Sable/The Technocracy
December SY149 to April SY150
I have to admit, I never expected for one moment that Andrew would decide to marry again so soon: after all, it took me nearly three centuries, whereas he had only been single for about ninety years. Especially to a mortal girl. It's obviously an indication of how far apart we drifted while he was away, that it took me so much by surprise.
Niamh McCormick first came to my attention through Richard Lacey, who had returned to his assignment on St James after I had helped him recover from his tribulations at the hands of Rupert Delatz. Niamh and her sisters were based in Northern Ireland, but had strong links to the Oakwood Group on that particular Shadow. Therefore, through that John Graham, Richard learned of Niamh and her sisters, Margaret - who is married to Geoffrey Aberford, the potential Helgram I believe I have mentioned before - and Deirdre (no relation to my mad aunt).
Andrew and Niamh actually met for the first time in Sable. Richard brought Geoffrey and Niamh through because they were trying to get an appointment to see someone called the Prime Interface: something to do with a project they were involved in being threatened by hoards of robots bent on taking over a Shadow they were helping to defend. That the Shadow was Inside puzzled me, as St James is definitely Outside. That Don Mathias Arnold was also involved also puzzled me. At that point I'd never met the man - I just knew of his reputation. However, when I had a good look at Geoffrey, and realised that he was a Thelbane Logrus initiate, it became blatantly obvious that all was not what it seemed.
Niamh seemed like a strange girl. There was something...distracted is probably the best word...about her, and she had some kind of data-jack implanted in her neck: as per fiction of what I believe is called the cyberpunk school. I've never been interested in such things myself. However, even a cursory glance at her with my abilities indicated to me that all was not completely well with her.
It was when Andrew walked into the drawing room, obviously expecting to see them both, that the penny dropped. Prime Interface was his title within the Nexus. She curtsied when she saw him, almost with reverence, rather to his discomfort and Geoffrey's, I felt, at which point I stepped out and left them to it. If it was to do with the Nexus, it wasn't my business.
My son called me about half an hour later, looking very concerned.
"I have some business to attend to. Are you likely to need me in the next few days?"
"There doesn't seem to be anything unusual going on at the moment, so probably not."
"Oh, there's something unusual going on. I'm just not sure what and it worries me. I'd like to check it out."
"To do with the Nexus?" Given his self-imposed duties as a Sable general, my impression was he hadn't been back to his Creation for a while.
"Primarily to do with a Transport Logrus, but I have a feeling it's related, if the enemy they're fighting is what I think it is. I'll be in touch."
"Good luck," I replied, and he broke the Trump link.
It was a couple of weeks later when he got back in contact with me.
"Robert, I need some advice."
"You know me. A fount of useless advice."
"Can I join you?"
I offered him my hand, and brought him through to the library. Instantly, I could tell that he was in a very strange mood, although whether he was worried, angry, concerned or any of the above wasn't clear. It was certainly something different to his recent obsession with the Reich, for example - which, in honesty, had to be a healthier state of mind. But still, while I am not as good at reading him as I used to be, this was something new.
"What seems to be the problem?"
"Can a Dark Side take over the Light Side of a Creation?" he asked, as if willing the answer to be no.
"It's theoretically possible," I replied, surprised at the question but unable to give him the answer he wanted, and my heart sank slightly. "Especially if the Creator has absented his or her self. I think that's been the fate of Mordred and Cat's world, since they disappeared, although I'm not sure if they had Dark Sides in the sense that you and I do. Why?"
"The Technocracy. The Nexus. Whatever you want to call it. Someone's been screwing with it."
"In what way?"
"I've just returned to find that my Creation has been changed out of recognition from the world as I envisaged it. It's become a place of pain, not a haven for scholars and information, which was what I imagined. It's been undermined...darkened... corrupted." He almost sounded like a disheartened child whose favourite toy had been broken, and he couldn't understand why.
"I think you'd better explain."
"Take the data interface. You've seen me using my link to the CDR - the Central Data Repository..."
I thought for a moment and then nodded. There were times when he would seem to pause, mid sentence or mid action, think for a second, and then continue with the benefit of new information. As if he had a telepathic link to something. I'd figured it was a new magic trick he'd learned, but it could as easily be connected to his Creation.
