Энн Маккефри - The Ship Who Won

«Never!» Ferngal cried, his red face drawn into a furious mask.

Over shouts of disbelief, Keff blasted from the bottom of his bull-like chest:

«These people have been right here under your nose for ten centuries. These are the Ancient Ones who invented the Core and all the items of power.»

The murmuring died away. For a moment there was complete silence, then hysterical laughter built until it filled the vast cavern. Keff maintained a polite expression, not smiling. He gestured to the Frog Prince.

The amphibioid stepped forward and began to sign the discourse he had prepared with Keff's help. It was eloquent, asking for recognition and promising cooperation. The mages recognized the ancient signs, their eyes widening in disbelief. Gradually, the merriment died down. Every face in the circle showed shock. They stared from Tall Eyebrow to Keff.

«You're not serious, are you?» Nokias asked. Keff nodded. «These are the Ancient Ones?»

«I am perfectly serious. Chaumel will tell you. They helped me—directed me—on how to make temporary repairs to the Core. It was overheating badly. It'll take a long time to get it so it won't blow up if overused. I couldn't do it by myself. I've never seen some of these components before. Friends, this machine is brilliant. Human technology has yet to find a system that can pull electrical energy out of the solid matter around it without creating nuclear waste. What you see here at my side is the descendant of some of the dandiest scientists and engineers in the galaxy, and they've been living in the marshes like animals since before your people came here.»

«But they are animals,» Potria spat.

«They're not,» Keff said patiently. «They've just been forced to live that way. When the Old Ones moved to the mountains you call your strongholds, they robbed the frog-folk of access to their own machinery and reduced them to subsistence living. They are advanced beings. They're willing to help you fix the system so it works the way it was intended to work. You've all seen the holo-tapes of the way Ozran was when your ancestors came. Ozran can become a lush, green paradise again, the way it was before the Old Ones appropriated their power devices and made magic items out of them. They passed them on to you, and you expanded the system beyond its capacity to cope and control the weather. It's not your fault. You didn't know, but you have to help make it right now. Your own lives depend upon it.»

«Hah! You cannot trick me into believing that these trained marsh-slime are the Ancient Ones!» Potria laughed, a harsh sound edged with hysteria. «It's a poor joke and I have had enough of it.» She turned to the others. «Do you believe this tale?»

Most mages were conferring nervously among themselves. Keff was gratified that only a few of them cried out, «No!»

«You say we should share,» Asedow said, «but these so-called Ancient Ones might have their own agenda for its use.»

«They were here first, and it is their equipment,» Keff said. «It is only fair they have access now.»

«They could hardly use it worse than we have,» Plennafrey shouted daringly.

«What has become of the rest of our power?» Ferngal asked.

«The turbines were overheating. We've turned them down to let them cool off,» Keff explained. «There's enough power for normal functions. Nothing fancy. It's either that, or nothing at all, when the system blows up. You'll just have to learn to live with it.»

«I won't 'just live with it.' How can you stop me?» Asedow asked obnoxiously.

«Shut up, brat, and listen to your betters,» the old woman named Iranika called out.

«Who is with me?» Potria called out, ignoring the crone. «We've been insulted by this stranger. He claims he has stopped our power for our benefit, but he is going to give it to marsh-creatures. He wants to rule Ozran with that skinny wench at his side and Chaumel as his lackey!»

«Potria!» Nokias thundered, spinning his chariot in midair to face her. «You are out of order. Asedow, back to your place.»

«Friends, please,» Chaumel began.

«You give more consideration to a fur-face than to one of your own, Nokias,» Asedow taunted. «Perhaps you'd rather be one of them—powerless, and fingerless!»

He started to draw up power to form one of his famous smoke clouds. All he could generate was a puff. Keff could see him strain and clench his amulet, trying to find more power. The cloud grew to the size of his head, then dissipated. Asedow panted. Nokias laughed.

«To me, Asedow!» Potria called. «We must work together!» Her chariot flew upward, out of its place in the bowl. Asedow, Lacia, Ferngal, and a handful of others joined her in a ring. At once, a lightning bolt rocketed from their midst. It would have struck the edge of the platform but for the thin shield Chaumel threw up.

«This is thin,» he said to Keff. «It will not hold.»

Nokias, Zolaika, Ilnir, and Iranika flew down from their places toward the platform.

«This means trouble,» Nokias called. «How much power is there left?»

«Not much beyond what it takes to run your chariots,» Keff said.

«They can pervert that, too,» Zolaika warned. «See!»

Recognizing the beginnings of a battle royal, many of the other mages turned their chairs and headed for the exit. The chariots started to falter, dipping perilously toward the rows of turbines as the combined will of the dissidents drew power away from them. Many turned back and crowded over the platform, fighting for landing space.

«I will stop them,» Tall said, his huge hands clenched over the belt-buckle amulet.

«No,» Keff said. «If you turn off the power, all these mages will fall.»

«I will end this,» Zolaika said. «Brothers and sisters, to me.» At once, Nokias, Ilnir, and a cluster of other magifolk added their meager strength to that of the senior magess. Accompanied by straining sounds from the generators, she built a spell and threw it with all the force left in her toward the ring of dissidents.

Cries of fear came from the fleeing mages, whose chairs faltered like fledgling birds. The great chamber rumbled, and infant stalactites cracked from the ceiling. Sharp teeth of rock crashed to the platform. The mages warded themselves with shields that barely repelled the missiles. Keff jumped away as a three-foot section of rock struck the standard next to him. It bounced once and fell over the side, clattering down into the midst of the machinery.

In the circle of dissidents high up in the cavern, Potria and her allies held out their hands to one another. Keff could see bonds of colored light forming between them, one ring for each mage or magess that joined them.

«Problem, Keff,» Carialle said. «They've reestablished their connection to the Core's controls.»

«They are pulling,» Plenna said, grabbing Keff's arm. «They're pulling at the Core, trying to break the barrier holding the power down—they've done it!»

«Tall, stop them!» Keff shouted.

«No can,» the amphibioid semaphored hastily. «Old, broken.»

«Coming on full now,» Carialle's voice informed him.

With a mighty roar, the generators revved up to full force. The mages whose chariots were limping toward the exit hurtled out of the cavern as if sling-shot. Keff groaned as he smelled scorched silicon. He and the frogs hadn't been able to do more than patch the fail-safes. Now they were melted and beyond repair.

«As your liege I command you to cease!» Nokias shouted at the dissidents.

«You do not command me, brother,» Ferngal jeered. He raised his staff and aimed it at Nokias. A bolt of fire, surprising even its creator in its size and intensity, jetted toward Nokias. The golden mage dodged to one side to avoid it. His chair, also oversupplied by the Core, skittered away on the air as if it were on ice. It was a moment before he could control it. In that short time, Ferngal loosed off several more bolts. They all missed but the last, which took off one of Nokias's armrests. Fortunately, the golden mage's arms were raised. He was readying a barrage of his own.