Her head jerked sideways, as if it had been struck by an invisible force. A shudder passed through her body. She screamed, stumbled sideways, lost her balance, slammed onto the floor. Her mouth flopped open; guttural inhuman noises emerged to fill the chamber. She brayed. It was a bestial sound, a nightmarish howl.
Shivers raced up the Lion's spine. Never in his life had he heard such a hideous lament.
And then she was somehow on her feet again, pirouetting madly across the chamber. The other councilors leaped from their chairs, scampered from her path.
Out of control, driven by demons the Lion knew lay beyond the limits of human imagination, Sappho ran—or was propelled—straight toward the nearest wall. An instant before she hit, her braying seemed to grow louder, taking on an even more excruciating resonance. Paradoxically, in that final moment, her agony sounded almost human.
With a sickening crash, Sappho's head smashed into the clear partition protecting a priceless Van Gogh painting. The force of the collision shattered the pressurized glass; the partition imploded, sending gleaming shards ripping across the golden cornfield.
Sappho whirled. Her face was torn and bloody; tiny shards of glass protruded everywhere. One eye was pierced dead center.
Whatever fragment of rationality remained within her now seemed to find its focus upon Meridian.
"Make ... it ... end...” It was not a plea. It was a command.
She took a faltering step toward the Jeek. Meridian quickly knelt beside his dogs. “Aggressive alignment,” he ordered. “No restrictions."
The borzoi sprinted across the chamber in two bounds. The poodle leaped from its back, performed a perfect backward somersault, and landed on Sappho's shoulder. Its teeth sank into her neck, piercing the jugular in one mighty bite. The wolfhound knocked her legs out from under her. A shaft of blood sprayed a diagonal stripe across the wall.
On the floor, kicking madly, Sappho continued to bray and scream.
"Trust preserve us,” whispered Inez.
Meridian, with methodical composure, said, “The process of full disincorporation is somewhat lengthy. It will take several minutes for Sappho's Os/Ka/Loq tway to be completely rendered down into its component organisms. Until that occurs, this tway will continue to exhibit life."
The poodle kept ripping into her neck until finally, with her head half torn from her body, the horrendous cries came to an end. But her body kept arching forward; she was still trying to get to her feet. The wolfhound jumped atop her knees to hold her in place.
Appalled, the Lion turned away. He looked at the others. Inez, Huromonus, and Losef were white with shock. On the FTL, Van Ostrand was slowly shaking his head, like a child trying to make something bad disappear. Only Nick appeared as calm as Meridian.
The Jeek said: “The cooperative nature of the Os/Ka/Loq—the essential T-psionic interlinking common to their entire world—precludes many of the attributes referred to as human emotions. To the Os/Ka/Loq, Sappho's disincorporation was a simple necessity, predicated by her final and ultimate failure."
"Cooperation of the fittest,” whispered the Lion.
"More like cooperate or die,” muttered Nick.
Meridian watched his dogs continue their mutilation of Sappho's tway. “Correct. But within the parameters of their ratiocination, they do perceive the essential values of punishment. Partial disincorporation often serves their purposes. In fact, a precise measure of pain was recently applied to Sappho in an attempt to make her aware that the complexity of her actions taunted failure.
"But she stayed true to her course, heedless of the changing winds. She promised that within six months of your formal surrender, the first new crop of Os/Ka/Loq organisms would be harvested to walk the Earth's surface."
"Harvested to walk?” asked Inez, her eyes still riveted to Sappho's thrashing body.
Meridian explained. “A new species of specially-adapted Os/ Ka/Loq mobile plants was created aboard the Biodyysey. The first generation of these plants, sowed in Earth soil, was to grow to maturity within six months. At that time, they would begin to uproot themselves. With assistance, these plants would wander across the face of the Earth, spreading fresh seeds. Within a decade, geometric progression would guarantee that these organisms blanketed the landmasses of the planet.
"Thousands of your humans were to have been recruited to assist with the reseeding. Most of these colonists would have come from your population of skilled profarmers. In the Colonies, CPG Corporation was to serve as administrator of the project, making sure that the necessary hardware—atmospheric revivifiers, harvesters, planters, and the like—was transported to the surface.