"I set things up so that Interfacing was a process that needed time to learn. It's largely magical, and involves knowledge and scholarship to truly understand. But since I've been away they've come up with a new way of doing that: one that has removed the aspect of knowledge and replaced it with a quick and ugly solution which damages those who undertake it. It involves them mutilating themselves to implant jacks or internal storage or whatever." He looked genuinely horrified as he spoke. "There are people who've had whole organs removed and replaced with a mechanical equivalent so they can experience the Data Stream on a more personal level. They're losing themselves in it and letting it rule them. They're sacrificing their humanity for short-term gratification, which is more easily available to them in the new system."
"How long have you been away?" I asked, concerned, "Technocracy time?"
"Rising seventy years. I've been fighting your bloody war against the Reich, and that's kept me busy."
"I didn't ask you to do that, although I've appreciated the help. Who did you leave in charge back in the Technocracy?"
"The Council of Twenty on Primary - but even they have changed. They seem scared to say boo to a goose."
"What about the other two manifestations of the Power? The ones you kept control of?"
"I left Shadows of myself in Secondary and Tertiary, but I haven't had a chance to go and look at what they're doing. What I found in Primary was bad enough."
"Andrew, was there anyone of your bloodline there at all? For any of that period?"
"Who would I have asked?"
"It's not as if you're short of children."
"But they're all busy working for the greater good of Sable."
"I'm sure someone could have been spared for something this important. Give me credit for some intelligence. I know how important it is to keep a watch on your own world. What about Alexander?"
"I've not heard from him since I taught him how to walk the Pattern - he's made himself scarce."
"I think you need to tell me what you know about Andreas Delatz."
He looked surprised at what he obviously thought was a change of subject.
"Hell, you already know most of it, Robert. He's Bloody Rupert's right-hand man. Head of the SD. Occasional general in the field. No sense of humour. Good of the Reich. Blah de blah de blah de blah."
"That's not what I mean," I answered, "what of his nature? Is there any way he could have been working in the Reich and influencing the Nexus at the same time?"
"I wouldn't have thought so, unless his link to his part of the Power is strong enough to break into mine."
"But as we've discussed before, things didn't go quite right when you separated. And your first comment when you came though implied to me that you had at least allowed for the possibility that he's the one who's been messing around in the Technocracy. So what is the nature of the Nexus's Dark manifestation?"
"Machines. Everything is machines. Hell, the organism, if that's the right word, they serve calls itself the Machine. That's what Geoffrey Aberford and Niamh came to ask my advice on: they were suffering an incursion from those forces. And as I've had occasion to fight them in the past, my name came up as the best person for them to ask for help. The Machine has no respect for human life. Any life, really. When its minions take a Shadow, they kill every living thing, plant and animal, then strip that world of all its minerals and similar resources. Then, once they've taken everything they want, the leave it a desolate wasteland and move on."
"What were you defending?"
"Don Mathias had access to an Aurellis Transport Logrus. Not sure if Roland realised or not. But the Machine had set its sights on the Shadow where it was located. And believe me, the very last thing we want is for them to have access to Piloting. At least currently they have to work through Shadow the slow way."
"I'm not too keen on the Reich having it, either."
"This time, they weren't the aggressors," Andrew answered.
"I have to admit, some kind of rabid machine-like organism doesn't seem to tie up with Andreas. Are you sure he's responsible?"
"I don't know. When I went into the Core of the CDR to find out what's been going on - and why I didn't know about it - I found evidence that it had been tampered with. Its link to me had been compromised such that information on the true nature of what was happening in the Technocracy was blocked from reaching me. Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to cut me out of the loop, and the only person I can think of who would benefit is Andreas Delatz."
"Is there any indication of a name?"
"No. Just a title. The Master of the Machine."
"Do you have any evidence that Andreas Delatz and the Master of the Machine are the same individual?"
"Nothing definite. But surely it's too much of a coincidence...?"
"I know Andreas is a pretty cold fish. But a machine? It doesn't seem very likely."
"Except that I can't think who else it would be," he reply, to which I had to agree.
"You need to get back to your world and sort it out," I stated.
"I'm bloody well aware of that," he retorted, "but you've been keeping me busy in the war against the Reich."
"No, Andrew," I answered, "at no point have I ordered you to fight for me. That's something you have chosen to do, and while it has helped Sable tremendously, if I had realised that by doing so you were compromising the Nexus, I would have told you to go home ages ago. Take the time. Go back to your Creation. Put things right."
He nodded, then hit me with a question which came completely out of left field.
"Do you think Claire would be willing to come with me?"
"Why on earth would you need Claire? Is someone sick?"
