A space ship isn't an automobile-you can't just steal it and drive it away. A space launch is a coordinated effort by a thousand people, and at every stage all it needs is for one little button to be pressed to make sure that the ship never reaches orbit.
And even if Kostya were a stupid fool, he was still a Higher One now-he ought to read the reality lines and foresee what would happen and realize that he'd be stopped.
That meant…
That meant all of it-the cosmodrome, the rocket, the people whose minds he'd taken over or put to sleep-all of it was a bluff. Saratov airport all over again.
He didn't need any rocket. Just as he hadn't needed any plane.
He was going to open a portal straight into space.
Then why had he come dashing to Baikonur? For the space-suit? Nonsense. Zvyozdny would have been much nearer, and somehow or other he could have found a functional spacesuit the right size there.
So it wasn't just for the spacesuit…
"I need to read the incantations," Kostya said. "To smear the blood on the page. You can't do that in a vacuum."
He got up and pushed the technicians aside. They obediently stood to attention.
"I'll have to open a portal to the station. And for that I need to know its precise position. And even so, mistakes are possible… maybe even inevitable."
I couldn't sense him reading my thoughts, but he was.
"You got everything right, Anton. I'm ready to depart for the station any second. Before all of you can do anything about it. And even if Gesar and Zabulon turn themselves inside out, you won't have enough Power. I'm as powerful as it's possible to be-do you understand? I have achieved absolute Power! There is nowhere higher to go! Gesar dreamed that your daughter would be the first enchantress to do that…" Kostya laughed. "But look-I'm the first!"
"Enchantress?" I asked, allowing myself a smile.
"Absolute magician," Kostya snapped. "And that's why you can't beat me. You can't gather enough Power-do you understand? I am absolute!"
"You're an absolute zero," I said. "You're an absolute vampire."
"Vampire, magician… what's the difference? I'm an absolute Other."
"You're right, there is no difference. We all live off human Power. And you're not the most Powerful of all-you're the weakest. You're an absolute vacuum, sucking in Power that isn't yours."
"So be it." Kostya wasn't going to argue. "That doesn't change a thing, Anton. You can't stop me, and I'm going to carry my plan through."
He paused for a second, then said, "But you still won't join me… What's going on in your head?"
I didn't answer. I drew in Power.
From Gesar and Zabulon, from Dark Ones and Light Ones, from the good and the evil. Somewhere far away those I loved and those I hated were all giving me their Power. And right then it made no difference to me if that Power was Light or Dark. We were all in the same boat now-in the same small boat out in space, adrift in the absolute void…
"Go on, strike," Kostya said contemptuously. "You won't take me by surprise again."
"Strike," Gesar whispered. "Strike with the White Mist."
The knowledge of what the White Mist was came creeping into me together with the Light Power. The knowledge was terrible, frightening-because even Gesar himself had only ever used that spell once, and afterward he'd sworn never to use it again…
"Strike," Zabulon advised me. "Better use Shades of the Rulers."
The knowledge of what Shade of the Rulers was slid into me together with the Dark Power. The knowledge was disgusting and horrifying, because not even Zabulon had ever dared raise those shades from the fifth level of the Twilight…
"Strike," said Edgar. "Use the Sarcophagus of the Ages. Only the Sarcophagus of the Ages!"
The knowledge of what the Sarcophagus of the Ages was flooded into me with the Power of the Inquisitors. The knowledge was spine-chilling-because the one who used the spell remained in the sarcophagus with his victim forever, until the universe came to an end.
"What if I put a hole in his spacesuit?" asked Las, standing in the doorway with his pistol.
An absolute Other.
An absolute zero.
The most powerful of all, the weakest of all…
I gathered together all the Power I had been given and put it into a seventh-level spell-one of the very simplest, one every Other can manage.
The Magician's Shield.
So much Power had probably never been wasted so senselessly.
And now probably not a single magician in the world was so reliably protected.
Against everything.
