“Silence, I said,” Ort Eath flung a hand, and a wave of force knocked Todd back a bit—but because of his only partial presence in the Fabrication, he was not stilled.
“It will be only you then, Ort Eath. Only you, floating amongst the galaxies and stardust and nebulae. All alone, Eath. Torturing yourself forever. Sounds like an awful destiny to me.”
Only mildly troubled, Ort Eath turned his attention away from the spectral form of Todd Spigot and fixed it fully on the aperture—half a meter wide now.
With a glee that transcended his usual monotone, Ort Eath said,
“It’s entering the plane of my—
“—physical reality.”
Here, too, it began as a spark. A spark that grew like a firefly in the gloom of the dank Core, flowing fitful light upon the newly cleaved machinery, upon the recently exposed orgabox, upon the form of the Arachnid. Cut wires dangled from the dark ceiling, swaying softly with the tangible force of energy that began to fly from the portal, which singed open the very air, marked with jagged electric borders.
The lid of the orgabox was now open, exposing its contents—four lumps of gray matter. One emplacement was empty. To the left were three tanks filled with greenish, bubbling fluid, each containing brains and spinal cords and riddled with wires. Atop the Arachnid was a new hump, transfixed with wires linking it to the organic section of the biobot.
This was the brain of Ort Eath — released now, independent of its former nesting place and nest companions. Several connections served to plug him into the Fabrication, allowing him to focus, affect and control thousands of minds and thus pierce into the creature. With one part of his mind, Ort Eath stood in that Fabrication, visualizing himself before his hated enemies—and with the other he was nestled firmly behind the oculars and sensory nodes of the Arachnid.
Finally! Finally, he had cut himself free of those other wretched minds. They slept still, in the orgabox. Soon he would have his vengeance upon them as well!
It had been like an endless swim from the depths of an ocean, but finally he had surfaced. Finally he was in control.
He was changed, certainly, but still he was himself again, and before him grew his entryway into power, into immortality. The discovery of the creature attached to the energies of the human energy-fields had not surprised him; he suspected the existence of such, and this was why he had directed the Star Fall to seek out the cosmic Underspace creature. His machines had ascertained that yes, the organic aspects of the nexus point of the creature’s “nervous system” was suitable, as though it were an empty brainpan just waiting for him to plop in.
An empty throne, awaiting its king!
He had merely to enter it, protected by his force-bubble, and connect.
So simple.
Only a short wait now and the aperture would be wide enough.
Ort Eath directed a portion of his attention to the business of the intruders. Sensors had revealed them to be three, including that damned robotic leg! And Todd Spigot’s body, which for some reason was beyond his power to control fully despite the Disbelief Suspender it wore. There was no time to correct that technical problem. But there had been time to call his “guards” into service.
Just a few more minutes, he thought. If they can be detained just a few dozen seconds more, victory will be mine—
He adjusted the calibrations of his inner eyes—
—saw, through multiple viewpoints, a struggle—
—switched off, to avoid the pain.
Good. The intruders would be detained just long enough. Even if they were able to make it through to the Core, it would be too late, and Ort Eath would hold total power over them all. Total and immutable power!
... Still, troublesome doubts remained—hints and memories, echoes of the mesh that he had formed with the other individualities of the Sleeper ...
... he had not been so sad then ... he had not been alone ... there had been peace, and rest and ...
But no. There was still the burning, the demanding urge, the desire, the wanting that framed his identity, drove him onward. That was what had caused him to engineer all of this ... plant the artificial mind in the body of Earnest Evers Hurt ... and again use the Star Fall as the vessel to bring himself to fancied completion.
The steady widening of the hole in the air suddenly stopped.
Quickly, he diverted himself back to the symbolic, allowing himself to return fully to the Fabrication ...
* * *
Floating, waving wonder. A panorama of marching images that danced awe down his spine. Snowflakes of energy cascading into vistas of the most beautiful music he had ever heard ...
... home ... perfection ... tranquility ... love ... ease ... comfort ...
Abruptly, Todd was yanked away from the opening through which he had stuck his head.
“Get away from there!” Ort Eath cried angrily. “It is mine.”
“Just looking,” Todd said, as he was gradually thrust away from the aperture by a wave of Ort Eath’s hand. “Doesn’t look like your sort of place, Ort Eath. Entirely too nice for the likes—”
Suddenly things changed.
For an instant, he shifted to solidity with the Fabrication. Panic swept him. In this state Ort Eath could do what he pleased with him. He controlled the Fabrication after all, and ...
*PLINK*
Another shift. Blurs of motion shot passed him. Dim lights. He felt himself falling. His spine felt like a fuse someone had lit. He tried to roll over.
Arms reached out to grab him. Zombielike eyes turned his way. Metal gleamed as it bounded up and down.
“Cog?” he said.
And then the fuse licked all the way up to the TNT charge in his head, and everything exploded in an avalanche of thunder and pain.
He woke up entirely too soon for his taste after a nice cool swim in oblivion.
“Charley? Charley,” came a female voice. “Oh my God, I think he’s dead! Charley, don’t die ... oh jeez, there’s blood all over his back. They ripped out the Suspender part way.”
