The Messiah Choice

by Jack L. Chalker

  “Or something like that. Why? Is it important?”

  “It’s Goethe,” Whitely responded. “Faust. It’s what Mephistopheles tells Faust when they’re discussing the bargain and the demon’s pressed on just what Hell is like. He may have a point, too. This world is going to hell. You can see it, sense it, feel it.”

  “It’s been going to hell since I was a boy,” Lord Frawley noted. “It hasn’t gotten there yet.”

  “Ah, but that’s a relative thing. I’ve been studying the news since I’ve been here, and I’ve called in for correlations. Did you know, for example, that those grisly murders in San Francisco made page fourteen of the Chronicle and didn’t even rate a mention in the national news or in other papers? Not long ago that would have been headline news. Even Tass would have covered it as evidence of how lawless and savage and decadent the West was. Now it’s barely a mention. Single murders, ordinary ones, and most rapes don’t even get a line any more. Now people take it upon themselves to drive into crowds and play ‘smash the pedestrian’ in many major cities. It’s almost common. Serial killers used to rate big play—they’re still talking about Jack the Ripper, after all. Now there are so many that the media is hard pressed to come up with macabre new nicknames for them. Assassinations and assassination attempts are so commonplace it’s odd when there’s a day without one. No, Pip, it’s on the move.”

  “Modern times, that’s all. It’s the price we pay.”

  “No, there’s a pattern. It’s well distributed, and the incidents are almost geographically uniform and patterned out. The beast is loose. People are going mad in droves, and the rest of the population is increasingly terrified. Nowhere is safe. We’re being primed with violence.” Whitely paused a moment and looked over at Greg. “He didn’t ask you who the King was?”

  “No, that was the most insane part of it. He as much as said that they let her run loose at least partly to expose the organization, yet he didn’t ask me a single question about it. It was as if it didn’t matter any more.”

  “Perhaps it didn’t. Perhaps he already knows all he needs to know and has other plans. Perhaps he needs an opposition. Indeed, he may just have known that you don’t know who the King is.”

  “But that’s just the point,” MacDonald said, slowly drinking his coffee. “I do know. And I would have spilled it, I have to admit. I would have spilled anything at that point. Until now, I’ve never really believed that somebody could be pure evil, but I’ve met him now.”

  “Rubbish,” Pip sneered. “Evil is a relative term related to goals. This fellow had all sorts of electronic gimmickry to use and to disguise himself, but did you feel that he was supernatural, somehow? Or was he in fact a human being?”

  “Well, Hitler was a human being, so I suppose it’s not too far off. Yes, I’d say he was human. He wears boots, anyway. I could tell by the sound when he walked out. He has that power—tremendous gobs of it—but you could tell he really hated to use it. He much preferred the pistol and the physical threats and torture. He was such an arrogant, totally self confident bastard that you wanted to strangle him, but he was a pro. He knew exactly what he was doing and what buttons to push.”

  “After all she’s been through, though; to surrender that easily…” Frawley muttered.

  “But that’s the point, isn’t it?” the Bishop responded. “I mean, he set her up for alternate rises and falls. He gave her physical freedom, but took away looks and communications abilities. He let her run free, even gave her a taste of power and killing, knowing that she’d be forced to give that up and lock herself in just to foil them. Then he lets her run, gives her plenty of rope—too much, as he admitted, a price of that arrogance and self-confidence—but at the very moment of consummation he appears to first show her closest friend in the world to be a Judas and worse, then to taunt her not with any more horrible things to her but rather to him, once she’s really committed herself for love. Considering her background, her extreme naivete, it’s a wonder she didn’t crumble before this.”

  “Many brave men and women are dead because they preferred it to crumbling,” Frawley noted.

  “But many more aren’t. The threat of death is still the strongest one. Consider—ask a group of women what is the worst crime that they fear and nine out of ten will say rape right off. Yet the vast majority of women who have been raped are still alive and even healthy. Why? They were given only two choices—the rape, which was incredibly repugnant, or death.

