Both suited figures, one human, one a small gorilla, rolled sideways as giant tentacles raced across the small screen towards them. As the two figures tried to get away, the smaller one called the other “Doc.”
“Kehla!” Gus howled his wife’s name just as one of the tubes blew with a loud pop, and the screen went black.
#
Cold, black, emptiness. Floating in nothingness, Doc felt the darkness rise across their bodies. They were curled up in their spores, caught between life and unlife for the eons of the crossing. Still unmoving, their bodies closer to dead than alive, Doc slipped back into the visions.
They were back on the home world, though Doc knew it wasn't really a planet in Earthly terms. That word didn't apply to anything in this space. Instead of planets it had floating planes, following sun-equivalents along geodesics that followed no comprehensible geometry. A sense Doc did not know they had indicated this realm followed entirely different laws and geometries than the coldness of the dark beyond. Cool and humid, these planes were a jungle paradise in a place where the water analog boiled at a far lower temperature than it froze.
Beings built cities at odd angles toward the sky, creating empires that rose and fell through millennia. The jungles flowed toward the cities, advancing and receding like the tides as the eons passed. More than just the jungles changed, the city builders did too. Originally looking much like seven-armed black starfish, they evolved from a radial to more symmetrical body, the mouth moving from the center to one of the tentacles as it shortened to become a head.
Their mind expanded with their civilization, growing in impossible directions as dictated by a force that approximated gravity. From one body, to a city, to an entire continent, their mind grew expanding to take in more and more of the home world. From the home world it took flight, great leaps into the depths of space. This space was rich in life, and they absorbed it all with their growth.
It wasn't conquest, more an interpenetration as minds with no distinct concepts of self or other fused into something that was at once both and neither of its predecessors. This process continued for more eons, as quasi-worlds followed pseudo-suns through their island universe. Finally, the straight lines returned to their origins, bounded by the edges of this space.
All was at peace, and then Not-It came, bursting into the skies of the home world from a direction at right angles to all four of those common to this space. Spreading like a cancer, it attacked them, breaking down the harmony of their space. Self became other, and bodies became ever more twisted.
In defense they split, no longer the sum, they became two as She was born. She was their shield, protector and guardian. She was the last barrier between them and Not-It. The battle would have been the song of ages, immortalized in images, scents, and sounds for which Doc had no reference, experiences for which they had no reference. She was strong, but Not-It proved stronger, the titanic clash shrinking the very field of conflict as the space contracted upon itself.
They shrank, too. They became small and twisted as Not-It subsumed those Not-It absorbed, making them parodies of their former selves.
Finally, the balance shifted too far. Not-It could no longer be expelled or defeated. Despair washed through their tentacles, the wave almost knocking Doc off-balance. The wave swept all before it, all but She. She floated like a rock against it; driving it back by sheer force of will. Her song covered the home world, bringing a new sense of purpose.
Once again they moved with purpose, showing a will not seen since the beginning when they were bound to but a single plane. Beauty shone from their movements as they joined in the dance, taking their bodies down into spores and salvation. Over the span of seconds the length of eons, everything changed. After aeons of defense, She struck.
Collapsing spores into Herself, She broke the space itself, creating a sixth direction outside their geometry. Not-It screamed in terror as the space dissolved into Ginnungagap, spitting Self-Shards in all directions as it fell. Once such Self-Shard caught Her as She extended into the sixth direction, piercing her shields and joining the spores.
Doc felt the heat on their spores as they entered the atmosphere of the strange spherical plane. The She-Shard that escaped cradled them as they descended to their new uninhabited world. The rage of Not-It roared in the fires of reentry.
His eyes snapped open, as he came to, floating in mid-air beside Kehla, still in the diving suit. The low air alarm screamed in his ears.
#
“Gus!”
Vic was helping Ming hobble towards him; both women were bruised, and Ming's limp looked worse than he remembered.
“What happened?”
“Those ratzis happened,” Vic growled. “One of them had a knife hidden in his belt buckle, and that gorilla was strong enough to pry the damn cell door open. If Ming hadn't heard them shouting, they would have had us.”
Gus squeezed his MP18 a little tighter as he looked around to see if anyone had been following the two women.
Ming shook her head. “I don't think they'll be following for a while.”
Vic grinned. “I stole all their parkas. If they come out that hatch they'll be rat-sicles.” She reached into the inside pocket of her own coat. “I also took the lift key. Antipodes isn't going anywhere until I turn the lyftrium back on.
“It was the least I could do.” Vic shrugged. “The bad news is that they've still got their rifles so if we try to get back in, they'll probably put holes in us.”
Gus slapped himself in the forehead. “So you're saying we're stuck in here.”
“Well, we do have this nice Antarctic base,” Vic said.
“Full of dead bodies you probably want me to clean up.” Ming raised an eyebrow. “Hmph, I can't take you anywhere.”
Vic shrugged. “You are the health expert.”
“You are lucky I love you, woman.” Ming leaned against Vic, grimacing as she lifted a foot off the floor. “I'll handle the cleanup once I get mobile.”
“No, you're coming with me,” Gus growled.
