The Madness Engine

by Paul B Spence

  "I wasn't aware, sir. I'm sorry to hear that. There were a lot of good soldiers on that team."

  "There were," Shadovsky replied. "His team encountered a Theta more powerful than anything we've seen before. He barely survived."

  "What about his other mission?"

  "Arietis? He had to do it alone, but it was successful."

  Tonya shook her head. She still didn't know how Tebrey did it sometimes. If she admitted it to herself, she was envious. She was as tough as they came, but Tebrey was in a league of his own.

  "I understand you've had quite a few difficulties yourself."

  "Yes, sir. I'm not sure where to begin."

  "Why don't you start with arriving at Delta Pavonus, and go from there."

  "Well, Admiral, we arrived in the system to find it was already occupied..."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ana roused when she heard the aircar land outside her house.

  It was late in the evening, little Amanda was already asleep, and Ana herself, curled up in her pajamas in her favorite chair to read, had nodded off. She was reading the histories of the first people to settle Dawn after the Exodus from Old Earth. She was moved by the stories of those pioneers, of their bravery and sacrifice. She liked reading about them taming what had then been a savage and alien world.

  Reading was a luxury that had been unknown to her a few years before, another of the gifts her husband had taken for granted, but she cherished it. Books, air screens, instant access to an almost infinite amounts of information on the dataweb. She sometimes looked back at her former life as if it had belonged to someone else. Another person. Another life. If she hadn't met Hrothgar all those years ago, she would still be ignorant

  Hunter was waiting somewhat impatiently by the door.

  What's got you so excited? she thought to him.

  She's here, he replied.

  He could only mean one person when he thought like that. Ghost had arrived in the aircar, and that meant Tonya was with her. Ana opened the door just before Tonya knocked.

  Tonya was in her powered armor, with her helm tucked under her arm. Ghost and Hunter were already romping excitedly around the yard. Ana noticed that Tonya had a bag, too.

  "You look like you're planning to stay awhile," said Ana.

  Tonya looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry if I woke you. The admiral said you'd be expecting me."

  Ana grinned and stepped back from the door. "I have been. I just didn't know exactly when you'd be here. Come on in. Hunter, you two get in here," she scolded. "And keep it down."

  Hunter and Ghost brushed past them and went through the kitchen to the attached garage that they had converted into a room for Hunter. He had his own bed and bath there. He even had his own refrigerator filled with cooked meat. That was a chore that took hours every week.

  Ana shut the door. "How have you been?"

  "Busy," Tonya said. "The admiral said you were okay with me staying here, is that right?"

  "You're going to be my new bodyguard, aren't you?" Ana asked. "I've got a guest room downstairs for you. I put fresh sheets on the bed this afternoon."

  "Sounds great," said Tonya.

  "Come on, get out of that armor and change into some comfortable clothes. I haven't seen you in months. The least you can do is sit with me and chat for a while."

  "Sorry, it's just been a long day, and a long couple of months."

  "Follow me."

  Ana led her into the guest bedroom. She took Tonya's bag and began putting the clothes in the closet.

  "I can do that, Ana."

  "You're tired, and I don't mind."

  Tonya backed against a wall and popped her suit. Ana couldn't help but admire the woman's perfect, athletic physique. Tonya had the kind of body she'd always wanted. For herself, and... She stopped that thought before it could form. Tonya was also a skilled telepath.

  Tonya stepped past her and got dressed as her armor closed up on its own. Once she was dressed, Tonya fitted the helmet to the armor's neck ring and locked it in place. If she was aware of Ana's thoughts, she didn't say anything. Which was probably for the best.

  "You don't have to worry about the weapons," said Tonya. "They're keyed to my bio-signature and datalink. Amanda couldn't hurt herself with them."

  "Amanda can barely crawl, Tonya. I wasn't worried that she was going to get in here and start shooting people. Come on, I'll make you some tea, and you can tell me about your travels. You don't have to worry, I work for Mandor now. I have the clearance."

