“No!” Spence shouted. His voice boomed at him from a distance. “I won’t give in!”
Then, like the diver who feels his lungs must burst, but gives one last kick and feels his head break the surface as cold, clean air streams into his burning lungs, Spence with sheer strength of will forced his consciousness to return. Objects around him became clear and distinct once more. His vision sharpened and the awful dizziness left him. He was free.
He stood blinking, not daring to believe, but it was true: he was free. He had moved from the secret hiding place of the underground—that much he knew; he had some vague recollection of having run or walked through endless tunnels. As he looked around him now he saw that he was standing on one of the main axials near a junction tube. All around him lay the motionless bodies of Gotham’s inhabitants felled by the first projection from the tanti. It was as if some monstrous carnage had taken place and the dead lay sprawled. Eyes staring, unblinking. Unseeing. Unknowing.
The sight sickened him and he turned to run along the axial, dodging the bodies in his path. Hocking is insane, Spence thought. He has turned his terrible machine on the station! But of course that is exactly what he would do—subdue the station first, bring it under his control. Why hadn’t they thought of that? They were too busy worrying about what it would do on Earth to think about what the tanti would do to Gotham.
But Spence had survived the first pulse—as he had survived all the others. He wondered if he could resist the next one when it came; and come it would, soon. He had to find Hocking and somehow shut off the machine—before there was no one left to resist.
But he was the only one who could resist, the only one who stood between Hocking and his evil ambitions. That realization brought with it a keen vision. His senses sharpened; reality divided and rolled away on either hand. Darkness stood on one side and light on the other. He saw clearly the path before him. He squared his shoulders and put his feet on the path.
SPENCE ARRIVED AT H I S lab, rapped in his code and the door slid open. He bolted across the threshold. There on the floor before him lay the prostrate form of Kurt Millen. A quick look in the control booth found Tickler asleep in Spence’s chair. “The rats always return to the nest,” he muttered. He viewed the destruction of his office—files and disks were scattered all over the room. “I wonder what they were doing with all this?”
He reached out and grabbed Tickler’s shoulder and gave it a rough shake. “Tickler! Can you hear me? Wake up! Tickler!” Spence frowned; Hocking didn’t even spare his own, he thought.
A moan passed the man’s lips. Spence shook him again. “Where’s your boss? Hocking—where is he?”
“Umph …” said Tickler.
“Come on, old weasel. Where is Hocking! Tell me and I’ll leave you alone.”
“Ahhh … I…” Tickler’s head rocked forward on the console
“Tickler, listen to me!” Spence bent close to the sleeping man’s ear. “I am trying to find Hocking. You’re the only one who knows where he is—that makes you very important.”
“I… am … important…” he muttered.
Spence smiled darkly. “That’s right, you are important. Now tell me where he is.”
Tickler sighed dreamily. “No … one … knows…”
“If you tell me, I’ll make sure everyone knows you were the one who told. You’ll be famous.”
“Famous … important,” whispered Tickler.
“Yes, now where is he?” He jostled the man again. Hurry! Before it’s too late! he cried inwardly. Outwardly, he forced himself to remain calm. “You can tell me, Tickler. It’s important.”
“Hocking …” He started, but did not finish.
“Yes! He’s hiding. Where?”
“Hiding in the … cylinder … always in the cylinder.”
The cylinder! Where’s that? Spence gave his former assistant another jolt. “The cylinder, Tickler—I don’t know where it is.”
But Ticker did not respond. He was sinking deeper into his mindless sleep. Spence was losing him.
“Where’s this cylinder? Tell me now or you’ll never be famous!”
“‘s in the stars …” said Tickler and he sank at once beyond Spence’s reach.
“In the stars?” Spence wondered aloud. “I’m no better off than before.”
Think, he told himself. Stay calm and think. Where can you see stars from the station? Any observation bubble, of course. Then that’s not it. Where else? Outside, then.
Spence turned and ran back through the lab with the helpless, hopeless feeling that time was running out.