  That’s the same principle the Dark Man uses. He finds the thing you fear the most, whether it’s death or perhaps paralysis and total helplessness, as in Angelique’s case, and he gives you two choices. Let your mind and body be raped at will by him, or choose what you truly fear the most. It’s quite effective, and it’s an old story. He’s just far better than most at determining your worst fear.”

  “He’s got a computer to analyze his victims for him,” MacDonald pointed out. “Funny. He quoted Orwell, too. I thought that was about as appropriate as could be, under the circumstances.”

  “I’m quite a bit more interested in how our friend here explains what happened to Maria,” the Bishop commented a bit smugly. “No odd laboratories, no big computer or giant radiation dishes, nothing. Here, in the middle of nowhere, the Dark Man is not only able to appear at will but also exercise those considerable powers of transmutation.”

  “I don’t know the explanation, damn it,” Lord Frawley growled. “I don’t know how the process works, but it’s self-evident that it does. With that sort of disguise, anyone could play Dark Man, even with the Dark Man broadcasting his voice via satellite. There’s a logical explanation for what happened, if we only knew and understood the physics—I feel sure of that. Who knows what kind of transmitting and generating systems the corporation might now have all over the place, ready to be deployed as needed?

  Still, it doesn’t change the basic situation. He can do what he claims to, no matter if he hides behind satanist claptrap or really believes it. They can re-make and transform whole populations into slaves of any design, reward with youth and beauty or punish with age and infirmity at their whim. It’s a terrible weapon.”

  “I still can’t understand why he left me whole and unchanged,” MacDonald put in. “I mean, he had me cold, and I represent a demonstrated and very real threat to him, if not the power to thwart his plans, at least the threat of doing damage that might be very inconvenient. If I’d had him at a similar disadvantage I know I wouldn’t have let him go.”

  “Oh, I suspect that was for Angelique’s benefit,” the Bishop replied, sipping his tea. “She had to be reassured that you were whole and safe or the bargain would have been invalidated. If he’d done anything, he wouldn’t have your paralysis as a threat to hold over her any more. I suspect he thinks he’s put a sufficient scare into you at this point that he doesn’t really worry about you that much. If anything, you’re the price he paid for getting her complete cooperation.”

  “You know how that makes me feel. The question is— now what?”

  “We must take direct action against the buggers, obviously,” Lord Frawley stated flatly. “We must put them out of business.”

  “Yeah,” MacDonald responded, “but that’s easier said than done. It was tough enough getting off that island. Now you’re telling me we have to get on it and do a lot of operations when their power’s strongest there and they can even sic invisible monsters on you at will.”

  “Exactly so,” Frawley agreed. “An air strike is out. We might get some buildings and lots of innocents but we wouldn’t touch that computer—and it could bring massive defensive armaments to bear on any such attackers. A full sea landing, assuming we could convince some nation of the extreme danger and get their troops, would be just as bad and couldn’t be hidden. A nuclear missile or bomb would do it, but even if we could get one it’s unlikely we could deliver it without going through the sort of channels SAINT can control and counter. Actually, I might be able to use some of my o
ld terrorist contacts to actually get a small and dirty bomb in a few weeks, but those little monsters still weigh a few hundred pounds and would have to be assembled on the spot by experts. How would we get it there and in? They have radiological monitors that are the best in the world to keep ships and boats with such things away, and a whole naval force to intercept. They’d take no chances—we’d be blown out of the water.”

  MacDonald thought it over. “Not necessarily. Remember, my primary job at Magellan before all this blew up was to test and if possible penetrate security at company installations. I only failed once, and that was in the middle east against an adversary who was clever and of whom I knew nothing. With Jureau gone, Ross is the top security man there and just the type to play ball with any of them. I know him well, and I know what types of things he’d employ. I beat their system once, and recommended how to plug the holes. What do you bet that they implemented that report?”