  "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind. It was... difficult. I also just got done talking for hours to the admiral, so anything else? Please? How is Amanda? I wouldn't mind a drink, either. Although I'd prefer something stronger than tea."

  "Amanda is fine," Ana said, sitting on the bed. She was feeling deeply aroused, and her legs had suddenly gone very weak. It confused her, because while she found Tonya attractive, she hadn't actually been thinking of doing anything about it. She'd mostly just been looking forward to having someone closer to her own age to talk with. She loved Mason as a friend, but the woman's tendency to mother her got old after a while.

  "Good," Tonya said. "Good." She paced back and forth in the small room. Ana could see that her pupils were dilated, and she was breathing harder than normal. Her hard nipples poked through her thin shirt.

  "Are you okay," asked Ana, looking away. Her own arousal was almost painful in intensity.

  "I'm not sure," Tonya replied. "I'm having trouble thinking clearly. I can't quite hear Ghost. She's being quiet. I don't understand." She stumbled over and sat on the bed. Ana took her hand, which was damp and trembling.

  "I'll just ask Hunter where..." Ana trailed off as a wave of overwhelming lust swept over her. She glanced over to see a look that reflected her own feelings on Tonya's face, which had suddenly gone very pale. "Hunter and Ghost are..."

  Tonya suddenly swept her up in her arms, kissing her mouth, her face, her neck. The ferocity of her need matched Ana's own. Ana responded by pulling off Tonya's shirt and pushing her back onto the bed. Her lips and tongue ached to feel Tonya's full breasts against her lips, but Tonya resisted, pushing her back.

  "Ana, we can't," she gasped. "It's just the link with Ghost and Hunter. We can close it down. This doesn't have to happen."

  "I want it to happen," Ana said huskily. She stood long enough to pull off her pajamas. She then pulled off Tonya's pants with one swift motion, her hand sliding up between her legs to feel how hot and wet she was for her.

  "Ana…," begged Tonya.

  "Shut up and fuck me," Ana demanded.

  Θ

  Tebrey awoke suddenly from an extremely explicit dream to find himself painfully aroused and deeply confused. The dream had been unfocused, primal. There had also been a strange sense of multiplicity to it, as if he was experiencing the passion from more than one point of view. Four, to be exact.

  "Oh, hell." He sat up in bed, certain of what had happened. It was almost funny. Ana had been so worried she'd cheat on him. He'd told her not to worry; he didn't consider Tonya a rival. She was a companion, a fellow officer. It was ironic that, in the end, it hadn't mattered how much Ana tried to talk herself out of her attraction. It wasn't up to her any longer.

  Hunter had decided not to wait.

  Θ

  Dougal had been on the ship with the Jaernalith crew for weeks. Most of them gave him wide berth. There were afraid of him. Only Caedmon visited with any regularity, and the topic of conversation inevitably turned back to what had happened to him, which Dougal found frustrating. He wanted to know. He even appreciated what Caedmon was doing, but he couldn't remember. He didn't think he was going to, not without help. He needed to get to the Empire so he could jog his memory.

  Would you like me to try to help you remember? Caedmon asked.

  How, may I ask, do you intend to do that? Dougal felt drained and weak. His form seemed to be becoming more solid, and he had noticed that he could no longer pass
through solid matter.

  What that meant, he didn't know.

  If you will let me into your mind, I will try to help you.

  I'm not sure.

  I understand. You have been tortured by the Masters. You do not wish to put yourself under anyone else's power. All I can say is that you must trust someone, sometime. You are too powerful for me to enter your mind without your consent.

  Dougal sighed, only then realizing that he'd been breathing for some time. He closed his eyes and just relished the sensation of air moving in and out of his... body. His form still lacked definition. The outer surface seemed to be hardening, but underneath he was swirling, oily-looking and black.

  Okay, do it, he thought.

