by Allan Cole
Soon the entire base was consumed by a great crimson sea of flame. In the center, the ground sank more than two hundred feet under the weight of the overheated magma. Poisonous vapors filled the air, killing those few who still remained.
Miraculously, the young soldier was untouched by all this destruction. It was as if he was standing at the edge of a flaming abyss, looking down on all that horror.
Desperate, Fang bit deeply into Gregor’s leg.
Shocked by sudden pain, the young soldier clawed his way out of the trance that had pinned his feet to the ground.
But he still felt barely conscious. And as he jerked forward, it was like being held back by thick mud.
Fang grabbed his sleeve again, pulling, pulling.
And the young soldier finally broke free.
Led by his faithful friend, Gregor fled into a nearby forest.
He was the only survivor of the thousands who were struck that day.
* * *
Brand Carvaserin was not unconscious, as old Fisagava thought.
When the wizard saw the terrible jaws leaping out of Nothingness to savage him, he cast a great spell that temporarily saved his life. And his soul as well, for he could see that those jaws were hungry for mortal spirits.
But Carvaserin had no intention of giving up his soul that easily. Project SRN had many magical resources. All of which he could command and turn against the mysterious invader.
The first thing he had to do was report the attack. He had no doubt that the Amers had developed their own doomsday machine and this was what had been unleashed upon his base.
Lying motionless on the floor, the wizard cast spell after powerful spell. First, to notify his superiors. Then to fight the Amer machine he believed responsible for this attack.
He acted just in time, because the walls of the underground fortress shook and then cracked as he chanted his spells. But Carvaserin’s still strong will struck back, re-uniting the girders and cross-beams.
Then, gathering the remnants of his might, he fired one last counter-blast.
Brand knew it was over. Finis. Even so, he kept up his desperate fight, drawing the full wrath of the mysterious enemy upon himself.
Giving his comrades one faint chance of escape. And perhaps Brand’s mighty struggle was the reason the young soldier and his dog managed to survive.
In the end, it was no use. The Beast’s minions ripped through Brand’s magical barriers, destroying the great magical doomsday machine the Russian wizards had labored on for so long.
Some of the mages tried to flee, but it was a pitiful attempt. There was no way out: the corridors were cut off by collapsed ceilings and flames danced madly over the flotsam and jetsam of ruined men’s lives.
With a last terrible cry Brand Carvaserin tore out his own throat before the Beast’s fiends could get him. But before he did, he cast one last spell. A vortex of cold blue flame smashed the attacking hordes, making them quiver and fall back.
It was too late. For at that moment the roof collapsed and whole rivers of magma poured inside to destroy everything and everyone within.
* * *
The base obliterated, the Beast sent out the call to his hordes. It was time to cover his tracks and retreat before the softskins discovered any traces of him.
To the Beast’s surprise, the losses among his fiendish army were quite heavy.
Apparently the softskins had not been as weak as he’d believed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Mind working feverishly as she pondered Harry’s startling news, Tanya hauled herself out of the pool and started toweling off.
To her surprise she found Vlad and Davyd had beat her out of the grotto and were already dragging on robes.
“We overheard the transmission,” Vlad said in a rush. “We’d better return to the Borodino immediately and find out what happened to Old Scratch and little Billy.”
“Probably a waste of time,” Davyd said, manner languid, belying the fire dancing in his eyes. “But it’d be stupid to take anybody’s word about what happened.”
Spurred by the prospect of action, Vlad started getting angry. “By that, I assume you mean a Rooskie’s word!” he snarled.
Davyd turned on Vlad, adrenaline pumping. “Now that you mention it—”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Tanya broke in.
She was a little frightened at how fast their moods had changed. From peace to fighting mode in the blink of an eye.
“Let’s not spoil all our efforts to make this a real team!” she said.
Then, while casting her calming spell, she added, “I’ve seen this kind of thing happen before. And every single damned time that egos go to war, the bad guy is the one who ends up winning because he gets away while the fools are arguing.”
Her spell plus her words had an instant affect. Both men ducked their heads, mumbling, yes, yes, of course you’re right, Tanya.
Her quick victory puzzled her at first. Then she realized if the men hadn’t been such willing victims the spell wouldn’t have worked so well.
Love was the master here, she thought. As soon as this thought leaped up she flushed in embarrassment.
What a thing to presume! That they might … love her? And she might … love them?
Was it possible?
And then, the chill thought: but, my god, they’re both assassins! How could I-
At that moment a cultured loud-speaker voice broke through: “Attention! Attention all guests!”
Startled, Tanya and the two men turned toward the sound— which came from a wall fixture mounted high above the grotto. It was the Library Of The Universe’s central address system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we beg your urgent attention,” said the voice. “We have just received grave news from our sister library on Earth.
“A Russian military installation has just been attacked! Early reports indicate that the death toll is in the tens of thousands!”
Tanya heard Vlad groan.
The voice continued: “We repeat … An Earth-based Russian military installation has just been attacked, with possibly tens of thousands of lives lost!”
