The Return of Nathan Brazil

Dolgritu

“Cults make me nervous,” Gypsy said uneasily.

Marquoz was silent, staring at the huge central city square now packed with what seemed to be millions of people. Only his odd form and fiery breath kept him from being tossed about by the mob.

“And to think that only a few months ago it was a little nut-cult with few followers,” Gypsy continued. “Hard to believe.”

“Desperate people manipulated by circumstances they can’t control almost always turn to the supernatural,” the little dragon growled back.

The Fellowship of the Well had indeed grown; it was now the premier religious group in the Com. The cult itself was hard-pressed to handle this sudden success and acceptance; it couldn’t “process” its followers but found they were more than eager to join and stay joined anyway.

The Zinder Nullifiers had been too rushed. Neither they nor their origins could remain hidden long. When Tortoi Kai’s presentation on the history of Zinder’s discovery, the nature of the Markovians, the origins of the Olympians, and even of the Well of Souls name itself, was made public, the data seemed to confirm everything the cult had been saying. When, at the time, the people realized a hungry giant was growing in the void and that the Com was powerless to stop it, locating the god implied by Zinder’s math to get him to save the Com provided a powerful new incentive to belief in the Olympian creed. Even the nonhuman races seemed interested, although they rejected the idea of a god in human form that the cult sought.

So an awful lot of people were now looking for Nathan Brazil. If in fact he were as real as Gypsy said he was, Marquoz hoped he was well hidden.

Marquoz and Gypsy weren’t present to watch the ceremony or listen to the speeches, but to meet with the High Priestess, who would address the crowd. The Olympians had made overtures to the Council about use of the newly declassified computer files. Marquoz had come to talk about that point.

The Council was scared, too.

Gypsy was entranced by the size of the crowd. He looked at it unbelievingly, admiringly. “What a scam!” he breathed. “What a wonderful scam!”

The Chugach seemed amused. “Why are you surprised? Nothing has taken more money or killed more people in the history of your race than religion, and for all its mummery this one has more going for it than most. When the true nature of god is being seriously argued by two dozen hard-headed astrophysicists, this is indeed the line to be working in.”

Gypsy laughed. “So how are we gonna get through this crowd? It’s gonna take us a year to get near the State Hall.”

“One of your people’s religions has a tale of a fleeing people caught with their backs to the sea while a hostile army presses. At the proper moment the sea parts. You do it like this.” The dragon removed a flask hanging from his belt, drained it, then replaced it. Then he formed an oval with his wide mouth, inhaled, and slowly blew. There was the smell of brimstone, and fire shot forth. Marquoz, with Gypsy close at his side, had absolutely no problem clearing a path through the crowd.

A greater obstacle was the horde of security Acolytes surrounding the entrances to the State Hall steps from which the High Priestess Yua was to address the multitudes. Their stun rods and stern expressions implied they would not be intimidated by a little hell-fire.

Gypsy looked nervously at the guards, chosen partially for their size and bulk, but Marquoz simply chose the biggest, toughest, nastiest-looking of the lot and walked right up to him. The stun rod rose slightly.

“None may pass!” the Acolyte intoned in the deepest voice Gypsy had ever heard. Gypsy believed him.

“Stand aside, man,” Marquoz replied, his own foghorn voice not a little intimidating. “We represent the Com Council.”

“None may pass,” the guard repeated, and raised the stun rod a little higher for emphasis. Gypsy could tell by the man’s manner that he was just itching to use it, perhaps even more painfully than its designers intended. There was no doubt the fellow could use it as a club to break heads.

“Didn’t I say we were from the Com Council?” Marquoz repeated patiently. “I am Com Police, and any attempt to prevent me in the performance of my duty is punishable by death.”

The big man was not impressed. “None may pass.” This time he added, “Not even the Com is above the will of God.”

Gypsy was somewhat relieved to learn that the man knew more than three words. If he knew several more he might still be reasoned with.

“Your mistress sent for me, “Marquoz told the guard. “Your group seeks our assistance in matters concerning your quest. We were nice enough to agree to talk about it, and your mistress set this as a convenient meeting place. Now, it’s your people who want something of us, not the other way around. You can admit us, tell your mistress that we are here, or send us away. We will convey indirectly to her who prevented the meeting. Your choice. In ten seconds I’m leaving.”

