Shadows of Hyperion: Chapter 4

And it's time to introduce a new complication...

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Chapter 4.

DuQuesne watched as electrical sparks crawled around Davia's hand, and pretended not to see the tears trickling down the young-looking face.

 

They were sitting in a private meeting room. The main part of the debrief, summarizing the events of the last year or so from the crew's point of view, had taken quite a bit of time, but Ariane had decided that the more personal parts of the debrief, especially the revelation that the Hyperions were gifted with the abilities of their fictional worlds, was something that needed less of an audience.

 

As usual, she'd been right.

 

"Dy-namic," Davia whispered, then blushed in embarrassment. "But… damn. Marc, I…" she trailed off.

 

"Yeah. When I realized that I could be everything I had been, it hit me the same way. Brought the whole damned past right back into my head."

 

She nodded, still staring at the brilliant light display. "But we don't get the past with the powers. Don't see Rich Seaton anywhere, or Wu's friends. Right?"

 

"Yeah," he said, and the thought of Seaton weighed down on him again. Maybe I'll never really stop missing him, DuQuesne admitted to himself. We were a team like no other. "Yeah, we get back what we were, but that doesn't get back the world and people we knew."

 

"Farrin, Jyrie, Sakura…" she trailed off. "Eh. I guess the real problem is I let all that go decades ago, Marc, and now here it is. So, you figured all that out from Wu going Doolittle on our Upper Sphere?"

 

"Not just that – there were more clues – but yeah, that was my first inkling. And it was a good thing, too." He finished summarizing the more spectacular recent events, including the godlike Vindatri, his defeat and return as an ally, and the details of the confrontation with the Molothos. "Then we just recently found out – from Wu – that we'd overstrained ourselves with our powers, so it'll be a while before we can do much with them. Stroke of luck you showed up when you did."

 

"Luck," Davia mused. "Always had it in my world, but you say we all have it here?"

 

"As near as I can figure. I mean, it sounds crazier than a whole hotel full of bedbugs, but both Orphan and Vindatri believed it, and neither of them is anything less than a Big-Time Operator, believe you me. And the evidence is pretty convincing… even if it's damned creepy, to use one of Ariane's favorite words."

 

Davia took a deep breath, let it out with a whoosh. "Well, I'll just have to get used to all this. What do you people want me to do, then? Sounds like you need some backup, with all of you benched."

 

"That part isn't so bad," DuQuesne said with a chuckle. "Not like we were either going to advertise our powers, or use 'em casually. No, the real issue as I see it – and I think the Captain will back me – is that until now we didn't have anyone with that kind of secret muscle that we could really send back home for any length of time. Simon and I, we're almost as well-known as Ariane, and we've got a lot of connections here."

 

Some of them more obvious than others. Hell, I'm supposed to meet up with Byto Kalan in a little while, and while our meetings are usually just friendly, they've got diplomatic aspects to them, too; he said there was something he needed to discuss with me this time. Given that Byto was a well-known Champion in the various Challenges, that wasn't so surprising; Champions by their nature also made great neutral messengers for communications that you wanted to be deniable in case things went wrong.

 

Davia raised her eyebrows. "But what good would I do back there? I mean, sure, I might be a little tougher than average, but –"

 

DuQuesne thought back over the dialogue they'd had. "Huh, I guess I did compress it too much. Dav, our powers work in the regular universe too, now that we've awakened 'em here. At least, I'll bet you fun, money, chalk, or marbles that they do. Ariane's powers work just fine both places."

 

"You mean it? That's a shock!" She grinned as sparks chased themselves around her hand again. "Seriously, that's actually… scary. Thought I'd gotten used to the rules of the real world, and now this Arena changes them back. So, what do you want me to do?"

 

"Hold on a sec. Ariane?"

 

A green com-ball popped into existence, the shimmering sphere of light flickering red for just a moment before the Captain's voice answered. "Yes, Marc?"

 

"You got a minute?"

 

"If it's about Davia, yes. I'm wading through some of the metaphorical paperwork that piled up while we were elsewhere, so not if it's something less urgent."

 

"Got it in one. Mind if I go mind-to-mind on you for a sec?"

 

"It won't hurt you, will it?"

 

"Don't think so – doing a telepathic communication to someone a hundred yards or so away should be about the same as you moving a glass of water, and Wu said we should use our powers a little."

 

"Then go ahead. Stop right away if it hurts, though."

 

"Believe you me, I'm not risking my brain just for convenience."

 

But though he felt some kind of phantom strain, somewhere within his skull, the telepathic link brought no pain, just the warm sense of Ariane Stephanie Austin closer than any ordinary contact would allow.

 

The telepathic exchange was detailed, but – from an outsider's point of view – lasted barely an instant. He ended it with a private thought of affection and a promise that he'd stop by to see her later, after his meeting with Byto.

