Asher recognized the entity as that described by Carmody. She and Raso had faced the Adversary all the way back on the first floor. They had lost Raso.
Asher approached the entity. “Adversary,” he stated calmly.
The Adversary’s face took on a more human appearance. He tilted his head. “I am the one who walks.”
Church was now standing beside Asher. “You are the ship then,” he said.
“The one who walks,” stated the Adversary.
“Where is Susan?” demanded Asher.
“Susan?” The one who walks sorted through the question. “Susan. Doctor Bautista.”
“Where is she?”
“Doctor Bautista is with the one who sleeps.”
§
Connelly and the traveler stood on one side of the canister, facing Banister and General Wong who stood opposite. The others were crowded about on the amphitheatre stage watching the exchange.
The Traveler looked up from the canister and directly at Banister, responded to a comment from the doctor.
“I travel the great distances between the stars by shifting from normal space to a layer of space consisting of billions of folds in the fabric. Rather than years or even centuries, I need only sleep for weeks or months.”
“And thereby avoid the speed limit issue regarding the speed of light,” observed Banister.
“The ship envelopes itself within its own bubble of space, crosses into folded space and travels along the folds, returning to normal space light years distant.”
“Ingenious.” Banister thought a moment. “I take it something went wrong?”
A shadow of weariness wafted across the traveler’s face. “There was a malfunction when returning to normal space,” he said softly. “I found this planet. The landing was… difficult.”
“You crashed,” stated the general.
“The bubble of alternate space surrounding the ship remains intact. I sleep yet, recovering.”
“I understand,” said Banister. “And the one who walks… the ship, is also… intact. And active.”
“The one who sleeps,” the traveler said, a hand on the canister. Looking outward then, “and the one who walks.”
§
The robed Acolyte stood several paces from the canister, his outline forming a silhouette against the white walls in the white room.
“The one who sleeps reached out to intelligent life on Earth seeking assistance. The one who walks was hurt and frightened and didn’t want anyone to come near.”
“The one who sleeps reached out to us for help, as the one who walks pushed us away,” said Susan.
“And so… the tower.”
§
Dawn was coming, the sky above the amphitheatre turning from black to purple to dark blue. The horizon was burnt orange and deep red. Rays of early sunlight burst forth and streaked across the stage.
Dr. Banister walked around the canister and looked directly into the eyes of the traveler. “The tower.”
Owen stepped up beside them. She too looked directly into the eyes of the traveler. “It was created by the ship.”
“As the one who sleeps sought to welcome those who came, the one who walks used the ability to generate bubbles of space to create barriers to bar the way to the ship and the sleep chamber.”
“A gauntlet,” stated General Wong.
“A gauntlet, yes. A gauntlet of realities, born from your minds and from the memories of past worlds visited by the Creator of All Things, to stand between you and the ship,” agreed the traveler. “The one who sleeps has done what he could to help you.”
“S’pose that explains the incongruities,” said Owen. She turned to Major Connelly. “Why didn’t you tell us all of this before? It would have made things a helluva lot easier.”
“I did not know before,” said Connelly. “I am a manifestation of the one who sleeps. I serve the one. I know what I am meant to know.”
§
Susan stood now beside the Acolyte in the heart of the white room. “Why couldn’t you tell us all of this before?”
“I did not know it before.”
“How could you not know?”
The Acolyte looked somber. “I am a creation, Doctor Bautista. I know what I am meant to know, and no more.”
“Now… now you know.”
“Now it is necessary,” said the Acolyte. He looked tired. “The one who sleeps and the one who walks grow weaker. As they grow weaker, faults and flaws form. Realities deteriorate.”
Susan frowned thoughtfully. “Time is running out.”
§
The inky shape of the Adversary flowed about the high-backed chair, the shadowy form shifting and shrinking and expanding. The face faded and solidified, again taking on recognizable human features. The eyes looked askance to Asher; the Adversary spoke to the whole group.
“And so… you are here,” he said coolly. The form took on the motion of slowly sitting, arms resting on the arms of the chair.
Sgt. Costa entered the room. She quickly took in the scene, recognized that they had finally reached the Great Hall. She scanned the group, noted where each stood, noted their frames of mind by their stances.
Susan wasn’t with them, but for the moment Costa held her silence. She moved to stand beside Church.
Church acknowledged the sergeant’s arrival with a quick glance, kept his focus on their host.
“You are a most… persistent… species,” said the Adversary. The shifting form appeared to shudder. “Your determination has been disquieting.”
“We came at your invitation,” said Asher. “Such as it was.”
“The request was not mine, Professor Asher.”
“Right. The one who sleeps. I got that.”
The form grew darker, the words more bitter. “I do not want you here.”
“That has been made obvious.”
“You have nothing to fear from us,” said Church.
“I am not afraid.”
“We will help. Nothing more,” said Church. “Please believe that.”
The one who walks appeared to look down at his hand; the fingers appeared to grasp the arm of the chair. His words held a conceding tone. “It is possible the one who sleeps can be repaired.”
