It left Cyrus and Skar with Jana, Yang, Grinder, and Darter: six people to achieve the impossible.
After looting the fallen soldiers, killing them, and retrieving and reviving their friends, they had a council of war inside the rover.
“We have modern weapons,” Yang said. “And we have a war vehicle. That is greater luck than we could have expected.”
“We’ve also lost four good people,” Cyrus said.
“It is amazing we have anyone left at all,” Yang said. “We are in the Valley of the Demons. Now we must attack while we can.”
“Attack what?” Cyrus asked.
“Attack whoever holds the Anointed One in thrall,” Yang said.
“We must scout out the situation first to find out who that is exactly,” Cyrus said.
“What does that mean in terms of action?” Yang asked.
“It means Jana and I will infiltrate the city,” Cyrus said. “We’ll discover where they’re keeping Klane and then send for you.”
“We lack communicators,” Yang pointed out.
“I’ll have to use telepathy,” Cyrus said.
Skar glanced at him.
“I know,” Cyrus said. “We’ll have to risk some of the Bo Taw hearing the message. I’ll give you a code word.”
“I don’t approve,” Skar said.
“So what do you suggest?” Cyrus asked. “Do we barrel in with the rover and just shoot up the town?”
“Those would be poor tactics,” Skar said.
“Exactly,” Cyrus said. “This is a snatch and grab. We have to get one man and get out. That’s it.”
“Klane will likely be well guarded,” Skar said.
“Meaning two people will have a better chance of sneaking in than six driving up in a rover,” Cyrus said.
Skar and Yang exchanged glances.
“It is a wise idea,” Yang said. “I agree with Cyrus’s plan.”
Skar pointed out that, as a Vomag, he could blend in better. He should go into the city.
“You’re right about blending in,” Cyrus said. “You’re also our best soldier. When that rover comes in, you have to be in it.”
The others agreed with Yang and Cyrus. They also agreed that the rover should stay well out of the city, to stay out of both visual and Bo Taw range. It meant that Cyrus and Jana had several kilometers to go on foot.
“Let’s get started then,” Cyrus said. He shook hands all around, and he wondered if he’d ever see any of these men again. Then he and Jana headed for the city of the Kresh.
31
Niens stood frozen with indecision near the reality field. The pay girl had disappeared, leaving him with his hopes and fears.
What should he do? He wanted to make a stab for freedom, but now that he stood on the threshold of it, fear incapacitated him. The other choice was to run to a comm and demand an audience with Zama Dee, with the Revered One. He had priceless information. Klane was on the verge of telling him where his consciousness had fled. Surely, the 73rd would delight in such arcane knowledge. She would reward him commensurately.
One who belonged to the Hundred would surely keep her word, wouldn’t she?
Would she keep it to one of us cattle, though?
It was hard to tell. He had no doubt she could destroy him without compunction. The Kresh . . . it was difficult to read them, to fully understand the higher race. If he could speak to someone knowledgeable about them—
Niens gobbled in fear as a gigantic Kresh solidified before him. The nine-foot creature with its metallic streamers and the agonizer in its talons—
“Chengal Ras,” Niens whispered. “W-what are you doing here? The s-savage killed you. I witnessed it.”
Chengal Ras snarled, waving his arms and clicking his talons in agitation.
Niens turned away, his muscles tensing as he made ready to bolt. Instead of running, he frowned. Techs adjusted the machines, recalibrating, perhaps. Techs . . . technicians . . . the reality field . . .
The mentalist exhaled in relief. Yes, yes, what kind of idiot was he? He faced Chengal Ras, realizing the Kresh was a figment of his imagination. Yet maybe it could tell him things from his subconscious that he couldn’t face in any other way. That was an interesting concept. Even so, Niens considered stepping several paces away from the field and getting rid of the ghost. Chengal Ras had always been difficult and would likely prove so now. Yet if he stepped away from the field in this stressed state, it would put his mind in range of the Bo Taw. That was a bad idea.
