Christopher Rowley - The Battlemaster

OUTMATCHED

With shocking suddenness, a bizarre creature dropped upon them from the ceiling. It was dark gray

with pink streaks, and a beard of green polyps matted its chest region. It had two humanlike legs and a

number of long, narrow tentacles.

The thing struck with the hardened tips of tentacles that stabbed flesh as effectively as spears. Men

were eviscerated, beheaded, amputated of one or more limbs in a frenzied but brief struggle.

Then Janodo of the Gate hit it with a shotgun blast, in the chest, where green polyps were thick. Blood

and fragments spattered the floor.

The men stepped back, expecting the thing to fall dead. With another loud hiss, it seized Janodo and

bounded out of the cowshed.

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CHAPTER ONE

THE UNIVERSE IS A THING OF LACY TEXTURES, SUDDEN EXPLOSIONS, cold vastness,

frozen foams. On these insubstantial threads and tatters lost in the boundless void, primitive life survives

by accident, a thing of the merest margins.

Through the slow tick of time, species have come and gone, their viability tested by climatic change, by

asteroid impact, by evolutionary wedging.

The merest handful of species has ever risen beyond their evolutionary envelopes, the limited horizons

of their home-worlds.

Of these, a tiny fraction have reached the stars.

In the midst of the fifty-fifth century of spaceflight, the third millennium of the ITAA Era, the human

species, originating in the Sol system, was the dominant intelligence within the local galactic arm.

This position bad been achieved, however, only through the lucky discovery of the Starhammer

weapon. Without this technology bequeathed from an ancient war, the human species would never have

broken free from the domination of the laowon, the other Orion-arm bipedal spacegoing species of this

era.

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However, the discovery of the Starhammer had brought humanity face-to-face with the terrible reason

for the great machine's existence, the ancient enemy to all other life, the self-termed Gods of

Axone-Neurone.

This complex and largely parasitic lifeform, which had been destroyed by the Starhammer builders in

self-defense, was not yet entirely extinct.

A few fragments persisted. Fortunately interstellar space is so vast and empty that most derelicts from

the ancient space-reefs of war were lost forever in the dark.

And yet, here, there, they offered a terrible threat, like mines waiting to explode upon the unwary.

In this, of course, we see no more than another roll of the cosmic dice. A form of evolutionary wedging

on a galaxy-wide scale. This kind of life, or that; either was possible.

Two thousand years terrestrial standard had passed since the events on Planet Saskatch. Again the

dice tumbled from the cup.

The door to doomsday opened a crack once more and went unnoticed. A bleak unsympathetic light

flashed out to illuminate the worlds of humanity.

It began with a trifling incident, in the barren hills of the Ruinarts, on Planet Wexel in the Scopus cluster.

Here, on the exposed face of some ancient sandstones, an autopick was drilling in search of gypsum

deposits. The bore holes were spaced a couple of meters apart, probing downward toward what on the

satellite mineral maps appeared to be a cave system.

Suddenly there came a harsh screech as the autopick's drill hit something harder than mere rock.

This autopick was a Daiko 400, very durable and somewhat stubborn. It pulled out the drill and

inserted its hammerpick and hammered at the unbreakable thing for a full minute while rock powdered

and blew away in the wind.

Finally it gave up and carefully checked its files. The rock face was a resistant sandstone from the

Upper Karavian, some eighty million years old. The geo-survey showed no evidence of volcanics or

harder rocks. And even the hardest rock would have given way under the hammerpick.

Baffled, the Daiko called for help.

The message was downloaded at Castle Karvur, fifty kilometers to the south. It was studied by the

Karvur Autome, and then left for Count Geezl Karvur's personal attention. The Autome, a programming

masterpiece from the Ienjii Software Period, knew that Count Karvur would be interested.

Eventually the count, a tall, gaunt-faced man in extended mid-life, returned from a rampage on his

estates.

The twin daughters of a tenant in the West Ward had reached sixteen years. They were betrothed, and

the count had made sure to exercise his patronal rights immediately upon their birthday chime. The

weeping parents had been bound and gagged by his guards while Lord Geezl, the patrone of the district,

took the young maidens by force in their own bedchamber.

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The Karvur Autome, a rather stuffy software, would not assist the count in such matters. The count

cared not, and employed a cameraman instead to film the proceedings for his later amusement.

All in all it had been an excellent break in the dreary life on the Karvur estates.

Now returned to the grim stone pile of Karvur Farm, the count examined his messages.

There were many, and they were all from creditors and lawyers and more creditors and collection

agencies, and he blipped them to oblivion with scowls and groans all except the one from the autopick,

tagged by the Autome.