"Yes, the whole damn place is sick," he snapped, "but most especially, I want to help Niamh."
"Geoffrey Aberford's sister-in-law?"
"She's been corrupted, and I want to try to show her that there's another way to Interface than having her liver and spleen replaced. She doesn't even eat real food because her stomach has been removed to make way for more data storage. It's an abomination."
The tone of his answer stopped me in my tracks. It was more than concern. More than worry. Had someone finally got under his skin enough to remind him how to care?
"Andrew, is there something I should know about you and Niamh McCormick?"
He paused a moment, then almost looked embarrassed.
"I think I've fallen in love with her," he said, quietly, "but I'm not sure she's capable of realising that with so much metallic crap implanted in her. I'm hoping that Claire might be able to restore her humanity. I'd ask you, but I know you've got your hands full here. And if we can cure Niamh, there's a chance of curing some of the others who have been sucked into the technological nightmare my Creation has become."
"If you put it like that to her, I am sure she'll help you," I replied, knowing that Claire's instincts as a doctor and healer are, if anything, stronger than mine, not least because of her role as Goddess of Healing within the Aurellis pantheon (a title she gained by virtue of being the sister of the Mater Deorum, and therefore being able to walk Roland's Logrus, albeit one she used very rarely), "do you want to ask her, or shall I?"
"I'll do it. It's me who needs the favour."
"As long as one of you lets me know what you decide..."
"Of course. Thank you."
He looked at me for a moment, then said.
"Do you think I can get it back?"
"I think you're going to have your work cut out for you," I answered, "but you are, at least, the Creator not the Counterpart. Therefore it should be possible for you to reimpose your will on things. But remember two things. One, it won't be quick, and two, you bloody well need to have descendants of your own bloodline running Secondary and Tertiary. What about Helena-Maria?"
"She's agreed to come and assist me for now."
"It should be a help. Two of you, rather than just you on your own. And if you need any of the others, the ones who live here in Sable, for God's sake tell me. I'm sure we can cope without them for a while."
"It certainly can't take the likes of Francis and Chris. You're going to need their military skills if I'm out of the fight for a while."
"We will cope. We did while you were missing."
He looked at me, then nodded.
"I'll go and find Claire."
"Let me know what happens," I answered, and he headed out of the library.
As expected, Claire agreed to go with Andrew. It was about ten days later that I heard from her again, and when I did, she seemed tired.
"How is it?"
"Not good," she answered, "not good at all. Would you step through for a moment, love?"
I shrugged, and did just that, arriving in a medical facility. There were computer screens all around the room, as well as a couple of beds with patients on the other side of a glass panel to one side.
"What's going on?"
"What Andrew told you is true," she answered, "these people have been tricked into giving up part of themselves to be one with the Data Stream. I've agreed to help try to sort things out."
"What can you do?"
"I'm recruiting priests and priestesses," she replied, which surprised me.
"How's that going to help?"
"I can train them in the techniques to restore these people to what they should be. It involves quite a high degree of shapeshifting, plus some of the healing abilities I can grant, but it's doable. It means I'm going to be here for some months while I screen and train potential applicants."
"What about Niamh?"
"She's on the path to recovery. I've managed to get a lot of the junk out of her, and rebuild the original organs which were replaced. It's taking her a while to adapt to not being an Interface any more, and she's almost in withdrawal."
"Andrew said that people could be Interfaces - not that I wholly understand what he means - with magic, rather than technology."
"True. But while she's Talented, she isn't a trained mage. He says he's got some kind of plan on that one. I didn't really understand it, but to be honest, I don't understand a lot of what happens around here."
She looked at me and sighed.
"Robert, this place is so different to what we're used to, you and I. Despite the presence of magic, everything is highly technological. It took me a week to even figure out how to use the computers to link into the CDR the hard way. I'm really not comfortable here."
"Then don't stay."
"You know I can't do that, love," she replied, "there are people here who need my help - our help, if truth be told, although I know you can't really leave Sable for any length of time. But if you could spare a few hours here and there, I'd really appreciate it."
"Will it do some good?"
"If, as a result, we can start showing people the benefits of Andrew's original way over the Master's, yes. Niamh has offered to help me: she can show herself as one who has come out of the process a better and more human person. But it's going to be an uphill struggle, and we could be here for a while."
"I miss you, Claire," I said, quietly, putting my arms around her, and she laid her head on my shoulder.
