"Unbelievable," he could hear Phillips mutter. Zolan turned to stare at the sick old man now regarding him with renewed disbelief. Half an hour ago after telling the astronaut who and what he was, Zolan did not hear Phillips utter a word. The sick man had only mumbled to himself, shaking his head back and forth. Zolan discovered early in their acquaintance that Phillips was partially mad; he slipped in and out of lucidity every few minutes. Now, fortunately, was one of the man's more saner moments.
"But I always knew it!" Phillips cackled happily. "Always knew that we were being watched. A hundred years you say, eh Rzzdik?"
Zolan nodded obligingly.
"Longer actually, if you count the thousand year probation period before I was actually assigned to Earth. We discovered your world through the deep probes right when your battle of Hastings was taking place."
"I guess we've gone downhill ever since," Phillips grinned.
Zolan decided to change the subject.
"Tell me more about how you got here."
Phillips' face went sour. Nevertheless, he sobered suddenly and allowed his eyes to wander upwards, towards the endless Dark.
"I guess we came through that Hall of yours. At the time, it looked pretty dangerous. Glad to hear that it was more frightening than anything else."
Zolan looked down guiltily. No need for details, he thought for no reason at all.
"Anyway, the bombs started dropping below. We passed out as ALC-117 - I mean the Hall - covered us, and when we awoke –"
Zolan paused, as he sensed Phillips seemed to drift at this point - as if the memories of this particular period were either too fuzzy to recall -- or too unpleasant to recount. After a second, he finished tersely.
"After Cathy died we were on our own," Phillips said.
"We," Zolan repeated, "you're daughter and yourself?"
"She was so beautiful, my Cathy," Phillips smiled sadly, now hardly aware of Zolan sitting nearby. "Everyone loved her. You remember her, don't you?"
Zolan nodded slowly. He remembered Cathy Phillips from the television interviews. "Yes. She was lovely."
Phillips smiled again, and seemed happy by the answer. His eyes began to flutter, and a second later he passed out.
Zolan watched the old man for several minutes. He had learned much from his brief conversation with him. What had happened to Phillips must have been exactly what had happened with himself, and for all he knew, the Thelerick Stingers as well. The Hall had trapped them all. And with an entire universe as a crap table, it could have rolled them anywhere in time and space.
My god, what had he done:
Zolan brought his hands to his face in despair. With one, reckless and self-pitying action, he had simultaneously destroyed the lives of so many beings. He thought back of Phillips earlier recounting of events leading up to his launch, Cathy Phillips' pregnancy, and the first month after the crash in which his wife was killed. Had he done as the Rover had instructed, perhaps that poor woman would still have been alive, though probably dying slowly on the doomed, radioactive surface of war-torn Earth.
And what of the Hall itself?
Zolan retortured himself with this greatest of mysteries. Suppose the Rover had failed to close the breach, leaving god knows how many parsecs of space open to possible annihilation from the warp's rampage. It was too horrible and terrifying to ponder.
All this had been his doing. Zolan reached over and pulled a blanket around Phillips' shuddering arms. He could see that the astronaut was broken all over; how he had managed to survive this long was a miracle, Zolan thought. Even this poor creature's present condition was in a way his responsibility. Twenty years of grief and torment under a moonless sky, on a world rampant with monsterdom and death. Had he been a vindictive god, Zolan considered mercilessly, he could not have been more thorough in creating such widespread misery.
And Valry had asked him to help her:
The thought was almost laughable. He had done nothing so far; Thalick would have discovered the Redeye attack force regardless of his intentions. The tribe had been preparing for hours to meet the catastrophe anyway; what little Zolan had contributed in the way of useful information was more than negligible.
A large head suddenly bumped into his neck. The Birdog lapped Zolan's face as soon as he turned around. She grinned, panted and wagged her ten foot tail to and fro. The she barked and moved in front of him. Her face now steadied on the narrow passes in which Thalick had brought them through an hour ago.
Zolan understood at once. He stood up and walked beside his furry rescuer.