The autopick indicated that something large and non-natural underlay the Karavian sandstones. In

addition this thing was built of extremely resistant material.

Intrigued, the count flew out to check for himself in his luxurious Baschlit VTOL jet.

Dressed in black rainslick and boots of human hide, Karvur stalked about the site.

He summoned a power shovel, at work a few miles away, and when it had chugged its way over the

hill, he put it to removing the sandstone cover over the hidden object. Then he flew away once more,

intrigued by this discovery, but not yet obsessed.

A few days later he returned to the site and found a flat surface, a floor, made of a smooth

indestructible material with the color of old bone.

Karvur's heart filled with a wild excitement.

It was also apparent that whatever this thing was, it was very large. There seemed no end to the

ramifications of it.

The excitement mounted.

For nigh on thirty years now he had been exiled to this drab life on the ancient family estate in the

Ruinart Mountains, doomed by a stupid mistake made in the rashness of youth.

He had spent those years searching Karvur Estate for something of value. Something that could bring

him enough credit to allow him to return to the old life-style, when he'd had money.

Once, the very name Geezl Karvur had glittered in the celebrity columns of Wexel's greatest cities. He

had owned three homes and a yacht with berths for two dozen guests. "Emperor" Geezl, his friends had

called him with affectionate mockery, on account of the lavishness of his hospitality.

Alas, poor Geezl had become the victim of a skilled trickster by the name of Lari Afriq. An incredible

twenty million in ITAA credits had been borrowed for a giant stock-market maneuver. The maneuver

failed; huge amounts of credit disappeared. Finally the collateral for the loan turned out to be entirely

Geezl's responsibility as Lari Afriq disappeared from the ruinous scene.

All Geezl had been able to retrieve from the wreck was the ancient Karvur farm in the rainshadow of

the Ruinarts.

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His lavish homes in Cowdray-Kara City and Frentana Beach were lost, along with the family's ancient

mansion in Doisy-Dyan. His yacht was auctioned, his paintings and sculptures, his collection of rare

books and historical objects; even the Karvur wine cellar, which had held some magnificent treasures

from the Crook Islands, was sold.

The ancient stone farmhouse survived because it was held in trust by the family and never belonged to

Geezl personally.

With the farm came the income from the estate, which covered some five thousand square kilometers

of oak-infested uplands, and which provided a rather pinched sustenance for less than a hundred peasant

families. Anyone with any gumption had long ago fled these parts, and the Karvur peasants were much

beaten down.

When all traditional claims on this income were met there was scarcely enough to keep Geezl in fuel for

the purple skin-flake Baschlit VTOL jet that was his sole remaining treasure.

He'd sneaked it out of CK City Air&Space under the noses of the creditors, and thus it was the one

beautiful thing from the old life he had managed to hang on to.

And thus the count was left with nothing but the homely peasant girls to pursue for his pleasure and the

seedy bars in Yellowfork town for solace and wild cronies. These at least were some kind of company.

He had little else. His old friends were in the glitter spots of the Twin Continent, thousands of kilometers

away.

Furthermore, his own family was an unwelcoming lot. Little better than peasants themselves, they

regarded the city-bred lord of the family manor with suspicious eyes from the first.

The titled branch of the family had left the farm centuries ago and had rarely been seen there since.

There was little love between the branches of the family, and Geezl was now the last of the wealthy

Karvurs and was no longer rich. He had returned, impoverished, to live upon them on account of his birth

and title.

Soon there came the tales of woe from the family servants, who were used to living there alone, dining

off the Karvur accounts as they had for generations. The city-bred lord was a monster, with perverse

ways with women. He drank too much and broke things and wept incoherently at times and was ill on the

rugs at others.

The family protested. There were endless wrangles and domestic tempests. The count was unable to

wrest complete control of his own income from the grip of the ancient accords. The lawyers in distant

courts devoured the rest.

He grew embittered and desperate. He flung himself into one get-rich-quick scheme after another.

He'd tried to raise chickens, but they died of the putrid-rot disease peculiar to Wexel. He sank more

money into a woodpulp-farming scheme. Only then did he discover that he was too far from any viable

market for the stands of Kenaf he had planted. Worse, the quick-growing Kenaf had become a weed,

spreading wildly through the Karvur lands and earning Geezl the hatred of the peasants.

He had searched for oil, for gas, for minerals, for anything of value, in fact. Apart from some gypsum

deposits worth a pittance, he had found nothing.

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Except for this odd thing, this sheet of unbreakable material that had been found by the autopick.