The little dragon had made a tactical mistake. The guard had been provided with three choices and that was one too many. He looked puzzled, trying to resolve a conflict that was beyond him. Finally he resolved it by falling back on orders. “I have been told to expect no one and admit no one,” he responded.

“Not even Nathan Brazil?” Marquoz shot back.

The guard blinked. “But—of course, if the Lord God should—”

Marquoz wasn’t even going to let him finish. “Ah, but your orders said none shall pass, and surely you were not told to expect Nathan Brazil—yet you would admit him. Either you make exceptions or you don’t. If you don’t, you’d bar even Brazil; if you do, then please let us in to go about our business.”

That was too much for the guard. He turned to a younger, slightly less imposing Acolyte. “Brother, tell the mistress that there’s a giant lizard out here who says he’s a cop and wants to see her.”

The brother nodded, turned, and left. Marquoz reached into his jerkin and extracted a silver cigar case inlaid with a very odd coat of arms. He removed a cigar and lit it in his customary manner. The guard blinked in fascination. Marquoz composed a grin revealing numerous nasty teeth and held up the case. “Have a cigar?” he asked pleasantly.

The guard just continued to stare, and the Chugach shrugged and put the case away, settling back on his huge tail to wait. Gypsy rolled his eyes and turned to watch the crowd.

Eventually the other Acolyte returned and whispered to the big guard and several others. Finally he sauntered over to them.

“The High Priestess will see you,” he told them, “but not until after the services, which are due to start any minute now. Please wait until then.”

Marquoz sighed. “How long will these services take?”

“Usually two hours,” the Acolyte replied. “They are quite inspiring, and with this crowd should prove an experience that will move mountains.” His eyes shone. “I have been with them since the beginning, you know,” he added proudly.

The dragon snorted, then turned to Gypsy. “I wonder if there’s any place left in this dump to get a drink?”

Gypsy shrugged. “Probably not, but it’s worth a try.”

“We’ll be back,” Marquoz promised, “in two hours or so.”

As it happened they did find a little bar open; the proprietor was a steadfast materialist who kept railing to his only two customers about how the cult was a plot by the ruling classes to further oppress the masses.

In spite of their distaste for the man’s poorly reasoned polemics, the dragon cop and his strange human friend remained in the bar until almost a half-hour after they noted the first crowds departing the square. Finally Marquoz stood up and started for the door. “Well, time to go find out if somebody who asks for favors then cools the heels of the person she wants a favor from likes that treatment herself,” he said cheerfully.

The bartender broke off his discourse. “Hey! Wait a minute, you two! You owe me for the drinks!”

Gypsy turned and smiled. “Why, I’m surprised at you, sir. Oppressing the masses like that by asking for something as common and distasteful as money. The root of all evil, you know.”

“What’re you? Some kinda anarchist creep?” the bartender sneered, reaching under the bar. “Pay up or I seal the door and we wait for the cops.”

The Chugach stopped, reached into his jerkin, and pulled out a folding wallet. “But, dear sir, I am the police,” he pointed out.

They were outside before the bartender could decide whether or not to risk it.

The High Priestess was royally pissed, enough so that her manner betrayed her inner rage even as she strove to keep her features properly impassive. “You were due here long ago,” she accused, like a queen snubbed by commoners. She addressed Gypsy with her opening comments.

Marquoz let her ramble on for a bit, and the unfortunate Gypsy took it, while the little dragon studied her. It was almost impossible to tell if she were the same one he had encountered on the freighter—she had exactly the same coloration and was otherwise a perfect copy. He finally decided that they’d never met. The original would not have mistaken Gypsy for himself.

Finally, when she paused in her tirade, he stepped in. “Citizen Yua, if you are quite through berating my good friend, who otherwise has no connection with the government, I shall be happy to discuss the matter at hand with you.”

The Olympian started, puzzled at first by the sudden turn, then embarrassed—not by her mistake but for being caught in it—and finally once again, this time at the proper target. “How dare you treat me like this?” she fumed, and it seemed as if Gypsy and Marquoz were to be favored with an instant replay of her first assault.

“Shut up and sit down,” Marquoz responded quickly, cutting her off. “What?”

“I said shut up and sit down. It is you who have to impress me, not the other way around. Priestess or whatever, I am not a humble Policeman or a citizen of the Com or a Chugach at this point—Iam the Council and the Com! My time is valuable and has already been wasted too long in foolishness. You have ten seconds to yell, scream, and do whatever stupid and demeaning things you wish. After that, I will walk out this door unless we are discussing things rationally in another ten.”

