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Pliocene Exile - The Adversary Part 88

Pliocene Exile - The Adversary - BestLightNovel.com

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CELADEYR: Only according to orthodox Tanu belief, son. The Firvulag have convinced themselves that Nightfall will bring victory to one faction: themselves. And there is a dim justification for the notion in our sacred writings, given a fast and loose interpretation.

KUHAL EARTHSHAKER: Trust the Firvulag to do just that.

OCHAL THE HARPER: We have confidence that the s.h.i.+ning One will forestall Night!

AIKEN: I'm going to do my d.a.m.nedest. We're outnumbered, but we've got discipline in our metaconcert-and a much more efficient program that yields more watts per mind. We've also got the Spear, a good supply of sophisticated weapons, and the Royal Flying Corps-which you saw in action this afternoon.

(Admiration) SUGOLL: Are all the flying machines armed, as was your flags.h.i.+p?



AIKEN: We're working on it. Refitting a rhocraft is tricky because of the reticular field that covers the skin. With luck, most of the fleet will be zapper-equipped by tournament time.

MORNA-IA KINGMAKER: Woe! O G.o.ddess forfend! That I, a First Comer, should live to see a renewal of those dread hostilities from which Brede s.h.i.+pspouse sought to save us!

CELADEYR: A pity we only have Elizabeth ...

AIKEN: You have Me.

ALL: Yes.

SUGOLL: And there is also the time-gate.

(Consternation.) CELADEYR: No true warrior of Tana's battle-company would turn tail and flee the Foe!

AIKEN: There are worse perils than the Little People. [Image.] KATLINEL THE DARKEYED: In my veins runs Tanu and human blood, and my heart is linked to the Firvulag race of my husband. Well do I recall the words of that spokesman for peace, Dionket Lord Healer, when he bade Sugoll and me to be a bridge. We will willingly undertake a mediation role, and pursue it from now until the Grand Tourney. If Tana wills, we may move the hearts of the Little People, dissuading them from war. Night may not fall.

SUGOLL: But if it should, our people claim the option proffered by King Aiken-Lugonn in exchange for our fealty: If doom cannot be averted, our Howler and human subjects will seek sanctuary in the Milieu.

CELADEYR: Galloping G.o.ddess-what if the d.a.m.n time-gate device is finished before the Tourney?

AIKEN: Not fewkin' likely. There's a snag. I'm going to look into it later today.

KUHAL EARTHSHAKER: Sisters and brothers, let us gratefully accept the offer of the Lord and Lady of the Howlers to mediate with the Firvulag, their kin. At the same time, let us prepare for the worst, marshalling all stalwart torced minds under the executive of the s.h.i.+ning One, following him without hesitation or question. This has not been our Way in the past, for we are a proud and stiff-necked people, loving turmoil and glorying in contention. Now we must act in concert or perish. And I remind the pious that if Night falls, it will be the hand of the Adversary that brings it to pa.s.s rather than Tanu or Firvulag.

He is the true Foe.

(Silence.) AIKEN: Thanks for meeting Me here today. I'll see you all in Nionel, at the games.

Swollen by the heavy rains in the jungles to the south, the River Nonol ran deep and swift beneath the Rainbow Bridge.

Upstream the watercourse was crowded with small boats, carrying sports lovers of three races to the landing stages at the Field of Gold. But the tiny dock at the foot of the bridge's rightbank abutment pier was deserted except for a laden decamole canoe that strained at its painter and two people standing in the afternoon shadows beside it, their minds linked by the fellows.h.i.+p of the golden torc. One was a splendidly dressed hybrid woman, Tanu in every feature except for her brown eyes. The other was a ma.s.sive Native American with straggling iron-grey hair, wearing only a breechclout, moccasins, and an elaborate wrist navigation unit.

Misgiving tinged the hopeful mind-veneer of Katlinel the Darkeyed. "I wish we had one of the sigma-field devices to give you in addition to the weapons, Chief Burke."

