“I’m not sure this is the right time for a meeting,” the AI began, but it was too late by then because Norr had already taken her place across from Rebo and slipped into a trance.
“Greetings!” Lysander said hoarsely. “No, I’m sure that our electromechanical friend here would like to opt out of any conversation that includes me. Especially since I took it upon myself to fi?nd out why he wanted to visit Haafa rather than proceed to Socket the way he was supposed to.”
Norr couldn’t speak, not for herself, which meant Rebo had to. “That’s a very good question,” the runner observed.
“So, why did he drop us here?”
“Because,” the spirit replied angrily, “there’s another AI that could reactivate Socket! A device called One-Two . . . And she’s right here . . . Trapped below the surface of the desert. I played a role in her creation—but assumed she had been destroyed.”
Rebo groaned. “Don’t tell me . . . Let me guess! Logos was hoping to eliminate the second computer so he could have Socket all to himself.”
“Exactly,” Lysander replied. “And, if I’m correct, it’s likely that he hoped to manipulate one or more of you into destroying One-Two for him.”
“That’s absurd!” Logos interjected, and because the sound was coming from the vicinity of Norr’s neckline, it was as if both entities were somehow speaking through her.
“I came here to rescue One-Two—not destroy her.”
“Good,” the disincarnate responded cynically. “Because that’s what Rebo is about to do.”
“No, I’m not!” the runner replied emphatically. “Everyone agrees that Kahoun is huge! Even if I knew how to enter the city, which I don’t, how would I fi?nd a ratty old coat?”
“One-Two occupies a snakelike body.”
“Oh, terrifi?c! A snake,” Rebo replied. “That makes the situation even worse. One-Two, as you call her, is probably slithering all over the place.”
“She probably is,” Lysander agreed. “But there are at least two ways to contact One-Two. The fi?rst involves Logos . . .”
“Who can’t be trusted,” the runner put in.
“And the second is to retrieve the ring I used to wear,”
the disincarnate continued, “and activate the beacon hidden inside it. The star gates were critical to my empire, so when One-Two was created, I wanted a way to contact her in an emergency.”
“Sure,” Rebo responded sarcastically. “It will be a lot easier to fi?nd a ring instead of a snake.”
“Yes,” Lysander said gravely. “It will be. Because I know where it is.”
“Okay,” the runner allowed wearily. “I’ll bite . . . Where is it?”
“It’s on my fi?nger,” the onetime emperor responded calmly, “which is attached to my mummifi?ed body, which is suspended within the largest of the four pyramids.”
The curtains billowed in response to an evening breeze, and there, fl?oating along the edge of the horizon, four sunsplashed pyramids could be seen. Rebo shook his head in disgust. “I should have known.”
“Yes,” Lysander put in smugly. “You should.”
Much to his chagrin Logos realized that he had been outmaneuvered. But the AI wasn’t about to surrender Socket to One-Two without a fi?ght. More than a dozen possible scenarios were conceived, reviewed for fl?aws, and gradually winnowed down to a single option. The right option. One that would almost certainly succeed. Logos couldn’t smile, but he could process a state of completion, and did.
The sun had just broken contact with the eastern horizon when Shaz, Phan, and Dyson/Kane emerged from the Caravan Hotel, followed by a squad of robed metal men. Three large angen-drawn chariots were waiting to accommodate them, and there was a good deal of unnecessary shouting as the drivers argued over matters of precedence. Finally, whips cracking, the teamsters urged their animals into motion, and the two-wheeled conveyances rolled down a long, dusty street before passing between gates that hadn’t been closed for more than fi?fty years.
The road that led out of the oasis at Zam, and the thriving market town that had grown up next to it, was at least fi?fteen freight wagons wide and straight as an arrow. That made navigation easy, but there were occasional dust storms to deal with, which was why twelve-foot-high metal pylons had been placed at regular intervals along the center of the busy road. And, having been polished by more than a thou-190
sand years of windblown silicon particles, the markers still stood metal-bright.
Station Chief Anika had volunteered to come along—
and stood next to Shaz. “Look!” she said, pointing up into the sky. “The wings are watching us.”
A heavily laden wagon rolled past headed in the opposite direction as the operative held on to a grab bar with one hand and made use of the other to shade his eyes. The unsprung two-wheeled conveyance bounced every now and then, so the off-worlder was forced to use his knees as shock absorbers. He saw that Anika was correct. More than a dozen winged humans were circling above, and with no thermals to support them, were forced to beat their wings.
“The one in red belongs to Kufu,” Anika explained. “The one in green reports to Menkur, the one clad in black is sworn to Horus, the one wearing orange fl?ies for Quar, and the one sporting blue works for Chairman Tepho. It won’t be long before he knows that we’re on the way.”
Even though Shaz had once served as Tepho’s bodyguard, the combat variant had never been ordered to accompany the executive to Haafa, or been aware of how important the planet was. And why was that? Because knowledge equates to power? Or because Tepho didn’t trust him? There was no way to know. But whatever the reason, the revelation was disturbing. Tepho was not very forgiving where failures were concerned, and since Logos