A white reticulated cocoon appeared around me. The threads of the cocoon crackled with the energy streaming through them. It was rooted way down in the deepest depths of the universe, beyond the countless levels of the Twilight, where there is no matter, or space, or time-nothing that a human being or Other can comprehend.
"What are you doing?" Kostya asked, with an expression of childish resentment on his face. "What are you doing, Anton?"
I didn't answer. Just stood there, looking at him. I didn't want even the shadow of a thought to show on my face. I wanted him to think whatever he wanted to think.
Let him.
"Are you frightened?" Kostya asked. "You… why you… you're a coward, Anton!"
I didn't answer.
And the Higher Ones were silent too. No, probably they weren't. They were shouting, swearing, cursing me-because I'd squandered all the Power they'd collected on absolute protection for myself.
If they hit Baikonur with a thermonuclear warhead now I'd be left safe and unharmed. Floating in a cloud of plasma, encased in boiling stone-but absolutely safe.
"I don't even know what to say…" Kostya shrugged. "And I wasn't going to kill you anyway. I haven't forgotten that you were my friend."
I didn't answer.
Forgive me, but I can't call you my friend any more. And that's why you must not realize what I have realized. You must not read my thoughts.
"Goodbye Anton," Kostya said.
The technicians came over to him and lowered the glass shield of his helmet. He cast a final glance at me through the glass-a glance of incomprehension and resentment. And turned away.
I was expecting him to open the portal into space there and then. But Kostya had made his preparations for the leap thoroughly. What would I know-I'd never even heard of anyone attempting to transport themselves on board an airplane in flight, let alone a space station in orbit.
Abandoning the cosmonauts and the personnel in their state of trance, Kostya walked out of the hall. Las moved aside and squinted at me, holding up the pistol.
I shook my head, and he didn't shoot.
We simply followed him.
Into the space flight control hall, where the technicians and programmers were all sitting at their computers like sleep walkers.
When had he found the time to subject them all to his will?
Could he really have done it all the moment he reached Baikonur?
An ordinary vampire can easily keep one or two people under his control. A Higher Vampire can manage about twenty.
But Kostya really had become an absolute Other-he had the entire fine-tuned mechanism of the huge cosmodrome dancing to his tune.
They brought Kostya some kind of printouts. They pointed out something to him on the screens. He listened and nodded- and never even looked in our direction once.
A clever boy. Well-educated. He studied in the physics faculty, then moved to biology, but it looked like he'd maintained his enthusiasm for physics and math. Those diagrams and graphs wouldn't have meant a thing to me, but he was preparing to put up a magical portal directly into orbit. To go out into space using magical means-one small step for an Other, one giant leap for all mankind…
Just don't let him drag it out too long.
Just don't let Gesar panic.
Just don't let them make that nuclear strike-it won't do any good, and there's no need-there's no need
!
Kostya didn't look at me until after he'd opened the prism of the portal. He stared at me with that contemptuous resentment in his eyes. The lips behind the glass moved and I realized what they'd said: "Goodbye."
"Goodbye," I agreed.
With his life-support pack in one hand and the briefcase containing the Fuaran in the other, Kostya stepped into the portal.
Then I allowed myself to remove the shield-and all that Power that wasn't mine zoomed away from me, spreading out in all directions.
"Just how do you propose to explain all that?" Gesar asked.
"What exactly?" I sat down in the nearest chair. I was shaking. How long would the air supply last in a light spacesuit that was never intended for spacewalking? A couple of hours? It was unlikely to be more.
Kostya Saushkin didn't have very long left to live.
"What makes you so sure…" Gesar began. Then he stopped. I even thought I heard him exchange a few remarks with Zabulon. Something about orders that had to be rescinded, about bombers that had to be returned to base. About the team of magicians that would start covering up the traces left by the outrageous events that had taken place at Baikonur. About the official cover story for the failed launch.
"What happened?" Las asked, sitting down beside me. The technician he had unceremoniously shoved off the chair gazed around, perplexed. People were gradually recovering their wits.
