Star Spring

by David Bischoff

  A ripping ... like the grinding of gears.

  A groan, a wrenching throbbed through the hole in the wall. A blast of force suddenly pushed through the hole in the wall, smashing Todd back against the opposite wall of the corridor.

  Stars streaked his vision, but he clung to awareness. With Veronica’s help, he quickly regained his feet, staggered back to the hole.

  The three separate pipes bulged incredibly, then tore—

  Water, sewage and gravitational pneumatic fluid roared from the openings, coursing under tremendous pressure directly at the struggling duo below. The stream caught them both, hurling them into the opening maw. Both the Arachnid and Cog were swallowed completely.

  Todd felt faint. “Oh no! I just wanted to knock ...”

  The room below began to fill with fluid, which spilled into the aperture ...

  ... which slowly began to close.

  “What happened? What happened?” Veronica demanded, hysterically shaking him.

  The automatic seals in the plumbing tubes turned on with a squeal, and the pulsing liquid stopped.

  Todd pushed himself away from the hole.

  “I’m not very sure,” he said. “But I think we lost.”

  He fell into Veronica’s arms and ragged darkness speared through his head.

  “TODD?”

  A demanding feminine voice pierced the darkness.

  All Todd wanted was to burrow deeper, shut out everything. He felt as though he had been shoved into a garbage compactor, crushed into fertilizer. This was a condition he could get used to if only the racking pain would cease its prancing throbs, if he could dive back into a dreamless sleep.

  “Or are you Charley now?”

  Charley? No, he wasn’t Charley. He was Todd. Todd Spigot!

  He got up and told her so.

  “You’re a very confusing man,” Veronica said. Despite her disheveled, dirtied state, with makeup smeared and clothing torn, Todd still found her remarkably attractive. Then it occurred to him that there were more important things to do than moon over Veronica March’s beauty.

  “I thought you should know that the sealed door is open. Also, it’s glowing.”

  An empty feeling invaded Todd. “Whatever it is, whatever’s going on, we’d better face up to it.”

  Soberly and silently Veronica helped Todd to his feet. As he rose, the Disbelief Suspender, somehow entirely freed, fell to the floor. Up ahead in the corridor, he noticed the previously stunned group of passengers stirring and groaning.

  Their Disbelief Suspenders had disengaged as well.

  Ahead, the doorway was open, as Veronica had indicated.

  The glow emanating from the Core’s interior was greenish. An emerald luminosity, it shimmered, waved, sparkled.

  Awed, Todd cautiously approached the door, noting that the reinforced welding of the seal had simply sagged away.

  They descended a ladder immediately below the door, discovering the floor, previously aslosh, astonishingly dry. All about them stood a complicated array of machinery. Layer upon layer of tubes and pipes and jewel-like facets, centered about something embedded into the metal, hooked up by wires and crystalline attachments.

  “What’s that?” Veronica asked, pointing.

  “Ort Eath’s orgabox.” The lid, he saw, was closed. “That’s where the fellow kept his brain, along with a few others for company.”

  “That’s awful.”

  Todd sighed. “You think that’s bad.” He pointed to three separated plasteel boxes, plainly revealing their contents: lumps of gray matter. “I do believe that one of those used to fit inside the body you found upstairs.”

  “Earnest? No kidding!”

  “That’s right. I daresay it’s the one directly connected to the orgabox, thus integrated into Ort Eath’s power.”

  “What about those other two?”

  “Strong chance those belong to my two friends, Amber and Shepherd, dug from their skulls on Earth, then shipped here by the Arachnid ... one of Ort Eath’s ‘fragments’ or ‘manifestations.’ ” Todd flung his arms wide. “And all this is the real central point of operations for the Fabrication—which explains the importance of Amber and Shepherd in the formation of the connecting portal. All the time, the Holy Grail was in their heads ...”

  “What does all this mean?” Veronica asked. “Is it over?”

  “I don’t know, Veronica,” Todd said wearily, leaning against a bulkhead. “I just don’t know. Apparently, both Cog and Ort Eath were washed into the Jakror.” He shook his head. “Me and my dumb ideas. Blow a sewage line. Really!”