  Frawley almost choked. “Good Lord! You mean they are defending themselves on the standard level according to a plan you devised?”

  “I’d almost bet on it. Oh, they’d modify it a good deal, and they have these powers that will have to be taken into account, but Ross is not very creative and he’s also quite literal-minded. His ego, arrogance, and self confidence also fits in with that crowd now running things. And, if that’s true, we have a built-in edge.”

  “Indeed? What is that? I’d be delighted to find any edge for our side at this point.”

  “I made my living by making fools of the professional security men. If I failed again and again, I’d have been fired. I had to succeed to prove my worth to the company.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Well, I plugged the major leaks and openings, of course, but I always left something else open or slightly flawed so that if I ever was ordered to try the same place again I could still beat the system. I figured three separate ways to get into the Institute and picked the easiest last time. I succeeded, then plugged those holes, but I made only token changes against the other two ways, sufficient to foul up somebody who didn’t know they were there but easily bypassed by me. Now, I can’t take the installation, but I can get a small group of experienced infiltrators in with equipment—even, possibly, your bomb.”

  “Pip,” Frawley was rubbing his hands in glee. “Why, this is marvelous! Marvelous!” He looked over at Whitely, and stopped and frowned. “So what is wrong with you?”

  “I fear you miss some of the implications of all this,” replied the Bishop. “Blowing the island is not sufficient. We must be absolutely cenain that Sir Reginald, the bulk of his followers, the Dark Man, and, I’m sorry to say, Angelique, are there as well. It will kill everyone, the innocent along with the guilty, the women and children of Port Kathleen as well as the bastards up top.”

  “I agree that innocents must suffer, but that’s the only way,” Frawley replied. “Why, however, do we need all those others there? I mean, certainly hitting that computer should be sufficient.”

  “No, hardly. You, of all people, should see why. First of all, the Revelations of St. John of Patmos suggest that the beast shall receive a mortal wound and then be miraculously healed by the Antichrist. What if we nuke, as I believe it’s said, the whole thing, and then Angelique shows up in Montreal, say, or London, and announces that while it’s a terrible tragedy it’s no time to panic, they have a backup computer or two on line right now and nothing’s interrupted? We’d have delivered a mortal wound to the beast and to Magellan, and then she would heal it and use the incident to further her own power. No, we must have them all—all in the basket at one time. It’s our only chance.”

  “And when would that be that you could guarantee such a thing?” Frawley asked him. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

  “October thirty-first of this year, when they intend to consecrate Angelique and turn over the power to her, and, not coincidentally, I would think, a day after the final transfer of her inheritance and a day before the next scheduled meeting of Magellan’s Board of Directors. They’ll all be there on that night, and probably only on that night. Not before or after will they be in one basket.”

  “I think you left out one important point in that plan, my Lord Bishop,” MacDonald noted.

  “Oh? What?”

  “Whoever goes in, assuming they can plant that thing, will almost certainly be stuck there. We don’t dare to just arm and leave it. Security will be extra tight that day and we can’t leave the success of a bomb to chance or remote control. It must be hidden, assembled at the last possible minute, and then exploded. Anyone involved in that would be stuck there, too. It’s a suicide mission you’re talking about. Leaving is as hard or harder than getting in, particularly now, after two escapes. We couldn’t afford to risk anyone leaving and getting caught. Everyone involved in this will die in the same atomic blast as they do. And they’ll know as well as we do how likely that date is for an attack.”

  The Bishop polished off the last of his breakfast. “Well, my boy, perhaps it’s not quite as drastic as you suggest, nor are we quite as defenseless against the magic as you might believe. However, let’s float this by the King and see what happens. We’ll need some good, dedicated people, solid planning, as much training as we can get, and intelligence if we’re to carry any of it off, and time is of the essence.”

  “Yes,” added Frawley skeptically. “We’ve got all of five weeks.”