Four Acolytes would have their minds wiped of the day’s activities for being so unfortunate as to have been within earshot. As for Yua, she had never been spoken to so rudely. Hers was a race born to command and securely in charge of its own destiny. Even outside, she had been drilled on her innate superiority to other humans and found that they were easy to stupefy and control—which, of course, had made Marquoz the perfect choice for this particular job.

The Chugach, observing her carefully while feigning disdain, dared to take a cigar out of his case and light it.

Gypsy, who was an empath, read the fury, rage, and confusion that churned inside the Olympian priestess and admired how she regained her composure. She swallowed hard and said without expression, “Very well, sir. We will talk as equals.” For her, that was quite a compromise, but it didn’t suit Marquoz.

“Oh, no madam, we are not equals. I represent fourteen races on over a thousand worlds; I represent the power that is, and the power that your people have spurned. Your Council seat is ever-vacant, or we wouldn’t be having this meeting. Your own planet came from the Council and your seed money was given by its then President. Now, as with many planets, you wish government services although you appear to contribute nothing to the support of those services. I am the Com, madam—convince me. First tell me what you want, then why I should give it to you.”

To Gypsy, the woman seemed on fire. Had it been within her power, he knew she’d have incinerated them with a glance. But what Marquoz said was true, and it was galling to her.

“Very well, sir. During the recent war the computer files and seals were opened. I know that the weapons locker has already been secured—but, while the seals on other files are still inactive we seek to use them to fulfill the aim of our faith and our life’s work.”

Marquoz nodded thoughtfully, dragged on his cigar, and blew a thick smoke ring in her direction. “Okay, you think you can find Nathan Brazil in there. Let’s say you could—why should we allow it? He’s a citizen of the Com, and if he chooses to bury himself it is none of our concern. We don’t want him, and I’m certain I would not like hordes of people trying to find me if I didn’t want to be found.”

“Oh, but He does want to be found!” she protested, the fire of fanaticism replacing the anger. “For He is God, don’t you see? It is the goal of all to find the true name of God, which we have, and then to find Him. If we do so, then shall Paradise be ours!”

Marquoz settled back on his tail and rocked slightly. “But, surely you must see our position. You are but one religion out of tens of thousands. More, you’re a human religion that is racially biased. There are uncounted billions of solar systems, tens of thousands of galaxies, all containing an almost infinite number of planets inhabited by just about every type of race you can imagine and a lot neither of us could. The Com is not antireligious, but it is nonreligious. We have no way of choosing the right from the wrong, the real from the unreal, higher spirituality from superstition and fakers. We don’t try. Consider the precedent, madam! If we allow even one religious group to have access to classified files, why, then, why classify them at all?”

“But we wish to find only one thing!” she almost shouted.

The little dragon shrugged. “This fellow, Brazil, has the same rights as you. From the Com point of view he has stated, by his actions and his use of rather political leverage, that he does not wish to be found. Other than your religious beliefs, can you give, me one reason why the Com should allow this?”

“Other than—” Yua spurted, then stopped. Here was quite a challenge, yet she understood it. To this creature her beliefs were as nothing, so what sort of practical reason could she give? She wished that she had been better prepared, that they had sent older or wiser heads, that she might have the chance to commune with Her Holiness. But, no, she’d been convenient and properly located, she’d been offered the chance to refuse, and she’d taken the challenge.

Suddenly Gypsy interrupted. “Someone else is here.”

Thankful for the opportunity to stall, the Preistess responded with a wave of her hand. “The Acolytes are all about, taking down the sound system and such.”

The strange, dark man shook his head. “No, not them. Somebody is listening in on us deliberately. Someone is in this very room with us.”

Both Yua and Marquoz looked around. The room was small and barren of any obvious places to hide, nor were closets or trap doors in evidence. “You are mistaken,” the Priestess said.

“He is rarely mistaken,” Marquoz replied in a very low whisper.

They sat in total silence for a moment, trying to hear what Gypsy heard or sensed, but the only noises were the muffled pounding and calls of the Acolyte and State Hall crews outside.

Finally Marquoz shrugged. “What difference? We discuss no state secrets here.” He turned again to the Priestess. “I ask again, is there any reason—other than your beliefs—why you should be allowed access to the files?”

Yua was about to answer when Gypsy said nervously, “More than one. Several creatures are here in this room with us, listening to us.”