Therefore, Niens tilted his head as he regarded the imposing 109th. “Can I trust a Kresh when one gives her solemn word?”
Chengal Ras quit waving his arms, clicking his talons, and lashing his tail. The alien lowered his dinosaur-like jaws until he breathed in Niens’s face. The musty odor nauseated the mentalist. For a fantasy, this felt far too real. Yet he held his ground.
“You played me false, mentalist,” Chengal Ras said. “During combat, you sought mercy from the human instead of coming to a Revered One’s aid. How long do you suppose you can keep that hidden from Zama Dee? She is cleverer than I, or at least she was when I lived. Otherwise she would be dead, and I would be alive.”
“You’re saying I can’t trust her?” Niens asked.
“A human does not trust a Kresh,” Chengal Ras said, while gashing his teeth side to side. “He obeys. He serves. You have served her and fulfilled your usefulness. That is enough for one like you.”
“She promised me rewards, though.”
“Yes. A good master knows how to motivate his cattle. The promise was the thing, your completion of a task. For a human, nothing else matters beyond that.”
“You’re saying I can’t trust her?” Niens repeated.
“Consider your position,” the ghost said. “You have knowledge she desires. As long as she wants something from you, she will likely treat you well—given it’s the easiest way to acquire what she wants.”
“Is that logical?” Niens asked. “If she rewards me, she can point to it and show others that she keeps her word.”
“It is difficult for me to understand such foolishness from such a crafty and deceitful creature as you,” Chengal Ras said. “Others of your kind already believe she keeps her promises, just as you believe. After this is over, you will disappear. No one will ever see you again or ask about you.”
Sweat trickled under Niens’s collar. He tugged at it in order to ease his breathing.
“If you consider my logic in detail,” Chengal Ras said, “you will find it impeccable.”
“What do you suggest I do?”
The ghost snorted. “There is nothing you can do, as you have no options.”
“Untrue. I can help Klane. He let me live once. He was merciful to me.”
“Such actions will make no difference,” Chengal Ras said.
“No, no, you’re wrong,” Niens said. “He would keep his word. He had no reason to show me mercy the first time, yet he did. Besides, he’s human like me. He would feel gratitude if I helped him escape. For such an act, I might even become a hero to the human race. Yes, yes, I think he’s the Anointed One. I think humans can live on their own without Revered Ones, without you aliens mocking our humanity.”
“It is a vain hope. The Kresh are invincible. Have you counted the number of spacecraft in the so-called Anointed One’s camp? None. The Kresh have many and can build more.”
“But Earth—”
“Is ripe fruit for the Kresh to pluck,” Chengal Ras said. “Humanity is a slave race. Admit it to yourself and live life the best you are able. Anything else is sheer futility. Do you want me to administer the agonizer? It will be a pleasure compared to what will happen to you if you help the test subject and fail.”
“I—”
Before Niens could finish his words, rough hands jerked him a
way from the reality field. At first, he didn’t understand what went on. By degrees, he became aware of two Vomags dragging him away from the field. Chengal Ras became ghostly and then disappeared. The Vomags cast him onto the floor before . . .
Niens looked up at a tall, sneering Bo Taw. The man wore a red robe and had the elongated cranium of his kind. He wore a silver baan around his forehead and kept his hands hidden in voluminous sleeves held before his body.
“You truly are a vain creature, Mentalist Niens,” the Bo Taw said. “I have watched you for several days now, wading through your chaotic thoughts. How could you have believed the tripe about an Anointed One? It is a silly hope.”
Niens licked his lips.
The Bo Taw smiled and laughed. The techs at the machines studiously avoided looking at the duo. The Vomags had retreated several steps, keeping their beady gazes on Niens.
“How can a man with your intellect believe that a Revered One was going to leave you in charge of the test subject?” the Bo Taw asked. “She knew you begged for mercy from him and let Chengal Ras die a hideous death. She knows you are devious and utterly bent.”