"On the Earth, a special breed of Paratwa, created aboard the Biodyysey, were to oversee the actual reseeding. The Ash Joella were to be the new shepherds of your world. Through their efforts, the reseeding would proceed for maximum yield. The Ash Joella would also be responsible for rooting out any ultracompetitive native organisms, which might threaten the sanctity of Os/Ka/Loq cooperation.
"Once this new subspecies carpeted the planet, the higher forms of Os/Ka/Loq life would start to migrate down from the Biodyysey."
"And what about the Colonies?” the Lion asked softly.
"You would first be stripped of your ability to do harm to the planet. The skygene virus would be discriminately released within particular cylinders that were thought to pose specific threats to Os/Ka/Loq dominance. Initial plans specified the elimination of approximately twenty percent of your population."
"Initial plans, huh?” muttered Nick. “And what was to happen after initial plans?"
Meridian shrugged. “Eventually, of course, the majority of your species was to have been eliminated."
The words should have sent a cold chill through the Lion, but they did not. For the time being, his consciousness had passed beyond the stage where such things could affect him. He faced the Jeek. “Then, from a species’ point of view, we did the logical thing. Decimation of the Earth was indeed our only hope."
"Your only hope,” affirmed Meridian.
"And what happens now?” asked Huromonus.
Meridian closed his eyes. “The Os/Ka/Loq have temporarily retreated from my presence. They will debate among themselves for a time. Every Os/Ka/Loq on the Biodyysey will assimilate facts relevant to this greatly altered situation. A cooperative reassessment of options will occur. A cooperative decision will be rendered."
Colette Ghandi's remains, with one final burst of energy, managed to sit up. The blood-caked mass of flesh, its nearly severed head hanging limply across the chest, shuddered. The poodle, gnawing at her shoulder, barked madly. The borzoi stood up on its hind legs, lunged forward, and knocked her back down onto the floor.
The tway of Sappho stopped moving.
Meridian opened his eyes. “Disincorporation is complete. The Os/Ka/Loq entity known as Sappho has ceased to exist. The millions of individual organisms which composed her unique structure will now be spread across the forests of the Biodyysey, where they will be reassimilated with other life-forms, creating new configurations."
Silence filled the chamber. Meridian's dogs, satisfied that the body was no longer alive, scampered back to their master. The poodle assumed its familiar position on the borzoi's back and began licking its bloody paws.
"They are tways, aren't they?” muttered Inez. “You were lying about your pets."
"Guilty as charged,” admitted the Jeek, kneeling to pat the poodle's head. “His name is Lancelot. He's a good dog."
O}o{O
By the time Empedocles arrived in the central capital district, things appeared hopeless; there was no way he was going to get to the sixteenth-floor Council chambers, at least not directly. The rioting humans were so densely packed that he could not even penetrate to within two blocks of the building's main entrances.
He quelled his frustration and once again restructured his plans. The primary entrances might be inaccessible, but there were other, more convoluted ways of a
t least piercing the lower levels of the massive structure.
Access to the Gillian/tway's memories provided schematic data on the building. Numerous underground driveways existed, most leading to the parking garages. Although Gillian had not been here for fifty-six years, it appeared that the Capitol building and its environs had not undergone any severe structural alterations since that time. And the probability or the mob knowing the locations of all out-of-the-way entrances seemed slim.
Empedocles abandoned his rental car, split up his tways, and began circling the outer edges of the crowd. The first two garage ramps that the Gillian/tway passed were clogged with rioters, the heavy doors locked to prevent access. But three blocks from the building, on a narrow side street, his Susan/tway discovered an unmarked incline squeezed between an ICN bank and a Commerce League exhibition hall. Compared to the swollen crowds just around the corner, this area was practically deserted.
Empedocles waited until his Gillian/tway arrived. Then, mounting twin smiles, he held hands with himself and proceeded side by side down the long ramp.
The garage door was open, but six E-Tech Security guards, armed with thrusters, were posted at the bottom of the incline, where the ramp funneled into the actual garage. Two of the guards moved quickly to block his path.