A slight hesitation, then: “Your pardon ladies and gentleman. We have received further details … Oh, this is most disturbing indeed.
“According to sources at our sister library, Russian authorities charge there is no question that the attack emanated from the United Galactic States … Wait … still more … your patience, please …
“Ah! Here it is! The Russian High Council Of War has called an emergency session. No details as yet on the subject of that meeting.”
Vlad muttered, “It can only be one thing— War!”
Tanya and Davyd looked at him, faces pale.
“We didn’t attack!” Davyd said. “You must believe it wasn’t us!”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Vlad said.
He was having difficulty breathing. Hate for the Amers and all things American crept up from his belly. He couldn’t control it. All his nerves were burning with organic messages demanding violent action.
He grated, “War is certain!”
“We must speak to them!” Tanya said, struggling, but losing the battle to maintain her calming spell. “We must stop them from going to war!”
“Why?” came Vlad’s harsh response. “It’s clear to me that this has been an Amer plot all along. HolidayOne was caused by them so they would have an excuse to retaliate!”
As he spoke she saw his right hand come up, fingers arcing like a snake ready to strike.
At the same moment Davyd’s left foot shifted slightly, readying to launch him forward like a human missile.
Tanya stepped between them.
As soon as she moved Tanya realized she might very well die in the next few seconds. Both men were so overcome by mutual hate her life could be swatted away like that of an annoying insect.
She swayed a moment, both men leaning in with her motion. Then she recovered, spine becoming steel.
The men hesitated.
Tanya seized that slight moment. Replaying that first scene aboard the Borodino. But this time she was afraid it wouldn’t work!
“If you want to kill each other, you’ll have to kill me first!” she said in deliberate echo of that first meeting. “And be damned to you both!”
Then she looked straight into Vlad’s eyes, daring him to act. “Well, Vlad,” she said. “Is it you who is going to kill me?”
The Russian’s hand slowly fell.
Tanya whirled on Davyd. “Or possibly it’s going to be you, Davyd! Maybe you’re faster than he is. And you’ll be my assassin!”
Davyd eased back.
Tanya kept going. “Think, dammit! Think of all the evidence we’ve gathered! Only last night we talked and talked until we were all blue in the face, but no matter how we looked at it there was only one reasonable answer—
“That there was a conspiracy to start an intergalactic war. A conspiracy that was neither Russian— or American.
“But a third party with its own dirty plans.”
“A theory, only,” Vlad protested.
“We don’t have hard evidence,” Davyd agreed.
“But we will if we can continue the investigation,” Tanya said.
“Once we get those reports from Harry I just know we’ll find the common thread we’re looking for. Why, I’m already starting to get a picture. Think of those errors in the six incidents. There’s something about those mistakes that’s not quite …”
Her words trailed off as she had a sudden realization. Damn! The mall wasn’t open when it was hit. Damn! And the harvest was long over when the biobomb went off. Damn and double damn!
“Listen to me,” she said, excited. “I think I know how to go! What kind of person would—”
The address system blared into life: “Ladies and gentlemen, there have been further developments. It’s official! War has been declared!
“We repeat, war has been declared!
“All guests are kindly requested to make immediate arrangements to return to their home planets. The Library Of The Universe will be closed until this emergency has passed. We repeat, the Library will be closed in twelve e-hours. All guests must depart by that time! Our travel staff is standing by to …”
Numb, Tanya turned back to the men.
Davyd shrugged. “We’re too late,” he said.
And Vlad said, “I’m sorry, Tanya, but I have to go.”
Then, giving her no time to feel surprise, he stepped close, took her in his arms and gave her a long, sad kiss.
He stepped back. Eyes moist. “Farewell, Tanya,” he said.
And he left.
Dazed, she looked at Davyd. “What’s happening?” she asked.
Davyd sighed. “It’s war. So, he’s got to report back to his boss for further orders.” He shrugged. “Same as me.”
He smiled. “He’s gonna have a lot of explaining to do. Like, how come he left me here alive.
“Once again— same as me.”
Another sigh. “I think I have a pretty good idea what our next mission will be.”
Tanya didn’t have to ask him what he meant. It was clear that Davyd and Vlad would meet again very soon. And this time one of them would not walk away.
Suddenly, she found herself in Davyd’s arms. His kiss was as long and deep as Vlad’s. And filled with as much sadness.
Then he broke the embrace, saying, “I’ll never forget you, Tanya.”
And he was gone— vanished like a shadow.
At that moment Tanya drew on all her strength and all her courage to make the decision. She would stop this damn war in its tracks, or die in the trying.
And she knew just where to start: Billy and Old Scratch.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
As the entire galaxy held its breath the two great empires of America and Russia lumbered over the brink into full-scale war.
But instead of the instant mutual annihilation everyone had expected, events moved at a glacial pace. The thousand-year Cold War had forged military cultures in both empires more suited to defense than offense.