 

Turning back to Davia, he nodded. "Ariane says what we really need is an agent back in the System – someone who can help Saul, Robert Fenelon, and General Esterhauer get things done, and keep them safe. Our little compromise that resolved the conflicts between Ariane and the CSF/SSC is still pretty shaky, and now that we know there's one of our old AIs out there trying to play the assassin card? I don't want to rely on anyone else, not even Tunuvun and his people."

 

"You trust them? Or not?"

 

"Tunuvun? Well, Wu trusts him, and that means a lot. And from what you said, he just got himself almost killed saving Saul. So yeah, I trust him, and he and the other Genasi are tough customers, no doubt. But…"

 

She grinned. "But even so, they're no match for the Dynamo?"

 

He laughed. "Don't think anyone there is, except just maybe another Hyperion – and anyone who hasn't gotten the briefing won't know they can have special powers."

 

"Okay," Davia said, "Then I guess I'd better head back to Saul, report what I've learned, and check to see if he agrees with your assigning me to be a sort of watchdog."

 

"You don't mind?"

 

"Mind? DuQuesne, this was the kind of thing my old crew was meant for. Sounds like a good fit for me while I adjust to the changes. If I think it's gonna be boring, I'll let you know. I'm guessing this renegade AI will keep it hopping, though."

 

He nodded and grinned back, then gripped her hand. "You take care, Dav. We'll all stop back there soon and have a long, loud shindig for all us survivors. We've earned it."

 

"You can shout that to the heavens!" she said. "Okay, see you soon!"

 

Like any good courier, she didn't dally. Gold badge glinting from her collar, she darted away as soon as the two of them left the Embassy, with a wave and a smile.

 

DuQuesne waved and smiled back, and turned towards the Docks, which was where Byto had arranged to meet. Professional Champions of the Arena's Challenges were an odd lot; technically, most of them were members of one Faction or another, but in practice they were a sort of breed apart, with their own traditions and practices. This meant that often they preferred not to meet at their Faction's Embassy, and if they wanted to discuss something … delicate, would pick even less conventional places.

 

There were a number of meeting places on the Docks that provided secure locations for games, conversation, and business – or all three – while also offering a spectacular view. One of these, called "Veringthe", was Byto's favorite spot to play a game of Racing Chance – the private version, where you had racers simulated by the Arena rather than the real thing, but could bet and influence the game the same way. It afforded a very fine view of one of the Docks.

 

Traveling through the Arena itself was generally without incident. That didn't mean, of course, that he was unobserved; his size and human appearance drew stares, and those who recognized him had more reason to be both interested and cautious. This was the human who'd beaten the Molothos and thrown the corpse of one of the invaders straight into the face of Dajzail. No, anonymity wasn't going to be something he could expect here.

 

Nonetheless, the walk through the Embassy area and past the elevators that led to Transition was uneventful. He ratcheted up his observation and caution quite a bit as he passed through a huge doorway and arrived on the Docks proper, because while the Arena frowned on, and generally prevented, significant violence within Nexus Arena, the Docks were not considered to be "within" Nexus Arena. Violence could, and sometimes did, happen on the Docks, and with the number of enemies Humanity had already acquired, DuQuesne knew he'd be a fool not to assume he could be targeted.

 

At the thought, he grinned inwardly. Of course, anyone targeting me doesn't have the faintest clue in Hades of what they'd be getting into!

 

He reached Veringthe without so much as a hint of trouble, however, and in a few moments was settling into his chair in the private room Byto had reserved, sipping at what was a pretty good imitation of a mint julep. He leaned back and relaxed, waiting for Byto to arrive, thinking about everything that had happened in the last few days. The recovery from the battle, Ariane's gambit for peace, and now Davia. There was a lot to think about.

 

Finally, it dawned on him that he'd finished his julep, and Byto still wasn't there. DuQuesne sat up slowly. That's not like Byto. The alien Champion might look like a grouchy, bipedal rhinocerous, but like most of the Dujuin he was actually a considered and considerate being, and punctuality was one of his virtues; after all, you didn't do well in a Challenge if you didn't show up when expected.

 

Odd that he didn't call if he was going to be held up. Then again, if whatever had stalled him happened after DuQuesne got to the Docks, he might not have been able to. Might as well give it a try, anyway. "Byto Kalan," he said to the air.

 

A ball of green light shimmered into existence… then flickered, fuzzed out, became a smear of green barely visible in the air.

 

"What in the name of…?" DuQuesne glared uneasily at the faint light; he had never seen anything like this before. Either the Arena made the connection, or it didn't, and if the recipient didn't want to talk to you, the comm-ball didn't act like an old TV screen filled with static, it went bright red.

 

Then he heard the screams from downstairs.

 

He burst out of the door and hurdled the balcony ledge outside, dropping ten meters to land on the ground floor.

 

Lying half-in, half-out of the entryway was Byto Kalan, deep-purple blood pooling around him.

 

DuQuesne knelt beside the Dujuin Champion. He was barely conscious, and Byto's small, dark eye slowly opened and focused. "Du…Quesne…" he breathed.

 

"What happened? Who did this?"

 

"Stop… it…" The last word ended in a hiss of air, and the eye closed.

 

"BYTO!"