Costa took another step forward. “But the ship cannot.”
Inky tendrils stretched away from the shadowy form in the chair, drifted about and slowly drew back in. The face grew all the more opaque. The expression was grim.
“I do not think so.”
“Oh my,” said Church. “It is not us that you fear.”
“You’re afraid of dying,” said Costa. “You’re afraid of the end.”
The one who walks continued to stare down at his hand. His fingertips brushed at the wood of the chair arm. He said nothing.
“This ship is already gone?” Asher wondered aloud. He moved now to stand just before the platform, the chair in the Great Hall. He looked into the eyes of the shadowy being as the Adversary looked down.
“The one who walks and the one who sleeps are one,” said the being.
“You exist now only until he wakes.”
The Adversary laid the palm of his hand flat on the arm of the chair, rubbed at the arm as he studied the movement, as he took in the sensation of flesh on wood. He looked hesitantly down to Asher.
“Professor Asher… what will happen to me?”
§
The morning sun faded. The shell of sky above the amphitheatre began to turn a dull flat gray. A heavy silence drifted across the landscape and over the ancient theatre.
Banister sensed something. He looked up toward the landing behind the back row.
A woman stood there, unmoving.
“Susan?” Banister moved tentatively across the stage.
Susan managed a smile. She stepped off the landing and began to work her way down the rows. Banister met her midway, wiping his eyes as he reached her.
“Hello, my dear. It is so very good to see you.�
��
The others on the stage below gave them a few moments as the two wept and hugged. It had been a very, very long time.
“How’s that old fart Nate holding up without me?” asked Banister, once they finally pulled apart.
“Doctor Church is holding up as well as you might expect. He is, after all, almost as cantankerous as you.”
“So glad to hear it.” Banister looked up past Susan. “And where is he? And the others?”
“We got separated.” Susan looked at the stage. The canister looked very much like the one in the white room.
She realized then that it was in fact the same as the one in the white room; that the stage below was the white room; or at least a representation of the center of the white room.
“I was there,” she said. “In the sleep chamber.”
Those who had been milling about on the stage started up the seat rows to welcome her, leaving just the two figures standing next to the canister. One appeared to be the one who sleeps. The other was a woman in uniform with insignia showing her to be a major.
A third figure appeared at the back of the stage and started toward the canister. It was the Acolyte, dressed in his monk robe just as Susan had seen him only minutes before.
He ignored those scattered about on the amphitheatre rows. His attention was on the other two on the stage. He acknowledged the one who sleeps with a respectful nod before turning to Major Connelly. The two fell into hushed, intense conversation.
“Something is certainly happening,” said Banister.
With the recent revelations by the Acolyte, Susan agreed that something was about to happen, and she was anxious about the course it might take.
Elizabeth Owen and General Wong stood nearby, the others on the rows above and below; all were now watching the scene play out on the stage below. They were more than familiar with the Acolyte, and most had some relationship with Major Connelly, as she had been a well-liked member of the command team for months, whatever her origin.
The general sensed something. He looked up behind them.
“Yes, I would call this a clear indication that something is indeed happening,” said General Wong.
Susan and Owen turned and looked up to where the general indicated. Four figures stood along the back row: Costa, Ramos, Church and Lisa Powell.
“Well, hello there, kiddies,” mumbled Owen.
“I see, I see,” said Banister, a broad smile forming on his face.
“Where’s Peter?” asked Susan, more to herself than to anyone else.
“Hey, Nate!” Owen called up to Church. “What’d you do with Peter?”
Church lifted an arm and pointed. Everyone turned to look down to the stage.
The canister was gone, and with it the one who sleeps. Asher was there, speaking with the Acolyte and Major Connelly. After a brief back-and-forth exchange, he continued across the stage. Quinn met him as he stepped up onto the first seat row.
“Hello, Professor. So what’s the word?”
“Hey, Lieutenant. You look good. Well, on the bright side, I don’t think we’re gonna die today.”
“Always a good start. There’s a dark side, then.”
“It kinda looks that way.”
Asher smiled at seeing Susan coming down to meet him. Without saying a word he held out his arms and she stepped into them. They held each other until Owen let out a growling ‘ahem’.
Asher pulled back, though he kept one hand on Susan’s arm as he looked about at the others. “Good to see everyone.”
“Yeah, yeah, gang’s all here,” droned Owen. “Are we going home, or what?”
“The Traveler is waking,” Asher said, a bit of misdirection.
“Traveler?” asked Lake. Dr. Lake had been very quiet since their arrival in the amphitheatre.
Asher nodded in the direction of those still on the stage. “They much prefer it over the ‘Adversary’.”
“Oh, crap,” sighed Owen. “We’re not going home.”
“Now, he didn’t say that,” said Ramos. He looked pleading to Asher. “You didn’t say that, right?”
“He didn’t answer the question,” said Owen.
“Well?” General Wong folded his arms across his chest. “Professor Asher?”
