Logos Run (6 page)

But, rather than ogle the woman’s considerable cleavage, as the receptionist was doing, the operative examined the guestbook instead. And, when he couldn’t find what he sought, Shaz had to flip the current page out of the way in order to inspect previous entries. That was when the variant saw Rebo’s signature, followed by Norr’s, and the nearly illegible scrawl that probably belonged to the heavy.

Shaz took in the fact that the threesome had taken suite 303, and was already backing away, when the receptionist turned to pull the guestbook over in front of him. He noticed that the ledger was turned to the wrong page, assumed that an errant breeze had been responsible for the change, and wondered what the woman in front of him would look like naked.

A scant five minutes later the combat variant had climbed three flights of stairs, made his way down a long hall, and was standing with his ear to a door with the numerals 303 on it. Then, having waited for a full minute without hearing any activity within, Shaz made use of a pick to open the lock. Having glanced both ways to make sure the hall was clear, the variant pushed the door open and slipped into the room. Once inside, the operative discovered that the suite was not only dark but momentarily empty, which suited his purposes well. The possibility that the AI was there, resting within a few feet of him, caused the variant’s heart to beat faster. The search began.

Rebo yawned as he led the other two up the broad flight of
stairs, tried to remember which room he and Crowley had stayed in thirty years earlier, and couldn’t. Once on the third floor he turned to the right. Wall-mounted lamps marked off regular intervals and threw pools of light onto the floor. Once in front of 303, the runner inserted his key into the lock and turned it. The door swung open. The next couple of minutes were spent fumbling with matches and finicky lamps. “Bring them to me,” Norr offered, having mastered the process. “And I’ll light them for you.”

Hoggles nodded gratefully, went to remove one of the lamps from a wall bracket, and swore when it burned his fingers. “Damn! That thing is
hot
!”

Rebo frowned, slid his hand in under his jacket, and wrapped his fingers around the Crosser. “
Hot?
Why would it be hot?”

“Because it was lit,” Logos grated contemptuously. “Check the bedrooms. I predict that someone came to turn the beds down.”

“He’s right,” Norr confirmed, as she peered into her room. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep.”

Having taken refuge in one corner of the sitting room, Shaz stood perfectly still and strove to defocus his mind. Because just as combat variants had been provided with the means to fool the eye, they had also been equipped to evade detection by sensitives, but only if they exercised perfect control over both their thoughts and emotions.

Now, having discovered that Norr not only had the AI, but was
wearing
the device, the operative was hard-pressed to contain a sense of jubilation. Fortunately, there were things to worry about as well—which meant Shaz could use one emotion to counter the other. What to do? Attack the threesome and attempt to steal what he had come for, or escape and follow them? Though of value to the Techno Society in and of himself, Logos would be worth even more if they knew where Socket was, and given his present frame of mind, the AI wasn’t likely to tell them.

In the end it was that, plus the fact that Shaz couldn’t be absolutely sure that he would win what would almost certainly be a hard-fought battle, that helped to make up the variant’s mind. Rather than attack the AI’s custodians, the operative resolved to follow them to Socket, where he could take both prizes at the same time. Assuming he could escape, that is—which was anything but certain.

Norr was just about to bid the others good night and enter her room, when she sensed something strange. The almost indiscernible glow was similar to the aura that all living beings generated, yet different somehow, as if partially shielded. The sensitive opened her mouth, and was about to comment on the phenomenon, but never got to do so as Milos Lysander took control of her physical body. The invading spirit preferred male plumbing but had occupied this body on previous occasions and gradually grown accustomed to it. “He’s in the corner!” the dead scientist proclaimed loudly, as he pointed at the spot where Shaz was hiding. “Grab him!”

But neither Rebo nor Hoggles was expecting such an order and, when they turned to look at the corner in question, saw nothing more than a vague shimmer.

That brief moment of hesitation was all the combat variant needed. He crossed the room, opened the door, and was already in the hall by the time Rebo went to probe the empty corner. The runner turned as the door slammed. Hoggles moved as if to follow, but Lysander shook Norr’s head. “Don’t bother,” the dead man said disgustedly. “You blew the only chance you’re likely to get.”