ARI LAY IN A deathlike slumber on a low couch. The soft light pooling around her made her already pale features seem still more spectral. Her hair lay limp and dull in streaming disarray, falling over the side of the couch almost to the floor.
She did not move when a thin whirring sound, like the buzzing of a mechanical insect, came near her. She did not attend to the voice that addressed her.
“Ariadne,” the breathless voice sighed. “Ariadne, my love.”
A thin, skeletal hand reached out and touched her cheek, withdrawing from the unnatural chill of that soft flesh as from a prick of a needle.
Then the trembling hand stroked her white throat and lingered over the outline of her breast and came to rest upon her cold hands clasped over her stomach. A jerking finger traced the fine bones of her hand and wrist which showed through the ashen skin.
“Oh, Ariadne …” The voice was a quivering sigh that pinched off like a sob. “Soon I will awaken you and we will be together. My lovely, my Ariadne. Soon you will be mine.”
The shaking hand moved to stroke her hair, brushing the temples slightly. “I am so sorry, my dear. So sorry. I did not want to harm you. But you will understand—in time you will understand. You will love me as I love you, my pretty. As I love you. In time you will see the vision that I see, you will share my dreams.
“It’s all for you that I have done this. Yes, that’s it. All for you. For us, my dear. I had to show them. They think they have spoiled my plans. But I will show them all what fools they are. My superior intelligence will shame them. And you will love me, my dear one. Oh yes, you will. You will, you will.”
Hocking withdrew his hand and it fell back onto the tray of the pneumochair. His eyes glittered hard in his skull and he licked his thin lips with the tip of his tongue. He could not bring himself to tear his eyes away from her. It was as if her beauty held him in a trance; it was the flame that had drawn this grotesque creature to her.
In his perverted way, Hocking loved her. The nearness of the young woman during the long sessions in Ortu’s palace had gone to his heart. Seeing her fearlessly face her task for the sake of her beloved stirred him strangely, and he began to imagine that it was for him that she sacrificed herself. He imagined also that she had grown to love him as he loved her, though he had never so much as breathed of his feelings for her.
At last he turned away and the chair whisked itself to another part of the room and another couch. He paused here, too, and his glance sharpened once more to his normal arrogance. He began speaking in low, menacing tones.
“You should not have come, alien. There is nothing but death for you. I will destroy you in the end. I must. You cannot be allowed to live on here, and where we are going there is no place for you. But for a little while you are still valuable to me.”
The great elongated form lay still.
Hocking turned away from the inert Martian and went back to gazing at his bank of vidscreens which showed various scenes of Gotham’s citizenry sleeping between the pulses of the tanti projections. “This, my children, is but a taste. Soon you will be completely in my power.” He looked at the chronometer, counting down the time to the next pulse. “Very soon.”
31
S PENCE WALKED TO THE end of the docking bay to a maintenance platform and then stood poised for a moment before jumping off. He jumped awkwardly, kicking in his minithruster a fraction of a
second too late. He failed to escape GM’s artificial gravity as gracefully as he had planned. He banged his leg on the edge of the platform as he came back down; then the thruster on his back took over and lifted him away.
Once free he maneuvered himself deftly, turning to draw away from the station backwards. He floated along the surface of the gigantic torus, as the station spun slowly beneath him. Above, some distance away, hung the great circular radio antenna with its long snout. He rose toward it, scanning the station as it passed beneath him.
Spence felt the thrill of space walking, but tried to suppress it and center his mind on the more urgent task at hand. Still, he could not help stealing glances at the infinite star-spangled face of the deep and at the quarter-crescent of blue-green Earth rising beyond the further horizon of the station.
A cylinder, he thought. Where is this cylinder? He scanned the rotating station for anything that looked even vaguely cylindrical. He punched his thruster and drew further away from GM’s horizon. Then he saw it—lit by the brilliant white and yellow work lights of the construction crews. The new telescope housing. It looks like a cylinder.
