“So, they’re somewhat unusual,” the functionary responded evenly. “And the master-at-arms wants you to participate in the interrogation.”
Pontho took a look at her wrist term. She had a million things to do. “Tell him I’m busy.”
“The pirates claim to be from another planet,” the voice added. “And they’re looking for the island of Buru.”
“Buru?” Pontho demanded. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Tell the master-at-arms that I’m on my way.”
Like most such facilities, the interrogation chamber had dingy walls, a fl?oor that could be hosed clean, and harsh overhead lighting. What didn’t show, was the fear that had been etched into the ceiling, walls, and tiled fl? oor. It couldn’t be seen, not in the usual way, but it was real nonetheless. In fact Norr could “hear” the screams as they echoed back through the years, “feel” the hopelessness of the prisoners who had been tortured there, and even “see” one of them standing in a corner. He was crying, and judging from the thought forms that surrounded him, had been for a hundred years. But there was nothing Norr could do to help the hapless entity because both she and the runner hung suspended in midair, clasped within the embrace of a force fi?eld they couldn’t see.
Rebo tried to speak, to tell the phibs what he thought of them, but couldn’t move his lips. The guards thought that was funny and laughed. The master-at-arms stood with arms crossed over a well-muscled chest. He smiled grimly.
“Save your energy, pirate. You’re going to need it.”
Norr’s attention was elsewhere. With one exception, all of their belongings were spread out on a table, where they had been repeatedly inventoried. But now, as new guards arrived, the female was about to depart with Sogol still wrapped around her arm! Would the master-at-arms approve? No, the sensitive didn’t think so, but he didn’t know. And, since Norr was unable to speak, the variant did the one thing that she could: She made an attempt to reach out with her mind. The 9mm pistol was heavier than any object that she had ever tried to levitate, but if were she to succeed, Norr felt confi?dent that the ensuing ruckus would be suffi?cient to hold the female guard for a bit longer. So in spite of the diffi?cult circumstances—the sensitive sought to fi?nd the peaceful place within. Once there, the variant summoned all her mind-force, shaped it into an invisible pseudopod, and directed the newly formed limb over to the table. Then, having wrapped the weapon in a cocoon of psychic energy, Norr ordered it to rise. But nothing happened as the female security offi?cer paused to say something to the burly master-atarms, laughed as if in response to a shared joke, and turned to leave.
Desperate now, the sensitive bore down, and sent even more energy out into the center of the room. That was when she heard a cry of astonishment. Norr’s eyes were open, and had been throughout, but now she “looked.” Everyone in the room, master-at-arms included, stood frozen in place as the pistol fl?oated, barrel upward, two feet above the surface of the table!
And that was the tableau that met Mayor Pontho’s eyes as she entered the chamber. “And what,” she wanted to know, “is going on here?”
The gun fell, hit the table with a loud bang, and fell to the fl?oor. And, because Sogol was the only one free to answer, it was she who spoke. “My name is Logos 1.2,” the AI responded assertively, “and I need your help.”
THIRTEEN
The city of Shimmer, on the Planet Zeen
—The seer Sumunda,
When Sogol spoke, no one was more surprised than the woman who had the snake-shaped AI wrapped around her left biceps. She reacted by tearing the serpent off and tossing it onto the table, where it wiggled, rolled over, and slid to a stop. And that was the point when Logos 1.2 coiled her body as if to strike and hissed.
The master-at-arms looked from the snake to the woman and back again. That was the moment when he realized that rather than turn the snake in, as the security offi?cer was supposed to do in situations like that one, the female had been about to steal it. Even worse was the fact that the other members of her team were willing to tolerate such behavior!
His jaw tightened, orders fl?ew, and all three of the miscreants were led away. Though not particularly interested in the details sur-292
rounding the way in which the security offi?cers would be disciplined, Mayor Pontho was interested in fl?oating guns, talking snakes, and the prisoners suspended in front of her. Especially since they were looking for the island of Buru, a place currently occupied by a force of wings on behalf of the norms. “Release the prisoners,” she ordered. “And bring some chairs. . . . I have no idea what’s going on here—but it should be interesting to fi?nd out.”
Though not especially pleased by the manner in which the mayor had taken control of the interrogation process, the master-at-arms had no choice but to acquiesce. Ten minutes later, both Norr and Rebo were seated at the table and, much to the sensitive’s delight, were clutching mugs of tea.
“Okay,” Pontho began. “Start at the beginning. Who are you? Where are you from? And why are you interested in Buru?”
Norr looked at Rebo, saw the runner shrug, and knew it was up to her. And, given the fact that Sogol had already spoken, she saw no alternative but to tell a truthful but abbreviated version of their adventures, starting on the Planet Seros and culminating in their recent arrival on Zeen. It took more than an hour to tell the tale, and when it fi?nally came to an end, Pontho shook her head in amazement.
“That’s quite a story. . . . One that’s pretty hard to believe. Especially the part about your snake, the so-called star gates, and our moon. But who knows? Strange tales are true at times. I will ask one of our scholars to look into the matter—and perhaps he or she will fi?nd a way to authenticate your tale. In the meantime I think it would be best to keep both you, and, ah Sogol, under lock and key.”