  “You did your best, Todd,” Veronica said. “I doubt if even that schmuck Charley could have done better.” She pronounced the name sardonically but affectionately.

  “Correct, Todd,” a rich, echo-enhanced voice boomed above them. “Cog was in pretty bad shape. You gave him another chance.”

  Todd jerked erect. “Who’s that?” he demanded.

  “Todd! That box! It’s lighting up!”

  Sure enough, the orgabox looked like a miniature department store on Christmas Eve. “What happened?” Todd asked.

  “A cosmic event of the first water,” the voice said with good humor. Not Ort Eath’s voice, not Cog’s, nor the Arachnid’s ... but still it was familiar ...

  “Who are you?”

  “I used to be a guy you met, Todd Spigot. Russell Dennison. Remember? I was a chief programmer for the real-fics on the Star Fall.”

  “Don’t tell me! I’m going to wake up and discover that all this was just a put-on manufactured by you.”

  “No, no. I’m one of the brains Ort Eath dumped in his orgabox. We’re a conglomerate now. Me, a few others ... since we’re rid of Ort Eath, things are a bit easier. Earnest Evers Hurt is partially connected now, but he’s a tiny bit comatose. I wish I could smoke. I could use a cigarette.”

  Todd had a sudden thought. “You’re connected to all the Star Fall’s systems, right? What’s the status on the force-fields protecting us from being ingested by the Jakror?”

  “Shot. Absolutely run down, ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago.”

  “But we’re still alive!” Veronica said. “That space thing was going to eat us! I saw ...”

  “Not to worry, not to worry!” Dennison’s voice interrupted. “You just had the wrong slant on the situation. You were thinking in terms of Earthbound biology. Dog eat dog. Your heads were in monster-movie land. We’re in a different dimension. That creature, the Jakror ... it’s slipped into us, integrated its molecules with ours after the force-field fizzled. It’s a part of the Star Fall now. We’re a part of it. We’re now multidimensional, partially in normal space, partially in Underspace. That’s the source of the glow. The powers the Jakror gives us ... well, we still haven’t delved into them. No wonder Ort Eath wanted control of the thing.”

  “He didn’t get it then!” Todd said jubilantly.

  “But what happened to Cog?” Veronica asked, mystified. “If the Jakror is a part of us now, where does that put him and Ort Eath?”

  “I’m sure he’ll make his appearance eventually,” said a new voice.

  “Angharad! Are you all right?” Todd asked.

  “Oh, I suppose. You’re really missing something, Todd. We’re connected into the whole ship. A real sense of power. Still, I’ll be glad to get a retread on the old genetic mix and slip into a new body. It’ll be nice to get back to reality.”

  “And Amber?”

  “Slumbering in his tank. Registering strong mental activity, certainly alive, but ... somewhere else. Goodness knows what he’s been through. Can’t wake him.”

  “And Cog? Is he in control of the Jakror?”

  “Something like that.” A pause. “Wait a minute. I do believe he’s asking for a portal. Good. I’ve got a few questions for him.”

>   With a cracking of energy and a smell of ozone, a hole was rent in the air.

  The mechanical leg scooted out precariously, crash-landed on the floor and skated directly into a wall with a loud crash. Wobbling, it got up and footed over to ogle Todd and Veronica with distinctly bent oculars. Todd’s nostrils cringed. Cog smelled terrible.

  “Hey,” Cog said, noting the reaction. “What do you expect from a guy after that sewage bath that you gave me? Still and all, I can’t complain. That biobot Eath was hooked onto more than I bargained for!”

  “Where is he?”

  “Uhm, I don’t know. Drifting in Underspace somewhere, hopefully.”

  “You don’t know? What happened?”

  “I’m not really sure. I only remember grabbing onto something inside the compartment that Eath had created inside the Jakror. The Arachnid and Eath just kind of drifted away into the nether parts.”

  “But you made contact ... you’re in control now?” Veronica asked.