In the past blood had only been spilled by surrogates. The main battles were fought with words delivered by skilled propagandists, rather than by missiles.
To be sure, the armories of both empires were filled to the overflowing with sophisticated weapons of destruction. However, those weapons had never been tested in real combat. Plus they had been developed and built more for arms race propaganda purposes than for actual use.
So when the combatants finally climbed into the ring to settle their differences once and for all, they were like two aging heavy-weight boxers, shuffling in slow circles as each measured the other with rheumy eyes, flexing enormous biceps more swollen with fat than muscle.
The generals on both sides were also exceedingly cautious. They were looking for a single knock out blow. Reasoning if their enemy survived the first punch it was unlikely there’d be a chance for a second.
And that the enemy’s counter punch might very well win the war.
Massive battle computers, operated by billions of tiny, sweating demons, worked overtime figuring the odds of one scenario after another. But as each plan was conceived, it was just as swiftly dismissed when fatal flaws were uncovered by the prog machines.
Both empires were ringed with gigantic magical defensive systems that would not only disintegrate anything hurled against them but would automatically trigger an even greater assault on the attacker.
American and Russian diplomats converged on the United World Organization by the hundreds, shouting angry charges and counter charges.
The Americans denied attacking the Russian base. The Russians scoffed at their denials. Saying, who else could have done such a thing?
It couldn’t have been the work of terrorists, they said. Only a super power had the capability to mount such a sophisticated operation. And there were only two super powers.
Obviously, the Russians railed, the Americans were responsible and they were using the excuse of the destruction of HolidayOne to retaliate. Once again, the Russians claimed the HolidayOne tragedy was an American plot aimed at excusing the assault on the Russian base.
The Americans replied in kind. The “Evil Empire,” they charged, was the cause of everything. Including the attack on the base, which they said might never have actually happened, but was probably sheer propaganda.
It was a manufactured “Wag The Dog” event, they claimed. And they demanded on-site inspections to prove their point.
The Russians saw this charge as a diplomatic error and immediately leaped at the chance to take advantage of it. They claimed they had mountains of visual documentation and eye-witness accounts of the attack.
And they urged that a task force of “neutral scholars” be assembled to tour the area.
Immediately, the diplomats on both sides began arguing over the make-up of the task force. Many days passed without agreement. Cynics quietly remarked that it was unlikely such a task force would ever come into being.
The sole purpose of the verbal quarrel, the cynics said, was that the American and Russian diplomats were playing a sophisticated waiting game.
The diplomats’ main purpose, the cynics claimed, was to obscure and delay while each empire massed its forces and ran combat progs to find the perfect plan.
The cynics were quite correct.
But as the hot talk raged, blood was spilled.
For in the first days of the war both sides noted that the frontier areas and some of the weaker allies were vulnerable to attack. And it was in was in those places that the Russians and Americans let loose their terrible wrath.
Troops and weapons were rushed here and there, attacking or defending. Thousands of innocent civilians were slaughtered in a series of bloody skirmishes.
Several sparsely populated frontier zone worlds were destroyed as the Russian and American combat wizards
tested planet-busters armed with new breeds of ferocious DeathSpirits.
But these actions also exposed key officers and wizards to the fortunes of war. Even in the Thirtieth Century the person who directed any crucial military operation had to travel to the battle zone and step out into the killing light.
Immediately, the Church Of The Sword and Odysseus Corps rushed their assassins to those battle zones to reap a deadly harvest.
Among them were the “best of the best”— Davyd Kells and Vlad Projogin.
Within weeks Davyd and Vlad had each slain a hundred high-ranking military officials. Easily double what any operative on either side had managed.
Word soon leaked out to the mass media on both sides that two unusually skilled combat aces were taking a terrible toll on Russia’s and America’s most important combat officers and wizards.
Well-oiled and funded propaganda machines went into instant action, boasting of these mysterious sniper heroes who worked alone for the greater good of their nation states.
At first the Odysseus Corps and Church Of The Sword worked mightily to withhold the identities of Davyd and Vlad.
Fathers Zorza and Onphim, as well as other high officials, worried that if Vlad and Davyd were exposed, so too would be the existence of their top secret organizations.
The Council Of Eight was of the same mind. For if the trails leading from Davyd and Vlad were followed to their logical end, all beingkind would learn of the COE’s insidious conspiracy.
As Apollion pointed out, “We will be viewed as parasites, gentlemen. And to be fair, this is what we are.
“Except we are parasites who have manipulated our hosts for more than a thousand years.”
After several e-days had passed, Apollion had an idea that forced him to reverse his thinking. It involved an extreme measure, but Apollion reasoned that only something extreme could stop this war and put things back the way they were.
He called an emergency meeting of the Council Of Eight. All attended— except Infeligo, who was still pursuing the elusive Scratch and Billy Ivanov.
“Gentlemen,” he announced, “I have a plan that may give us the time we need to expose the traitor among us and stop this foolish war before it destroys us.”