“Not if I don’t risk it.” He returned Jindigar’s look with a sudden fright. “You’re only planning to invert a triad subform, aren’t you?”
“Well, Desdinda could invade and tetrad. With her monumental lack of ability, that could leave us all insane. I doubt she even understands subform theory, let alone—”
“With Krinata as our weakest leg, that—”
“Krinata would be our strength in that case. She’ll crumble if we drift, and she’d be especially vulnerable to disruption– remember how your first duad was? And if either of you get anywhere near the Archive, you’ll be lost forever. I don’t want to catalogue all the horrors. If we’ve decided to do it, let’s not dwell on failure. There is one, narrow, path to success. Let’s concentrate on that alone.”
“That sounds sensible,” agreed Krinata. “Now—”
“But first,” interrupted Jindigar, “I must be sure you realize
you’re risking not just your life, but your sanity, your health,
and your reputation—not to mention ethical principles—or
endangering your immortal soul”
“We don’t have all night. Just tell us what we’re doing!” demanded Krinata. She shuddered at the visions of horror he conjured. Nothing like that was going to happen. “You’re acting as if you’re seducing me into black magic!”
Jindigar flinched. “Allowing for cultural and species differences, yes, you could put it that way.”
It was Frey who told her. “He’s going to be anchor for an Inverted Triad. That’s a subset of Oliat Offices used to affect the environment, not just perceive it. I’ve only done a few triads. I’m not at all well trained in it. I’ve never Inverted. You’ll have to be Focus, of course—that’s an Inverted Outreach—”
“No,” said Jindigar. “She wouldn’t last three seconds. She has a bit of talent, but has never balanced. She didn’t invade and triad us, Frey, she was leeching us. Unchecked, she’d have had both of us episodic in a matter of minutes. You will have to Focus. If I can hold you steady, you’ve the strength to carry the energies, and you’ve experience as sub-Outreach. Krinata’s a natural Conceptor.”
To her, he explained, “That’s an Inverted Receptor. The basic talent is a vivid visual imagination. You will conceptualize—imagine–the snapfield fading, the bars retracting. Frey will take the image, plus the raw energy I provide as Anchored Inverter, and focus it externally, making it happen. It’s a terrible thing to do to him—”
“Not as terrible as letting Zinzik have his way,” answered Krinata, finally beginning to understand this bogeyman they’d built up. And just as she’d thought, there was nothing to it. It was a form of group psychokinesis, something that some people could do under laboratory conditions, and a few species could do in the field. It wasn’t any kind of magic, especially not “black.”
“You’re both determined, then?” asked Jindigar.
When they assented, he turned to Storm. “It will be like an Oliat that’s lost its Outreach. You won’t be able to communicate with us, and you’ll have to protect us—Krinata most of all– from anything that might disrupt her concentration. If she wanders, she’ll go down and we’ll all go down. As soon as the doors open, I’ll attempt to shift offices to Dissolver, that’s an Inverted Protector, but that’s what it takes to dismantle one of these triads. I’m not sure if I can do that on the move. You four will have to get us moving and keep us moving. Carry us, if necessary, all the way to the landing bay. If I can do it, we should be dissolved when we reach the yacht. If I fail, we may all be dead. If Desdinda invades…”
“We’re not dwelling on negatives, remember?” interrupted Krinata. “When do we start?”
They began preparations, Jindigar arranging every detail. While the Lehiroh studied the route to the yacht, Jindigar entrusted Rita to Storm’s care, composed messages to send to the other cells, gave Arlai specific instructions on enthralling the yacht’s Sentient, woke Bell and briefed her, made Krinata get dressed and stare at the array of cells they could make out obliquely from their own until she could see it with her eyes closed, and gave Frey some exercises.
“All right, now,” said Jindigar grimly, “let’s see if we can work a proper subform: Krinata as sub-Receptor; you as sub-Outreach; me, sub-Center. We must know when the others get the messages. All the cells look just like this one. You know who is in each cell. Krinata, you’re going to see for us, what is going on among the others.”
