“I’ve seen no advisor.”
“His advice wasn’t taken well, it seems. He met with an accident. Note the tower in the distance,” he said, pointing at a ruin on a hill. “It accidentally had its upper levels blasted off by one of Tanek’s ships. It just doesn’t pay to be a stationary object on some planets, I suppose. Oh, and the advisor was standing on the roof at the time, I should have mentioned that.”
“I want to talk to you about the device.”
Sirajaldin laughed. “This weapon of theirs. Imagine what it must be like to divide yourself, to be in more than one place at one time. One would have to be mad to imagine actually doing such a thing, madder still to master the skill.”
“You can do it. You’re not really here.”
Sirajaldin stopped. “Pardon?”
“It took me a little while to see the tells,” Carol said. “Look down. Sometimes you cast a shadow, like when you threw that goblet. Sometimes…most times…not.”
“If I’m mad, it’s because they made me this way.”
“No doubt.”
Sirajaldin frowned. “What is it you want, anyway?”
Carol smiled for the first time that day. “To go a little mad myself.”
Chapter
6
The device fit firmly on Carol’s wrist. Sirajaldin had refused to meet Carol in the flesh, and she was beginning to think his paranoia justified. However, he had led her to a chamber in which another of the weapons could be found.
Thinking makes it so, Sirajaldin told her. It may also drive you mad….
The contraption on her wrist was slightly more complicated than Sirajaldin had let on, but although she was no technical adept like Soloman or the various tech heads on the da Vinci, she quickly deduced what each control might allow her to do. It was all a matter of degrees. In the first stage of “removal”—as Sirajaldin had called it—one might travel outside his or her body with no awareness of the corporeal form that was left behind. Traditional “astral travel.”
She touched the control and felt as if she were taking a nap. The sensation wasn’t jarring in the least, which surprised her.
Seductive little thing, aren’t you? she thought as she thought of the hall outside—and suddenly found herself whisked through solid matter, into that other space.
“Yow!” she hollered, despite herself.
The sensation, admittedly, had been a rush. So long as she could think of this body, this new body of hers, able to pass through walls, able to be seen or not seen depending upon her will, as her one true form, she would be all right.
But just thinking that had made her visualize her true body back in her chamber, open-eyed and staring at nothing—and suddenly she was seeing through two sets of eyes, her mind processing more images, more tactile sensations, more thoughts, than she could possibly handle. She almost screamed—
And it was over. She was back in her room. Back in her body. Simple as that. For a moment she had feared that a return to her true form would not be possible, that she would grow confused as to which form was which….
That she would, indeed, go mad.
Steeling herself, she tried again. This time, her second form made it down the corridor and even passed through a couple of walls, breezing past guards who had no clue she was anywhere nearby, before her anxiety once again mounted and she recalled herself to her primary form.
Mastering the skill of being a ghost took much less time than she expected. Then she set to work on duplicating herself. In other words, maintaining control of both forms at once, multitasking, studying the scrolls and learning what she could in preparation for the ceremony with one body, while traveling, listening to conversations, processing information with another.
The whole thing became second nature to her so quickly that she wondered what she had feared. There was a sense of freedom, of empowerment, that went along with this business that was greater than anything she had ever experienced before. Why had she been so afraid?
Remember, they know you’re doing this. They want this.
You have to figure out why….
She found Bart working hard in his chamber on the translation. He was surprised to see her, but he didn’t realize that she was just a projection; the device on her wrist was hidden under the billowing sleeves of the long ceremonial robe given to her for tonight’s service. Soloman sat beside him. They exchanged greetings, then Bart filled her in on their progress.
“We’re having to extrapolate some,” Bart said wearily as he shoved the scrolls away. “Fill in blanks. It’s the only way we’ll have any chance at all of activating the null field in time.”
“I bet you could use two of you right now,” Carol said, smiling inwardly.
Bart bit his lip. “Hmmm…I don’t know. I worry about the side effects of the device, even if I had one to wear. I think Tanek is right in having this null-field generator employed.”
A sudden rush of anger coursed through Carol. She had no idea why Bart’s words had struck her so disagreeably, but she suddenly wanted to be elsewhere. She flickered in and out of existence for an instant—fortunately at the exact moment when her comrades were looking to the window, distracted by the sound of laughter outside—then controlled herself once more.
Side effects? Ridiculous. The only side effect she had felt was the confidence brought about by finally having some control over circumstances. Even as she stood here, information was flowing into her mind…her other mind…her true mind. Or was this her true mind…?
Enough, she commanded, banishing the chaotic flow of thoughts.
“Will you be ready by tonight?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” Bart said.
Nodding, Carol turned and left the chamber. The guards outside snickered as she passed, one of them raising his wrist and flicking his own device in her way. She shrank from him, remembering how Tanek had destroyed the doppelgänger assassin in his quarters.
