Mobius

by Vincent Vale

  We flew into the gateway, passing through the wings of the great bird. When we arrived on the other side, the massive floating structure that housed the realm of the Guardian Army was no longer a ghostly vision, it now had substance.

  Stimple landed the air-car on a balcony and we proceeded by foot. Stimple rode on my shoulder and guided us into a long corridor lined with towering statues. Each was a humanoid figure distinctly different in physiology from the next, and all held a radiant globe in the hand of an upraised arm. The globes illuminated the corridor with a ghastly effect, splashing long shadows in every direction.

  Morion pointed to the five-meter-tall statues as we passed. “They’re breathtaking. Look at the craftsmanship in the faces—chiseled with such detail that you can almost tell what they’re thinking.”

  “These are portrayals of the various races throughout the Brahman Sprawl,” said Stimple. “In their hands they hold representations of their home worlds.”

  The corridor split in the distance.

  “Which way?” I asked.

  “We must proceed down the left passage,” directed Stimple. “It’ll lead us to the Antechamber, where we’ll gain access to the restricted dimensional archways.”

  “And the passage to the right?” inquired Orsteen.

  “It leads to the training facility of the Guardian Army.”

  I heard distant footsteps. “Someone approaches from behind us. Take cover.”

  We concealed ourselves in the shadows and waited as the rhythm of footsteps grew louder. I peeked out with Stimple on my shoulder. We saw a troop of the Fume’s beasts passing.

  Stimple whispered in my ear. “How did they gain access to this realm? Even though the Fume controls the One Voice, they still shouldn’t have been able to gain access. The systems of this realm are independent from the Guardian Sphere.”

  I watched as the beasts passed by. They had changed considerably since my previous encounter, and were now of two general forms. The first were of great height, comparable to the statues lining the corridor. They had bulging muscles and a thick, calloused skin that was still ingrained with silver nano-fibers. They lumbered onward at an incline, heads thrust forward, to the effect that they seemed perpetually on the verge of tipping to the ground, only to be propped back up at the last moment by each forward footstep.

  The second kind was of slimmer form, at half the height of their fellow beasts, yet still taller than Orsteen. They walked with a more controlled and regal stride. Three of them led a group of twenty of the larger beasts. They seemed more intelligent. I guessed they were the leaders of the Fume’s onslaught.

  The larger beasts carried weapons and equipment—cumbersome energy cannons, communication devices, and power cells. A few at the rear dragged bundles of bodies tied together by ropes. I felt ill as I was reminded of the bundles of swamp weasels I had captured with Bardio’s wife. To my horror, I noticed a few of the bodies at the tops of the bundles still squirmed with life.

  The beasts moved to a comfortable distance and we relaxed.

  “Did you notice the three smaller beasts leading the pack?” said Orsteen. “They wore the armor of the Guardian Army.”

  “This situation becomes worse by the moment,” I said. “They’re adapting fast, assimilating the technology of the Guardian Army.”

  “We must stop them,” said Stimple.

  “This seems unlikely,” I said. “We’re no match for such giants.”

  Stimple pointed in the direction of the beasts. “If they gain access to the gates of the Antechamber, all will be lost. They’ll be able to travel to all the Guardian Spheres.”

  We quickened our pace, following the troop of beasts, occasionally ducking behind a statue to escape notice. We came to the gates of the Antechamber and realized our worst fears. The gates were open.

  We hid behind a statue next to the entrance of the Antechamber and were afforded a view of the interior. The Antechamber itself was an enormous cylindrical chamber. Around the perimeter, a six-meter-wide walkway wound around and up, disappearing into a mist thirty stories above. At shortly spaced intervals along the walkway were the dimensional archways, apparently leading to the other Guardian Spheres. There must have been five hundred archways before the walkway vanished into the mist above.

  “We’re too late,” I said.