"I miss you too," she replied, then was quiet for a moment before adding,, "but for now my duty is here."
"Who are those two?" I asked, indicating the patients.
"Two people who've volunteered for the removal surgery. I was going to show some of my new acolytes how to make a start. We're due in theatre in about half an hour, but I wanted to fill you in."
"How's Andrew?"
"Angry...bitter. But determined to try to fix things. I think he's feeling guilty, and blaming himself for all of those who've taken the Master's route. You know the old 'what if' game...what if he'd been here..."
"Keep an eye on him."
"I will. I think Niamh will, too."
"What's happening between those two?"
When I asked, I saw the first smile since I had arrived.
"They appear to have fallen madly in love at first sight," she replied.
"Andrew? Something as rash as love at first sight? Is it real? Or is he deluding himself?"
"She obviously feels the same way," Claire answered, "oh Robert, it's so refreshing seeing him smile again, even if a lot of the time he's up to his eyeballs in work. It's been so long."
I thought for a moment, and realised she was right.
"Maybe he's finally got a chance of getting over whatever it is that's been driving him," she commented.
"I hope you're right," I replied, "listen, I'd best be getting back. Keep me informed of what's happening."
"Of course, love."
We embraced each other and kissed, and then I made my way back to Sable.
The next contact I had was from Andrew himself.
"Robert, would you perform a medical assessment for me?"
"Can't Claire do that?"
"She has, but neither of us can quite believe what she's found, so she asked me to ask you for a second opinion. And before you ask, no, it's not on me."
I shrugged, and stepped through once more to join him. My guess is that where I arrived was still part of the same medical facility where I had visited Claire a couple of weeks before. However, the only patient I could see was a baby in an incubator. It was tiny - barely four inches from head to toe - and by rights it shouldn't have been alive. I looked around the room, and saw that both Claire and Niamh McCormick were in the room with us. Claire crossed over to me and put a hand around my waist.
"Would someone like to tell me what's going on?" I asked.
"We'd like you to take a look at Lucy," Andrew answered, indicating the incubator, and Niamh nodded.
"Lucy?"
"Your newest grand-daughter," he replied.
"What the Hell...?" I looked at him, then at Claire and Niamh. The latter looked infinitely better than when I had first met her in Sable, and I could no longer see the data-jack in her neck.
"She's Andrew's and my child," Niamh answered, looking at me, "she's one of triplets."
"Where are the others?" I asked with some trepidation, wondering if they hadn't made it.
"They haven't been born yet," Claire replied, "Lucy needed to be removed to allow the other two to grow."
"But..." I interrupted, but she raised her hand to indicate to me to let her finish.
"That's not quite as harsh as it sounds," she continued, "Lucy is a far from normal baby. As far as I can tell, her prognosis is excellent."
"But she's what, three months early? Four?" I asked, judging from the infant's size.
"Nearer eight," Andrew said, "that's why Claire operated. To give the others a chance. Will you take a look at her?"
Worried by the whole thing, I thought for a moment then nodded, and brought up my magical senses to take a look at the child. And was startled to find that its physiology was a mixture of human and something almost cybernetic. It didn't seem to have a circulation system, for example: it was like looking at a highly complex computer with organic circuitry. And yet as far as I could tell - and I could see why Claire wanted a second opinion, as this was outside both of our experiences - the tiny infant was thriving. Indeed, as I worked it was almost as if it detected me, because it turned its head towards me and opened its eyes. They were a startling blue.
Niamh saw the motion and crossed to the incubator, offering a finger to the child which was bigger than its head. It...she?...reached up to grab it and then gurgled happily, and a look of maternal pride crossed Niamh's features.
"Okay, consider me officially freaked out," I said, looking at Andrew, "you and I need to talk. Now."
"Let's go up to my office," he answered, and put his hand on my shoulder to teleport us out.
"I'd trouble you not to be 'freaked out' by my daughter," he commented, as he poured us a pair of drinks.
"I'm sorry," I replied, realising that my choice of words had been unfortunately, however honest the comment was, "but I was surprised. Are you willing to explain?"
He indicated for both of us to sit - the chairs were modern, made of folded wood and upholstered in cream: very different to my favourite leather armchairs at home, but relatively comfortable nonetheless.
"Since we last spoke I've made some progress with the Nexus," he began.
"Glad to hear it."
"I also helped Niamh to take the Power. It means she's reconnected to the Data Stream, without her having to spend five years at mage school."