He had them settle down, himself supine, one leg crooked, one arm thrown over his eyes. Frey sat against the wall, his legs arched over Jindigar’s feet, and Krinata curled up by the snapfield, where she could see a bit of shaftway and other snapfields. Presently, she felt a slight pressure on her forehead—no, Jindigar’s arm on his own forehead. Then there was a field of indigo darkness—no, Frey seeing the cell lights through closed eyelids.
Rinperee, and Trassle with his children were sleeping. Terab sat beside the snapfield, glumly contemplating nothing. In an other cell, Trassle’s wife, and two Dushau, were sleeping. One of the human men and one of the Lehiroh were playing with improvised dice.
Unaccountably, that cell was interesting. She stayed there until gradually, her perception began to shift, narrowing to the dice. They weren’t just bits of chipped stone with numbers carved on them. They were dancing masses responding to the laws of probability. But those laws were warped around the two men. An idea nudged its way to her. She could make the dice fall a particular way.
She visualized the highest score. On the second try, it worked.
And again, and again, regardless of who won. Until the only way they ever fell was high-score. The human accused the Lehiroh of cheating. But the Lehiroh denied it, abstractedly contemplating the dice. Then he scanned the ceiling, the walls, and his eyes came to rest in Krinata’s direction. Stunned, he muttered an awed expletive. Then, as if she were standing beside him, she heard, “Jindigar?”
The impulse to answer came, but she couldn’t. The Lehiroh deduced what Jindigar’s group was doing, however, explained quickly to his companion, sure they had a plan. As he was waking the others, the panel in the wall opened and produced their dinner, plus a read-once message capsule.
The scene shimmered as she became aware of the aroma of food. The cell around her became substantial, the awareness of two other views of it remaining. It wasn’t like looking through Dushau eyes; her brain wouldn’t be able to interpret the wide-angle, multi-image messages from Dushau eyes. Rather, she was aware of their understanding of then– visual fields, and acutely aware of the focus of their attention.
“Adjourned,” announced Jindigar with a sigh. He sat up, grabbing Frey. “Do you realize what we did?”
‘Inverted,” he said dully, but there was resignation in it, not horror. Then he said to Krinata, “You’re good.”
They ate because they knew they’d need the strength. Then Jindigar reassembled them, saying, “Krinata, just like with the dice. Sit here, see the shaftway, and imagine the cells clear of fields and bars.”
She felt as she once had waking from a severe fever: things not quite real; eyes too lazy to focus; mind not wanting to concentrate. But she asked, “If you can do this ‘adjourning’ why do you have to shift positions and dissolve us before we get clear? It’d be safer to ran like this.”
“This effort will take much more energy. It’s different. Believe me, Krinata, I know what I’m doing.”
“Oh, I do.” Despite the spaced-out, aching stretch of a burning fever, the detached bemusement that prevented her from really enjoying what was happening as she’d always dreamed she would, she knew she’d treasure this memory forever as the highpoint of her life.
When they’d settled again, she knew those in the other cells were prepared now. She leaned back against the wall, and let herself into a fever-dream where the fields faded and the bars withdrew, freeing them all. She even remembered to open the gate at the end of the brig shaftway. The guard there had to be a
sleep at his post. The surveillance crew manning the spy eyes were more interested in a game where the stakes were the first chance to rape the prisoners.
She set up the entire scenario with loving detail as if it were one of her favorite dreams.
Then it happened. The sizzle of the force field disappeared. The bars retracted into the bulkhead.
But Krinata wasn’t aware of it as more than a minor annoyance. She was into her dream. She saw Jindigar get to his feet and wander out into the corridor, and she followed with Prey, Storm at her heels, tucking Rita inside his shirt. Bell clambered over the rumpled beds and tumbled after them. People were emerging all around them. The three of them remained floating in a silent communion. The group moved.
A scurry rolled into the brig corridor and reversed in place, leading them. Arlai said, “Follow me,” from the comunit. It’s his scurry, imagined Krinata.
The brig security barricade at the end of the hall was also retracted, and two Holot drowsed at their station.
Everyone filed by silently, except the Cassrians, whose chi-tin clicked on the deck surface.