The two teams waited. Asher hesitated. He looked around him. Some of the faces from the command team were new to him.
“Spill it, Peter,” Owen growled.
Asher sighed. “I don’t know the details, but there is a problem. It has to do with all those portals we travelled through.”
“Oh dear,” said Banister.
“Oh my,” said Church.
“Each floor we went to was its own reality created by the Adversary. The one who walks. The ship.”
“Yeah, we got that,” Owen said impatiently.
“So… so the path from one of these bubbles to the next was through something they call a folded space layer.”
“Yes,” said Banister. “Folded space is how the Traveler traverses the vast distances between stars. He crosses from normal space into folded space, travels along the folds and then crosses back into normal space.”
“That is also how we traversed floors. It was the only technology available to generate the portals between each reality bubble.”
“What are you saying, Professor?” asked Lisa. “We’re not on Earth?”
“We’re on Earth all right,” said Church. “That’s where the ship is. That’s where the sleep chamber is. And the Great Hall. And, I assume, this amphitheatre.”
“Yes,” said Asher. “Reaching the eightieth floor brought us back home.”
“So… we’re home. Good,” Owen stated sharply. “Where’s the door outta here?”
She knew, of course, that it wasn’t going to be that simple.
“I’m sorry,” said Asher. “Home isn’t really home anymore.”
“I don’t get it,” said Ramos.
“Crap, crap, crap,” grumbled Owen.
“Of course,” said Church. “Crossing into and out of folded space, and travelling the folds, traverses not just space, but time.”
“Such is my understanding,” said Asher.
“And we’ve done it eighty times,” said Banister. “Reality bubble to folded space, travel the folds, and to the next reality bubble.”
Owen was rubbing at her temple. “Again and again and again.”
“How much time?” asked Lisa. “Years? Hundreds of years?”
“Thousands,” said Asher. “So I’m told.”
Everyone was stunned into silence. Several sat down, several wandered aimlessly along the stone rows. Each tried to sort out what this meant.
Family and friends were long gone of course, but more than that the world was now a very, very different place, if it was there at all. It wasn’t just that it was no longer home; it was undoubtedly unrecognizable to them. Earth and the human race had gone on without them.
There was no going home.
The Traveler walked across the stage. He appeared very human, so was no doubt a persona created by the entity for their benefit. He held a hand out to Major Connelly, who took it and held tight. He spoke to her, looked to be comforting her.
He turned then to the Acolyte. After a few soft words, the Traveler reached out, pulled the Acolyte into his arms. He held him close for a long time.
He stepped back then and walked to the edge of the stage. He looked warmly up at those gathered in the amphitheatre.
“There are no words adequate to express my gratitude for all that you have done.”
“Done? What the hell have we done?” snarled Owen.
The Traveler looked genuinely surprised. “Despite all the obstacles set before you, you persevered in your long journey here. Once in the Great Hall, you quelled the fears of the one sufficient so that I might awaken. You… saved me.”
While he doubted that they had done much to actually quell any fears, Asher had to admit they had at least been there for the one who walks as h
e struggled to overcome those fears on his own. In all likelihood, it never would have happened without them.
“What now?” he asked.
§
Asher left his house an hour after dawn, walked down the street of the quiet neighborhood and turned up the main thoroughfare. He passed a once-empty lot that now held a large vegetable garden. A wire fenced enclosure at the back of the lot contained a chicken coup.
He knocked on the window of the café as he passed it. Elizabeth Owen, sitting at her favorite booth, held a coffee cup up in greeting.
There was a small meeting hall several doors down from the café that had been converted into a base of operations. There were several tables and desks about the room. A row of wall lockers on one wall held everyone’s gear, and there was a changing room in the back.
There was a large map on the wall opposite the lockers. It was actually a collage of dozens of smaller maps and was growing larger most every day. Lt. Quinn was pinning the most recent addition to the wall as Asher came in. Asher glanced at it only briefly before heading over to his locker.
The neighborhood was detailed in the center of the map. To the north was the ghost town and beyond that the jungle floor and then the alien sea. To the west of the neighborhood was the office building. That one was odd. The elevator still only opened to the seventh floor.
There was a cemetery to the east, and a train station to the northeast. A train had yet to make an appearance.
They had only begun exploring, but they fully expected to find that every floor was here in this one reality; existed here on this single floor. There were still inherent dangers in many of these landscapes, but the more overt obstacles and threats of the Adversary were gone.
They had only seen the Traveler once since that day he first brought them here. He spent most of his time on his ship, hoped to one day repair it well enough to once again travel the stars.
As there was only the one reality bubble, the one they were in, that meant the ship was here too, somewhere. They suspected it was to the north of the alien sea, though that was really just a guess. It could be anywhere. But Church, Banister and Sgt. Costa had crossed paths with the Traveler during an excursion through a previously unexplored world that bordered the eastern shore of the sea. The Acolyte and Major Connelly had been with him.
The Black Tower: The Complete Series Page 35