"If it's that easy, then why didn't your Council of Twenty start doing that when they realised that things were going wrong?"
"Sadly, I'm the only person who can do it. It's one of my abilities as Prime Interface. Actually, I helped them the same way when I first set them up, although many of them have since studied."
"What does this have to do with...Lucy, did you say the child's name was?"
"As far as I can tell, Lucy is a creation of the Nexus, to help me to regain control of it."
"But you said she was yours and Niamh's daughter."
"And so she is."
"Okay, I admit it. Now I'm confused."
"Your comment about needing those of my blood to help me rule...it would seem that the Nexus has realised that as well, and so it's furnished me with some potential helpers. Lucy is the first."
"You and Niamh haven't wasted any time..." I commented.
"For us it's been several months," came the reply.
"What's so special about Lucy? Why is she so...different?"
"She was conceived within the Nexus."
I looked at him, waiting for him to clarify the statement.
"The way I help someone walk the Nexus is by being in the centre of it myself. From there I can reach out and guide both candidate and Power, and bring them safely home. But as Niamh was walking, I realised there was something different about her initiation to those of the Council, when I formed it. And when she reached the middle...well, things took a rather unexpected course."
"Are the other two like Lucy? Some kind of machine/human hybrid?"
"Not according to Claire," he answered, "she expects them to be normal, healthy children. They may be born a little early, being twins, but nothing untoward."
"And yet Lucy is different?"
"The Nexus says it needs someone to be its guardian from inside, to protect it when I am not here, and to make sure it continues to function correctly. And as far as I can figure out, that's where Lucy comes in. She's the most important piece in my regaining control of this place."
"Don't you feel guilty at creating a child just for a purpose?"
"You've done something similar before," he answered, "after all, you decided pretty much before they were born that Alison and Cathal would rule Azure and Argent."
"That's a little different."
"Not really. It certainly isn't different to the others - Claire reckons a boy and a girl, by the way."
"But at least Alison and Cathal were always intended to be human. And from what you've told me, mechanical organisms are something from the Machine, not the Technocracy."
"It wasn't my intention that Lucy should be anything other than human," he replied, "but from communicating with the Nexus, it is required for her to be able to survive within it for long periods of time. Hence it made arrangements and she is what she is."
"You know, I would have thought you were fed up of other people genetically manipulating your unborn children after the Octs."
"The Nexus isn't an outsider," he replied, "it's part of me, as Sable is to you. And Lucy is part of both it and me."
"Oh boy."
I paused for a moment, trying to get my head around the information as I sipped at my drink. Then I looked at him again.
"How can you be sure that it was the Nexus that arranged it, and that it isn't some trap the Master of the Machine left for you?"
"I considered that, but there is no way the Master could have predicted what happened."
"I really hope you're right."
"I do too," he answered. He drank from his cognac, then looked at me. "We want to get married."
"Any idea when?"
"It had probably better be soon," he replied, "otherwise finding her a wedding dress might prove interesting."
"Where?"
"Millbank Parish Church would be my preference...and before you ask which one, the proper one, on Terra Magica."
"I'll talk to Reverend Bury and see what he can do."
"I'd appreciate it."
The date was set for 12 April, SY150 - we decided it was probably best to avoid Claire's and my wedding anniversary on St George's day - and myself and my grandson James were heavily involved in organising the logistics for getting family and friends to the Church. After all, Terra Magica isn't accessible except for someone with greater than average ability with the Sable Pattern. However, as everyone assembled on a bright spring day, the mood was happy.
The majority of the family were there, although Francis had offered to stay in Sable to keep an eye on things: something which Andrew had accepted as a sensible precaution, all things considered. Elsewhere, Gwillym was watching over Murray for me, with instructions to contact us if anything untoward occurred. My hope, however, was that our precautions would be unnecessary.
Andrew had opted for Sable Army uniform, the brother blade to the Sable Pattern sword at his belt: the blade he had given Morgaine, so many years ago, now reforged with a different hilt and balanced for a near six-foot male, rather than a somewhat petite woman. He waited silently beside William, who had agreed to act as his best man, and despite all the ceremony attendant on his marriage to the late Queen of Rebma, he hadn't seemed as nervous on that day, as he was this time.
As she came down the aisle, on the arm of her brother Donal (her father having died in an IRA bomb blast many years before), Niamh looked beautiful. She was wearing a cream dress that had been cleverly tailored to cover a manifold of sins, and she looked radiantly happy. Her expression was matched by Andrew's as she came to stand beside him.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God..."