“Lysander?” Rebo inquired irritably. “Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me!” the disincarnate replied testily. “Who else would it be?”

“Wonderful,” Logos said sarcastically. “The megalomaniac returns.”

“Look who’s talking,” the dead scientist responded resentfully. “I don’t remember you speaking up for the huddled masses back when
you
were in control of the star gates.”

“Stop it,” Rebo ordered tersely. “We don’t have time for this crap. Someone was in the room . . . So who is he? And what was he after?”

“His name is Shaz,” Lysander answered. “Back before Kane got killed, he functioned as Tepho’s bodyguard and enforcer. Then, when Kane passed over, the chairman promoted him.”

Hoggles frowned. “Why couldn’t we see him?”

“Because he’s a combat variant,” the dead scientist explained.

“Perfect,” Rebo commented sourly. “Not only did the Techno Society manage to locate us—they sent an operative who can make himself invisible.”

“It gets worse,” the spirit entity said wearily, as he dropped Norr’s body into a chair. “My onetime son, which is to say the man you knew as Kane, continues to work for the Society. And, while none of us can see into the physical plane with much clarity, it was he who directed Shaz to Thara.”

“But how?” Hoggles wanted to know.

“They have a sensitive, a man named Dyson, who can bring Kane through,” Lysander explained.

“So what are they waiting for?” Rebo wondered. “They know where we are, and they know we have Logos, so what’s holding them back?”

“They want Socket,” Logos put in grimly. “Then, assuming they can force me to do their bidding, they’ll have everything they need to reestablish the network.”

“And could they?” Hoggles inquired curiously. “Get you to do their bidding that is?”

“Of course not!” the AI lied hotly. “What do you take me for?”

“A somewhat self-centered computer program,” Lysander commented cynically. “But you’re all we have.”

“So what would you suggest?” Rebo inquired pragmatically. “Kane could follow us anywhere.”

“Yes,” the disincarnate agreed. “But the task remains. . . . Once you reach Socket, and Logos takes control, it will be too late for them to interfere. Socket has defenses that will keep them at bay.”

“Or
had
,” Logos put in cynically. “They might be in need of maintenance by now.”

“I don’t know,” the runner said doubtfully. “It sounds pretty iffy to me.”

“And
me
,” Hoggles added. “So where did this Shaz person go? Maybe we could track him down.”

But Norr’s body gave a convulsive jerk at that point, her eyelids fluttered, and she looked confused. “What happened?”

“Lysander paid you a visit,” Rebo said disgustedly. “And guess what? The Techno Society knows where we are.”

The sensitive was still in the process of absorbing that piece of unwelcome information when Logos spoke to her. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” the AI said reassuringly. “Because even though they know where we are, they don’t know where we’re
going.
There’s only one person who knows that:
me.
”

While many of the billions of disincarnate spirits who pop
ulated the spirit planes preferred life in the ethereal realms to that on the physical plane, Kane was not one of them, and therefore welcomed the summons when it came. The sensation was barely felt, as when a child tugs on a pant leg, but very persistent. And that was a sure sign that rather than merely being remembered by one of the many people Kane had known during his most recent incarnation, one or more individuals were determined to make contact with him.

So, eager to revisit the material world, no matter how briefly, Kane directed his energy toward those who were focused on him. And, having already agreed to continue his relationship with the Techno Society, the ex-operative was far from surprised to discover that Shaz and Dyson were waiting for him. A female was present as well, and even though Kane didn’t recognize her vibration, he felt a natural affinity for the dark energy that seethed around her.

It was easier to enter Dyson’s body the second time, pleasantly so, and Kane felt something akin to an orgasm as all of his physical senses were magically restored. His vision, which was to say
Dyson’s
vision, blurred, then cleared. Both Shaz and a beautiful woman sat opposite him. With the exception of some ring bolts and the darkish stains around them, the wall behind the pair was featureless. Darkness gathered where the lamplight couldn’t reach. “Not that it matters,” Kane croaked, “but where am I?”