  Within the Antechamber were thousands of black beasts. They walked in a slow procession up the walkway, making their ways through the dimensional archways. Many of the beasts carried Instersplit guns that had been modified for some unknown reason. The whole procession was extremely organized, with the beasts forming into troops of twenty or thirty.

  Where the spiral walkway began, a third kind of beast stood at attention, as if on post. It had the typical black, gnarled flesh with ingrained nano-fibers, but was much smaller than the other two types, with a bulbous head and large, glistening eyes. It looked thoughtfully upon a tablet it held, poking it with a long finger. To each troop that passed its post, it would call out a command in a strange language. The troop would then proceed up the spiral walkway and eventually find their way to an archway.

  “Allienora!” I called. My heart nearly stopped when I saw her golden hair among the crowd of beasts. “Do you see her? She hangs over the shoulder of a beast, high on the walkway.”

  I lunged forward, but came to a halt as Orsteen stopped me with a large hand. “Don’t be a fool, Theron. You can’t rescue her now. You wouldn’t make it a single step through this crowd of monsters.”

  I remembered the psychic moment I had shared with Allienora and now gave all my concentration to send out my thoughts.

  I’m here, Allienora. Don’t worry. I’ll rescue you if it’s the last thing I do. Do you hear me? I won’t give up.

  I waited, but she didn’t reply.

  “Why doesn’t she respond? She’s heard my thoughts before.” I watched the beast carry her through an archway. “She’s gone. What do we do? We have to follow her.”

  “We’ll find her, Theron.” Orsteen looked through the gathering of beasts. “We must find another way to a different Guardian Sphere. Stimple, do you have any suggestions?”

  “The only other way to a Guardian Sphere is to find a Guardian who still lives.”

  “Good luck,” said Morion. “The only Guardians we’ve seen are those lying dead in our path.”

  “That’s it!” said Orsteen. “We can use one of the dimensional transporters lying around us. Surely the dead Guardians won’t miss them.”

  Stimple jumped on Orsteen’s shoulder. “You can’t just strap a dimensional transporter to your back.”

  “Then where do the Guardians become equipped with such units?” I asked.

  “Of course!” said Stimple. “Just down the other corridor, within the training facility of the Guardian Army.” With the backside of his heel, Stimple gave Orsteen a hard kick. “Forward, big fellow!”

  Orsteen returned a cold stare.

  “Sorry,” said Stimple. “When I’m not in the abyss of depression, I’m stimulated to the point of insanity.”

  Orsteen gave a nod of forgiveness, and then proceeded to follow Stimple’s command.

  We evaded two more regiments of black beasts and then entered into an open realm that felt like a university campus. We moved down a central boulevard lined with small buildings constructed with an almost gothic architecture. Each building was labeled with a sign engraved with a strange set of symbols.

  Stimple pointed down the boulevard. “It’s this way to the armory.”

  Scattered along our path were many half-eaten and decaying Guardian bodies. I felt respect for them.

  “It’s utterly noble giving oneself to the welfare of humankind.” I turned to Stimple. “How did these brave souls become Guardians?”

  “With great difficulty,” said Stimple. “After an applicant submits their life to the cause of the Guardian Army, they’re thoroughly investigated to ensure their motives are honorable. Then, it’s said that Na
ra-Narayana herself approves the applicant’s admission. Once admitted, they undergo genetic therapies to alleviate the aging process and to enhance strength, endurance, and mental vigor. They then embark on a painstaking education.” Stimple pointed to each of the buildings we passed. “Brahman Anthropology... Transcendental Theosophy... Temporal and Paradoxical Dynamics... Scientific Verities of the Universe... The Ten Tomes of the Guardian Army... and so on, and so forth. They’re also taught in the use of weapons, hand to hand combat, spacecrafts, technological comprehension and improvisation, and the intricacies of military combat and strategy.”

  “It sounds exhausting,” said Morion. “How long does this training take?”

  “About two hundred years,” said Stimple, now indicating a structure we approached. “This is the armory.”