"I know. You have to go back," he said, reaching down to a now-familiar ear and scratching.
"Dalka," the Birdog barked in agreement.
He had been on this world for little over a day, yet he had come into contact with at least two beings who had affected his life more profoundly than at any other time he could remember. The ethereal Valry had given him love; and, in turn, had allowed him to give of himself as well. The Birdog had given him friendship. Zolan now found himself again close to tears at seeing the big, awkward animal who had saved him repeatedly wish to leave. Yet he knew she had to return to her pups; duty was still the strongest force, next to love, in the universe that would not be denied.
Zolan allowed his face to be licked repeatedly. Then, giving the Birdog a long hug, he backed away so as to give her sufficient room to begin a takeoff. Still reeling from the Stinger venom, she would have more than enough strength to make it back to the cliff walls in a few hours. At least she, Zolan thought with sudden grimness, would have a more promising future than himself -- or perhaps any human member of the tribe after tonight.
The Birdog lumbered down the gradual slope of the mountainside. She came to within fifty feet of Thalick now approaching Zolan, then took to the air. A moment later, and the blackness swallowed her up.
"Wish we had a hundred like those," a voice mumbled from behind him.
Zolan turned around and found Phillips awake again.
"Never seen one close up before," Phillips rambled, "Didn't think they were so tame."
Zolan smiled and nodded.
"How did you find one so friendly?" Phillips asked, his voice sounding slightly stronger than before.
"She found me," Zolan admitted, wandering back to where Phillips was laying. "Kidnapped me, as a matter of fact. And saved my life in the process."
Phillips watched Zolan carefully, his eyes now sparkling beacons of alertness.
"Sounds like my daughter. She could charm a Redeye, I'm sure of it. Loves the Stingers, too. She's the only one they'd ever talk to. Hell, maybe that's why they've stayed here for so long. Because of Valry."
Zolan froze, still staring out at the valley and the working Stingers.
"Valry is your daughter?" he asked tonelessly. Phillips pushed himself up to a sitting position. His hands were shaking as they reached out to Zolan.
"You know her!" he said through a gulp. "Please, tell me where she is!"
Zolan turned to face the old man slowly. His eyes were moist, and he had to remove his spectacles to clean them.
"Yes, Colonel, I know Valry. But I can't tell you where she is; no more than I could tell Thalick when he asked me."
"But she's alive," Phillips looked hopefully to Zolan, clutching at his tunic.
A very good question, old man. Was Valry still alive?
"Yes," Zolan once again committed himself to an answer filled with ignorance and hope. "I believe she is."
This seemed to pacify the old man without further explanation. He smiled a crooked smile than lay back, his eyes open and staring at the black sky above him.
"She'll come back, you'll see," Phillips said with soft, mad conviction.
Zolan was lost in thought. He was now reminded of something he had almost forgotten about.
"Phillips, do you know anything about a creature called the Resistor?" When Phillips failed to respond, Zolan tried another approach.
"Valry told me that h
e's coming. She wanted to warn Thalick about him. She says-"
Phillips voice was hushed.
"I call him the Dreamaker. Or the Voice."
"You've seen him, then?" Zolan asked curiously.
Phillips nodded slowly, then closed his eyes as if he were in great pain.
"No one ever sees him. You only hear him. When he laughs. Or when he builds your dreams and never lets you sleep. He's everywhere now. You can feel him, like death. This is his home."
He was raving again, Zolan half-considered.
Phillips was now whispering:
"I fled him, down the days and down the nights. I fled him down the arches of the years. I fled him down the labyrinthine ways. Of my mind, and through a mist of tears," he finished in a sob. "Through a mist of tears."
Zolan listened sympathetically.
"No more poems," Phillips continued to babble. "No more children or barbecues. And no more flowers," he was not even aware of Zolan's presence again. "The days of wine and roses are no more. Man may come and go, but Earth," Phillips paused and sighed, "sweet Earth abides."
Zolan was about to leave and let the man sleep, when Phillips spoke again, this time with almost frightening sanity.