Geezl was galvanized into frenzied activity. All night he supervised the two machines as they dug

around the thing. By daylight the awesome dimensions of what he had found had become clearer.

He had exposed the corner of an irregularly shaped object, something like a fluted spearhead, perhaps;

it was as yet difficult to say since so much remained buried.

Even more exciting was the discovery of a rupture in the smooth, unbreakable surface. It was a sharp

break, right through the entire thing. This crack was filled with the sandstone again, but it was quickly

attacked by the autopick and eventually a cavity was exposed.

Count Karvur experienced an explosion of hopes. This was an archaeological event on the geologic

time scale. It would be worth a fortune.

Soon it became apparent that there were dozens of such room-sized chambers, some hexagonal and

others that were round.

Spheres, tubes, coils, and loops of the hard white material occupied some moms, some passages, and

some shafts, but not others. It was like some giant three-dimensional puzzle.

The count explored furiously. There had to be something more! Something he could exploit!

So numerous were the cavities and the tubes and passages that interconnected them that the whole vast

thing began to resemble a cross between an engine and a sponge to Geezl after a while.

Complexity was piled upon complexity, to a point beyond understanding. What could it all mean?

And then an opening was found to a passage that went down, deep into the heart of the complex

workings of the ancient thing.

Geezl lowered a lamp into the depths. It dropped down a smooth tube for three meters or more and

came up against a "floor." A number of other passages radiated away from this spot.

Geezl lowered himself into the interior of the maze. Within a few minutes he made the greatest

discovery of all.

Trembling with excitement, he hurtled back over the moors to the farm with the purple Baschlit

cracking sonic booms over the hamlets and villages.

There he drank wine and cavorted, shouting in a hoarse voice through the front rooms of the ancient

house while the servants peered at him from around the doors. Occasionally he hurled a glass into the

fireplace, or even out the window.

Later, he calmed and took his supper, then sat brooding into the night, communing with the planning

software in his personal computer rather than discussing the matter with the Autome. The Autome's

request for time was brusquely rejected. The Autome withdrew to the fastness of its antique computer

chest.

Karvur returned to his study of the situation at hand.

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A number of obstacles lay in his path, the first being his need for some scientific and technical

assistance. He required sophisticated bioanalysis. But it would have to be from a secure source. He

could not afford to lose control of this.

Fortunately, Geezl Karvur still had a few old friends that he spoke to occasionally over the net.

Although it had been years since he'd last seen any of them, Geezl kept in touch, while keeping his hopes

alive of returning to the glittering cities someday.

Now he made inquiries about the life science departments in the various major universities on Planet

Wexel.

When his Mends at Cowdray University asked what it was all about, he laughed evasively and claimed

to have found a way to produce oil from the excrement of peasants. They chuckled indulgently. Geezl

had been living out in the boondocks too long, it was plain; his mind was going.

Eventually, after some careful sifting of information and a number of phone calls, he was ready. He flew

north across the east limb of Trias continent to the greatest metropolis on Wexel, Cowdray-Kara City.

From CK Air&Space, he took a taxi out to the campus of Cowdray University, arriving about seven

o'clock in the evening.

There he met with one Caroline Reese, an up-and-coming junior professor. They rode up the College

Spire to the revolving bar at its top and took seats in a window booth.

"CK City," Karvur murmured with a gesture to the window, where the towers glittered in the distance.

He sighed. "I used to love this city. But I see there have been many changes since I was here last."

Indeed there were many unfamiliar towers among the throng around Kara Park. CKC was a restless

city, awash with the energies of humanity.

However, while most things changed, some things would always remain the same. Geezl knew that the

white yachts would be moored in neat rows at the marina as they had always been.

Couples would be strolling in the Jardin de France. Diners would be taking their places in the hottest

restaurants, overlooking the sea.

"You know the city?" said Ms. Reese, a woman in her middle years with tinted blond hair and firm

features that showed a slight tendency to fleshiness.

"I used to live here once. I had an apartment in the Prevkyat, do you know it?"

"The Prevkyat! Who does not know the magnificence of all those lovely buildings on the harbor? Who

doesn't dream of living there someday?" In fact, Caroline was surprised. The man dressed like a farmer in

his best suit, black and plain. He hardly bad the look of a magnate from Tidal Row.

"Yes, well." Karvur looked down at the glass of chardonnay in front of him for a moment. "It is about

wealth, enormous wealth, that I have come to see you. When we spoke on the phone before you said

you were interested in such a proposition."

"Yes, well, of course. Who isn't interested in such possibilities?"