The Bo Taw shook his head as if he couldn’t believe such things possible.
“We don’t have to be slaves,” Niens said, raising his voice so the techs would hear.
“They won’t help you,” the Bo Taw said. “They know their place. They know the Revered Ones give us peace and meaning. Man on his own is a miserable creature.”
“Those aren’t your real thoughts,” Niens said. “From your youngest years, mentalists forced you to love the aliens.”
“You poor, pathetic creature,” the Bo Taw said. “Don’t you understand that the Revered Ones realize humanity is a broken reed? Can’t you comprehend the altruism of their actions? They have mended humanity and integrated us into their advanced society.”
“They’re using us like cattle.”
The Bo Taw shook his bald head. “If that were true, why did they fashion us? We have psionic gifts that humanity wouldn’t have developed in thousands of years of change.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Niens asked.
With one of his long fingers, the Bo Taw stroked the side of his mouth. “You still have a modicum of intelligence. No. You are clever, mentalist. You have use, and maybe the 73rd will show you mercy.”
“Do the Kresh know the meaning of the word?” Niens asked, bitterly.
The Bo Taw frowned. “Have a care, Niens.”
“Why? All is lost.”
“But I just told you that it isn’t.” The Bo Taw motioned to the Vomags. “Bring him along.”
“Where are you taking me?” Niens asked.
The Vomags plucked him off the floor and hustled him after the swiftly marching Bo Taw. They exited the reality chamber, went down a long corridor, and entered a comm room. A tech swiveled around and hurriedly faced her screen.
“Put me through to the 73rd’s Attack Talon,” the Bo Taw said.
There were beeps, a flash of light, and soon, Zama Dee appeared on a large screen. Behind her, another Kresh moved into view and stalked out. They were on the bridge of the Attack Talon.
The Bo Taw motioned the Vomags, showing them where to place Niens. Then the lanky humanoid bowed low before the screen.
“Revered One,” the Bo Taw said in a subdued tone. “The mentalist indeed followed your ‘A’ prediction. I have apprehended him and now hold him for your judgment.”
“Bring him into full view,” Zama Dee said.
The Vomags shoved Niens beside the Bo Taw.
“Revered One,” Niens said in a rush. “I have discovered a method of communicating with the test subject while he is under the reality field.”
“Is he practicing his love litany?” Zama Dee asked the Bo Taw.
“No, Revered One. His mind is fully open.”
Fully open, Niens thought. That means my love litany was partly successful.
“It made no difference,” the Bo Taw told him. “Over time, I picked up everything.”
“Your statement is factual?” Zama Dee asked Niens. “You have communicated with the test subject while he is under the reality field?”
“Yes, Revered One,” Niens said. “I asked him where his consciousness went while it left his body.”
“I’m amazed you could communicate,” Zama Dee said. “My experts have said it is impossible. Well, supposing this thing is true, what did the test subject say?”
“He became nervous,” Niens said. “He’s very distrustful by nature.”
“Does he trust you?” Zama Dee asked.
Niens almost lied. He glanced at the Bo Taw. The man didn’t look down at him, but he wore a superior smile. Niens wished he could cut the man’s throat.
“Tsk, tsk,” the Bo Taw said. “You’re a violent little slug, aren’t you?”
“I’ve gained the test subject’s partial trust,” Niens told the Revered One.
“He speaks the truth,” the Bo Taw added.
From her place aboard the Attack Talon, Zama Dee glanced to the side. Niens could imagine her tail lashing. After a time, she regarded the Bo Taw. “Yes. We will continue to use him. Put the mentalist in temporary confinement.” She spoke to Niens now. “You will continue your experiments while in my presence. This is a priority issue and I will land directly . . . in one hour.”
“We await your glory, Revered One,” the Bo Taw said.
The screen flickered out.
“Cut my throat, would you?” the Bo Taw asked Niens.
“Gladly!” Niens spat, before shaking his head. He needed allies, not enemies. Oh, this was a disaster.