Twice during their silent wending through shaftways, crewmembers marched by. Krinata imagined they didn’t spot the ragtag line of escapees. Then, just after a detachment of armed guards swept by, Jindigar wilted into Storm’s arms, gasping, shaking. The edges of her perceptions blurred, twisting into nightmare shapes—Desdinda’s face, but she imagined it away. They were safe, surrounded by their four Lehiroh Outriders. She’d seen them fight once. They went on. Finally, they came to a hatch with a pressure-seal light over it. The scurry signaled it open, and they started in. Two of then– Lehiroh dealt with the duty guard expediently. Krinata became aware this wasn’t a dream. The other two viewpoints, the fever weakness and ache were fading.
With a rhythmic rattle, a wall of bright armor appeared between them and the yacht lying in its cradle. Imperial armor, imperial emblems seen from four separate viewpoints swam hypnotically in her mind. She tumbled back into dream, but now it was not under her control. It was nightmare.
She could only see one thing at a time, and could not by any force of will lift her attention from that thing.
Beamer fire crisscrossed around them, flashing off deck and bulkheads. Krinata appreciated the beautiful pattern with only peripheral awareness that it was deadly.
A Lehiroh sent an armored man into a graceful cartwheel, to land in a heap. Krinata stared helplessly at him while he tried to rise, only to be smashed by the body of a comrade whirling down on top of him.
A swath was cleared through the armor, and Desdinda was there, seated in a chairmobile, the fourth viewpoint, distorted, blackened around the edges.
As Jindigar staggered to Desdinda, Krinata saw his face coming toward herself, twisted into a feral deathmask. Prey cut off the view, grabbing Krinata by the shoulders, capturing her eyes. We’ve been invaded, distorted into a tetrad. We must rebalance. Trust Jindigar. It was her own thought, not Prey’s; she was absolutely certain. But she could not have thought at all had he not been there.
Yet Prey was more frightened than she, looking to her for courage. And she found it. Grabbing his wrist, she pulled him forward, their four Lehiroh moving with them, keeping them in a box free of the squirming, scrambling dogfight all around them.
They enclosed Jindigar in their zone of peace, and Krinata began to drag Desdinda’s chair and Jindigar with them toward the yacht. Miraculously, the entire fight went with them. She went back to imagining Truth’s complement winning through to the yacht entry, leaving unconscious troopers behind them.
Trassle stole a beamer, cutting down six troopers before he was stopped by a Holot. Their own Holot tackled that trooper and grabbed his weapon. Combined fire made the remaining troopers hit the deck as the Truth’s complement scrambled for the yacht, Jindigar dragging Desdinda.
Then it happened. The world flipped inside-out. The four viewpoints overlapped and spun out of control. The refugees shriveled into twisted horrors, mere caricatures of people. They dripped ichor and babbled in garbled screams. Everything they touched steamed as if sullied by acid.
Krinata felt her own body covered with ugly growths that oozed puss. Her hands became instruments of torture to the one she touched—Desdinda. And Desdinda was the only pure thing, the only salvation for them all. They must touch her, yet dared not for it destroyed her.
Paralyzed in this vision, Krinata was stunned when something hard and smooth crashed into her and sent her spinning. Dazed, she rose, surprised to find her body returned to normal. Troopers had broken through the Lehiroh defense. Teaming up, two by two, the Lehiroh turned on the guards, tossing them about like dolls with the fury of their outrage. One trooper landed on top of Desdinda. Six others cut through and swept Desdinda and their comrade away. One enterprising trooper, noting how weak Jindigar was, gathered him into a fireman’s carry and lunged for freedom. But Storm tackled the man and dragged Jindigar loose.
Simultaneously, one of the Lehiroh collected Frey from where he’d been tossed as another pulled Krinata up, tilted her over his shoulder and ran for the ramp into the yacht, followed in close order by all the rest of the escapees.
By the time they had taken out the yacht’s onboard guards, Jindigar was on his feet, leaning heavily on Storm. No one had spoken to the three of them, had barely looked at them, making no attempt to communicate with them, as if they were a constituted Oliat.