“Where?” Vic paused for a moment and met his eyes. “What happened, Gus, and where can I get one of those?”
“Down the hole. Guns are in the armory. I found Kehla.”
“Kehla? What about Doc?” Ming lurched forward and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Where is she?”
“In the middle of the lake.” Gus helped Ming to a seat on the desk, not wanting to risk the remains of the chair. “As near as I can tell, these Nazis have videoscope cameras all through the lake, and I saw Doc and Kehla in one of them.”
“Do you know where they were?” Vic was the first to speak.
“Are they close?” Ming followed up.
“Just a moment, ladies.” Gus held up one massive hand and then pointed to the map. “As best I can tell, they're about fifty miles away, near the central ridge.”
“Fifty miles?” Ming looked down at her ankle meaningfully. “That's a long hobble.”
“Gus's idea,” Vic replied. “He can carry you.”
“Hold on,” Gus said. “None of us will be walking, it's in the middle of the lake.”
Vic raised an eyebrow. “Swimming isn't that much easier, and I bet that water's cold.”
“Too cold, you'd catch your death of hypothermia.” Ming tried to stamp her good foot but she was too far off the floor.
“Yes, dear.”
“Well, the Nazis seem to have managed to get cameras there, so I'm sure they've got a way to reach it.” Gus slung his submachine gun over his shoulder and pulled out the logbook. “Might have some information in here.”
“Have you read it?”
“Not yet, I just found it.”
Ming reached out for the book, and then flipped it open. “You two see if you can find anything interesting while I see what I can make out from this.”
“But you don't speak German,” Vic pursed her lips.
“I'll fake it.” Ming looked like she was about to stick out her tongue, but didn
't. “Dutch is pretty close; I can at least get the gist, but I don't want to walk any more than I have to.”
“Okay, you stay here,” Vic said softly, and then turned to Gus. “First things first.” She pointed at his gun. “Get me one of those.”
“As you wish.”
#
Shaking his head to clear it, Doc slapped the chest switch to turn off the alarm. According to the gauge he had about twenty minutes of air left, and no idea where he was or how to get back to the submarine. Closing his eyes, he focused his attention inward, slowing his breathing to conserve his air supply. Meditation should give him an hour, but that was no help for Kehla.
“Do not worry about your companion.” A silent voice echoed in his ears. “I have adjusted the gas composition so that it will sustain you without harm. You may release your shells.”
“It's not just the composition,” Doc said, sitting upright in mid-air. “There's also the pressure, even if the gas mixture is right too much can poison us.”
“So much of this space is strange to Me, but I have accounted for this. Neither the composition nor the pressure will harm you or your companion.” Now that he had had the time to pay attention, Doc realized just how odd the voice was. It wasn't telepathy, the speaker was somehow managing to manipulate the inside of his ears without actually creating sound.
“Who are you? What are you?” He turned off the air and then reached for the bolts that secured his helmet.
“I am the one you experienced as She,” the voice explained.
Once he had the helmet off, Doc swung his legs to the side, as if getting off a bed. Somehow the air that was holding him up adjusted to his intentions and let his boots touch the floor, which gave slightly under his weight. Across the way, Kehla was doing the same.
Now that he was no longer looking at the ceiling, Doc took the opportunity to examine the chamber. It was about twenty feet high and oval like the inside of an egg, with an opening at the pointed end. Unlike everything else they had seen, the room felt soft, a feeling only reinforced by the springiness of the floor.
The air was heavy and tasted of cinnamon, pushing against his chest with every breath. Doc tried to take a deep breath but stabbing pains stopped him. Across the way, Kehla had dropped to her knuckles, strain clear on her face.
“I thought this was air?” Doc spun around looking for the person he had been talking to.
A graceful figure entered the chamber. It, no She, had a similar body plan to the creatures they had first seen on the surface, though in Her case it looked sleek and elegant. Pearly grey skin covered Her body, and her tentacles danced rather than writhed. What really caught Doc's attention were Her eyes; deep and green, they were both soft and piercing at once.
“It is a gas composition that will sustain you,” She said. “What you call air would kill you at this pressure. This gas will support your body against the pressure as well as providing the oxygen you need. It is more sustaining than what you call air, so you need to take smaller breaths.”
Doc nodded, letting the pain recede.
“What do you want from us? Kehla rose back to her full height, thrusting her chin out and glaring at Her. “Are we your prisoners?”
She bowed Her head towards Kehla and spread her arm tentacles out in supplication. “I need your help.”
“Our help?” Doc raised an eyebrow. “You can manipulate the atmosphere in here and open portals between universes, but you need our help? I find that hard to believe.”
She sighed. “I have abilities, yes, but I am but a Shard of my former self, just as Not-It is just a Shard of its previous self.”
“Even so,” Doc replied, swinging one arm around the chamber. “Your abilities as a Shard seem to far outweigh anything we can do for you. We can't even survive down here unaided.”
She nodded. “However, as natives to this plane, you have abilities I lack.”
“And these abilities are?” Kehla broke in. “I know Doc's a pretty smart cookie, but he's not really superhuman.”