"That's it," I said. "It's all over. Or almost all over."
But I knew it wasn't really over yet. Because somewhere high in the sky, up above the clouds, in the cold starlight, the absolute Other was tumbling over and over in his stolen space-suit. Kostya Saushkin. He was trying to open a portal-but he couldn't. He was trying to get to the space station drifting past him-he couldn't. He was trying to get back to Earth-but he couldn't.
Because he was an absolute zero.
Because we were all vampires.
And up there, beyond the bounds of the warm, living Earth, far from the people and animals, the plants and microbes, far from everything that breathes and moves and hastens to live- we all become absolute zeroes. Without the free supply of Power that allows us to fling a bright ball of lightning at each other so elegantly and heal sicknesses and cast hexes and turn a maple leaf into a banknote or sour milk into vintage whisky.
All our Power was not ours.
All our Power was weakness.
And that was what the fine young man Kostya Saushkin had failed to understand and refused to accept.
I heard Zabulon laugh-far, far away in the city of Saratov, standing under an awning in an open-air cafe with a glass of beer in his hand. Zabulon was gazing up at the darkening sky of evening-searching for a swift new star whose flight would be brilliant but brief.
"You look like you're crying," said Las. "Only there aren't any tears."
"You're right," I said. "No tears, and no strength either. I won't be able to open a portal to get us back. We'll have to take a plane. Or wait for the clean-up team, maybe they'll help."
"Who are you?" a technician asked. "Eh? What's going on?"
"We're inspectors from the Ministry of Health," said Las. "So why don't you tell us what you thought you were doing, burning cut cannabis plants by the air intake of the ventilation system?"
"What cannabis?" the technician asked, starting to stammer.
"Arboraceous!" I snapped. "Come on, Las, I still have to give you the necessary explanations."
As we walked out of the hall, several technical personnel and soldiers with automatic weapons came running toward us. The chaos was so total that no one took any notice of us-or perhaps we were still protected by the remains of the magical shield. At the end of the corridor I caught a glimpse of the German tourist's rosy backside-he was hopping and skipping along, with his finger still stuck in his mouth. There were two men in white coats chasing after him.
"Okay, listen to this," I told Las. "Apart from the ordinary human world that is visible to the eye, there is also a Twilight world. The Twilight can only be entered by those…"
I gulped and faltered-I'd had another vision of Kostya. Kostya as he had been ages ago, the boy-vampire who had no powers yet… "Look, I'm transforming! I'm a terrible bat! I can fly! I can fly!" Goodbye, Kostya. You made it.
You're flying now.
I continued: "The Twilight can only be entered by those who possess…"
Epilogue
Semyon came into the office, pushing Las in ahead of him, as if he were some low-grade Dark sorcerer caught red-handed in a petty offense. Las was fiddling with a tightly rolled tube of paper, trying to hide it behind his back.
Semyon flopped down into an armchair and growled, "Your protege, Anton? You sort this out."
"What's happened?" I asked cautiously.
Las's expression wasn't guilty at all. Just slightly embarrassed.
"His second day in training," said Semyon. "Absolutely basic, elementary assignments. Not even anything to do with magic…"
"And?" I encouraged him.
"I asked him to meet Mr. Sisuke Sasaki from the Tokyo Watch…"
I chortled. Semyon turned scarlet. "It's an ordinary Japanese name! No funnier than yours-Anton Sergeevich Gorodetsky!"
"I realize that," I agreed. "Is he the same Sasaki who handled the case of the girl werewolves in '94?"
"The very same." Semyon squirmed in his chair. Las carried on standing by the door. "He's flying through on his way to Europe, and he wanted to discuss something with Gesar."
"And what happened?"
Semyon looked at Las indignantly, then cleared his throat and said, "Our trainee here inquired if the highly respected Mr. Sasaki knew Russian. I explained that he didn't. Then our trainee printed out a notice and went off to Sheremetievo to meet the Japanese gentleman… Show him the notice!"
