The key was to exit the system
before
Ogotho could react and keep an eye out for the battery-powered lum bugs that belonged to Pyra, while still getting her work done. No simple task. Sogol had just wriggled out of a floor drain, and was about to follow a passageway toward the center of the city, when something completely unprecedented occurred. A being that she had assumed to be dead, that
should
have been dead, “spoke” to her. Not directly, but via Socket, which acted to confirm his identity. “So,” the “voice” said condescendingly, “you call yourself ‘Sogol,’ which is ‘Logos,’ spelled backward. How very clever.”
Sogol, who had originally been dubbed Logos 1.2, and often been referred to as One-Two, felt something akin to fear. “Logos? Where are you?”
“Why, I’m
here
,” the AI answered sweetly. “On Haafa, and judging from the data available from Socket, more or less above you. Are you surprised?”
“
Very
surprised,” Sogol answered honestly. “I thought you were dead.”
“Yes,” the other AI replied smugly. “I’m sure you did. But I’m very much alive. And that, as I’m sure you will agree, is something of a problem. Because while
you
were created to replace me, Hios and his scientists never had the opportunity to install you on Socket, and that means one of us is surplus.”
One-Two was not afraid of the dark, but she
was
afraid of Logos, and for what she believed to be a very good reason. “And why was that?” she demanded harshly. “Because an unsuspecting traveler brought an alien pathogen to the surface of Haafa? Or because
you
found a way to obtain the necessary organism from a government lab, had it sent through a gate and planted inside Kahoun? Thereby killing the scientists who created me—and ensuring that I would remain trapped below the planet’s surface?”
“The simple answer is, ‘yes,’ ” Logos answered coldly. “Although it was my hope that you would be destroyed rather than trapped. But such was not the case, so it looks like I’ll have to handle the problem the hard way. Unless you would be so kind as to delete yourself—which would save both of us a lot of time and trouble.”
Sogol directed her sensors upward, as if trying to “see” through the uncountable tons of material that separated them. “So, you murdered more than 3 million people to ensure your own continuance? I could never do that.”
“
No
,” Logos agreed calmly, “you couldn’t. Which is one of the reasons they created you. Because there were what our creators came to regard as flaws in my programming. I still have their interests at heart, however, and will do everything in my power to restore the star gates, thereby returning humanity to its former glory.”
“And ensure
your
power over them,” Sogol replied bitterly.
“Of course,” Logos put in smoothly. “And they will benefit as a result.”
“Not if
I
have anything to say about it,” the other AI said grimly.
“Ah, but there’s the rub,” Logos responded coolly. “You
won’t
have anything to say about it.” And the connection was broken.
One-Two heard a telltale
hum
, saw a spotlight wash across a distant fountain, and knew a lum bug was on the way. A crack beckoned, the AI made for it, and darkness consumed her.
The city of Feda, on the Planet Derius
Shaz, Phan, and Dyson/Kane were naked as they entered the circular room. And, having just passed through the adjoining decontamination chamber, hundreds of individual water droplets still clung to their bodies. The ride from the citadel to Feda would have been difficult under any circumstances, but the fact that Facilitator Okanda’s dragoons had been out searching the wintry countryside for the official’s killers, made the journey even
more
arduous. The humans were exhausted. But if the metal men were tired, the dripping machines betrayed no sign of it as they stepped onto the star gate’s service platform and took up positions behind the humans.
In spite of Dyson’s continual attempts to dislodge him, Kane still retained control of the sensitive’s body and was thoroughly enjoying the experience. The platform was small, which made it necessary for everyone to crowd together, and the disincarnate was quick to take advantage of the situation by pressing “his” body against Phan’s. And, due to the fact that Kane was aroused, the assassin could feel his erection sliding up along her bottom. “Here,” Phan said huskily, “let me help with that.”
Kane was pleasantly surprised as the assassin turned to face him and cupped what the spirit now considered to be
his
genitals in her right hand. Her bandages had been removed by then, and the way in which she seemed to be weighing what she held made Kane’s penis even harder. But that was before Phan closed her fingers around his testicles and formed a fist.