No, not Tanek. Another ghost…
They know…
Walking down the corridor, she wondered why she hadn’t told Bart what she had learned from the guard about Martin’s upcoming accident, and that she had secured a device herself. It was curious that she would keep such things to herself. Against her better judgment, against her nature…
But what need did he have to know? She would resolve all of this by herself. She would find the answers.
She even knew right where to look.
Gaining access to the dead man’s chamber turned out to be a simple matter; what surprised her was that it had been cleaned out completely. Bared wires dangled from the ceiling and from otherwise cleverly disguised ports in the walls, all rugs and wall hangings had been removed (though she could tell from the accumulated dust in certain areas that such items had once been in evidence), and all furniture, files, and such were gone.
She heard laughter from just behind her, a kiss of shadows upon her neck. Startled, she whirled just in time to see another hooded figure—dressed identically to her—leaping through the wall overlooking the courtyard. Racing to the window, Carol peered out and saw nothing. The robed and hooded figure had vanished before hitting the ground.
A ghost. Another ghost!
What would happen if they met? If they fought?
She wanted it. She wanted to know.
Stepping back, she gained some distance on the window and leaped through the wall. She laughed as the cobblestones launched themselves up at her, exalted in the thrill of executing the impossible and knowing full well she could survive it, survive anything…
It was like being a god.
“Someone’s had enough, I’d say,” someone whispered behind her. “I wonder if she’ll even feel it.”
Carol’s mind was suddenly overturned. She was plummeting to the ground. In a second she would strike, yet not die. How could anyone be behind her?
Then she understood. The voice hadn’t been heard by this body, it was her true form that was being threatened, her frail pr
ison of flesh that was about to be attacked.
Withdrawing instantly, she found herself back in her chamber, launching herself away from her desk as a crackling energy blade soared down at her, slicing into the billowing hood she wore, but missing her head completely. There was a crackle and a thunk as a very solid blade buried itself in the desk. Her phaser was in her hand, aimed and ready to fire as she turned to face her assailants.
A boot kicked the weapon from her hand and a fist struck her in the mouth, the pain sending her reeling. All she glimpsed was the hooded figure—her doppelgänger, was that possible? It wasn’t, yet—
And someone else’s leg swept under hers, tripping her, sending her smashing onto the floor, her back and skull ringing with pain as she smacked down hard. She wasn’t trained to be a warrior, didn’t have the savage will, even, of these barbaric, mad people. That was what Corsi and her security people were for. But she wouldn’t die here, not here, not like this, not with that bastard Martin smirking at her from his cell down below, not with the lives of so many depending on her.
The energy blade was back in the hand of the first hooded assassin. There were two, she now saw, both with shadowed faces, both dressed identically to her. Yet the shimmering material worn by the killer who went after Tanek could be glimpsed from beneath the robes. Were these ghosts? Flesh?
Did it matter?
Carol’s left hand went to the device on her wrist. All she knew was rage: an almost divine fury at the idea of losing control now that it had been granted to her, of losing in any way, of causing grief to others…
Then they appeared. Two more doppelgängers. Another four behind them. Six in all. She could see through each of their eyes. Move through each of their forms. The sensory overload was staggering.
She didn’t care. Her doubles descended upon the intruders, pounding, kicking, breaking chairs upon them. One laughed, scooping up her phaser. Her—its finger twitched as she aimed at the killers hunched nearby—
“No,” all seven of her forms said at once as she realized what she had almost been tricked into doing: The phaser’s line of fire was directed toward the intruders, and beyond them, to her own sprawled, corporeal, original form. If these were ghosts, and she now thought they were, the blast would pass right through them and she would kill only herself. Instead, she activated the disruption signal Sirajaldin had pointed out to her, and grinned with savage delight as the intruder ghosts were shattered like screaming glass.
She looked to the ceiling, to the recording devices she could not see, but knew were there somewhere. You can see, she thought. Watching. However many of you there are. Whoever you are.
Like what you’ve seen? Have I done as you’ve expected?
Carol considered trying to find them. It would be fun seeking out the avatars of insanity, the nameless, faceless gameplayers who were driving her so desperately to the brink. And when she found them…
When she did…
No! This isn’t me. Not me.
Then who?
Struggling to regain control, she looked to her wrist and felt the gnawing, hungry weight of the device strapped to her. With it, anything was possible. Reality was just a silly word, nothing more.
In that moment, it all came together in her mind. She knew what had happened. All that had happened—and why.
All that was left now was to stop it before this world was plunged into a greater sea of madness and destruction than even she had dared to contemplate.
Chapter
7
Night had fallen, the tapestry of stars spread wide over the horizon. Carol stood upon an ornate stage erected near the newly restored tower where Tanek’s advisor had met his fate. She was surrounded by thousands of onlookers, including two dozen of the so-called highborn, as well as Tanek and Sirajaldin. Bart and Soloman were high above, on the tower’s rooftop, the machine they had been working on all day rising next to them, reaching another ten feet into the air. The machine was an uncomplicated affair from the look of it, bearing the shape of a trident with curling talons.