"You'll never leave here, Rzzdik. I'm sorry," Phillips was suddenly cold and lucid.
Zolan held the other man's gaze.
"Maybe."
"What about your people? Won't they come looking for you?"
Zolan laughed with genuine amusement.
"How? And where would they begin looking?" he asked.
For the first time since their meeting, Zolan believed he caught a gleam of something other than pain-induced madness in Phillips' eyes. It reminded him of Valry.
"You don't know where you are, do you?" Phillips asked in a way that was almost condescending.
"I didn't say that," Zolan defended. "Give or take several trillion miles, I would guess that we've come down in the middle of any number of galaxies within ten light centuries of Earth. Mind you, that's a conservative estimate. In theory, anyway, the Hall could have thrown us into an infinite maze of individual dimensions. But I don't think that's happened here. Everything so far feels painfully three-dimensional."
Phillips eyes filled with pity and understanding.
"So, in answer to your question...no. Oh, I'm sure that the GCPP deployed a few probes my way as formality, but when it was confirmed that Earth was "war lost", the Rover and myself were declared terminated. No subsequent search missions would be wasted on a PO casualty. From their point of view, my mission was completed. Earth's destruction was a far more effective gauge in the eyes of buerocracy than any report I could have personally submitted regarding your planets suitability for joining us."
"But what if Earth wasn't destroyed?" Phillips prodded gently.
"What difference does it make?" Zolan shrugged. "You saw the missiles, the explosions. Believe me, I did," he recalled with a shudder, "There's nothing moving on Earth now except maybe a few hardy cockroaches."
Phillips looked like he was about to speak again, when Thalick arrived. Zolan still found himself cringing, as the Stinger moved to within only feet from where he was sitting.
COME
Zolan whispered through the corner of his mouth at Phillips. "What does he want?"
Phillips stared down in the valley. Fires burned out of control inside of the bordering forest, while other flashes walled across the center of the valley itself.
"Something is happening," Phillips said simply. Zolan peered at the fires and the few giant primitives now running towards the mountain base, or jumping onto the slower moving Stingers also backing away from the valley entrance.
A great line of blinking lights appeared on the skyline, stretching out of the furthest point Zolan could discern. It looked as if someone had tied a string of torches from one end of the horizon to another.
To his horror, Zolan realized that the fire glow he was watching were not artificial at all, but very much alive. Thousands of red sparkles peered back at him menacingly.
"Its starting," was all John Phillips bothered to say.
FORTY-FIVE
Zolan was almost buried between four giant men and women also sharing Thalick's back with Phillips. They attempted to give the smaller humans as much space as possible, but with Thalick scaling the slope in roughshod manner, the ride was bumpy at best, which in turn made balance difficult to maintain. Zolan had seen Earth pictures of the ancient subways in New York or Washington, and was reminded of their passengers hanging on with grim determination at close and uncomfortable proximities. Now he and Phillips, and the rest of Thalick's baggage, clutched onto what ever parts of the Stinger's anatomy was close at hand and solid in an effort to remain aboard.
Shrieks could be heard in the distant. Furthest to the rear, Zolan held on to Thalick's tail and glanced behind. The light from the fires now outshadowed the hellish glow from the Redeyes pupils, but the howling calling cards rising even above the cries of panic from the tribe echoed horribly from canyon to canyon. He watched seven or eight Stingers poise themselves for attack just behind the roaring fury of the first firebreak. As Thalick now gained elevation, Zolan could see the numbers of the enemy the Stingers would soon have to be dealing with. It did not take a tactical genius to figure out that the petty Thelerick force would soon be overwhelmed by the ocean of hell approaching.
Phillips crawled over to where Zolan was positioned. Wild-eyed, he gazed at the fires with Zolan.
"It won't hold them for long. The fire they don't mind. It's the light and the smoke that'll keep them away for awhile."
"How long?" Zolan asked, coughing from the heavy smell of burning wood that was blowing his way.
"Half hour" Phillips replied through teary and itchy eyes. "Hopefully, when it goes, the Stingers will have moved us all up the mountain by then. Not that it will matter a damn!"