The words of the service were familiar, and I felt Claire squeeze my hand as we listened to them. I should have realised that everything was going too smoothly.
"...let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace..."
And the door into the Church was pushed open sufficiently hard for it to slam back against the bookcases beside it, which normally held the hymn books. I saw Andrew's eyes narrow, and then I turned towards the back of the Church. Whoever it was had not yet entered the building, so I stepped out of the aisle and strode smartly to the back, just as a very familiar figure stepped over the threshold. And he wasn't consumed with fire as he did it, and neither did he seem particularly uncomfortable on Holy ground.
"Rupert," I said, quietly, "what in God's name are you doing here?"
He was dressed simply in a black polo shirt and slacks, obviously oblivious to the tradition of not wearing black to a wedding. And he seemed very agitated.
"Let's not bring God into this, Robert, " he replied. He sounded tired. "I suggest you ask Andrew to join us, and let us speak outside."
"This is not the best of moments."
"I'm not going to argue with you," he answered, "I have news, but either he comes now, or I will forget the fit of magnanimity which brought me here and let him find out what I wish to tell him the hard way."
I'd never seen Rupert in this mood before. He seemed concerned, and moreover concerned for Andrew, who was much greater an enemy to him than I was. I nodded, and headed back down the aisle.
"What the heck is going on, Robert?" Andrew demanded.
"Yes, Your Grace. Is there a problem."
"Not with the wedding," I answered, "this sounds like something else. Niamh, forgive me, but I need for Andrew to come with me. Hopefully it will not take very long."
"It had better not," he retorted, but after a glance at Niamh, who seemed quite understandably upset, he fell into step beside me, "this is like something out of a bad soap opera."
"Believe me, it isn't my idea of amusement, either," I answered.
We headed back up the Church and then left the building, closing the door behind us. His sword was in his hand the moment he saw our visitor, and before I could stop him, Rupert was on the ground, Andrew's knee was on his chest, pinning him down, and the edge of his blade was at my brother's throat.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't run you through?" he demanded.
"Then you'll never find out why I'm here," Rupert answered, trying not to gasp for breath, and fixing Andrew with a hard stare. With great emotional control, he was also trying very hard not to show any fear at his situation, although all three of us knew that if Andrew wanted to end his life there and then, my counterpart would be regenerating.
"Three seconds."
"Oberstgruppenführer Delatz is planning to kidnap your youngest daughter."
"Why should I believe you?" Andrew demanded, but I saw the blade waver from Rupert's neck.
"You don't have to, but why the Hell would I have come here to lie to you?"
"It's in your nature."
"Oh for God's sake, Andrew," he snapped, apparently without a care for the precariousness of his situation, "I knew you were blinkered and bigoted, but please...Robert, will you tell him to let me up?"
From what link there is between myself and my counterpart - which is usually dormant, but occasionally seems to click in when we're in proximity, or one of us is dreaming - I could tell that he was telling the truth. So I looked at Andrew and nodded, and he lowered the blade. However, he didn't offer to help Rupert up. My brother slowly rolled to his side, and then stood up and dusted himself off. From the care he took in his movements, I wondered if Andrew had cracked one or more of his ribs when his weight was on him.
"When?" Andrew asked.
Rupert took what seemed to be a pained breath, then looked at his watch and then back at my son.
"Right about now, unless I miss my guess."
And then Andrew was gone.
"Why did you tell him?" I asked my counterpart.
He paused before answering, and when he did, his answer surprised me, as did the honesty and sincerity with which he delivered it.
"I have no desire for the Master of the Machine to get his hands on this particular child. If he does, then it isn't just Andrew's bastard creation which will suffer. The Machine will go after the Reich, Sable and likely the Empire and the Federation."
"Uneasy alliance, Rupert?"
"More uneasy than I originally envisaged," he replied. It was an admission I would never have expected him to make, and as such worried me significantly. He concentrated for a moment, and I noticed that his breathing became easier, and then he looked at me, "shall we join him?"
"We'd better," I answered, and transported us both to the Technocracy. We arrived in the room where I had seen Lucy, and immediately had to scramble for the edges. A nurse was lying dead on the floor, looking as if she had been sliced open by a blade, and by her body Andrew and Andreas were fighting, swords swinging. The incubator containing the child had been pushed over to one side of the room, the cables attached to it yanked out of the walls with the force.
"Crap!" I exclaimed.