"Identification,” demanded the first sentinel.
Empedocles spoke through his female mouth. “I'm Susan Quint, grandniece of Councilor Hernandez. My friend and I are here to see my Aunt Inez."
The Security man frowned. “Susan Quint? You're supposed to be ... missing."
"Obviously, I've been found."
The second guard, a tall woman, squinted at Empedocles's female half. “You look like her. But we'll still need to see some identification."
Empedocles produced an ID slab from Susan's pocket, handed it to the guard. The pair studied the holo image, then passed it to their leader, a busty hermaphrodite with a cultivated handlebar mustache. The herm ran the slab through a belt-mounted scanner, then nodded.
"Looks like you're who you say you are.” The herm squinted suspiciously at Empedocles's Gillian/tway. “And how about you?"
Before the monarch could reply, a fourth guard approached, began muttering urgently into his lip-mounted transceiver.
Empedocles overheard just enough of the man's words to realize that his bluff had failed.
"In Sirak-Brath ... last week ... matches description ... smuggler named Impleton..."
Empedocles struck before the other five guards could assimilate the information.
With a flick of Gillian's wrist, the Cohe catapulted from the slip-wrist holster into his palm. The guard who had sounded the warning barely had time to raise his rifle into assault position when the stream of black energy whipped forward, slicing the weapon in half. With a cry, the man leaped backward, dropped the smoking pieces of his thruster to the garage floor.
Using Gillian's arms, Empedocles grabbed Susan from behind. He raised the needle of the Cohe, held it against Susan's neck, forced his female tway in front of himself, pretending to use her as a shield. The monarch compressed Gillian's jaw, felt the dim contours of the powerful crescent web energizing at his front and rear, screening both bodies. He filled Susan's face with a panicked grimace.
"Please!” cried Empedocles, through his female mouth. “Gillian made me bring him here! He'll kill me if you don't do as he says!"
All six guards activated their crescent webs; the silence of the garage was broken by the varying hums of harmonically competing energy fields. The five sentinels who still possessed weapons aimed their thrusters in the Susan/tway's direction. Fierce whispers flooded the air as the sextet chattered madly.
"Quiet!” ordered the herm. The he/she stared coldly at Empedocles. “Release the woman right now. If you do as I say, I promise you won't be harmed—"
"Don't waste my time,” warned the monarch, through Gillian. “Do as I say, or she dies here and now!"
"Oh, please,” he begged through Susan. “Don't let him kill me!"
The herm's handlebar mustache flicked upward as the dual-gendered face assumed a scowl. “What do you want?"
Maintaining a frightened posture with the Susan/tway, the monarch announced his demands through his male half.
"I want the Council of Irrya and I want Meridian. I want them brought immediately down to this garage."
The herm hesitated. “Perhaps you'd prefer that we take you up to the sixteenth floor, where chambers are located. Then you could address Council directly—"
He pressed the tip of the Cohe needle into his female neck until it punctured the skin. A rivulet of blood slithered down Susan's flesh. He allowed a terrified gasp to escape from her mouth.
"Don't patronize me. I know this building—there are too many places to set up an ambush. It would be foolish to tempt your Security forces into any sort of rash action. You're to bring the Council here and you're to do it now."
He allowed a soft wail to escape from his victim/tway's throat. “Please help me!"
The herm nodded vigorously, held up her hand. “All right, take it easy. We're going to do exactly what the man says. There's no need for anyone to panic.” The he/she paused, gazed directly at Gillian. “But you have to understand that the Council may not want to come down here—"
"They'll come. In fact, I think they're going to be rather anxious to see me. And when you get them here, I promise that I'll surrender my weapons and release Susan Quint, unharmed. You have my word on this. I have no wish for violence, but I'm in a no-win situation. My options are limited.” And he thought bitterly: That last part's particularly true. My options are limited.
Behind him, Empedocles heard the door sealing itself. It did not matter. Either he would leave here freely or he would make his final stand in this garage.
"You're wasting time,” he urged. “Summon the Council."
The herm switched frequencies and whispered into the lip mike, then nodded silently while someone issued a response. Finally, the he/she spoke for all to hear.