Zolan regarded the man inquisitively.
"What do you mean?"
"How do you feel?" Phillips asked, out of the blue. Zolan was momentarily confused, then considered the question. Now that he stopped to think about it, he was feeling incredibly weak again, as he once been before Thalick had found him with the Birdog. He blinked and shook his head.
"You see? The Dark has gotten you too. In a little while, Thalick's potion will wear off again, and you'll begin to feel the effects of the sickness. In another day - providing they don't get us first," Phillips said, pointing at the Redeyes along the horizon, "you'll be a dead man. Like the rest of us."
Zolan noticed that Phillips said this totally without rancor. He turned his attention once more to the valley floor.
A hundred feet below, Thalick had passed a great bulwark of stone, piled precariously on top of a jutting tumulus. The Stinger had been forced around the thing for smoother footing, but it now gave Zolan an idea.
"Tell Thalick to stop," Zolan said to Phillips. The astronaut laughed an ugly laugh. "You think it's that simple?"
"Please," Zolan urged, his mind racing with ideas and calculations, "just for a moment."
Thank god Phillips was in one of his more sober states. He did not argue further with Zolan. Fumbling his way along the armored back, he reached Thalick's head and yelled.
"Thalick. Stop here."
The Stinger rolled to a halt. As soon as he did, Zolan jumped off and squinted into the night. The fire glow from the valley below was substantial now, enough for Zolan's superior eyesight to determine that a potential weapon was about to be overlooked.
Phillips staggered over to where Zolan was standing. "What?" he asked tiredly.
Zolan chewed his lower lip.
"Just a thought. You said that thy: Stingers need as much time as possible to get the tribe to safety. Well, maybe, we can give them that time."
Phillips tried to concentrate, though the pain in his body was reaching excruciating - and distracting - proportions. "I...don't get you, Rzzdik."
"The rocks," Zolan said emphatically, "
There." He point, d almost directly ahead of him.
"I don't see anything." Phillips complained.
"Those rocks," Zolan explained impatiently, realizing a moment later that a mere Earthman would of course not be capable of seeing more than a few feet in front of him in this dim light. "If one of the Stingers could start an avalanche, it would slow any attacker trying to scale this slope," Zolan continued, "It would work I know it!"
Phillips stared at his new-found acquaintance dubiously.
"I can't see a thing, Rzzdik. But I believe you. Unfortunately, we can't spare a single Stinger away from the front line. There are Jumpers out there, too. If any of them slip past the Thelericks, we've all had it; more so than if a few Redeyes did the same."
"What about a couple of men? It won't take much to get things rolling."
Phillips turned and regarded the impatient Thalick and the four passengers on his back. The people were no longer standing. They had collapsed into a half-sleep.
"I'm afraid they won't be much help. But you're right. It's worth a try," Phillips said hoarsely, then looked pointedly at Zolan. "Feel up to the job?"
"I can't do it alone. One more man, at least."
Phillips began to amble himself down the slope. "Let's go." Zolan protested instantly.
"Colonel, you're in no condition-"
"There's no one else, Rzzdik. I think you can see that. Besides, it would take too long to explain to any one of my stronger men, and we don't have the time."
Help me! Help my people! Zolan remembered Valry's words and sighed.
"Alright." he said resignedly. He felt dizzy again, and a wave of nausea nearly sent him to his knees. "But I think I'll need some more help from Thalick."
Thalick waited while Phillips and Zolan "refueled" themselves from his tail. He understood what the two men had planned, and found no objection to the idea. Perhaps, if things went really bad and the Stingers were overwhelmed, this diversionary tactic the alien man had proposed might indeed be useful. Besides, at least Phillips and Zolan were far enough up the mountain to be rescued at a later time.
As the two men disembarked for the last time, Thalick continued his climb upwards towards the high ledge where Green Belly had transported several hundred people in the past two hours. It would be the only trek to this mountain sanctuary for Thalick; he would be needed at the valley front once the Redeyes decided to brave the firebreaks.
Whatever Gods May Be Page 31