  “Let’s just call it an uneasy alliance. Turns out the Jakror had developed more than I gave it credit for. I’m connected mentally, and for all intents and purposes, in charge. Which was the way it was supposed to be all along.”

  “I don’t understand,” Todd said.

  “Just a moment. Apparently I’m going to be hanging around this universe for the time being, and it’s getting damned annoying being just a leg. Let’s see what the Jakror can cook up for me.” The leg made a few squeaking noises. Moments later, something moist and gooey slid into the room from the portal, like a glob of scintillating particolored jelly.

  “Hmm,” Cog said. “Ah!”

  He leaned over and stuck himself into the blob of protoplasmic gunk.

  Immediately, lights began to whirl about it, purple, red, yellow, like a rainbow lathe, cutting form into the mass, lengthening it, giving it a head, legs, arms. A cocoon of dazzling brilliance spun about the body, then burst, dashing effulgence into every corner of the Core.

  Lying on the floor below them was a man, dressed in 18th century Earth finery. Ruffles and lace burst from his maroon jacket and vest like frozen foam. Pantaloons extended to below the knees. The rest of the way to delicate leather shoes was covered by snow-white stockings. On the other end, a powdered wig covered the head, whose face, while male, was effeminate and finely cut in the angles of nose, chin and cheekbones.

  The petite nose twitched.

  The man stood on his head, then opened his eyes.

  “Oh dear,” he said with Cog’s familiar nasal twang, softened somewhat by human vocal cords. “What a botch!”

  “Try it the other way,” Todd suggested.

  With gymnastic grace, the newly formed body pushed up with its arms and landed on strong legs.

  Eyes blinked. “Oh, yes, that’s much better. You’re rightside up now.” He dusted off the jacket’s arms, straightened cuffs and lapels. Smiling at Todd and Veronica, he leaned over and rapped his right leg smartly. The responding sound was purely metallic. “For all practical purposes, I’m still down here, but since I’ll be traveling amongst you humans for a while to come, I might as well assume the proper costuming.”

  “Among us for a time?” Todd asked suspiciously. “Exactly what does that mean?”

  “It means this universe plane has been assigned to be my detail by my fellow Cremians. No longer can they partially ignore the events that occur in this level. Apparently the entropic forces afoot on this plane have spread cracks throughout the multilayers of the cosmos. Why do you think I remained after the business last year?” He turned to admire his new looks in a partially reflective screen. “Now that a working symbiotic relationship between myself, the Jakror, the Star Fall—and, I might add, the Human Collective Unconscious—exists, I am in a perfect situation to maintain homeostatic conditions in this foundational existence plane.” He wiggled fingers beside his ears like quotation marks. “Cogito Ergo Sum—Defender of the Starways. Catchy ring to it, eh?”

  Todd could not contain a grin. “I think it’s a crock, myself. I’m just grateful all this is over. I’ll just pack up my angst and find some place nice to settle, thank you. You can let me off at the nearest port.”

  The resonant voice from the orgabox voice piped up: “Well, you know, Todd. Uhm ... things didn’t work out exactly all that well, and—gee, I don’t know how to tell him.”

  A pained look appeared on Cog’s new face. “Yes. A minor, wee little thing, Todd. Otherwise triumph is ours in trumps, and goodness will abound because—”

  “Okay. I can take it straight. What happened, Cog?”

  “Well, this Jakror I’m meshed with now is a very mysterious and quite fickle beastie, I’m afraid. And the—uhm, neither the docking procedures nor the absorption of the Star Fall occurred under the ideal circumstances. Apparently the process caused a tiny little disruption in a fragile aspect of the Underspace Time/Space Continuum. A slight cacophony in the very precise stasis harmonic, cutting loose vital strands of the spatial mechanics webbing—”

  “You mean we’re lost?” Veronica said.

  “You could say that. That’s not the problem.” Cog looked sheepishly away. “We’re lost about four hundred years away from our starting point. Apparently, the disruption caused a timeslip and—well, to be honest we won’t be able to go back.”

