The square is lit by a single streetlamp, with a large circle of polished stone at its center. On the other side, one of those strange antennas. A black, eyeless Xeno bird sits on the edge of a wall. The lights are warm, and there is nothing sinister about it. Beneath an archway, a door opens onto the famous nameless tavern.
The Wau must bend his knees and stoop to enter. Inside, the same gold and orange tones, as if the walls were lit by ancient torches. Numerous wooden tables, completely empty, and behind the counter-where everywhere else in the world one sees a robot-stands a long-haired man, unsmiling. He growls with a hoarse voice:
- "Now what. What are you, a Xeno?" he grunts, signing in stellar language with his fingers just in case.
- "There's a human under the armor."
- "That must be inconvenient!"
- "Usually, yes. Except in a firefight."
- "Is that a threat?" he growls again. "Are you a citizen? Or are you here for the daily special?"
- "Do the HS rules apply here?"
- "Well, until further notice Booz is part of the HS, right? Unless that damn armor's crushed your brains too much! Hahaha!"
- "I was told, on the contrary, that it's the Brotherhood laying down the law here."
If it were possible, his closed face darkened. The Wau sensed he was about to lie.
- "You're misinformed, and you're a son of a bitch."
He spits on the ground.
- "I don't feel like serving you anymore."
- "You're lying to me. I'm considering breaking both your legs and sitting right over there, in that corner, to see how you'll spend the rest of your night."
- "I've got friends, you know."
- "Members of the Brotherhood? Perfect, then you don't even have to say another word. Call them."
The innkeeper's eyes gleamed, and the Wau noticed something. One was green, the other purple. A curious vanity for a guy who looked like he'd never shaved or bathed.
A group of tourists entered the establishment noisily. Six or seven men from twenty to fifty years old, accompanied by just as many humanoid Xenos with serpent tails. Already quite drunk, they ignored the Wau and ordered ten liters of nebula alcohol and twelve citrus fruits. The Wau hadn't really planned to carry out his threat anyway, but he didn't see how he could keep bluffing with this merry bunch around. He left the bar as the serpents danced on the table to the sound of a portable LE.
He could always penetrate the psyche of the very dumb diamond later. The Wau loathed doing so, even in emergencies. Ultimately, he had done it with Sam because he was a friend. Entering someone's mind was a defeat, both moral and intellectual: clues are often there, everywhere, more eloquent than most speeches. After all, humans are lost, uncertain beings. Often, a mind doesn't scream the truth, but its doubts.
Back outside now, in the silence interrupted only by animal cries and the wild singing from the tavern. If the innkeeper is lying, that means he's in league with the Brotherhood. A Brotherhood with three thousand ships. And yet... not a soul in sight. The silence of the place reminded him of another: the silence that fell over the once-crowded streets when he touched the unidentified antenna.
He places his metal glove on the antenna. A slight vibration. The square lights up and suddenly fills with sound and people.
All around the square, about fifty men, all in pilot uniforms, talking, observing operations, or participating in them. A team with lights is guiding Ozys descending from the sky into a hole matching the polished metal circle in the center of the square. There are four Ozys in total, rather well maneuvered with inertial grapples, prowling around the city. A team leader is shouting orders.
He lifts his hand from the antenna. The square returns to calm.
Good God. The Brotherhood of the Two Worlds. The tale of the two cities. There are literally two worlds at the same location here in Babylon! But by what miracle?
He places his hand back again. This time, a few men see him and point him out. All of them wear at their belts a similar device, resembling an old-fashioned portable radio. A Wau! The word is out. One of them has an antique assault rifle with kinetic bullets and fires-poorly-at him. The bullets ricochet. Thermal rifles are pointed, FAMs are fired at him... For fun, he removes his hand at the moment of impact, then touches the antenna again.