“We’re sitting in the basement of the Techno Society’s headquarters on Thara,” the combat variant replied evenly.

“Ah,” Kane responded gravely. “So you followed my counsel.”

“Yes,” Shaz confirmed. “And they have Logos. I heard it speak.”

In spite of the fact that Kane generally preferred life on the physical plane to his present existence, there were advantages to being dead. Chief among them was the fact that it was impossible for enemies to murder him. Not Shaz, not anyone. So, rather than fear the combat variant as he once had, the disincarnate was free to needle him. “You
heard
the AI speak? But left the device where it was? I suspect Chairman Tepho will wonder why.”

“He
knows
why,” Shaz replied defensively. “We need Socket . . . which is why you were summoned. Since they don’t have access to the local star gate, the sensitive and her companions will be forced to board the next ship.”

“Assuming it comes,” Du Phan put in emotionlessly.

“Yes,” the variant acknowledged. “Assuming it comes, the ship will carry them to Derius. Watch over them to the extent that you can. We’ll be waiting when they arrive.”

A frown wrinkled Dyson’s brow. “You want me to
protect
them?” Kane inquired incredulously.

“For the moment, yes,” Shaz replied sternly. “The trip is risky in and of itself . . . But what if something were to happen to them in transit? So your task is to provide whatever assistance you can.”

“Why not board the ship yourself?” the dead man wanted to know.

“Because they’re on the lookout for a combat variant now,” Shaz responded. “Your onetime father saw to that. . . . And the woman might sense a hostile presence.”

“I can try,” Kane allowed. “But it won’t be easy. Locating something on the physical plane is like feeling your way through a thick fog. And once their ship enters hyperspace, the task will become that much more difficult.”

“Do what you can,” Shaz insisted, “and we will speak to you on Derius.”

Kane eyed the woman and forced Dyson to smile. “I don’t believe we have met.”

Phan knew the look and allowed a smile to touch her lips. “No, I don’t believe we have. My name is Du Phan.”

“Du Phan . . .” the disincarnate said experimentally. “Well, Du Phan, until next time then.”

As the assassin ran the tip of a pink tongue over her already glossy lips, Kane felt Dyson’s body respond. And so, for that matter, did the being to which it belonged. Because while slightly out of phase with his physical form, the sensitive was conscious of everything that took place and didn’t like the way in which Kane was making free with his body. He struggled to push the invading spirit out, eventually managed to do so, and found himself soaked with sweat. Somehow, Dyson had been thrust to the forefront of a war he didn’t understand and wanted no part of.

“Good work,” Shaz said emotionlessly. “Come on . . . We have things to do.”

Like a silvery fish in a large black pond
Shewhoswimsthevoid
slipped past a gravelly asteroid belt, swung round a planet-sized orange-red boulder, and began to decelerate. Because up ahead, only ship hours away, lay her next port of call, the planet that the biobeings riding deep within her ancient hull knew as Thara. It was a planet that she had orbited many times before. For such was her purpose, and what she experienced as pleasure, even though the doing of it would eventually lead to her dissolution.

But, like the natural laws that governed what the great vessel could do in space, the urges inherent in her programming limited what
Shewhoswims
could desire, and thereby ensured that so long as the ship could carry people from one planet to another, she would. Regardless of the cost to her. The question wasn’t
if
she would die, but when, and even though it lay within her power to carry out the necessary calculations.
Shewhoswims
chose not to do so. Because for the moment she had purpose, and that made her happy. Cool nothingness caressed the ship’s hull, galaxies wheeled in the unimaginable distance, and a thousand suns lit the way.

The public market occupied the topmost level of Tryst, where golden sunlight shone through the glass panels set into the domed roof, and goods were hoisted from the ground below by means of wooden cranes. Each massive swing arm was named after the family to which it belonged and was served by a team of sturdy angens. They made squalling sounds as they walked endless circles around brightly painted capstans.