  “The passengers aren’t going to like this much,” Veronica said in a small voice. “I certainly don’t.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Cog asked. “Just think! All of us are now bound on a grand adventure.”

  “With your friend the Crem guiding us, I trust,” Todd said.

  Cog cringed a bit. “I fear I’ve temporarily—just temporarily, mind you—lost contact with my dear fellow Crem.”

  “Well then, the Jakror ... surely utilizing whatever its powers are, you can—”

  “Todd! Todd, please, I’m only a finite creature. To be perfectly honest, I—er—I am not in total control, nor do I have complete communication with the creature, which seems to have priorities of its own. But I’m sure that soon—very soon!—all difficulties will be mended completely and we’ll know exactly what is going on.”

  “When?” Todd demanded.

  Cog shrugged, then brightened. “I say, though. You know, being in a human body, I have developed something of an appetite. White we’re waiting around for an answer, I think we should have supper.”

  “Hey!” Angharad said. “What about me? We’ve got to do something about Amber too!”

  Cog said, “A little more complicated, that. I do believe, though, we can work something out with the Jakror once we know exactly what’s afoot!”

  “You think you could hazard a guess?” Todd asked.

  “Truth to tell, I haven’t the faintest,” Cog said cheerfully, experimenting with his new body by trying out a limber softshoe dance step.

  “Whatever it is,” the Russell Dennison voice trilled from the speakers, “it will be cosmic. Truly cosmic!”

  “That,” Todd said, “is exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  * * *

  Philip Amber watched as the last projected traces of individuals faded from the Fabrication. However, the resonant field remained, shadowy and uncertain, like a colored-in carbon copy.

  Leaning against the doorframe with fatigue, he turned to his companion, still standing sentinel behind him.

  “Was I of any help?”

  “You touched their minds,” the man said. “You added your psychic support. You helped more than you know, Philip Amber.”

  Amber sighed and stared back into the room, whose depth of field was slowly telescoping back into the two dimensions it had started with. He remembered the shuffling visions that had assailed his eyes, strobing images of the truth of the identities of the Arachnid and Hurt; Ort Eath’s struggle for renewed unity and control; the true nature of the
creature they had melded with. He had witnessed all that had occurred, even the final conflict between Ort Eath, mounted atop the biobot, and Cog. The resonances and colors of that battle within the strangeness that was the Jakror still remained in his mind, a burned-in series of after-images.

  “All the others have been released,” Amber said. “Yet I remain here in this strange netherworld. Why is that?”

  The man was thoughtfully silent for a moment, draped in the dimness of the hallway. “Let us say simply that you are not finished here. There are many more inner vistas for you to traverse, Philip Amber. With the advent of the Jakror, there are a multitude of realties that only you can perceive, touch and influence.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The song ceases to be a song if a single note is held too long,” the man said, putting away his pipe. “We must keep moving.”

  “You seem to have a vague answer for everything,” Amber said. Absently, he noticed that he seemed to be flesh and blood again. The sound of blood pulsing through his ear was a welcome rhythm, and he quietly rejoiced in his renewed corporeality ... at the very least it was a comforting illusion. “Can you at least give me a vague answer to who you are?”

  “Does it really matter, Philip Amber? Has it occurred to you that existence by its very nature is but a sequence of questions, flimsily connected by vague answers?” The man spoke in an amused, compassionate voice.

  “I want to know,” Amber insisted.

  “Very well.” The man reached up to the side of his face. As glittering lights softly streaked around him from the open room, his fingers found a hold. With a sucking, tearing sound, the man’s skin began to pull off. Cheeks, lips, nose, mouth: all were slowly separated. The mask hung limply in the man’s hand, then was tossed into the room of lights and colors.

  Amber stood, stunned, as the man remained still, allowing the wash of illumination to fully light his features.

  The man smiled softly, then shut the door, plunging the corridor into darkness. “Come. We have much to experience. Much to do,” emerged the voice, which metamorphasized even as it spoke into the sound to match the wide-spaced eyes, the long nose, the small mouth.