Shadow Over Avalon (36 page)

Shadow edged to the torch fallen just out of her reach. The movement set off another attack, aimed at belly height this time. Had she been standing . . . Slowly, she backed away on hands and knees, abandoning the torch as irretrievable. Light might have triggered the mechanism, possibly movement and sound. Remove the light and reduce the risk of detecting movement, but sound . . . Shadow froze, concentrating on the torch. It lifted under the power of her will, advancing straight through the portal as far and as fast as she could hurl it. A sharp detonation sounded, but she didn’t turn to look, fleeing at full speed into the darkness.

Shadow had plenty of time to dissect the incident during the long walk back to barracks. If any thought to question why ‘Evegena’ chose to frequent sidewalks instead of using transport, none were foolish enough to ask outright. Being caught accessing Sanctuary would be bad enough by itself, but the other offense . . . no, not a good idea. Bad policy to try to pick through records as something, or someone, knew of the intrusion and would be watching for any data retrieval for that area.

Now Shadow had two pressing questions, apart from Boy’s location. Why so many infants in a crèche where births were a privilege granted to so few, and how to find out the secret lurking in that dark zone. The first must be left until her next visit, when any fuss had died down. As for the second – it was an ancient’s thing.

Shadow knew of vast, derelict, abandoned cities on the surface, avoided as plague sites.
What if they aren’t? What if that is a lie propagated by Harvesters to keep Terrans away?
Assuming this as fact, then logic suggested the ancients had used intelligent devices like the Archive. That sentient intelligence had functioned for countless eons, so why shouldn’t others? If they did, logical assumption followed that the knowledge of Avalon existed in data banks.

She didn’t like the way the Archive had turned on her when she questioned it about the Terran drones. Somewhere, a security clearance she needed might still exist. Shadow also didn’t like the lost element of trust. Why would the Archive fail to disclose any data on Harvesters? Submariners relied on the Archive to such an extent that they would be crippled without it. Wars have many battle zones, and she chose this as her exclusive hunting ground.

Barracks loomed ahead. Shadow ducked into a side alley to relax her will a little. Now she looked as she had before the stupid trick her so-called comrades had played.

The futile quest left her with pent-up fury. She decided to go for weapons training to ease her tension. There were always some cadets practicing at any time during working hours. The sight greeting her in the main arena brought her up short. Copper sharpened his sword, taking advantage of the superior technology, impervious to the sneering catcalls of cadets, laughing at his appearance. Something so dignified about his presence enveloped him in a cloak of power – not the lethal killing rage of Brethren, something greater – regal. She saw the king who might have been, in all his majesty, so far above mundane concerns that he didn’t deign to notice them, however much the effort must hurt.

Shadow made sure all the candidates could see her as she had appeared before the face dye, and then she relaxed her will. Sudden silence thickened into a miasma of shock. They knew how highly her psi-rating scored, and now they suffered the full benefit of recognizing that extra edge in use.

Copper turned at the first hush and witnessed the transformation. He smiled slowly, removing his blade from the sharpening disc. “These boys won’t test their weapons against me. They think I am too poor an opponent for their expertise, and they won’t fight with real weapons. Will you do the honors, sweeting? I find my sword arm quite stiff from lack of use.”

Shadow grinned, drawing on him. She ignored the collective indrawn hiss of concern at the use of sharpened weapons. Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed someone running to a console to get immediate help, and dismissed the action as irrelevant.

Copper charged to attack, his sword catching the light, slicing in a heavy blow. Each knew the other’s weaknesses. Each played on those flaws in the intense interchange. To Shadow, it was a graceful dance of parry and counterstrike, with no question who should win, for she had given him the advantage – the foreplay held her enthralled. A commotion at the door distracted her. Copper’s blade flashed toward her neck, arresting a moment before decapitation. “You’re dead, my Queen.” He saluted her with his weapon.

“Which moron ordered a level five security alert for Brethren at play?” Ector yelled from the doorway. He stalked over to the awed candidates. No one answered. Various lads glanced at one trying to hide in their ranks.

“You all know Shadow, and how skilled she is with a sword. Copper is our Terran ally. He has proved, unless my eyes are failing, that he is our match. Anyone who thinks his or my appearance is humorous should consider himself next in line for a face job.”

Using a dim glow globe to illuminate Ambrose’s office, Arthur worked from the third sleep hour. Days of surreptitious observation had supplied him with the door code he needed to gain entry: now he tried various security key words to access his commander’s console. As a last resort, he keyed in Ambrose’s name spelled backward and . . . access.

He looked for records related to the search for Shadow’s son. Arthur needed the data, convinced he had been one of the children she found on her penetration of Sanctuary. Each child from that sensitive time must have had an investigated background, and he wanted his ancestry. He also wanted to know why Boy hadn’t been with them, since providing camouflage for that special child appeared to be the whole point of creating so many children of a similar age. The files of the last sixteen years scrolled into view, Arthur sat forward, and then the screen went blank. Frantic overrides failed, despite his urgent key work. The system had crashed.

Access denied, Arthur
, a soft voice in his mind advised.

“Archive, I wasn’t searching for Boy. Anyway, I don’t see it matters, since Ector said Shadow is bringing her son to Avalon on her next visit. I’ve a right to know my own heritage.”

This is not your console, Arthur. Ambrose has not authorized access, or it would be logged in records. Theft can never be justified and is reprehensible. You will now return to your own unit. Any future attempts to access restricted data will be reported.

“So I’m being sent to bed with a warning?” Arthur didn’t believe his luck could get so good.

My plans are too near conclusion for the resultant interruption that chastisement of your irresponsible behavior would cause. I shall implement my own punishment regime, beyond restrictions Ambrose may consider appropriate, if there is an attempt to re-offend.