  It wasn't as invasive as he had feared. Caedmon was being very careful. Dougal could understand that; he was still, after all, the enemy to these people. Caedmon felt like a cool wind in his mind, blowing cautiously to fuel the burning embers of his life. He could feel the fires rise up. Under the pain and the rage, there was something else. It was something he'd forgotten. Something smothered by the madness. The feeling of alienness grew, and he rejected it. Caedmon moved out without resisting.

  Do you remember? asked Caedmon.

  I..., There was something. Dougal could feel it. His name. His name was... He couldn't quite reach it. He let it go and carefully poked around to see what else might be in there. There were memories. Memories of things he had done at the will of the Masters. They were awful, terrible things. He'd killed men and women, children. And Tebrey... He'd tried to kill Tebrey. He didn't know why, but some part of his mind told him that sending him after Tebrey had been some kind of sick joke on the part of the Masters.

  Had he known Tebrey?

  He didn't think so. There was something else. He could remember a room. He was wearing a suit of some kind. It looked like a spacesuit, but it wasn't, exactly. He was young, maybe twenty. A woman was there, talking to him. She was older, hair starting to grey. Her face was lined with sadness, but she also looked proud of him. She smiled and told him she was proud, he remembered that.

  It had to be a memory from before. No one would have been proud of what he had done under the tutelage of the Masters. Before what? He was breathing harder, feeling panicked. There was pain there. Pain to make the torments inflicted by the Masters seem petty. He focused on the pain, ignoring a gasp from Caedmon.

  He'd been a man.

  He'd been a man, and he'd been torn apart, atom by atom. He'd stood in his suit in front of the... Engine, and a bright light had enveloped him. He remembered feeling trapped, unable to move or breathe or do more than scream as he had died. But he hadn't died. Not truly. He'd been driven insane by the pain, the fear. The Engine had driven him to madness and beyond.

  Through it all, he remembered the sound of a woman's voice, calling to him. She was calling to him, and he had wanted to answer. Wanted to hold on to himself so badly, but the madness and the pain had taken it all away. He'd become a nightmare. A thing to be loathed.

  He shied away from those thoughts. They could only lead to one place, and he didn't want to go back there. Madness was no longer an option. He needed to find himself. He needed to remember his name.

  He couldn't yet, but it was there.

  It was waiting for him.

  He would reclaim it.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Drake fell feet-first into the tall waves of the Indian Ocean as the teleport field faded. He was heavy enough in his armor that he continued to sink. It was going to be a long slow trip down to the bottom of the Diamantina Trench. His brief view of the sky showed a fierce storm spreading from the west.

  He set his course into the navigational computer and immediately felt his speed increase as the suit's thrusters kicked in. The dim light soon faded, and he was left falling through murky waters. He felt that was somehow symbolic. He was confused by the rush of new feelings that had been assaulting him of late. His body was filled by urges and yearnings that he'd thought long dead. He felt absurdly… young.

  He supposed it wasn't so strange, since his body was less than two years old. Lately, many things had been reminding him of when he was actually young. The form the Enemy had taken in Florida had been the form of the first Enemy he'd ever seen. He'd been a child when the plague struck the small colony of his people on the wild world of his birth. There had been humans and other people on the world, and they were struck down, as well. The survivors then had to face the horror of killing people they had known and loved. Those who had been turned Feral.

  Then it had come.

  The Ancient Enemy.

  His parents had miraculously survived the plague. They didn't survive what came after. The winged beast had come from down from the mountains, wreathed in black fire and smoke and fear. It struck without warning in the night, and the screams of the dying still sometimes haunted his dreams.

  Drake's father had run into the night with his rifle. Drake's mother shoved Drake toward the dubious safety of the woods and told him to run. He'd been barely six years old at the time – what else could he do? He ran. The screams and roars of the Enemy chased him until dawn, when he collapsed, too exhausted to care anymore if he lived or died. He crept back later to try to find his parents. The village was an abattoir. Nothing lived. Not even the carrion birds dared approach.