In front of him, a guy with a makeshift spear: steel shaft and molecular dagger welded to the end. He grabs the shaft with one hand and the man with the other, knocks him out with a psychic blast, and, while bullets and other projectiles rain down, while others shout to fall back, he seizes the device from his belt. An electromagnetic wave emitter. Like the antenna. Under a certain spectrum, and in Babylon, for some unknown reason, one is in one world, and under another wavelength, in the other. Mysteries of the universe.
The last Brothers have jumped onto an Ozy that sinks into the ground as, like a camera iris, the hole closes. The Wau leaps and exerts such force on the iris that the mechanism breaks with a terrible noise. He dives onto the Ozy. Like wolves on a bison, the members of the Brotherhood throw themselves at him, but he ignores them, brushes them aside, to leap into the void below.
A hundred-meter fall. A large hangar with stone walls, with lighting installations added in haste. Efficient, if not elegant. The Wau counts about twenty Ozys here and two Ravens. And a hundred men and women fleeing, screaming, frozen in shock, or firing at will at the Wau. He continues his exploration as if they didn't exist, his giant hand protecting the radio transmission system.
The corridors are large, square, made of smooth, polished stone. Not laser-cut, but as he runs his hand along it, it stars with the impact of bullets fired at him. These corridors form a labyrinth. Some rooms have been repurposed: dormitories, private quarters, maintenance rooms, living and leisure spaces, gym, library, and a temple... enough to house a small hidden town of a thousand humans and a few Xeno pets. Far from the four corsair Ozys mentioned in Fleet reports... The Wau better understands now the "structuring" project Lucky referred to.
The main corridor opens onto a monumental hall, perhaps the heart of the place, as large as a good quarter of Babylon. A wide staircase winds down to the floor where an assembly, a large table, and a throne too big even for him sit. And hundreds of men and women: clean, dressed as pilots or technicians, armed, with alert eyes. The distant walls are lit by golden torch lamps.
The Wau descends the final step. A few valiant Brothers still fire or throw themselves at him, but he brushes them aside like puppies. The others seem discouraged. At last, the weapons fall silent.
The throne is empty, but now all eyes are on it. The Wau walks forward in the midst of a forced, silent path of honor, psychically radiating defiance and hatred.
Behind the throne, there is a figure hiding. The Wau leans forward to see, and, comically, the figure leans too, and a few laughs erupt from the assembly. An artificial voice says:
- "Aren't you here to kill me, Wau? I heard you're defending humanity and all that. Wouldn't look great on your resume."
- "I promise nothing," says the Wau after a silence. "But when I can, I generally try not to kill people."
- "Cool cool cool."
The figure emerges from behind the throne. It's an Android, dressed in a purple toga, its head crowned with a golden band. It approaches the Wau cautiously, like an animal sniffing... then pulls from its toga a golden molecular dagger, its hilt ending in two horse heads back-to-back-the symbol of Masmak-and throws it at the giant. The latter catches it in flight and hurls it back toward the throne, at head height, where it embeds to the hilt. The Android has no facial muscles, but it seems apologetic:
- "Uh, I wasn't trying to kill you, old chap, but I've always wanted to know whether molecular daggers could pierce Wau hyperchalk. Let's say it was for science."
- "An interesting experiment indeed, but no one's ever been fast enough to land a blow on me," replies the Wau.
- "Well, well, well," concludes the Android, returning to the throne and lounging across it, "I won't lie, I'd feel a lot more relaxed if you were dead, but I'm not the kind of lunatic who tries to change what can't be changed. What do you want from us? I mean, look around you-I've got a little business to run here."
- "You're the boss here?"
- "I am the Lord of the Distant Throne, yes sir. That's the name for diplomats with a stick up their ass-even though the few who ever showed up here, hands and feet tied, literally left with some kind of spear in their rear ends. But I'm sure you've come with a proposition worthy of the gigantic dick you discreetly hide under your armor-a proposition that'll bring floods of thalers, adventure, power, and glory, and we'll become buddies. And once we're buddies, like all these guys here, you can call me Lucky."