  There was no more need for secrecy now, as they packed up rather leisurely and prepared to link up with others in their organization. Greg MacDonald went back into the motel room to confront Maria.

  There was no question that she felt both bitter and angry, but she also left little doubt that she felt less the betrayer than the betrayed. She was certainly still recognizable, but she now stood about four one and weighed perhaps sixty-five pounds, with long light brown hair. She had a good figure, for a kid, but, of course, no breasts, pubic hair or other signs of puberty, and her voice was higher and sounded very child-like. The Dark Man had chosen a particularly cruel point at which to revert and then freeze her; the child-woman, stuck eternally just on the edge of physical ripening.

  He tossed some clothing down on the bed, having gone into Carson City to run a number of errands before leaving. MacDonald had never taken pains choosing his own clothes, but he had a good eye for what fit other people. He’d gotten her a sleeveless tee shirt, some jeans, a light jacket, and sneakers. He hadn’t bothered with underwear; he thought she’d rebel against panties with cartoon characters on them and she hardly needed a bra.

  She put them on rather sullenly, then looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. Many people had fantasies of being children again, but he could read her thoughts just looking at her. I’m going to be like this forever… Worse, she might look like that and be subject to the emotional extremes that were physiological at that point, but inside she was the mature and highly experienced woman in her mid-forties she’d been before, finally, she turned to him and asked the big question.

  “What happens to me now?”

  “Up to you,” he told her. “None of us have any real sense of love and responsibility towards you, you know. If it wasn’t for you, the nightmare for many would be over. Now, if we didn’t lose everything last night, it’ll cost a lot of innocent lives to put it right. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll stake you to a couple of hundred bucks and drop you at the Carson City bus station.”

  There was panic in her eyes and her expression, and she fought back tears. “You can’t just leave me here! You can’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “What am I supposed to do? Where can I go? I don’t have anybody, you know that. To everybody else I’m just some kid who should be in sixth grade someplace, only I got no papers, no identity, no family, and I’ll never grow out of the sixth grade! I can’t even go back to the church. Who’d believe me?”

  “Yeah, well, that’s a problem, all right. What would you do?”

  “Take me with you,
” she said, almost pleading. “I’ll be good—honest. No more trouble. I’ll do whatever I’m told. Just—don’t leave me here.”

  “I wish I could count on that, but how can I? We trusted Angelique to you, and you ran at the first trouble and then called in the enemy. We bet our lives on your loyalty, and at the first sign of trouble you turned us in.”

  “I still think I did the right thing. You heard that old geezer in the van! How many people has he killed or ordered to be killed? He didn’t even care about people—he was talking about messing up her body like she was some piece of rock or something. And they wouldn’t have stopped looking for you two if you blew her cherry. They need her as a front no matter what. I saved her life, damn it!”

  “No, you didn’t, Maria. You probably made sure she’d die. What choice have you left anybody now? She’s target number one, and probably so well protected that they’ll have to take out half a city to get her—but they’ll get her. You turned her from a fugitive needing protection into the most dangerous person alive. Can’t you ever understand that there’s no perfect world, no perfect situations, no perfect choices except in the movies? And did you really think I’d just fall romantically into your arms when you did this to her, to me, to everybody? What conceit! What arrogance! You really should have stayed on their side.”

  And now she was in tears, and, particularly looking as she did, it was a heart-rending sight. It softened him just a bit inside, but he wouldn’t permit it to show.

  “How can we trust you, Maria? Blow any plans we have and they’d offer you the moon for the information. You’d crack in a minute.”

  “No, no! I won’t! I swear it! No more dreams, no more illusions! I’ll stay this way until the end of time. What would I get out of them now? Lots of promises, but I got promises this time, too. No, all I want do now is get even. It’s all I got.”

  He thought about it a moment. It was true she couldn’t be trusted, but it was also true that she had roamed that island for weeks as one of the enemy. She alone might know where some of the traps were, and what new things had been added. She knew who was who. This information, supplementing his own, might be very valuable.