“Take him to detention,” the Bo Taw told the soldiers. “Then watch him. The Revered One is coming and we must be ready to perform for her service.”
32
Shrouded in stolen gray cloaks, Cyrus and Jana attempted to imitate the other humans: head bent forward, shoulders slumped, and moving with a half shuffle. Cyrus had used such tactics before in Milan, imitating the natives. That time he’d entered a costly pavilion to deliver Dust to a rich merchant.
Today he approached a Kresh city by a fine wide avenue, surfaced with a rough blue substance that rasped underfoot. They had overpowered some workers earlier and stolen their baggy garments and black produce bags to hide their weapons.
Cyrus practiced his null. It was hard work keeping it up; he felt winded and his legs were shaky. Jana looked around, gawking at the sights.
The avenue led to the main street. On either side rose spires, red and purple. They looked glassy and reflected the sunlight with hurtful brilliance. In places, crystals scintillated within the spires, giving it a fantasy feel, as if the structures cost priceless sums.
Their feet scraped across the rough substance. It was like nothing Cyrus had seen before. Perhaps it had originated on the Kresh home world many light years away. Cyrus put a hand on Jana’s arm, keeping her from heading down a side lane.
“We’ll keep on the main avenue for now,” he said.
She nodded, and continued to stare right and left.
“Don’t do that,” Cyrus whispered.
“What?”
“Look around like that.”
“I’ve never seen a city before,” Jana said.
“You twist around like a tourist,” he whispered. “You have to blend in or someone is going to report us.”
The avenue led close beside a two-hundred-foot shaft of silver. It was much more slender than an Earth apartment complex. Surrounding this was an expanse of clean orange sand upon which rested half a dozen peculiar objects of rusted metal. Were they art things? Perhaps they were Kresh fetishes or trophies.
A Kresh stood on a circular steel platform in front of the spire. The alien regarded one of the rusted objects. The creature held a box, slowly twisting a dial
.
Cyrus took one of Jana’s hands and squeezed hard enough so she looked at him. “Concentrate on the road for now,” he whispered. “You’ll have a chance to look around later.”
She was a hunter, a warrior. She understood and stopped gawking unnecessarily.
The spires increased in height the deeper they moved into the city. In places, large glass boxes seven or eight stories high and just as broad stood in place of the towers. Humans entered and exited those. Were they cube apartments? Cyrus didn’t see any windows.
The process of movement among the various people seemed to depend on type. The regular, genetically unmodified humans like Cyrus and Jana shuffled with a defeated spirit. The Bo Taw strode importantly but slowly, like flamingos Cyrus had once seen in a zoo. The Vomags had a military bearing. No one had skin as white as he did, although some were lighter skinned, the Bo Taw the most so.
Beside some of the glassy boxes were plazas composed of stone tiles. There humans ate at round marble tables. A few of the tables boasted awnings. He spied only a few Kresh. They always stalked like predators, ready to strike with incredible speed. The humans stopped in apparent reverence whenever an alien neared.
Once, Cyrus and Jana halted. The raptor-like alien didn’t notice them, with its streamers glittering in the sunlight. The three-toed claws scraped across the rough surface. The two Vomags following at a discreet distance gave Cyrus a second glance, but nothing more.
“What are we looking for exactly?” Jana whispered.
That was a good question. Cyrus didn’t know. Where would they keep Klane? How close was the Anointed One? As he moved through the alien city, a dull feeling of despair began to grip him.
Don’t listen to it, he told himself. You’ve been in worse spots and won. Remember, not that long ago you were in High Station 3. You didn’t have any friends, either. Now you have Jana, Skar, and the others.
“Cyrus,” Jana said, tugging at his sleeve. “Look!” she pointed into the sky.
Craning his head, Cyrus saw a distant bright speck. His woman had terrific senses. He recalled that she had been the one to watch for demon sky vehicles. The speck grew, and it looked as if it was headed straight down toward them.
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