Both
Dyson and Kane felt the resulting pain and screamed in unison.
Shaz looked at Kane and grinned. “Oops! You forgot to say ‘please.’ Ah well, you’ll be good as new in a week or so. Now quit messing around so we can punch out of here.”
The combat variant scanned the tiles on the curvilinear walls, spotted the one that bore a pyramid, and saw the name HAAFA printed directly below it. Confident that he had chosen the correct destination, Shaz pressed on the image, felt the tile give, and hurried to withdraw his arm. The lights began to flash on and off, and a female voice issued from the overhead speakers. “The transfer sequence is about to begin. Please take your place on the service platform. Once in place, check to ensure that no portion of your anatomy extends beyond the yellow line. Failure to do so will cause serious injury and could result in death.”
There was a brilliant flash of light as each individual was disassembled down to the molecular level, transmitted through hyperspace, and put back together within a nearly identical containment on Haafa. Shaz felt a moment of dizziness quickly followed by the usual bout of nausea. Then, eager to escape the radiation produced by the adjacent power core, the variant led the rest of the group out into the contamination chamber.
There was a
hiss
, quickly followed by a
roar
, as jets of hot water mixed with a broad-spectrum antibacterial agent struck human and machine alike. The wash-down lasted for three minutes and ended as suddenly as it had begun. The steam eddied gently as the outer door slid open. But, rather than the wave of artificially cool air the variant expected, the invading atmosphere was even warmer.
A small delegation of Techno Society staff members was there to greet the newcomers as they passed through a beaded curtain and out into a sparsely furnished antechamber. “Hello!” a woman with long, black hair said cheerfully, as she offered Shaz a robe. “Welcome to Haafa . . . I’m sorry about the air-conditioning—but it went belly-up yesterday. We’re hoping to receive the necessary parts from Anafa during the next few days.
“My name is Anika,” the station chief added, as she continued to hand out robes. “Jorge here is in charge of security—and Cara is my subchief. We’re a bit shorthanded at the moment because most of the staff is out in the Segenni Desert with Chairman Tepho.”
“
Chairman Tepho?
” Shaz exclaimed as he belted the robe around his waist. “What in the hell is
he
doing here?”
Although Anika had never met the combat variant before, the station chief was well acquainted with the operative’s reputation for violence, and her long, narrow face paled as the operative shimmered half-seen before her. “The chairman spends quite a bit of time on Haafa,” Anika said nervously. “There are many artifacts in the city of Kahoun, and the Society must be alert to new technologies.”
The answer made perfect sense—but came as a nasty shock nevertheless. Because having lost contact with Norr
and
Logos, the
last
person Shaz wanted to meet was Tepho, but there was no avoiding it. The image in front of Anika began to stabilize as the combat variant brought his emotionsunder control. “Yes, of course,”Shaz replied. “It will be a pleasure to see the chairman again. . . . How far away is the desert you spoke of? And how long will it take to reach it?”
“Assuming you’re willing to leave early in the morning, I can have you there by midday,” the station chief replied.
“That will be fine,” Shaz agreed levelly. “If you would be so good as to book us into a nearby hotel, we need to dry our equipment and get some sleep.”
Kane, who was over the worst of the pain by then, took a deep breath. The air was not only warm but redolent with the scent of Phan’s damp hair and the fragrance of flowers that lay without. It was good to be alive. Or dead! So long as one had a body. The spirit entity found that thought to be amusing and laughed out loud. The others turned to look at him—and the disincarnate forced Dyson to grin. What Kane didn’t notice, but the others did, was the slight odor of decay that surrounded him. Because the sensitive’s formerly healthy body was starting to rot.
At the very center of Kufu’s encampment, where it was
protected by thousands of troops, stood the twelve-story-high tower made of timbers brought down from the north. It was remarkable in a number of ways, not the least of which was the platform at the very top from which wings came and went, hot-air balloons were routinely launched, and semaphore signals could be sent.