“He may not be superhuman, but he is human.” Her tentacles rippled around Her body. “As you can see, I am not.”
Kehla laughed. “I'm not human either; just in case you missed that little fact.”
“But you are closely related.”
Doc smiled. “Fairly closely, but I doubt that's enough to matter.”
“True.” She shaped her facial tentacles into something resembling a smile. “It is my origin from another space that matters.” She took a seat in mid-air. “Both the Shard of Not-It and I have an effect on the space around us. Think of it as like gravity, although it is orthogonal to the forces you know. This is what gives us these abilities which seem so beyond you. The problem is that our individual effects are orthogonal in different directions, and the closer we get the stronger their interactions with each other.”
“So you're saying you can't get too close to each other or bad things happen?” Kehla narrowed her eyes.
“In simple terms, yes.” The Shard of Her settled in her seat. “It would create a three-fold strain on the metric of space-time, and I cannot predict the effect.”
Doc rubbed the back of his neck. “I've seen the math; depending on the strength of the effects, you would create either a wormhole or space warp. The effects on the planet could be devastating.”
“So you understand my problem.”
Doc's smile didn't reach his eyes. “I do.”
“You also don't trust me.”
“Not entirely.” He inclined his head towards Her. “In my position, do you blame me?”
She rose gracefully to her full height. “No, I can't say that I do.” She gave a surprisingly human laugh. “Given your circumstances, I wouldn't trust Me either.”
Doc began to pace the chamber, its floor muffling his weighted boots. Whatever She was, she had apparently saved them at least twice; and that wasn't even counting the story she had told. She was certainly alien enough, there was nothing really like her in any of the Archonate's records. Though in fairness those records were a few million years out of date and he hadn't seen them in years.
“Why don't you tell me what you want, and why, and I'll consider it.”
She nodded and glided over to face him. “Very well.
“I am the last of Her Shards; the last free instance from my Space.” Her eyes caught his. “Not-It has perverted all that remains of My creation, and now seeks to consume yours. I was created to defend against Not-It and that purpose still remains.”
“Very pretty speech lady,” Kehla interjected, “but what does it mean?”
“It means that even though My kind is no more, I am still driven to protect anyone threatened by Not-It.” Her tentacles started to writhe. “That drive is part of My very nature and I must respond.”
“Perhaps try speaking with a little more prose and a little less poetry,” Doc advised. “That's a lot of emotion but not much data.”
She straightened Herself, slowly bringing the movement of Her body under control. “I, I will try. This kind of speech is alien to Me, cold and hard. It is difficult to speak in discrete blocks of information rather than shared emotions and imagery.”
Her whole body shook, but She brought it under control again. “The one called Hansen has merged with the Shard of Not-It. They seek to corrupt your world so that Not-It can grow again. Your Space, your Universe is bigger than Mine was, and Not-It wants it all.
“I need you to separate Hansen from the conveyance his body rides in and destroy the Shard of Not-It.”
Doc nodded. “That sounds reasonable enough, but I want something from you. I think Hansen has one of my people and I want your help getting him back.”
She extended an upper tentacle. “I agree.”
Doc removed his glove and shook. Her tentacle was smooth and cool to the touch, the suckers slightly warmer than the rest. Surprisingly, it was completely dry, despite the heavy moisture down here under the lake. “You have a deal.”
> “So,” Kehla added, “now that we're allies, what can we call you?”
She cocked her head to one side, wrinkling her brow for a moment. “I think Shard will do.”
“Well Shard, I'm Kehla and he's Doc.”
“So are you both whole beings?” Shard's question came out of nowhere.
“Um, I'm married if that's what you mean.” Kehla shrugged, wrinkling her brows at the question.
“We are both complete individuals,” Doc said, “if that's what you mean by the question. Kehla's marriage is a partnership, not a mental joining.”
“So you live your entire life bounded within your skulls, not feeling cut off from your community?” Shard's facial tentacles writhed slowly, slow waves extending out to the tips. It was slow, but Doc felt he was beginning to understand her expressions. “Don't you feel diminished?”
Kehla shook her head vehemently. “In our experience, anyone wanting to get in your mind like that usually wants to consume it. I'll stick to being just myself.”
Doc nodded, remembering the thing in Africa that had called itself the Eldest Flame. “Neither one of us has had good experiences with anything like that.
“But we've gotten a bit off track. What does this have to do with stopping Not-It or Hansen?”
Shard's expression approximated a smile. “That is Not-It's method. Not-It induces a joining and then consumes the self from within. If you felt that need, you would be ripe for the taking.
“I feel Not-It's power growing, and mine diminishing. Should we not be able to stop it soon, it will take your world and this space as its own.”
“Which is why we need to separate Hansen from the egg,” Kehla interrupted. “We get that.”
“That still raises the question of how,” Doc said mildly. “Is there any special method involved or do we just take hold and pull?”
“Force will work, if you can supply enough of it. The best thing I can suggest is to get close and then see what you can do.” Shard sighed. “Should you be able to find your friend, I can separate him from Not-It and reverse any transformation provided it is sufficiently recent.”
Attacked Beneath Antarctica (Doc Vandal Adventures Book 3) Page 12