Slowly, his vision faded back in, and he saw a beautiful woman bending over him. The message had been right. Veronica had been at Grail castle. He’d found her!
Then came the leg. He wasn’t so sure about the leg. It canted over him, oculars gazing quizzically down. A sense of déjà vu flooded him.
“He’s opened his eyes. Charley! Say you’re okay, Charley.”
“I’m okay,” he said, “but I’m not Charley.”
Veronica blinked. Something like grief invaded her eyes. She turned away.
The pain that bloomed in Todd at her reaction was worse than his backache. He swallowed it down, drew in a deep breath and turned to Cog ...
“What’s happening? We’ve got to hurry! The aperture—”
“Yes, yes, I know. Can you get up?”
Unsteadily, Todd managed to get to his feet. Around him, he saw fallen bodies.
“Just used stun beams on them,” Cog explained. “They’re not harmed. Certainly gave us a tussle. But hurry. According to the schematic, we might be able to get in through this entryway.”
Cog hurried ahead.
“Do you need help, Todd?” murmured Veronica in a voice and with a look that said nothing.
“Uhmm ... yeah. I’m quite dizzy.” He leaned against her and they followed Cog.
The agitated leg stopped at the doorway. “This would normally be the entrance. But look. It’s sealed. It will take forever for me to drill through.”
Todd pulled off his blood-stained pack, and the awful pain renewed itself. “There’s another way,” he said.
* * *
Angharad Shepherd’s blurry vision swam before her. She felt detached, disoriented; pregnant with a dead child of defeat.
Her victory before: an illusion. And now, her despised ha
lf-brother was on the verge of something unthinkable ... and there was nothing she could do. She felt drugged, helpless. Listless.
The act of simply focusing was a mammoth struggle. She hoisted herself, weary, from her lethargy—and the sight of the simulacrum of Ort Eath, hovering expectantly before the doorway, which shivered like a circle of flame, energized her.
Sitting beside her, head drooping, was the Fabrication’s representation of Earnest Evers Hurt. Todd Spigot’s translucent image had disappeared. Who the hell knew where Amber was?
Just brains, thought Angharad. Brains floating in tanks somewhere aboard the Star Fall. Brains raped by wires. Streams of thought running into a common electrochemical river, dammed and channeled now by her enemy ... A single stream, a solitary current could not rebel ... but perhaps more could. Just as two minds tamed the Questing Beast ...
“Hurt!” she whispered harshly. Neither Ort Eath nor his attachment seemed to take notice of this nonthreatening act.
“Wha—”
“You think you can concentrate on something, Hurt? You think you can use your imagination?” Even as she spoke, she used her own: He is awake. Aware, she thought. He has a grasp of everything that’s happened, and of his own role.
Hurt gasped. “God!” Clear-eyed, he looked at Angharad, and his expression was that of an age-hardened, experienced man. “I’m sorry.” A haunted look was in those eyes ...
“Yes, well you can give me a hand to try to restore the balance. The Fabrication is composed of many minds, right?” Angharad said. “Many minds presently being used to form that portal. And we’re attached to those minds, just as Ort Eath’s Overmind is ... we’re in potential communication. What would happen if we somehow could wake up those minds dreaming directed dreams?”
“Possibly the portal would close,” Hurt replied thoughtfully.
“And somewhere in the web is Philip Amber—who has the most powerful psychic ability of us all! It was his mind that broke through mentally and emotionally to the Morapns.”
“I shall do what I can,” Hurt said solemnly.
“Hurry! Concentrate!”
In tandem with Hurt, Angharad pulled her thoughts in, imagining the thousands of human minds plugged into the Fabrication ... one mind in particular. If they could but contact them, wake them for a moment ... that well might be enough. A mental quest ... And suddenly she could feel the surge, the companionship of Hurt ...
(... and Amber? ... there was something else ...)
... as they directed their thoughts toward similar ends.
Synergistic spirals soon eclipsed any sensory awareness that the Fabrication was feeding her. She felt images raining down upon her, translated thought patterns of a multitude of altered minds, all funneled into the maelstrom of mental force that was not only tearing a hole in space and Underspace but changing the organic and energistic matrix of the creature surrounding the Star Fall. Ort Eath was using the psychic powers of the passengers to transform part of the creature’s interior to biologically accept the implantation of his brain, his mind, his will.
As he had served his unholy communion, Ort Eath had explained the true nature of the thing that they had contacted, that had enveloped them ... and Angharad’s mind had reeled with the immensity of the thing.
A living being, strands of psychic energy tapping every single human alive. Ort Eath’s plan was all too possible, now that she understood that spiderweb strangeness and glistening beauty.
You can’t allow this! her mind screamed at the other minds. Wake up! Awake and stop this horror—
With a jolt, she was abruptly returned to the interior of the Bar and Grail. The eyes of Ort Eath burned into hers like lasers.
“Not this time!” he cried. “No, not this time. You have seen enough. You attempt to meddle. The power is all mine, here. All mine.”