He smiled, radiating ironic rea.s.surance. "If it's really Marc Remillard in that schooner I'm hunting, a little sigma-s.h.i.+eld would be about as much protection as a sheet of durofilm. Not to worry, Lady Katy. Us Redskins are just naturally adept at lurking and sneaking-and my training as a lawyer makes me wilier than most. I'll take care that the gang on Kyllikki don't spot me, a.s.suming she is sailing up the Seine."

"The King thinks it most likely. He did an inconclusive scan from his aircraft."

"I call it weird," Burke said, "that with all the high-powered minds and contraband gadgetry at the King's disposal, he can't track this boat except with a pair of tired old human eyeb.a.l.l.s."

"Nevertheless, that seems to be the case. It does seem terribly unfair that you must undertake this scouting mission now, risking your life and perhaps your chance to pa.s.s through the time-gate ... "

Burke shrugged. "If Remillard has his way, there won't be any gate. No-the King's arguments were very persuasive, and he sure as h.e.l.l picked the right man for the job. With the river up the way it is, I should be able to comb the entire five hundred odd kilometres between here and the sea in a week to ten days.

I'll farspeak the King on a regular sked all the way. If his schooner's not there, I'll have had a nice excursion to liven up my last days in the Pliocene."

"And if you find it-"

"I'm no Crazy Horse. All I do is report her position and haul my tush on out of there full speed ahead. From the mouth of the Seine to Goriah is about a week's journey by sea. A little mazel, I won't even have to miss the Grand Tourney!"

He untied the line, jumped lightly into the canoe-which barely rocked as he settled onto his haunches-and lifted his paddle in salute.

"Tana guide you," said the Lady of the Howlers.

Burke lifted his instrument-equipped wrist. "And the Messrs.

Plain."

"Well, what's the hoo-ha?" the King asked Tony Wayland.

The metallurgist thrust a sealed bottle containing a silvery rod under Aiken's nose. "This. It's taken the prospecting team all this time to locate a suitable dysprosium ore, what with dodging renegade Howlers and having the Norwegian locale turn out a b.u.mmer. And now that they've settled in to refine thalenite instead of the xenotime and we finally have an abundant source of ore, the b.l.o.o.d.y idiots are sending down dreck like this."

"What's the problem?" The King controlled his impatience.

"Contaminated," said Hagen gloomily.

"Simply lousy with holmium," Tony said. "And any sort of impurity in the dysprosium core screws up the resistivity factor of the wire something chronic-I mean, quite badly."

"Is it the fault of the equipment, or what?" asked the King.

"The machinery we sent up should be able to do the job,"

Tony said. "They have a high-speed Ramsgate extractor for the ion separation and a nice little electroliser for production of the metal. I think they're skimping on quality control somewhere.

Perhaps in the beginning stages of the ore feed."

"I sent up Candyman, our industrial chemist," Hagen said, "but he couldn't spot the problem. He's really an organic specialist. The crew on the job are experienced mining engineers. They ought to be able to-"

Tony glowered darkly. "You remember that I expressed certain reservations about Yobbo Ruan and Trevarthen when I first learned they'd been put in charge. They may have done well enough mucking about the Amalizan gold mines, but rareearth refining demands finesse."

"The niobium-dysprosium wire is vital to the project," Hagen said. "This f.u.c.k-up means delay at best, and failure if we can't lick it."

The King studied the bottle with its pencil-sized ingot. "You can't complete the purification process here in the labs at Castle Gateway?"

Hagen said, "We'd have to take the extractor away from the mining crew, and we only have the one. Since we need forty kilos of the stuff, and the basic run-through will take three weeks-"

"Oh, for s.h.i.+t's sake," said the King irritably. "You know there's only one answer to this. Get properly refined metal from Fennoscandia in the first place. Solve the problem at the source."

Hagen nodded. "I want to be sure you appreciate the risk, though. Some species of gigantic Howler lives up there.

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Pliocene Exile - The Adversary Part 88 summary

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