Las sighed and unrolled the tube of paper.
The Japanese name was written in very large hieroglyphs. Las had made an effort and loaded a Japanese font.
But at the top, in slightly smaller Russian characters, it said:
"Second Moscow Congress of Victims of Forcible Infection with Cholera."
It cost me an immense effort to keep a stony face.
"Why did you write that?" I asked.
"I always meet foreigners like that," Las said in an offended tone of voice. "My business partners, and my relatives-I've got family abroad… If they don't know any Russian, I print their names in big letters in their own language and something funny in Russian in smaller letters. For instance: 'Conference of Non-traditionally Oriented Transsexuals,' 'European Festival of Deaf-Mute Musicians and Performers,' 'Forum of Activists of the International Movement for Total Sexual Abstinence'… And I hold the notice up like this… turning in all directions, so that everybody who's waiting for someone can see it…"
"I get the idea," I said. "What I want to know is something else-what do you do it for?"
"When the person I'm meeting comes out of customs, everyone in the place wants to know who he is," Las explained imperturbably. "When he appears, everybody smiles, lots of people even applaud and whistle and wave. He doesn't know why they're reacting like that anyway. All he can tell is that everyone's glad to see him, then he spots his name and comes over to me. I promptly roll up the notice and take him to the car. And afterward he tells everyone what wonderful, friendly people the Russians are. Everyone greeted him with a smile."
"Blockhead," I said emphatically. "That's with an ordinary person. But Sasaki's an Other. A Higher Other, as it happens! He doesn't know Russian, but he perceives the meaning of written words on the conceptual level."
Las sighed and lowered his head. "I realize that now… Well, if I've screwed up-chuck me out!"
"Was Mr. Sasaki offended?" I asked.
"When I explained everything, Mr. Sasaki was kind enough to laugh long and loud," Las replied.
"Please," I said. "Don't do it again."
"Never?"
"At least not with Others!"
&nb
sp; "Of course I won't!" Las promised. "It spoils the whole point of the joke."
I shrugged and looked at Semyon.
"Wait for me in the corridor," Sermyon told Las. "Leave the notice here."
"Actually I collect…" Las began, but he put the notice down and went out.
When the door closed Semyon laughed, picked up the notice, rolled it back into a tube and said to me, "I'll go around the departments with it and give everyone a laugh… How are you getting on?"
"Not too bad." I leaned back in my chair. "Settling in."
"A Higher One…" Semyon drawled. "Ha… and they used to say everyone has his limits. A Higher Magician… you've made a great career for yourself, Gorodetsky!"
"Semyon… It was nothing to do with me. It just turned out that way."
"I know, I know…" Semyon stood up and started walking around the office. It was a small office, of course, but even so… "Assistant Director for Personnel… Ha. The Dark Ones will start stirring things up now. With you and Svetlana that makes four Higher Magicians we have. And without Saushkin, the Day Watch only has Zabulon…"
"They can recruit someone from the provinces," I said. "I don't object. Or we can expect another visit from a Mirror."
"We're wiser now," Semyon said with a nod. "We always learn from our mistakes."
He moved toward the door, scratching his stomach through his linen T-shirt-a wise, benign, tired Light Magician. We all become wise and benign when we get tired. He stopped at the door and looked at me thoughtfully.
"It's a shame about young Saushkin. He was a decent guy, as far as that's possible for a Dark One. Is it getting to you much?"
"I had no choice," I said. "He had no choice, and I didn't either."
Semyon nodded.
"And it's a shame about the Fuaran…"
Kostya had burned up in the atmosphere twenty-four hours after his leap into space. He hadn't calculated his orbit all that precisely after all.
And the briefcase had burned up with him. They'd kept a radar fix on them to the very last moment. The Inquisition had demanded a space shuttle launch to collect the book, but there hadn't been enough time for that.
And as far as I'm concerned, it's just great that there wasn't enough time.
Twilight Watch Page 38