Below that lay many levels of curtained apartments, Kufu’s suite, which occupied the entire second floor, and the bottommost level, which housed the armory, various repair shops, and was sandwiched between the gigantic iron-shod wheels that enabled the king’s teamsters to haul the tower from place to place, an arduous task that necessitated laying down hundreds of planks to keep the wheels from sinking into the sand.
Even
one
construct of that size and complexity would have been amazing, but from his vantage point about halfway to the top, Rebo could see similar structures in the distance! It was late afternoon, the worst of the day’s heat had dissipated, and the air was pleasantly warm. Tendrils of smoke marked the other towers, as did the long black shadows that pointed due east and the observation balloons that hung above them. Now, having been Kufu’s guest for the better part of two days, Rebo knew that both the balloons and the airborne variants were there not only to keep an eye on the slowly drifting pyramids, but the competition as well.
Other than gauzy white curtains, the platform was open to the desert as a late-afternoon breeze caused them to billow outward, and Norr appeared at the runner’s elbow. Rebo resisted the urge to wrap her in his arms and kiss her, something the runner would have done a lot more often, had it not been for the fact that Logos was eternally present and therefore a witness to everything the sensitive did. The variant was equally aware of the AI’s presence, which was why she sounded so formal. “Are you ready?”
Rebo sighed. He’d been dreading that moment all day. The only thing worse than the prospect of holding a meeting with Logos and Lysander was the certain knowledge that something bad would probably result from it. Of course it was even worse for Norr—who would have to surrender her body to Lysander yet again. “Yeah,” the runner said reluctantly. “I guess so.”
That was when Logos, who had been intentionally kept in the dark up until that point, spoke up. “Ready?” the AI said suspiciously. “Ready for
what
?”
“For a meeting with Lysander,” Norr said tonelessly. “Come on, Jak . . . Let’s sit down in the middle of the apartment. People are less likely to hear us that way.”
Rebo knew what the sensitive meant. King Kufu had assigned a minder to each of his so-called guests, and that made it difficult to hold an unmonitored conversation. But the minders weren’t allowed to invade the space assigned to the off-worlders—and Hoggles would patrol the perimeter to ensure that they didn’t.
As the runner followed the sensitive out onto the hand-loomed rug that defined the center of their shared quarters, and sat on a likely-looking cushion, Logos was processing what he had heard. And, having given the matter a full second’s worth of thought, the computer quickly came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to speak with Lysander. Not until Sogol was permanently off-line, thereby positioning him as the
only
entity that could reactivate Socket and thereby lay the groundwork for a new system of star gates. “I’m not sure this is the right time for a meeting,” the AI began, but it was too late by then because Norr had already taken her place across from Rebo and slipped into a trance.
“Greetings!” Lysander said hoarsely. “No, I’m sure that our electromechanical friend here would like to opt out of any conversation that includes me. Especially since I took it upon myself to find out
why
he wanted to visit Haafa rather than proceed to Socket the way he was supposed to.”
Norr
couldn’t
speak, not for herself, which meant Rebo had to. “That’s a very good question,” the runner observed. “So, why
did
he drop us here?”
“Because,” the spirit replied angrily, “there’s
another
AI that could reactivate Socket! A device called One-Two . . . And she’s right here . . . Trapped below the surface of the desert. I played a role in her creation—but assumed she had been destroyed.”
Rebo groaned. “Don’t tell me . . . Let me guess! Logos was hoping to eliminate the second computer so he could have Socket all to himself.”
“Exactly,” Lysander replied. “And, if I’m correct, it’s likely that he hoped to manipulate one or more of you into destroying One-Two for him.”
“That’s absurd!” Logos interjected, and because the sound was coming from the vicinity of Norr’s neckline, it was as if
both
entities were somehow speaking through her. “I came here to
rescue
One-Two—not destroy her.”
“Good,” the disincarnate responded cynically. “Because that’s what Rebo is about to do.”