The Dragon Never Sleeps

— 17 —

"Station is secure," the air told WarAvocat. Strate had moved to WarCentral, brain and heart of VII Gemina in combat. It made no difference where he was physically, but his presence there had symbolic value.

"Loyal personnel have been liberated. Little damage was done the physical plant."

"The data banks?"

"Sound and secure, sir."

"Very good. Prisoners?"

"Five percent per SOP. Random sample."

"Very good." WarAvocat preened. "Prep station for return to service. Send the captives over. What's your casualty status?"

"Zero for Medical. They weren't set for a real fight."

"Excellent." WarAvocat turned his attention to the world below, where operations were going as smoothly. Rabble never put up a fight against professionals.

That could take care of itself. He needed rest. He went to the space reserved, said, "Access, WarCentral furnishings. Close the WarAvocat's night room." Fantasy walls snapped into existence. "Give me a bed."

The floor crept, coalesced, softened, rose. Hanaver Strate stretched himself out. He fell asleep in seconds.

A soft buzz wakened Strate. "Yes?"

"Noon reports from Peacekeeper One, WarAvocat."

"Very well." He rose, smoothed his apparel, ran thin, bony fingers through his hair. Two hours here was worth six in a normal bed. Gemina reached in and reworked the sleeping body, eased the tensions, hastened the outflow of fatigue poisons.

Noon reports. Merod Schene's day ran only a few hours ahead of VII Gemina's. It would be early afternoon down there, just twelve hours after the first troops grounded.

An aide awaited Strate, walked with him. "No bad news?"

"No bad news, sir. Peacekeeper One is ahead of schedule with casualties nominal. The insurrectionists were unable to acquire significant portions of the garrison arsenal. Merod Schene is ninety percent secure. I and I have begun sifting survivors. Peacekeeper One has requested hospital and reconstruction units. He's dispatched his primary combat forces to satellite towns, mineheads and agricultural complexes where the insurrectionists routed the authorities. Our speed in recovering those facilities seems limited to the speed of personnel carriers in atmosphere at six hundred thirty millibars."

WarAvocat awarded the joke a chuckle. He seated himself at his command station. "Review noon reports," he told his desk.

The operation constituted an exercise. Most casualties had come accidentally, not by enemy action. He was into the I & I data before he found anything interesting. "Deified? Question."

His fellow Dictat, Ansehl Ronygos, materialized on a small screen. "Yes?"

"What's an Immune?"

"Immune is an honorary title from the lower social orders, usually indicating an unofficial magistrate. An Immune has no legal standing but his word acts like law. Most Immunes are too strong, too tough, or too crazy to meddle with. Occasionally one is proclaimed for wisdom or artistic value. Immunity indicates a popular consensus that an individual be exempt from the hazards of lawlessness."

"Apparently the Immunes of Merod Schene opposed the insurrection."

"Yes."

"They tried to give warning that a blowup was coming."

"Yes."

"And the Deified are interested in these Immunes?"

"In one in particular. Possibly."

WarAvocat awaited clarification. None was forthcoming. Sometimes the Deified were that way.

He released the requested hospital and construction units, then reviewed the data from station. He gleaned seven prior visas issued to the krekelen. Two had not been known to Glorious Spent, nor recalled by the beast itself. The additions gave WarAvocat a solid picture of VII Gemina's future course.

He hoped VII Gemina would not have to clean up every world along the way.

"Access, Peacekeeper One."

The commander of the landing force came back in seconds. "Yes, WarAvocat?"

"You have custody of locals called Immunes?"

"Yes, sir."

"The Deified are interested. Send them up."

"Will do, WarAvocat."

Hanaver Strate leaned back, closed his eyes, tried to imagine what those electronic spooks were up to now.

The night terminator had reached Merod Schene before the detainees arrived. WarAvocat inquired, "Deified, where do you want to interview the detainees?"

"Hall of Decision."

Startled, he examined the speaker. He did not know her. Her apparel proclaimed her one of the oldest Deified. First Millennium.

Strate reached Hall of Decision before the detainees. The old-time Deified were very interested. He spied several who had not appeared for the show with the krekelen and Commander Haget. Many lost interest in the outer reality after a few centuries in Gemina's bosom.

What brought them out now?

One awed junior officer delivered the detainees to Strate as the only living being present. "What's wrong with that one?" WarAvocat asked, indicating a woman in apparent catatonia.

"I don't know, sir. About seventy klicks out she started screaming. Then that."

"I see."

"The others didn't know what was wrong."

"Uhm?" Strate ordered an envelope of silence and a security shield, then climbed to his Dictat's throne. He considered the detainees. With one exception they seemed overwhelmed.

"Deified? You wished to examine these... people?" It was hard to regard them that way.

Ansehl Ronygos suggested, "Relax the silence."

Strate reiterated the request as an order. The system would have responded to Ronygos directly, but the Deified liked to nag the living for having introduced unbreakable routines that prevented them from issuing edicts and making decisions without the consent of the living.

VII Gemina was trying to avoid troubles that had befallen other Guardships. XII Fulminata, without restraints upon its Deified, had gone cold and weird, ruthless, merciless, and almost suicidally fearless. IV Trajana was the spookiest of all Guardships, having subsumed its crew completely. Afterward, it had climbed onto the Web and been heard from again only briefly during the Enherrenraat incident.

Some thought IV Trajana was hunting the Presence that lived on the Web and appeared to be responsible for the disappearance of so many ships. Possibly. Ages ago VI Adjutrix had gone seeking the ends of the Web, which extended far beyond Canon space.

Ronygos said, "Let's have their names and origins."

The young officer hurried through the list. With one exception they were aliens or artifacts. How did the aliens get to V. Rothica 4? Were phantom Travelers a problem again?

Several First Millennium Deified descended upon the detainees. They surrounded the one who seemed unimpressed. Then the old spooks just stood there staring.

WarAvocat checked the detainee's number. "Access, Gemina. Review the file on detainee number five."

A whisper in his ear: "Name, Turtle. Origin: Alien, species uncertain, probably Ku. May be an artifact. No other data available."

"Curious," WarAvocat mused aloud, watching the old Deified. Why was Gemina reticent about what was troubling them?