Spence scanned the construction site and saw pieces of long metal girders floating in space, and large duralum sheets in stacks near the central tower. Tiny workmen—in special suits that made them look like miniature spaceships—floated motionless nearby.
Hiding in plain sight, he thought. An image flashed to mind of Hocking, a venomous spider, bloated by hate and an insatiable lust for power, sitting in the darkness of his foul lair, spinning his treacherous webs. The image revolted him. And now he was about to enter that spider’s presence.
He flew over the construction site and down to the telescope housing. When he came near enough, he jabbed a button on his forearm panel and the magnets in his boots gripped as his feet touched the metal grid of the trafficway. He tilted forward precariously; he had not judged his angle of descent precisely and his forward momentum carried him past vertical. He fell to his knees and banged his helmet on the trafficway. Steady now, he told himself. Stay calm. He picked himself up carefully and noticed a magnetic wrench laying on the grid.
He picked up the wrench and moved toward the housing. It was a huge cylinder-shaped appendage rising from its cradle on the surface of the torus. When finished, it would be completely detached to allow full and undisturbed viewing of any point in the heavens. But now it was anchored securely to the station. There was a walkway leading toward it and a light above the entrance.
So, this is where you’ve been hiding all along, he thought. Well, Hocking—I’ve found you. Now what?
He pushed the access plate at the entrance. Nothing happened. He had expected as much, since it was undoubtedly coded and he didn’t know the key. But he took the wrench and swung it with as much force as he could into the plate. The mechanism shattered and tiny pieces of plastic flew away in all directions. He smashed the wrench into the circuitry again; there was a bright flash and the portal slid open.
Spence entered the tiny airlock and went on through. He closed the inner door and then tried the outer. To his surprise it closed, and he heard the hiss of air filling the chamber. When the light changed from red to green he took off his helmet and struggled out of his suit.
The inner door slid open automatically and he crossed the small anteroom to the lift tube. He walked forward on wooden legs and stepped in. His stomach tightened and his heart beat fast. He could feel sweat on his back and under his arms. An unsteady finger reached out and touched the lift button.
AT THE SOUND OF the lift tube sighing up from below. Hocking turned away from the console; an expression of concern flickered across his wasted features. The lift stopped and the panel slid aside and Reston stepped out.
“You!” gasped Hocking. His eyes showed momentary surprise which was covered instantly.
“It’s over. Hocking.” Spence glared at his enemy steadily. “Your little game is finished.”
“Liar!” spat Hocking. “Look for yourself—” He pointed to a bank of vidscreens showing the work of the tanti—the whole station was a morgue of still bodies held in suspended animation. The Dream Thief’s terrible machine had done its work well.
“Give it up,” said Spence.
“Ha!” Hocking whirled back to him. “You have plagued me from the beginning—you and that stubborn will of yours. You may pride yourself on your accomplishment, Reston. You resisted when no one else could—anyone else would have succumbed long ago. But not you.”
“You’re stalling.”
“Silence! Ortu was right about you. You are dangerous. But it’s different now. I wear the kastak.” He nodded slightly and the narrow band gleamed on his forehead. “You see, this time you will not escape.”
“Where are they, Hocking? What have you done with Ari and Kyr?”
“You fool!” Hocking drew nearer. “Save your breath; you will need it. I mean to crush you like an insect.”
“Where’s Ari?” Spence demanded. He noticed Hocking’s eyes shift toward a partition across the room. He went to it and pushed it aside. Ari was lying on a cav couch. The sight of her stunned Spence. He turned with fists clenched at his side. “If you’ve hurt her, so help me—”
“You can do nothing!” Hocking’s chair rose higher in the air and came closer. Spence waited, not knowing yet what he would do.
Hocking leered down at him. “I am your master, Reston. Say it.”
“Never!”
“Say it!” roared Hocking. His face was now very near Spence’s.
Spence stared steadily back at his enemy but refused to speak.
“Say it!” cried Hocking and as he did so the kastak flashed. There was a cracking sound and a bolt leapt from the pneumochair and struck Spence in the chest.
