Roger Zelazny - Donnerjack

Those speeding through the realities aboard the Brass Babboon knew nothing of this, but they would not have been surprised if they did. Although they did not possess the entire picture, they knew enough to realize that Bad Things were pending for the status quo. What did surprise them was when a signal post manifested along the freshly laid track, flag out.

“Someone’s waiting for a train, Jay,” the Brass Babboon reported. “I can’t think of anyone doing that in all the years I’ve been running the rails. Want me to stop?”

Jay considered. “Sure, might be that the Lord of the Lost has some last-minute information for us. If it’s someone wanting to play train robbers, I doubt they could give you any trouble, B.B.”

The train’s reply was rude and vaguely flatulent. Tearing through a Valley of the Kings, Alexander’s campaign against Persia, a domed settlement on Titan, and a burning of Atlanta, the Brass Babboon came to a halt at a train station at what appeared to be Union Station, Washington, D.C.

“Do you generate these stations the way you lay your own track?” Jay asked, as the train slowed.

“Not this one. Belongs to the D.C. site, nineteenth-century incarnation. Looks sharp, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does. I wonder where our passengers are?”

“If they figured out a way to send a signal up my line, they’ll find us. Relax and try to figure out what you’re going to say to them.”

“Can’t,” Jay said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the control board. There was something about the Brass Babboon that bred arrogance. “Don’t know who it is.”

Dubhe was studying the throng. “I don’t think most of those people can see us.”

“My scanners tell me those are simple proges,” the Brass Babboon answered. “Hardly more than ambulatory wallpaper. They’d only react if there was a visitor or a more complex proge present. Odd… I don’t see any tourists.”

“Don’t… smell either,” Mizar added.

“Maybe this isn’t a popular site now,” Jay said, sitting up and looking around.

“Maybe.”

At that moment, three figures entered through one of the curved arches. One, slender and lithe with dark hair, was clearly female despite her anachronistic and less than flattering khaki uniform. The second was male, big, with a feel of the thug about him. The third could have been a slightly-built young man or a rather androgynous young woman. All three wore clothing out of phase with the setting.

“That’s got to be our group,” Dubhe said.

“Yeah,” Jay said. “Two of them look familiar… Wait here!”

He jumped to his feet and hurried down the ladder to the platform.

“Desmond Drum and Link Crain!” he said. “What the… what are you doing here?”

Drum tugged at his earlobe. “Waiting for a train. That train, to be precise. Damn, Virginia, you said the train we wanted was strange, but I never expected this monstrosity. It’s great!”

Virginia Tallent was studying Jay, her hand just in the vicinity of her CF pistol.

“Drum, Alice, do you know this young man?”

“Sort of,” Alice said. “When we met him, he was going by the name Jason MacDougal. We think his real name is John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Junior.”

Jay stared. “How…”

“I tried to call and thank you for your help during the riot. There was no one in Scotland with that name or description. I hired Drum to find out who or what you were.”

“Help during a riot?” Virginia asked.

“The Central Park Celebration,” Alice answered. “Jay was okay then. I didn’t expect to find him on this train, though, but maybe it makes sense. According to what my mother and Markon both said, his father was the Engineer.”

Jay could hear the capitalization. “You know about that?”

“I just found out that my father is the Piper—and a whole lot more,” Alice said, almost defensively.

“The Piper, the Master, the One Who Waits,” Jay said, “and Warren Bansa who was my father’s friend and colleague. This is getting weird.”

Dubhe stuck his head out the window of the cab. “What did you folks want the train for, anyhow?”

Virginia Tallent had lived too long in Virtu to be surprised by a talking monkey. “To go to Mount Meru.”

“I think you’d better come aboard,” Jay said slowly. “I’m not sure we should talk about stuff like this in the open. B.B., I’m going to take our guests to the club car. Call me if I’m needed.”

“Right, Jay.” There was a chuffing of steam, then a long, drawn out wail. “All aboard!”

In the club car, they ate the appropriate sandwiches and told each other of their various missions. Drum and Alice expressed some wonder at Dubhe and, especially, at Mizar, but the unusual is usual in Virtu and soon they were talking as if a dog made of spare parts and a monkey who had missed a branch were part of their usual social rounds.

“Markon’s suspicions certainly seem well-grounded,” Virginia said, when all the stories were finished. “Myths and legends are wending their way toward a new shape of some sort. Perhaps an ending for Virtu and its people.”

“Legends say that the One Who Waits will be present at the end or the change of Virtu,” Jay reminded her. “I think the greater threat is to the Verite. For some reason, the ones on High Meru have decided to try and annex it. That would change Virtu, but it would end the Verite— at least as we know it.”

“And our part in this?” Alice said.

“I’m not sure,” Jay admitted. “I have my mission from the Lord of Entropy to fulfill. You want to find your father. The question is, do we want to team up?”

“I think that would be wise ” Drum said. “Alice and I know very little of this aspect of Virtu, but we’re great at getting in where we’re not wanted and finding out other people’s secrets. You and your people know Virtu, as does Virginia. We’ll all do better together.”

“And if we need to split up at some point,” Virginia added, “we can still do so.”

“And afterwards?” Jay said. “I’m really worried about this offspring of Earthma’s that’s draining Markon’s site.”

“So am I,” Virginia said softly. “I’d give anything to destroy it before it can destroy Markon.”

Alice nodded. “Count me in.”

“And me,” said Drum. “I may not be a theologian, but the implications of Death under the thumb of a dominant goddess aren’t good. It seems like potential for some big trouble.”

“No offense,” Dubhe interrupted, “but one crisis at a time. Does anyone have any idea what we should do when we get off the train at Mount Meru? I’ve never been there, but all the tales agree that Mount Meru is many-tiered.”

Jay shrugged. “I don’t know what we’ll do and we don’t have enough information to plan. Let’s figure that out when we get there. How long, B.B.?”

“Long enough for you folks to check out my armory,” the train suggested. “J. D. never planned on getting off the train, but he came prepared if he had to.”

“Good,” Jay said. “Where is it?”

“One car back from where you are. See how easy I make things for you?”

The train’s laughter followed them as they stepped into the armory. Virginia and Drum fell to taking inventory, asking each member of the group what weapons they could handle and issuing appropriate gear.

“It’s kind of strange, us meeting again this way,” Jay said somewhat shyly to Alice.

“I know,” she answered, studying her right foot, “and finding out that our dads knew each other. Is this what they mean by fate?”

“I’ve always been a believer in free will, myself, but it sure seems like it.”