“Fine. I’ll ask Boy myself. He’ll know his peer group, even if I don’t remember him.”

An excellent notion. Adjustments to exercises in futility have a maturing effect on the young, I have often noted.
With this smug observation, the Archive withdrew.

Arthur considered its words as he made a careful retreat. Shadow and Boy represented the Archive’s prize ‘specimens’. If questioning Boy meant a wasted effort, so would braving Shadow’s wrath. The Archive intended to forewarn them, didn’t it? Strange that it had let him review parts of Shadow’s life containing criticism to itself. Arthur had the feeling his excursions into full sensory playback were nearing termination. The sentient indicated plans close to conclusion involving him – time for humoring his whims shortened, and he had provided it with an excellent reason for chastisement.

Arthur reached his unit and his decision at the same time. Any shred of information left on Shadow must be acquired tonight, without the Archive’s help. But he needed a guardian to bring him back into his own mind before irretrievable exposure condemned him to endless playback of Shadow’s life – addiction. Arthur had another ally, one he was prepared to trust with his existence as an independent identity.

The bed in his unit could not be shifted, being anchored to the wall by various connections regulating the heat and hardness level of the mattress, nor would the console move. Arthur casually destroyed two easy chairs for the sleeping pad he needed in the position he wanted. He guessed the Archive much too busy reloading Ambrose’s database to spare time for a disobedient child it had intimidated. Arthur hooked up the umbilicus to his com link, manually programming playback to start in ten minutes – five maximum to achieve sleep and the remainder for fast-talking the cave sitter into helping. He lay down, trusting to blind chance that the dream he needed would arrive with sleep.

*

The cave-sitter gazed deep into a golden chalice brimming with clear water, as if to fathom some mystery beyond human comprehension.

“Leadership requires courage, Arthur,” he said, looking up over the brim of the vessel, his matte-black eyes unreadable.

“Also the wisdom to ask for help, when faced with an intractable problem,” Arthur said, sitting down across the fire from the old-young man.

“Aye, wisdom to discern personal limitations is a treasure beyond price. How may my wisdom aid yours?”

“Time flows. I must escape from sleep when I have stolen the information I covet. You claimed me with dreams. Can you waken me? Shall I sleep on in an endlessly repeating dream?” The single falling drops of water marked the moments of his life fading as he waited.

“Suspicion turning into trust? Resistance changing into requests for aid? Maturity flies on the winds of necessity, I see. The present incarnation has very few years for such a leap of faith.” The cave-sitter lowered his dreadful gaze into his golden chalice once more. “Yes, Arthur, I will do as you wish. Know that I am well pleased with you.”

Arthur opened his mouth to voice his gratitude just as his essence spiraled into a dark void.

*

Earth Date 3875

Shadow turned back for a last look at Avalon, Boy’s home, to have Copper bump into her. It was the sixth time in five hours that he had lurked so close behind her since her return from the dark zone. She had even caught him sleeping across her unit threshold at first waking. He hadn’t asked about her absence from meetings, nor offered any explanation for his extraordinary behavior. All she got was his sorrowful half-smile.

Four medi-techs and eleven Elite boarded the submersible with them. Eight had their skin dyed for the mission, but she missed Ector, who had stayed behind with Helga as a condition of the alliance Copper demanded. The woman made a steady improvement, if not fast enough for release yet. She would travel with Ector, six more altered Submariners, and a few men Copper planned to leave at contact point.

Copper now wore a replica black band, sending correct signal at short range, but incapable of betraying location. Among the equipment to be transported to Haven were enough replica bands for all Brethren holding allegiance to Copper. Medi-techs also brought a mobile implant device for stabilizing every brother, while the sisters would have to be ferried to Avalon for normalization. Shadow’s head still rang from the arguments over this necessity, but the medi-techs remained static on the point. The procedure for women remained too complex and risky to chance in primitive conditions. They refused to back down and cause a consequent risk to life and alliance.

Shadow tried to sleep on the voyage, but every time she opened her eyes, Copper stood there, hovering. She knew he sensed danger around her, and yet couldn’t tell him it wasn’t acute, since she had no immediate plans for a return visit to the dark zone. When the time came for the stasis device, Copper insisted Shadow be near. He didn’t fear death, he just wanted her close as it brushed him. He lay down for her to put the small circle in place on his forehead.

Night reigned when they landed, and Shadow removed her earring to sense for Brethren presence in the dunes. A party of fifty watched them, many more than Copper had left, and all Brethren. She knelt at his side to remove the device, calling to him with her mind. For one moment, she had a clear view of his terror for her safety, until his privacy barrier dropped into place. His eyes opened, and he sucked in air, then he looked at her ear. She replaced her essential ornament.

“How long?” he asked.

“Time enough to climb down into the mines at Haven, and back again.”

“It felt like a heartbeat.” He sighed.

“There are fifty Brethren in the dunes watching us. Marvic is concerned,” she said. The Submariner liaison officer kept his men near the surf line for a swift retreat, and had not started landing supplies.

“Fifty? Fifty, you said? I’ll have Rowan’s hide for this.” He sprang to his feet, and then froze. “Are they mine?”

“Every one—no Harvester flavor. I checked.”

Copper bellowed out an order to advance at once with weapons lowered. They came in groups of three, each triad approaching with caution. The power of his voice brought them within sight until they saw his altered appearance.

“We have alliance. We found a way to hide the Shades in our ranks. I am still the same man you last saw; I still bear a scar on my belly from saurian attack three summers past. Do I need to show it to convince you?”

Copper apparently did. They advanced with weapons leveled. Three edged closer. Those three weren’t satisfied by physical evidence. They fired questions at him until convinced. Hard eyes turned next to Shadow.