He felt that jolt pass through him and his whole frame was shaken as by an electrical charge. He flew backwards several meters through the air and landed on his back.
“Now we’ll see who has won!” crowed Hocking.
The penumochair slid closer. Spence, his vision blurred by tears of pain, squirmed and got up on his knees. He braced himself.
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the flash. Instantaneously the charge struck him again and slammed him to the floor. He rolled to his side and turned his face toward the lift tube, half-expecting to see Adjani dashing to his aid. But no one would come. He was alone.
A sick feeling spread through the pit of his stomach. Spence knew that he was going to die. He heard Hocking’s demented laughter pinging around the room’s metallic walls. Hocking had conquered after all.
The thought stirred anger in him. My God! He thought. After all I’ve been through! To die at this madman’s hands! God, help me! He pushed himself up on his limbs and knees.
A third blast jerked his limbs out from under him and his head struck the floor. Fiery yellow balls of pain exploded before his eyes and he saw Hocking’s face in them, taunting him, mocking him.
“Say it!” Hocking screamed. “Say it and you will die quickly.”
“No!” Spence shouted. He rolled himself up on all fours.
Another bolt hit him and he felt a weakness in his arms and legs. His breathing was becoming labored. The repeated blasts were draining vital energy and clouding his mind with pain. He felt his strength ebbing. The tanti, he thought. If he could get to the control and disable it, there might be a chance.
Slowly, straining every nerve and fiber, he rose, placing his hands on his knees. He raised his head and looked at Hocking who bobbed nearer, his face twisted into a grotesque mask of hate.
“You can’t kill me, Hocking.” The words came slowly and with difficulty. His tormentor loomed nearer. “And you can’t make me bow to you.”
“No? In a few moments you will beg for death. You will acknowledge me!” Hocking tilted his head back and laughed; his head shook wobbily on his thin neck.
Spence heard again the cracking sound and instantly another bolt struck him. It staggered him bac
k a few paces, but he did not go down. Though he might die, he would not allow himself to go down again.
Hocking propelled himself closer, coming in range to deliver the killing blow. The kastak shone like a beacon on his head. Spence let him come.
Now he could hear Hocking’s breathing. It seemed to fill the whole room. He moved toward the console. The crackling sound was building again. Hocking drew closer. Spence tottered forward slowly with his head down.
Spence did not look at him but continued on.
“Stop!” cried Hocking. “You’ll never live to reach those controls.”
Just as Hocking closed on him Spence jerked his head up and looked to the side. “Ari!” he cried.
Hocking awkwardly turned his head toward the couch where the young woman lay. She was there, asleep as before; she had not moved.
“You won’t—” he began, but was cut off as Spence leaped toward him, snatching at the thin tangle of wires that emerged from the base of his skull. “Ahhk!” he screamed.
Hocking squirmed and the chair dodged to the side. Spence grabbed the wires and hung with all his might.
There was a tremendous snap. Spence’s arm was wrenched from his shoulder; he felt it leave the socket.
He looked and saw he held a handful of loose wires.
In the same instant Hocking’s chair crashed to the floor and its occupant was tossed out like a rag doll as its circuits sputtered and fused, sending gray smoke and sparks into the air. Hocking rocked on the floor helplessly, emaciated limbs splayed—a pathetic puppet without strings. The kastak slipped from his head and rolled across the floor out of reach. He jerked and twitched and then lay still, moaning, eyelids fluttering.
Spence, grasping his arm at the shoulder, stood over the crumpled figure for a moment and then turned away. It was over, but he felt no joy at winning.
He went to Ari’s couch. The awful stillness of her body made the breath catch in his throat.
“She is not dead.” Spence swiveled to see Kyr standing over Hocking’s body behind him. “But this one is.” A long hand indicated the skeletal body. A small pool of blood was spreading beneath Hocking’s skull. He stopped to pick up the kastak at his feet. It still pulsed with its strange power.
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