Marquoz and Yua looked at him with concern. Marquoz was afraid that the odd nomad was cracking up. He turned back to the Olympian. “Well?”

Yua had had some time to compose herself. “Your own researches have proved our beliefs—surely you must know that. Your own scientists state that a master computer exists somewhere, that Zinder was right—and we are Zinder’s children, we Olympians. You have been dabbling in the forces that led to our creation so you know that’s true. Then why not indulge us on this one additional thing? If we are wrong, then little is lost. None need ever know—you can bury this precedent as easily as any other fact you wish. If we are correct, then this is something the Com must know.”

Marquoz considered the argument, but finally shook his large head. “No, sorry. As you say, we can bury the attempt, but there’s simply nothing in it for us. Brazil could have our necks for violation of privacy.”

Yua pounced. “Ah! Then you admit that such a one exists!”

The dragon nodded. “Oh, yes, there is—or was—someone named Nathan Brazil, all right, although preliminary evidence seems to indicate that, if he’s god, he’s not the god you’d want.”

Yua looked at him strangely. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve researched him as far as I could,” the Chugach told her. “He’s something of a legend among freighter captains. The oldest alive by far, a loner, a hard drinker and brawler for fun. Not exactly your image of god, is it?”

She shrugged. “Who can pretend to know or understand God or what He does?”

Marquoz sighed. “I’ll admit you’ve got a point, but, no, I’m afraid you haven’t given me enough to present to the Presidium. Sorry.” He turned and glanced up at his distracted companion. “Gypsy? You coming?”

“Perhaps I can give you a good enough reason,” said a new voice, a woman’s, deep and rich, without accent. Yua and Marquoz both started, and Gypsy almost jumped out of his skin.

“See? I told you!” he said, voice quivering. Marquoz’s large head took in the apparently empty room. “Who speaks?” he demanded. “Where are you?”

“Here,” the voice said from just behind him. He turned and saw a young woman dressed completely in black, slight of build and not much taller than he, wearing leather boots and a belt whose buckle was the joining of two dragon’s heads.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked. “And where were you hiding?”

The woman smiled and cocked her head toward Yua. “Ask her. She can do that trick as well. I am someone who knows the truth behind this silly religion and I have the reason you will find Nathan Brazil or allow us to.”

“You propose force?” Marquoz almost laughed at that.

She shook her head. “No, not force. The reason you must find Nathan Brazil is that he’s the only one who knows how to fix the Well Computer—and if it isn’t fixed that gaping hole in space-time your blundering military opened will swallow the Com in less than a hundred and fifty years.”

Yua was on her feet now, long hair blending into her magnificent tail. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Who can enter a place guarded like this and do the things only Olympians can do?”

“Answers later,” the mysterious woman replied. “Okay, gang, time to come out now.”

Suddenly, six more shapes materialized about the room. Three were male, three female. All were large and imposing, and all held pistols of unknown design and type.

Yua, to the surprise of Marquoz and Gypsy, suddenly seemed to fade to invisibility before their eyes. The newcomers, however, were not deceived. Looking straight at the spot where Yua had vanished the woman said, evenly but in a tone of command. “That will get you nowhere. We can see and track you despite that little vanishing act. We know all about it.”

As if to emphasize that point one of the women moved close to where Yua was last seen and tracked her outline roughly with the pistol.

Yua admitted defeat, though she still didn’t understand what was going on, and faded back in, glaring not at the strangers but at Marquoz. “This is some kind of trick! What are you trying to pull, anyway?”

Marquoz sighed. “I assure you, madam, that I have far less an idea of what is going on than you do. My only hunch is that we’ve just been captured by some new alien menace, a scenario that is becoming repetitious.”

“Just don’t make any moves,” the woman in black warned. “We’re about to take a little trip, all of us.”

Marquoz looked around, then at Yua. “How many security guards and Acolytes you got around here, anyway?”

The small woman chuckled. “We won’t meet any of them.” She smiled sweetly at Yua. “What’s the matter, honey? No respect for Nathan Brazil’s great-granddaughter?”

Blackness suddenly swallowed them, and, briefly, they felt as if they were falling. Then there was light again, artificial light. They had materialized in a laboratory of some kind, in exactly the same positions they had occupied in Yua’s chamber.

Marquoz stared at the strange surroundings; Gypsy allowed himself to breathe again; Yua just stared at the small woman in black.

“Welcome to the Nautilus, citizens,” the woman said. “I am Mavra Chang.”