  Two magnificent spires stretched upward at either side of the windowless facade.

  “The front door’s open,” I said.

  Immediately upon entering the armory, we overheard muted voices coming from a room on the opposite side of the foyer.

  “Stay here,” I whispered. “I’ll check it out.”

  Stimple hopped on my shoulder. “I’ll come with you.”

  With Stimple on my shoulder, I crept to the entrance of the room and peeked around the doorframe. We discovered a scene of torture and cruelty.

  A slender female figure lay naked on a table, strapped in place by her wrists and ankles. She seemed old—withered in the eyes and loose in the skin. Her small, round face was drained of all color, unless such was her natural complexion. On her head, instead of hair, three crests of bone emerged from her skin, and ran from her forehead to the back of her skull. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes. She was in pain. Her skin was covered with sores.

  One of the smaller and more intelligent-looking beasts hovered over her. Its large eyes burned with rage.

  I listened to a conversation I only half understood. The female, obviously of the Brahman Sprawl and born with a biolinguistic lobe, could be understood perfectly, while the black beast spoke in strange clicks and jibbers—apparently the female’s native tongue.

  Stimple, fluent in the language, translated the beast’s side of the conversation into my ear.

  The beast spoke: “I care about nothing except serving my god. I have no compassion for you. If need be, you’ll suffer an eternity of my jagged touch. Now! Tell me! What’s the pattern of the Obelisks’ dimensional frequencies?”

  The female bit her lip in pain. “Must I tell you again? The pattern cannot be deciphered by any man, beast, or god.”

  The beast filled a syringe with a toxic-looking substance that released a yellow vapor on contact with the atmosphere. Every muscle in the woman’s body tensed as the beast injected a small bubble of the liquid under the skin of her abdomen.

  The beast growled. “I’m both annoyed and impressed by the will you command within that frail form.”

  The woman opened her eyes fearlessly. “Tell me, you vile creature, how is it your god can penetrate the dimensional barrier on Earth, and nowhere else in the seven galaxies?”

  “I’ll ask the questions!” roared the beast. “However, as a gesture of good faith, I’ll tell you. My god has the ability to focus the totality of his divine energies on a single point in your universe, so to break through the dimensional barrier created by your Obelisks. Consequently, he tires of exerting himself. Now, tell me what I want to know—or else.”

  “You’ll kill me regardless.” The woman closed her eyes.

  “Don’t shut your eyes! I’ll cut off your eyelids!” The beast turned away from the woman in a frustrated manner and faced a podium. “This compendium of data tells me everything except the pattern of the Obelisks’ dimensional frequencies. It even tells me you’re one of the senior designers of the Obelisks, and that you know exactly what I ask. Maybe it’ll tell me the most painful way to extract this information from your mind.”

  While the beast occupied itself with the compendium, I prepared to attack.

  My Intersplit gun’s useless, I thought. Its black, gnarled flesh is too thick. Yet this particular breed of beast seems less of a fighter and more of a thinker. Its large bulbous head... is it as soft and supple as it appears?

  I readied my weapon, but quickly froze when I saw something unsettling in the corner of my eye—next to a rack of transportation carapaces, in a dark alcove of the room, stood a shadowed figure as tall as the ceiling. It was one of the goliath beasts. Its eyes pierced through the shadows and seemed to look in every direction at once.

  I withdrew from the doorway and Stimple and I regrouped with the others.

  “There’s a woman,” I said softly. “She’s being tortured by one of the smaller beasts. I think we could kill it, if not for the goliath beast standing guard in the shadows. We must speak with this woman. She may be our last hope.”

  “I have a plan,” said Orsteen. “The three of you will hide, while I cause a disturbance to lure the goliath beast outside.”

  “What then?” I asked, doubtful of his plan.

  “It’ll come to me as I go. Now, hide in that room.”

  “Wait,” said Morion, grabbing Orsteen’s arm. He made a strange expression, almost one of real courage. “I’ll go. I owe as much.”