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Karvur nodded. "You also said that if such an opportunity were presented to you, you would be

prepared to ignore the rules. You would seize the chance with both hands, giving it complete

commitment."

There was a sudden glitter of fanaticism about the gaunt man with his overlarge nose. Caroline

wondered what the hell she'd gotten herself into this time. She should have known this caller would turn

out to be crazy, but she'd given in to her wilder side once again. There'd been something quite persuasive

about him. And besides, Caroline was looking for a way out of her present predicament at the

department.

His next words stunned her, however.

"I also know that you are unhappy with your present situation here in the life science department," the

incredible man said.

"I have done some research on your background, you see."

"What?" She felt a rush of sudden alarm. "What do you mean? Who are you?"

"Please." He held up a hand to calm her. "Please bear with me. I told you I would be investigating you

during our previous conversation. You said it would not be a problem."

There was a long, tense moment. Come to think of it, Caroline did recall saying something to that

extent. She got her breath back. She hadn't done anything wrong, even if someone was investigating her.

But of course she remembered the horror stories. What if this hatchet-faced man was some kind of

ITAA agent provocateur?

"All right, go on then."

"You will not be disappointed, I assure you." Karvur pressed his thin black hair back over his scalp.

"As I was saying, I know that you feel blocked from promotion here at the university. Professor

Gottschalk stands squarely in your path. I'd go elsewhere, however, will be difficult. Across the Gran

Mer lie the Crook States with their universities, but they have a surplus of professors right now. If you go

to North Trios or Dao you'll have to deal with hostile bureaucracies. The Blue Cities of Panshang are

equally alien to you, since you speak little Pang or even Chinese."

Caroline's brow furrowed again. He seemed to know an awful lot. He went on relentlessly. "Essentially

Cowdray is the best place for you to be, but Gottschalk is in your way. And he always will be. We both

know that he is less worthy than yourself, far less intelligent to say the least, but that he has tenure and

primacy. To get around him you need a coup, something completely out of the ordinary. I believe I can

provide you with that something."

Caroline was staring at the man. He had laid out her career situation with a painful accuracy.

"You know me very well, rather too well, Mr. Karvur."

"Please call me Count. It's the family title, we've held it for centuries now. Anyway, yes, I have been

thorough, I won't deny it. But then with something this important I have to be. Still, I think it will make

you very rich, if you are interested and if you satisfy me that you will be cooperative."

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Count Karvur? An aristocrat from one of the old families, then? Now Caroline was really intrigued.

She'd always had a thing about the aristos and their ancient titles.

"And what of yourself? Am I to know nothing more than your name?" she murmured. "I mean, before I

commit myself to something I want to know what I'm getting myself into."

"Of course, I will provide all the details necessary, once I have your commitment to complete secrecy

concerning this project, even if you decide to decline my offer."

Caroline sipped her wine. It was a lovely sunny evening. A sudden breeze shook the campus elms. A

student in a pink jogging suit was running on the grass of the long lawn. Caroline felt infected with the

excitement emanating from the rather odd Count Karvur. Was this the opportunity she had been waiting

for all these years? She began to feel her hopes rising.

CHAPTER TWO

THE FOLLOWING DAY Count KARVUR CAME TO SEE CAROLINE at the laboratory. He

showed her the video of the objects he had found on the Upper Yellowfork. Her interest quickened

considerably. She asked to see a sample, and he pulled out what looked like a rather undersized hen's

egg.

She handled it gingerly; it felt smooth and bard and light.

"Nothing cuts it, not even diamond," Karvur said. "It must be a ceramic with a diamondaze surface or

something similar."

"Quasi-crystalline perhaps," she murmured.

Under his watchful eyes she subjected the egg to various tests. It weighed little more than twelve

grams, but a scan showed that it was not hollow. The internal structure appeared to be that of a sponge,

filled with small cavities. The surface was indeed uncuttable. She tried a number of chemicals of

increasing aggressivity to no effect. Finally she tried subjecting the thing to stresses of various kinds,

including the hammer press. It resisted two tons' pressure.

Caroline grew irritable. "Is this thing that valuable?" she asked.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean that I would like to subject it to considerably higher pressures. To find its breaking point."

Having obtained Karvur's permission, she slowly turned up the massing on the hammer press. At

forty-seven tons' impact pressure the egg cracked and broke into fragments.

"It has the strength of some structural polycerams, titanosiicates, hi-steel. Very interesting, Count

Karvur."

Strangely, Caroline felt better just for having broken the damned thing. The fragments proved more

amenable to analysis. A ceramic was definitely indicated.

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Christopher Rowley - The Battlemaster

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