"Your message has been delivered to the Council. They're on their way."
For good measure, Empedocles permitted a swell of relief to escape from Susan. “Oh, thank you! You've saved my life!"
* * *
The Lion felt a chill go through him when he, Nick, Inez, Huromonus, and Losef stepped out of the spacious convator and into the dimly lit environs of parking garage Eleven-B. Sixty feet away, half-circled by a coterie of about thirty E-Tech Security and Council guards, stood Gillian. A frightened Susan Quint was pinned in front of him, the needle of the Cohe resting against her neck.
"Well, well,” murmured Nick. “What have we here?"
Behind them, a sharp hiss sounded as the second convator emerged from its transit tube to dock beside their own CV. The door split open. Meridian, accompanied by a quartet of guards, emerged. The still-bloody Paratwa dog, Lancelot—with the poodle mounted on top, facing the rear—trotted out behind its master.
Nick whispered, “A penny for your thoughts, Meridian. Are they two or is he one?"
The Jeek shrugged.
Beside the Lion, Inez Hernandez drew a sharp intake of breath. “Susan! Trust preserve us. It is her!"
"Maybe,” warned Nick. “And maybe not."
As a group, they moved forward until they were only twenty feet away. The Lion wanted to approach even closer, but he yielded to urging from the E-Tech Security contingent, who were understandably nervous about permitting four-fifths of the Council of Irrya to occupy the same space as a madman with a Cohe wand.
An E-Tech Security officer—a major—stepped from the circle of troops. He faced Gillian. “All right, we've done as you have asked. The Council is here. Now put down your weapon, lower your web, and release the woman."
"Not just yet."
Nick took a step forward. “Howdy, Gillian. Been a long time, huh?"
Empedocles nodded his male tway's head, recalled when Gillian had last been in the presence of the
Czar. The two of them had fought. In fact, Gillian, in a rage, had actually started to strangle the midget. Too bad you did not finish that particular task.
The monarch replied, “I trust you have recovered from your injuries. Your neck appears healthy."
Nick produced a skeptical frown. The Lion, observing Meridian, saw the Jeek instantly assume an acute posture—arching forward slightly, rising on the balls of his feet—like a cat suddenly confronted by a dangerous animal. Lancelot—poodle and borzoi—emitted slightly out-of-sync growls.
Inez, blinking back tears, also stepped forward. “Susan. I thought that you were ... dead. I didn't know. I thought that—"
"I'm all right, Aunt Inez,” said Empedocles through his female tway.
"Don't hurt her,” Inez pleaded to Gillian.
"I don't want to hurt her,” continued the monarch. “But this seemed to be the only way of gaining an audience with the Council on such short notice."
"I don't know who you are,” said the Lion cautiously, “but at any rate, you have your audience. Now what is it that you want?"
Empedocles, hearing the doubt in the Lion's words, seeing Meridian's alert stance and the Czar's suspicious glare, came to a sudden decision. There was no point in continuing with his charade of duality. They knew—or at least suspected—the truth.
"I want sanctuary,” replied the monarch, slowly withdrawing the Cohe from Susan's neck. “I want sanctuary with Meridian."
Several of the guards began to raise their weapons. “Hold!” ordered Huromonus, turning to their leader. “Major, no one is to take aggressive action here. Is that clear?"
The major spoke into his lip mike. The guards lowered their thrusters.
Empedocles replaced the weapon in Gillian's slip-wrist holster, deactivated the web, and assumed side-by-side positioning.
"Then it's true,” murmured the Lion.
"You found Jalka,” Nick concluded. “And the tway of Aristotle ... he used Susan to ... restore your monarchy."
Inez shook her head, unwilling to believe.
Empedocles faced Meridian, spoke in stereo. “Aristotle's dead. I killed his last remnant—the Jalka/tway which called itself Timmy. It was a necessary death. Timmy wanted his own termination to serve as an apology for Aristotle's ancient betrayal of the Ash Ock. It was intended to be his final appeasement to Sappho."
The Paratwa (#3 in the Parawta Saga) Page 38