"See to the child - I will watch the combatants," Rupert answered, and I made my way carefully around the sides of the room, trying very hard to avoid being skewered. I suppose I shouldn't have been that worried. The only people they seemed intent on murdering were each other. I could see blood soaking through the sleeve of Andrew's jacket, and Andreas's uniform trousers were ripped, although I couldn't see any blood. And the pair of them were whirling like dervishes, their blades sparking as they clashed. I could see the tracery on the blade of Andrew's weapon: like the Sable Pattern, although not a true Pattern blade in itself. If nothing else, it was going to do Andreas some damage when it hit.
I made it round to where Lucy was lying, not crying but obviously upset, although given what was going on around us, comforting her was going to have to wait. I brought up my magical senses to ascertain if she was alright: as yet there didn't seem to be significant deterioration in her condition from when I had first seen her, several weeks before, and she was significantly larger. But unsure as I was of what the wires that had been ripped out of place did, it seemed safest to put her into stasis until I could get Claire here to stabilise things. Across the room I could see my brother watching the fight intently, and made my way back to him.
Then I saw Andreas make a powerful blow which connected with Andrew's thigh. It can only just have missed the femoral artery, and I saw my son stagger. I took a step forward, but felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Don't intervene, Robert," Rupert said, quietly, "they need to hammer this one out for themselves. Unlike you and I, the concept of a civilised drink together is beyond them. They hate each other with a passion, and they wish to destroy each other."
"If Andreas is responsible for what Andrew has found since his return, my sympathies are definitely with my son," I answered, "how much do you know about the Master of the Machine?"
"Andreas hasn't spent all his time in the Reich since he was manifested."
"He always seems to be about."
"The wonders of propaganda," came the answer, "he's been as active in the field and elsewhere as Andrew has, and the SD has been ably run by his deputy and, at times, his predecessor. However, in this instance, it's elsewhere that concerns me."
"How much of this are you responsible for, Rupert?" I asked, trying to observe the fight as well as listen to him. Andrew had managed to recover, although he was limping badly, and I could see that he was pressing his counterpart very hard. He lunged and seemed to connect with Andreas's left shoulder.
"Not as much as you probably think," came the answer, "when Andreas came to me, some years ago, suggesting we accelerate our attacks in Shadow, it seemed like a good idea. Your forces had been doing well, and a counter-attack would be good for morale. We presented the plan to the Kaiser and he backed it, hence the major offensive we've been running against you for the last...what, fifteen years? However, it would seem that Andreas had a motivation beyond just going on the offensive. He wanted to draw your son out of the Technocracy and into the fight..."
"So he could move in and start taking over."
"That also seemed like a good idea to me at the time, and so I didn't prevent him. I could cope without him, as I had for the preceding 120 years. However, then I began to look more into what my rather cold-hearted colleague was doing, and I began to be aware of the Machine."
"I've not encountered it directly."
"I have, Robert, and believe me, it's terrifying," Rupert answered. The concept of anything terrifying Rupert Delatz was a new one on me, "the Reich and Sable have their differences. It is their nature. However, at least for the most part we restrict the killing to each other's forces..."
"That doesn't excuse the Einsatzgruppen, or the Gestapo, or the Totenkopf units."
"Then perhaps a better phrase is each other's forces and their allies. Our enemies. But neither of us wishes to eradicate all life on the Shadows we fight: we want control. However, the Machine does."
"Andrew said something similar," I commented, glancing back over at the fight. I was in time to see my son manage a feint which connected with Andreas's side, and I saw a flash of sparks, but no blood.
"He's not human, is he?" I said, as the realisation dawned on me.
"I've never particularly felt the urge to dissect the esteemed leader of the Sicherheitsdienst to find out for sure, but no, I don't believe he is. Whether he has ever been, is another question. I suspect that the man who walked out of the Nexus probably was. But I think that that is no longer the case."
In front of us, the combat intensified, if that were possible. By then both Andrew and his counterpart were trading blows which were connecting, and I could see that my son was bleeding from multiple wounds, of which the one to his leg looked the most serious, although there was also blood by his ribcage on the right-hand side. In contrast, Andreas still showed no sign of bleeding, although he was definitely favouring his left side, and his left arm was limp at his side, the SD patch on the uniform half obscured by charring.
Then Andrew launched a final, wild attack and I saw Andreas overbalance and land hard on his back. Winded, if that were possible. Andrew was on him like a flash, and he speared the blade through where his heart should have been. There was a burst of sparks, and I saw Andreas go into some kind of seizure, and then it lay still.