  He buried them all that week. All that he could find. Rumors held that some had been taken into the mountains and subjected to long torments, going mad before being destroyed. He didn't know. His mother's people, natives, found him sobbing atop the mound he'd erected. He was taken back to their village, living as one of them. Ignorant of the ways of his people.

  Centuries passed before anyone thought to check on the colony. He was found, taken back to the Courts, and educated by his brother. What had happened to the colony and his parents was not spoken of. The Enemy was the thing of nightmare, a legend. One did not speak of them. He went back millennia later, and hunted the thing down in its own lair. It was then that he knew his life would be spent hunting them all. For ten thousand years, he hunted them alone.

  Upon one of his infrequent return trips to the Courts, the Emperor confided in him the truth. The dark, ugly, terrible truth of where his people had come from. What they had done. What they had become. The first sapient species to walk the stars had grown old, tired of seeding universes, worlds without end. They'd grown decadent and fearsome in their lusts. Untold trillions of the peoples of the universes were sacrificed. Still they were not satisfied. There came a time of great challenges; many turned from the dark path and Ascended. Many others choose to follow the blind road of destruction. They fell, becoming the Enemy, the Destroyers of Worlds.

  There was war in the heavens. The Fallen and the Ascended waged war on a hundred trillion fronts, a hundred trillion worlds. The very fabric of the universe was rent asunder in places. Worlds were reduced to cinders in the blink of an eye. It was the most terrible war imaginable. A few of the First – un-Fallen, un-Ascended – fled to the far end of all universes to start a new colony. The War raged on, and for or a million years, it ravaged world after world.

  Even the Fallen began to question what they were doing. Many changed sides, joining the Ascended to try to stop the worst of their kind. They were almost too late. In the end, the final remaining Enemy were caged in stasis for all eternity. The coalition forces had been too weary to finish them. To kill them and rid the universes of them.

  The surviving coalition forces choose mortal forms and settled down to rebuild what they could of their empire, Fallen and Ascended side by side. It had been a hundred thousand years since the truce. The people who came after had forgotten the Great War. They had forgotten the Enemy slumbering in the void. They had forgotten everything.

  Only a few passed the knowledge down through the generations. Drake's father had been a keeper of that knowledge, the general of the army that fought the Enemy in secret and kept them from the Courts, keeping the old ones and t
he new ones at bay, so that his people could live blissfully unaware of the horrors that lurked in the dimensional depths, down where fractals are born. It had done him little good in the end. He'd died alone in that village, far from his army. From there, the responsibility had passed to Drake's older brother. After he had fallen, the Emperor made Drake the supreme general of the army.

  In the end, Drake had failed. He remembered that now. The sensory deprivation of falling through these long, slow kilometers of ocean forced his thoughts inward, and he remembered. He remembered failing.

  He remembered dying.

  He'd led his army to stop the stasis tombs from being opened. He was slain in the center of that great cavern, next to the huge column, his army dying around him. He’d been betrayed. Only his quite unexpected Ascension had saved his mind from oblivion. He hadn't been back to the Courts since then. Time ran differently there, slower. It might have only been days or weeks since he had left with the army. He couldn't return in shame, the only survivor. He had to win his war first; then he could return home. Then he could face the shame of what he’d had to do.

  The proximity sensors on his suit began to beep, and Drake applied the thrusters again to slow his descent. He came to rest on a bizarrely alien surface deep beneath the sea. The water was clearer, although fogged by a fine rain of particulates from far above. He saw no living things, although he knew there must be something alive down here. Even eight thousand meters below the surface, he could sense life around him.

  He activated the lamps on his armor and was presented with an undulating, reddish, silty seabed with scattered small, dark metallic nodules that clanked alarmingly against his armor as he walked. He didn't feel the pressure of the millions of tons of water over his head, but he knew that he would be crushed instantly if his armor became compromised. If that happened, he wouldn't have time to apport out. He probably wouldn't even have time to scream.