to DuQuesne and tapped his hands again. "Very well, Doctor DuQuesne. You have been candid with me, and I have gained some most interesting information already. If you do discover, inadvertently, any secrets you know I would rather not have disclosed, I will expect that you will find a way to reciprocate?"

 

DuQuesne considered a moment. Orphan's request was not, really, unreasonable. The true currency of the Arena was secrets – information you held and could control. "As long as I don't think you tried to shove those secrets out in order to get paid for them. Deal."

 

"My, Doctor DuQuesne, you have gained the appropriately suspicious attitude. Well stated." Orphan's half-bow was completely unironic; he respected someone who played the game well. "So, is there anything I need do?"

 

"Relax and if you feel something odd, try not to fight it. If it hurts, of course, tell me right away."

 

"I most assuredly will."

 

DuQuesne closed his eyes, relaxed his body. Then he reached out, looking for a mind.

 

Immediately he felt tension somewhere within him, but not – at least yet – at a painful level, and he sensed indeed there was a mind nearby, one whose surface sensations were strong – the emanations of a mind of some power, even if untapped.

 

Reach out, find the way to fit my mind to theirs, to speak to their mind as I do to Ariane's…

 

The strain increased, spiking suddenly to pain – but for an instant, he sensed an intelligence, one startled to perceive DuQuesne there, within his own mind. He had a momentary impression of a vast mansion, a fortress, a lonely place of discipline and longing and fear and hope, and within, a burning spirit of such intensity that he felt almost as dazzled as when he had first looked upon Ariane's mind.

 

Then he found himself being helped back into his chair. "DuQuesne! Doctor, are you well? Must I summon assistance?"

 

He got a grip on the edge of the table, metal cool and rigid beneath his fingers, stabilized himself and sagged into the chair. "Gimme… a second to catch… my breath."

 

Red pulses of pain echoed through his head, only slowly fading. "Well. That answers that question." He blinked his eyes, managed to focus on Orphan, on whose alien face he could still discern signs of worry. "You okay, Orphan?"

 

"I? I am… uninjured, Doctor." The Leader of the Faction of the Liberated stood slowly and backed off a pace, giving DuQuesne a bit of room. "But I did… feel something. Hear something. See something." A quick flash of the wings, a nervous laugh. "Ahh, Doctor, words are inadequate for that experience, I think."

 

"Yeah. Yeah, a mind-to-mind link isn't something easy to put into words. Can I ask what you felt or saw?"

 

"Truly, Doctor, I do not think I am adequate to the task. I shall assay it, however." Orphan paused, wingcases fluttering, body wavering between tension and what seemed excitement. "I saw… a great light, a light that contained pain and loss, triumph and failure, and a whirling dark of secrets of what seemed to be more worlds than I have ever imagined. It was… both joyful, and sad, and cold as the winds of the Arena's storms. It was, indubitably… you, Doctor, but even my words are truly insufficient to convey the shock of the moment."

 

"Huh. Don't know if I warrant that much poetic license, but if that's what you saw… Okay. I saw… well, a fortress of a mind, protecting something so precious that the value alone was enough to break a heart or three."

 

The crested head tilted. "Brief… yet I think I may understand what you mean. So, you have answered your question, then?"

 

"Not the way I'd hoped, but yeah. If I was in good shape, I could link up with alien minds with a little effort. In my current state, I would hurt or kill myself if I really tried hard – and I'd have to try hard, at this point. Later on, it should be easier. Maybe we'll revisit this in a few months."

 

"I am highly intrigued, Doctor. You can count on my assistance in that event."

 

"Good." He sat up a little straighter, focused some meditations to dull the pain, drive it back. Hope I haven't done any actual damage. "So, you got any angle on what happened to Byto?"

 

"Any 'angle'? You mean, do I have any particular view of interest to provide?" Orphan re-seated himself in the chair that fit his particular anatomy. "I do not know, in truth. It seems evident to me that his murder was well-planned, yet rushed in some fashion. A truly, properly timed and executed assassination would have ensured he was very dead, not left him wounded yet with some deteriorating functionality."

 

"Hm. You mean, whoever it was planned to kill him, and had even gotten the basic setup down, but they planned to execute the plan later and something forced their hand?"

 

"Precisely, Doctor. My sources say that there was little-to-no evidence of the actual assailant present, which speaks well to their foresight and preparation. Yet they failed to actually kill their target. Either Byto managed to drive them off unexpectedly, or someone interrupted the attack in some fashion."

 

"And if he'd fought them in any way, there'd probably have been more evidence – something on his horn, under the nails, something." DuQuesne thought about that. "Someone spooked 'em before they could finish Byto off. Someone…" it became clearer. "… someone who didn't know they were doing that, or they'd have come forward already."

 

Then he shook his head. "Eh, maybe, but they're certainly researching all the people who went through that area. Just being questioned about it would jog just about anyone's memories."

 

"That is true," Orphan said, but his voice held the deeply ironic tone he often used when pointing out something he found particularly amusing, "but I believe you are missing the more likely explanation.

 

"The person had something else to hide. And so, while they may know something about who and what killed Byto Kalan… they have a very good reason to never speak of it to anyone."

 

DuQuesne smacked his forehead, eliciting a momentary jolt of red pain. "Ow! Blast it, you're right. You've got to be right, Orphan."

 

The challenge before them loomed larger, even as it became clearer. "And that means we've got to find the list of all the people who passed through there – a hell of a number, I'd guess – and then figure which one of them has a secret so big that even murder isn't enough to make 'em talk!"

 

Orphan looked abstracted. "Indeed. Although there is one other explanation… to me, perhaps, the most interesting one."

 

DuQuesne felt one eyebrow rise. "Okay, hit me with it."

 

"What if," Orphan said slowly, "the killer chose not to finish Byto?"