"Fuck you, you bastard," Andrew said, and brought the blade down once again, severing head from body.
"Well, that was conclusive," Rupert commented to me, sotto voce. I could read no emotion from him at the death - however temporary - of the individual I had thought was his most trusted aide.
I looked over at Andrew. He could barely stand, but that didn't stop him going over to where his daughter was lying. In the meantime, I crossed to Andreas, to see what he was. Mostly, I could see circuitry: there seemed to be no sign of anything organic.
"Call Claire, Robert," Andrew said, quietly, pain obvious in his tone.
"Of course," I answered and did so, and my wife stepped through to join us. She looked understandably startled to see a beheaded android on the floor, my son bleeding and almost fit to fall, and Rupert Delatz coming over to join me.
"It would seem that Obergruppenführer Heydrich will be running the SD for a few years. Assuming, of course, that the Master of the Machine regenerates in the way you or I would. How appropriate."
"Heydrich? Any relation?"
"Oh yes," Rupert answered, "the bastard son he fathered which got him thrown out of the Navy. I came across him when I found Conrad. I knew that you had adopted Lina's children, but I guessed you'd forgotten this one."
He was right, but I wasn't about to argue that with him now.
"Well, my work here is done," he continued, "I should be getting back to inform Tristan of his temporary promotion. I'd also rather not share the same fate as my colleague while Andrew is consumed with blood lust."
Then with a last brief glance at the fallen android, and a nod of the head to me, he brought up the Pattern and disappeared.
"Is there any chance someone is going to explain what just happened?" Claire asked, then indicated the body, "And what the heck that is?"
"That's Andreas Delatz," I answered, "or was. You see to Lucy. I'll take a look at Andrew."
"Agreed."
And we headed over to where my son was standing, propping himself up on the side of the incubator to keep upright. He was in a bad way.
"Let Claire look after your daughter, and come over here," I said to him, leading him over to a chair, which I picked up off the floor. He didn't protest. I checked him over magically, and then used a combination of spells and shapeshift to render first aid to him. I stopped everything that was bleeding, and set some healing spells into motion. However, he was going to need to be properly checked out.
"Is she going to be alright?" he asked Claire, who nodded. I noticed that the incubator was back where I had originally seen it, and everything now seemed to be connected again.
"She'll be fine, Andrew," she said, coming over and giving him a gentle peck on the cheek, "how about you?"
"He'll live," I said, "but I'm going to need to use the medical facilities here."
"Right now, I should be at Millbank Church," he answered, firmly, "Niamh will be worrying."
"What about Lucy?"
I looked at Claire.
"I can stay here with her. It doesn't look like Andreas...is that really Andreas...?"
I nodded. Andrew got to his feet and crossed once more to the body. Then he seemed to manifest a ball of energy between his hands and flung it at the remains. With a sigh they shuddered and crumbled into dust.
"Not any more. I don't think he'll be bothering us again for a little while."
"No, neither do I," she said, watching Andrew impassively, although through the link I shared with her I could tell that his action had startled her, " You two. Go back to the Church. Give Niamh my apologies. And I'll await your return."
I kissed Claire and then looked at Andrew.
"If you want to get married, you should really do something about the state of your uniform."
He gave a weak smile and disappeared, reappearing about five minutes later dressed in a new uniform with rather fewer rips and bloodstains.
"Better. Let's go."
I transferred us back to Millbank Church, where Andrew's guests were milling around in the spring sunshine, unsure what to do next. When Niamh saw him, and saw that he was limping, she hurried over and gave him a hug.
"What happened?"
"Let's discuss it later."
"Where's Claire," William asked me as he came over.
"She's stayed with Andrew's daughter," I answered, "keeping an eye on things."
"Is everything okay? Anyone hurt?"
"Andreas Delatz is dead," I replied, and saw the surprise on his face, "long story, which can wait until after the wedding. Which we'd probably best get over with before the groom passes out."
"Andrew's hurt."
"He'll recover, although I want a decent look at him later."
"I definitely want to hear this one," Will said, a combination of surprise and worry on his face.
"You will. But later."
Then I looked over at Reverend Bury, and he started calling his congregation to order. Whatever else had happened, life must go on, and Andrew deserved to at least finish what should have been a happy day for him in peace.
But I've never been so pleased to hear those immortal words:
"I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen".