The Return of Nathan Brazil

But I won’t take the responsibility for murdering so many. I can’t accept the responsibility any more.” He turned slightly on his side, looking at them, and his eyes fixed on Mavra Chang. He pointed to her.

“Youwill take the responsibility,” he told her. “When I stand inside the Well so will you. I’ll ask you to give me the order. You will tell me to pull the plug on the Universe.”

He sank down and lapsed into unconsciousness, but the instruments informed them that, this time, it was closer to normal sleep.

Nautilus—Topside, Later That Same Day

Mavra Chang paced back and forth in the large reception chamber, where she had spent most of the afternoon and a good part of the.evening, looking grim and somewhat unhappy.

Marquoz waddled around the corner, stopped, yawned, and stared at her for a few moments. “You know, you really ought to get some rest and eat something, too. You can’t eat like a bird anymore. You’re a Rhone now and you require a great amount of energy.”

Mavra stopped and looked at him for a second. She was tired and wan; the strain showed on her face. She looked as if she had aged ten years in the past few days. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t know —that’s all part of this, I guess. Everything has changed. Obie’s gone, even as we sit here comfortably on him; the Universe is going—have you really considered that what we’re trying to do is destroy all that we know? And me, well, I’m stuck in a reconstruction of my ancestor’s old Well body, but I don’t feel like a Rhone. Do you know what it’s like to want a roast beef or something and realize that you can only digest leaves and grass?”

“You’re just feeling sorry for yourself,” the little dragon responded. “I know what that’s like—but from what I’ve heard it’s not like you. I heard that on the Well World you were transformed into a handless cripple yet managed to surmount that difficulty and beat Ortega and everyone else at their own game. What’s changed you?”

She thought about it. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m getting old. Maybe I’ve just grown fat and complacent during my years with Obie.”

Gypsy cleared his throat and they turned. Neither knew how long the strange, dark man had been listening. “You know what’s wrong, if you just face it,” he said.

Mavra just looked at him questioningly. “You’re not the boss this time,” Gypsy said. “You’re not in charge, not even in control. Being a Rhone didn’t bother you one whit on the snatch operation because you were in charge. Not anymore, though. You’re not even a full partner; with Obie you were a partner only when and because he allowed you to be. Now it’s all in the hands of a little guy you don’t even know. Even back on the Well World they left you alone; you were the mistress of your own destiny. Not now. That’s what’s eating you. You gotta be the general all the time, or at least think you are.”

His speech was galling because she knew, deep down, that what he said was true. Gypsy had the uncanny ability to reach down inside your soul and see truths, and he wasn’t at all diplomatic about telling you what they were. For a moment she understood what Brazil seemed to be saying about being inside Obie. There were things you didn’t want to face, didn’t want to even think about—and you certainly became uncomfortable when they were thrust under your nose.

“Who are you, Gypsy?” she asked. “Where do you come from?”

He smiled. “I could give you a long, drawn-out biography, but even then you’d have no way of knowing whether I told the truth. What difference does it make? None of us really knows the others anyway. Take Marquoz, there. Why would a man leave his people, live and work entirely cut off from the environment, and the culture that he was born to? I’m the guy who was around every dingy spaceport milking the marks with any sort of con, never taking a sucker who didn’t really want to be taken but taking all those who did. I’m the guy who doesn’t fit, the square peg who’s found some way to survive and enjoy himself. Freighter captains are like that, too, I think—and thieves, and secret agents, and those kinds of folks. I’m not sure about Marquoz, but he’s definitely a square peg, too. So are you. The staff of the Nautilus—all square pegs, more or less. That’s why we’re here and they’re out there.” His tone became grim and distant. “That’s why we survive—and they don’t.”

A long silence ensued. Finally Mavra Chang said, “I guess I’ll go out and munch the lawn or something. I think the time’s approaching when we have to get to work.”

She didn’t have to go as far as the lawn; Obie had prepared for her hunger, as she well knew, with stores of grain pilfered from Brazil’s old ship. It didn’t taste great but it went down well, and the more she ate the more she wanted to eat. She didn’t feel good, but at least she felt better.

When she returned to the main hall she found Nathan Brazil. The tailor shop had found a black pullover shirt and a pair of shorts that fit him, and a pair of plastine sandals as well. He’d taken time to remove all the rest of his makeup and looked, they guessed, pretty much as he always had. He certainly looked both casual and comfortable. He was a small man, barely 170 centimeters tall, slightly built and very thin despite strong shoulders and strong, sinewy arms. He was dark, almost as dark as Gypsy, and two bright, brown eyes flanked a conspicuous Roman nose that sat atop a mouth very wide, rubbery, and full of teeth. His hair was cropped short, the better to use disguises, and he was clean-shaven, for much the same reason.

He looked up at her, nodded, and smiled a bit. “So how are you, great-granddaughter?” he greeted lightly.

“Surviving,” she responded coldly. Obie had been right on that score; they were too much alike to feel comfortable in each other’s presence.

“Well, surviving is all we can do,” he came back. “I’ve called a petit council meeting—no reflection, that term—shortly, so the rest will soon be here. I’ve been seriously hampered by lack of materials. Everything was in Obie. When were you on the Well World?”

“Over seven hundred years ago,” she replied, fascinated by his sudden but easy transformation from world-weary sage to crisp businessman. “We looked in on it occasionally, but they were Obie’s checkups, nothing more. It was pretty easy to do—just monitor transmissions, mostly. Ortega and Dr. Zinder both had transmitters capable of reaching us, but Obie never used them. We were supposed to have been destroyed by the Com Police. Obie felt he was better off dead to all parties. I certainly have no love for the place, barely knew Zinder, and never met Ortega—although I have less reason to love him than anyone.”

Brazil smiled. “Still mad at the old bastard? I’d think by now you’d have faced the fact that, under similar circumstances, you’d have done to him exactly what he did to you. I’d never accuse the old boy of having a conscience, though.”

She looked surprised. “You know Ortega?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes. Matched wits with him lord knows how long ago on a number of capers in the Com. He’s a wily old scoundrel. I’ve always liked him despite the fact we’re usually on opposite sides. He was on the Well World last time I was there—my welcoming committee, in fact, and later on, my adversary. He should have been dead then, but the Olympian record indicates that he’s somehow managed to survive.”

She nodded. “Some kind of magic spell, I was told. But he’s a prisoner in Zone, even though he practically runs the place.”

“Then he’s likely still there and even more in control,” Brazil noted. “That can be good or catastrophic, and I have no way of knowing which in advance. Damn! The worst thing about the loss of Obie is that we’ll be flying blind in this. I won’t know conditions on the Well World until I get there. A real-life kriegspiel. I’ve never liked the game.”

“Kriegspiel?”

“Chess. You know the game? Only the opponents sit back to back with their own boards and a referee tells you that your opponent’s made a legal move. You have to figure out from the illegal moves where your opponent’s pieces are. And we don’t have a referee in this one.”

“You make it sound like we’ll have to fight another war on the Well World,” she said, slightly puzzled. “I’m not sure I’m clear on this yet.”