  Orsteen nodded and handed Morion his Intersplit gun. “Be quick on your feet and even quicker with your wits.”

  “We’ll see you soon,” I said, strangely proud of him.

  The rest of us hid in a nearby room. With the door slightly open, we watched as Morion exited the armory, crossed the boulevard, and took position in front of a domed structure. I saw him standing idly, as if contemplating his next course of action. Morion then aimed his Intersplit gun back across the boulevard, toward the door of the armory, and fired. Hitting his mark, the door flew off its hinges, causing a ruckus that successfully captured the attention of the goliath beast. It bounded to the door of the armory and searched for the source of the disturbance. Morion fired again, hitting the beast in the chest. Unfazed, the beast moved toward Morion. The chase was on.

  We quietly returned to the doorway where the thinker beast tortured the woman. It removed a strange metallic bug from a chamber on a workbench.

  Stimple again translated the clicks and jibbers of the beast: “This is a synthetic parasite you use to interlink with a patient’s biolinguistic lobe. Essentially, it’ll open your mind to me. I find myself disappointed at the simplicity and painlessness of the process.”

  The black beast applied the synthetic parasite to the woman’s head. With a barbed tentacle, it began boring into her skull.

  I crept up behind the black beast, which seemed fascinated by the work of the parasite. I lifted my Intersplit gun to the back of its head.

  “Excuse me,” I said calmly.

  The beast turned in surprise and I fired. The weapon’s discharge passed through the beast’s eye-socket and into its large, melon head, making a hot mess of its brain.

  Orsteen freed the restrained woman who, in a frenzy, clawed at the parasite clinging to her head.

  “You couldn’t have come at a better time,” she said, knocking the parasite to the floor. “I would’ve told the beast everything if the parasite entered my brain.”

  “You’re safe now,” I said, handing the trembling woman her clothes.

  She looked suspiciously at us. “If this is a trick to get the secrets of the Obelisks, I’m on to you.”

  Stimple climbed on top of a nearby table. “It’s not a trick, JarNay.”

  “Stimple! Who are these people?”

  “This is Theron Mobius and his companion, Orsteen Hunn.”

  “Theron Mobius?” said JarNay in surprise. “How is this possible? How have you been brought here?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “Right now, we’re trying to get important information to an Impresario.”

  “What of Fandoral?”

  Stimple’s eyes drooped. “He’s been given to the next plane of ex
istence.”

  “My sympathies, Stimple.” JarNay turned back to me. “As for your need to contact an Impresario, I can’t help. The Fume’s minions have overtaken most of the vital systems on this Guardian Sphere and have corrupted the One Voice. We can communicate with no one.”

  “Can you transport us to another Guardian Sphere?” I said.

  “I cannot.”

  “Aren’t you a Guardian?” I asked. “Don’t you command a transportation carapace?”

  “Unfortunately, I only design and outfit them for others.”

  “Then you can outfit me with one,” I said. “We have little time to spare.”

  “Clearly you’re ignorant about such devices. In order to utilize a transportation carapace, one must undergo strict mental training for a hundred years. You see, in order to move from planet to planet and galaxy to galaxy one must think in tandem with a quantum control plexus. Mind and machine must become one. The mind must be altered severely for this to happen. Only then will the universe come into focus.” JarNay paused for a moment. “And not to sound insulting, but you’re only a double-helix species. You’re lacking the neural sophistication required to think in tandem with a quantum control plexus.”

  I sighed, aggravated by the constant obstacles along our journey. “Can you contact another Guardian on this sphere?”

  “Like I said before, communications are down, even within the sphere.” JarNay’s head dropped. “And, unfortunately, I don’t believe any Guardians have survived on this sphere.”

  I indicated the dead beast. “How is it, JarNay, that the Guardian Army was defeated by the Fume’s minions? From what I’ve seen, their armor makes them nearly invincible, and their ability to transport in an instant makes them impossible to capture.”