Jindigar led them to the bridge, panting, bleeding from a shallow cut over one eye, limping slightly from a wrenched muscle. Gathering the triad, one hand on Krinata’s left shoulder, one hand on Prey’s right, he caught their eyes. Krinata felt an odd dizziness as she looked into their eyes and into her own from theirs. But it closed a circuit, and her breathing calmed. Horror receded.
Gradually, awareness of looking into her own eyes faded, and she was herself looking at them. “Adjourned,” said Jindigar. “Best I can do right now.” His head drooped, and he let go of Frey to hug Krinata. “I almost lost us. I’m sorry.” He hugged Frey. “I wish I had, your talent!”
All business, then, he stumbled toward the control stations, tumbled into a chair and surveyed the instruments. Trassle was already working over a board, next to Terab. As Krinata found the captain’s chair, Rinperee slid into a navigating station.
“Arlai?” asked Krinata, scanning the controls.
“I have her. It will be as if you were at my helm, Krinata.” But his voice sounded strained.
While the passengers secured themselves, Krinata studied the controls with rising panic. “None of this looks familiar.” She’d learned Truth’s boards, but had never studied piloting.
Jindigar said, “I studied the schematics, remember?” His voice held a burr of tension, and it seemed to echo in her mind. He leaned across Terab’s station and flipped switches in front of Krinata. “Arlai? Ready?”
“Do you see the vacuum telltale?”
“It’s on. We’re tight.”
“That’s what my reading says. No time for a full check. They’re trying to grab control of the bay doors back from me.” The bay doors opened, and they swooped out into space. Terab and Trassle cheered. Jindigar drew his knees up to his chin, visibly shuddering. Krinata felt as if gun muzzles were trained on her back.
“Twelve minutes,” said Arlai. “I’m moving out of orbit to track and lock on. We’ll detime in tandem. Rinperee?”
She’d taken a board behind Krinata. “Stand by.”
Krinata shivered as the hairs on her neck stood up. Jindigar raised his head to watch her as she worked with Arlai to set the course. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make the Dissolution. I will as soon as we’re clear.”
It was as if she were touching the fields of a magnetic bottle. Her skin crawled. “Krinata, don’t lose your nerve now. It’s just a leakage—”
“What’s leaking?” Her voice shook.
“Joint awareness. I judge they’re preparing to fire on us. That’s logical.”
&nbs
p; “Confirmed,” said Arlai. “Beamcannon coming into focus. They’ve got enough juice to take out a seeker.” Then his voice changed. “We’ve got trouble. The human male left as helm watch onboard Truth just woke up and discovered I’m active. He’s attacking my circuits.” There was an anguished cry, “Jindigar, help!”
Krinata’s heart leaped, as if it would tear holes in her chest, her whole body wanting to lunge to Arlai’s aid. Jindigar straightened, then drove his fingers over the board before him, pulling up an image of Frey somewhere back in the yacht. “With me! We’ve got to take out the guard onboard Truth before we get there, or Arlai will have to do it!”
Krinata saw Frey swallow hard and agree. Jindigar turned to her, and when their eyes met, she tumbled back into nightmare, three diverse scenes—a fourth lurking darkly as Desdinda fought back to consciousness somewhere—and she said, hearing her voice echo oddly, “What can we do?” • “Imp,” said Jindigar. “A mad piol is a match for most men. Imagine the look on that man’s face if a bundle of claws, teeth and fur attacks him.” His voice echoed oddly, too, but even after he stopped, the idea flowed through her mind in vivid pictures.
She knew Truth’s bridge, knew how Imp would find the man sprawled as Jindigar had, legs protruding from an access panel, probably wearing green polka-dot pajamas. She saw the whole thing as Imp, fed up with this intruder, worried at the man’s bare toes until he crawled out to bat at the pest. Imp went for the throat. The man threw the spitting ball of fur across the bridge to land in the captain’s chair. But Imp launched himself again, and the man ran for a weapon.
Arlai slammed emergency bulkheads shut, herding the intruder while Imp harried his heels all the way. At the last, Imp threw himself on the man’s back, and the man careened into a wall smashing Imp hard. The piol slid down limply as the man, bleeding now from several superficial cuts, opened the hatch marked weapons and stalked into the dark, tumbling head over heels into the aft refuse bin. Arlai had changed the label just in time.
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