The Arachnid behind him chuckled maniacally as Hurt tottered back to awareness as well. Ort Eath motioned with a hand. Suddenly Hurt began to decompose, screaming as dripping flesh fell from his bones and eyes dropped from sockets.
“You see,” Ort Eath said. “I control this Reality. You are helpless. You can do nothing.”
Angharad Shepherd watched in terror as her hands began to drip blood.
* * *
“Wake up! Wake up! Stop this horror!”
The voice was tiny but insistent, echoing in the foggy corridors of his consciousness.
The Sleeper stirred.
Different ... something was different. The Dark One ...
Gone, yet somehow still there ... Stronger now, separated ... dominating.
The inclination of the Sleeper was simply to pull the mental covers back over its mind ... not complete yet not One ...
But it could not. Somehow, the pain was gone ... gone with the Dark One.
Outside, the Sleeper sensed ... Another.
Like the flex of long-unused muscles, the Sleeper stretched its mind out through the avenues of the computers, and its body, the ship ... and felt the Other surrounding it, pressing in upon the force-fields that kept out the destructive madness of Underspace.
The Sleeper reached out further, thoughts borne upon wings of radio-waves, searching, questing—
“You must rouse yourself,” the voice said. “For all our sakes.”
And suddenly the Sleeper awoke, knowing why it had been called.
* * *
The alien air streaming through the portal caressed Ort Eath’s nostrils. Sweet, promising, it beckoned like the Perfume Trees on the Morapa escarpments, swaying in the breeze ...
Beyond, he could see the stuff of the Jakror’s interior changing, molecularly mutating to his mental specifications. He could see a chute forming, the path to his fulfillment; a latticework of silicon crystals, icy effulgence leading to a glittering throb of warmth.
A shame his enemies in the Fabrication had attempted to stop him; he wished they were conscious to view this culmination of his Selfhood, his Godhood, the spanning of the chasm between Mortality and Eternity.
Through the optical equipment of the Arachnid, Ort Eath watched patiently as the width of the portal grew centimeter by centimeter. Very soon now, very soon indeed, it would be wide enough for these spindly metal legs to transport him and his temporary body into the beckoning chamber.
The explosion shocked him from his reverie.
He swiveled about, employing all eight legs. Metallic debris rained down on him. Murky light streamed down from a hole blasted through the wall. Smoke poured in, then dissipated.
Ort Eath recovered his composure, then laughed a quiet laugh to himself.
So, the others were still active. But it was much too late, and the hole that they had managed to blow into the Core room was much, much—
* * *
“—Too small!” Todd cried. “We can’t fit through.” He coughed and waved away the smoke. He peered in. “Geez. There he is, right down there. The Arachnid, with something riding his back like a mechanical jockey ... And there’s this flaming hole ... we’ll have to try another blast.”
“No time,” Cog said. “You two can’t fit through. But I can. Here. Give me a hand.”
Quickly, Veronica and Todd hoisted the leg up. Cog immediately retracted all excess paraphernalia. It was a difficult fit, and Todd managed to burn his hands on the hot metal from the plastique blast, but Cog squeaked through.
—and fell, clattering, to the floor of the Core—
A thrill of pain, a wave of nausea from the effort crested over Todd. He curled up against the wall, breathing carefully, trying to push the dreadful sensations away from him.
Veronica peered into the gloom. “Cog! What—”
Todd managed to hitch himself up the wall. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. Look for yourself,” she said, and Todd took her place.
Flas
hes of light. Stumbles and thumps sounded through the crypt-dark chamber. In the scattered illumination he could see at first vaguely, then more clearly, clawed hands catching hold of the leg ... the glow of a personal force-field, preventing Cog’s energy-cannon burst from affecting the Arachnid or its terrible rider.
“Damn!” Todd exclaimed. Then a desperate thought occurred to him.
He crammed his hand into his coverall pockets, dragged out the tattered schematic of the Core, studied it feverishly, forcing back his pain. Yes ... there it was, conveniently circled for him by the maintenance computer.
“Veronica? Have you got any weapons? Anything?”
“Just a screamer-shock.”
“Jeez. I dunno ... That will have to do.” He looked up. “Just what does it do, anyway?”
“Emits a burst of electricity. But it only reaches a few yards ... it won’t be any help at all.”
“Give it here.”
She pulled the thing from her carry-bag, pressed it into his palm. It was simple-looking. Trigger. Nozzle.
“Oh yes. It also makes an awful screeching sound.”
“Great. We’ll scare old Ort Eath to death.” He looked through the hole again, saw the outlines of the pipes, tried to—
Yes. There it was. Even in the dim lighting, he could see how one section of the plumbing had twisted under the stress. No wonder there were problems. If he could just alter the gravitation suction field for a moment—
He poked the weapon through the hole. He extended his arm as far as he could in the general direction of the faulty area.
Pressed the trigger.
Electricity ripped through the damp air, fixed lightning talons upon the metal. The scream that accompanied the trigger-pull was indeed ear-piercing, but Todd managed to keep his finger on the trigger, despite the additional source of pain.
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