Carol had never been so terrified in her life. Oh, she knew the Sugihara was in orbit around this world, and that she could be beamed out at a second’s notice…but she also knew Tanek and all his insane compatriots must also have that information. That meant they could have made arrangements to block any transporter beams, any communications.
She was on her own, and that likely meant she would die on this mad world. And for what? A people she didn’t understand, a race she cared nothing about, beings whose beliefs brought nothing to the surface within her except contempt? Loathing?
Who am I angry at? she wondered. These people, for being true to their own nature, or myself, because I see all my own weakness mirrored in their acts?
Soon, Martin would have his little “accident.” Time was running out. She gazed upon the sea of distrustful faces that made up her audience. They looked at her with unabashed hatred. An outsider should not be here, no matter what the scrolls said. That was what their expressions suggested to her.
That…and a desire for annihilation before accepting the beliefs of others. Yet they were followers. Two men controlled the masses, and both needed to be called to the stage.
She tapped the Scepter of Truth twice, and Tanek and Sirajaldin approached.
“I face my fears,” she said, her voice quivering slightly. “I face them openly and honestly, and I share with you my terror.”
Her heart raced and she pictured Kieran Duffy, wondering what thoughts went through his mind in those final moments, and how he found the strength to do what had to be done.
Love. For him, it had been love, she decided. The face of another was before him.
For her, only Martin’s face came to mind. As Tanek and Sirajaldin approached, then bowed before her, Carol felt only hatred. “I wear my emotions like this cloak. Its colors are many, its shading varied. I have forgotten the souls of my ancestors. I am enraged because I see the faults of myself reflected in all of you, and rather than direct that anger inward, I find myself loathing each of you. Since coming here, I have let myself be ruled by emotions, and while that is strength for all of you, for me, that is weakness.”
A roar of outrage came from the assemblage, but Tanek and Sirajaldin turned at the same moment, raising their hands for silence and the crowd acquiesced.
“Our traditions center on truth,” Tanek said. “And she speaks truth. We don’t have to like what she says, but we must respect it.”
“I mourn for lost comrades,” Carol said, moving forward and nodding to Tanek and Sirajaldin. “And I mourn for all of you. Because the truth—”
Carol yelped as something unseen struck her leg. She tripped and fell, a collective gasp rising up from the audience. She had never stood before so many people in her life, and right now, she wasn’t standing at all. Sprawled at the feet of the dissident leader Tirza Sirajaldin, a man she had never truly met in the flesh until this moment, Carol considered the device on her wrist.
A ghost was up here with her, a ghost that could take corporeal form but still be unseen.
It’s evolving, she thought. The technology, its uses are becoming even more frightening.
She could warn the others. A part of her felt she must.
Yet…something was not right.
Helped to her feet by Sirajaldin, she continued the ritual. “Unburden yourselves,” she commanded. “Free yourself of your hatred for one another in the only way both your factions will recognize.” She lowered the staff. “Touch this relic, sacred to both your orders, and tell if your intentions toward peace are true or false.”
It’s here, she thought, feeling the breath of the invisible intruder upon her neck, nearing a snicker as it darted from one side of her to another, then vanished. It might kill me. Kill either of them. Set off a riot, touch off a war.
Or is it in my mind? Has all this put me over the edge?
Tanek went first. The brawny barbarian clutched the staff. “I bel
ieve the teachings of the Ancients should be upheld. Blood calls to blood. But a world at war because of a division of beliefs, while appealing on many levels to me, is not what is best for my people. I ordered the creation of the device we have come to nullify today in order to kill Sirajaldin and all his people. That is no longer an option. We must live together, if we are to live at all.”
Carol nodded. According to tradition, the staff would splinter and break if either man lied. She could see no physical reason why that should happen, but there was much more to the physical world, at least so far as this planet went, than she had ever dreamed possible, and so she considered it might be true. Or that the ghost might make an attempt, not on the men, but on the staff.
And she was prepared.
Sirajaldin grasped the staff. “I have never wished for genocide. Only control over my own destiny. That is a gift I would share with my people. This accord is true.”
Carol drew back as both men released the staff and tapped it twice. She was about to speak, when the ghost slipped its hands on her from behind, the cold edge of an invisible blade pressing against her throat.
“Say anything other than the words from the sacred texts and I will slit your throat,” the ghost whispered.
“I saw your eyes. I know you have a sense of what’s happening here. Speak anything but what you were brought here to say and you will be silenced.”
Carol said nothing. Instead, she willed herself away, releasing hold of this doppelgänger form, drawing back into her true body, buried deep in the crowd.
“What?” shouted the invisible assassin upon the stage.
Tanek whirled—and disrupted the ghost’s essence, his own device turning it visible as it shattered the wraith like an ancient mirror.
The scepter dropped to the stage, bouncing once upon the wood floor, and then Carol was back, grasping it, startling all who had gathered here, even her friends high above.
“It doesn’t kill the original, does it?” she asked. “It only makes it difficult for that person to gather his wits and his will again for some time.”
Age of Unreason Page 4