Brother Death

by Steve Perry

  Saval waved at her, indicating they should move to avoid the thing. Good idea.

  They walked at right angles to the floating cat.

  It changed direction toward them.

  The siblings exchanged glances. Walked a little faster and angled away.

  The thing altered its course, gained a little altitude so that it was nearly chest level, and kept coming.

  Saval twirled the staff, spinning it easily in a hand-over-hand motion. Stopped in port arms, right end high. “Now’s the time to see if the hand wand works,” he said. “Tickle it and see what it does. It keeps coming, I’ll prod it.” He waggled the staff.

  Taz nodded. She peeled the hand wand from her belt. This particular stunner was a seventeen-centimeter-long cylinder about as big around as a circle made with her thumb and forefinger, a depress-and-slide switch as the single control. It was police-issue, no frills, but hand wands could be made in almost any shape and she’d seen stylized lightning bolts, dragons, even one shaped like a human penis. Wands threw a short-range, cone-shaped pattern of electrosonics that disrupted neural functions. Shoot a man with one at five meters and he went down for a fifteen-minute nap. Hit a smaller mammalian creature and the scrambled synapses might take anywhere from five minutes to five days to recover, or might not come back at all. Maybe the levitating felix over there just wanted to be friends, but in this place they could hardly take that chance. It was a long way home. If the thing had teeth or carried poison, nobody was coming to help them.

  When felix was four meters away, Taz pointed the wand at it and fired. There was a slight hum that rose into ultrasonics. The fog on the lower arc of the energy cone danced in intricate geometric patterns for a beat, then went back to its normal chaotic swirl.

  If the beam affected felix it wasn’t apparent. It-he? she?-kept coming.

  Taz said, “Want me to tap it again?”

  Saval stepped forward. “No. It might not have a brain, all we know. But it has mass. We’ll stay simple.”

  She put the wand away, lifted her own stick. It had been a while since the pugil training seminar, but she figured she could hit something that big if she had to.

  Saval extended his staff as if it were a very long sword. When felix was two meters away, he jabbed at it lightly with the tip of the stick.

  There came a bright yellow flash and a sudden stink like burning sulphur.

  “Damn!” Saval said.

  A quarter of his staff had vanished. The end of the remaining section was charred; smoke curled up from a faint orange glow within the blackened wood. He let the burned staff droop until it was across his thighs.

  Felix hung in the air, no longer moving forward.

  After a moment felix began to sink a bit. When it got to hip height, it stopped. It moved toward Saval, a little slower than before.

  He stepped back and circled the remains of his stick as if to hammer the creature from above.

  Taz watched felix. It shifted slightly, then began to rise again. It took her a second to realize what it was doing.

  “It’s tracking the stick,” she said.

  “Yeah, well let’s see how it likes a hard whack on the head.”

  “No, wait. I don’t think it wants us. I think it wants the stick.”

  He blinked, considered it. Shifted his grip and extended the staff away from himself in his right hand.

  Felix floated over that way.

  “Hmm.”

  “What do you think?” she said.

  “I think if it wants the stick, it can have it.”

  With that he tossed the staff toward felix, but well past it. The purple fog enveloped the damaged weapon as it fell to the ground.

  The floating creature turned, big ears toward the wooden rod, then moved toward it.

  “I wonder if we should be messing with the diet of the local wildlife?” Taz said.

  “I didn’t see a ‘Don’t feed the animals’ sign. What say we go before it finishes lunch?”

  “Good idea.”

  “There’s something new that way,” he said. “A white blotch, there, see?”

  “Yeah.”

  They moved off, leaving the staff to its fate.

  The air of Sanctuary was heady, maybe too heady. It made for difficulty concentrating. There was something Kifo had to do, but at the moment he couldn’t for the life of him recall what it was. Naked, he walked about, watching the Few cavort or lie stuporously here and there. Truly they seemed to feel as if they had reached the top of their lives. Maybe it was no more than a kennel where the gods allowed their favorite dogs to run, but as kennels went, this one was extraordinary. Even normally dour and sober Brother Mkono had relaxed, shed his clothes and elected to join assorted sexual couplings. Mkono looked as if he’d been carved from some dense wood, so hard was he.

  Kifo giggled. Brother Mkono was hard all over, and his male member was in proportion to his other large dimensions. The woman on the receiving end of Mkono’s attention was likely unaccustomed to such size, but did not seem to be complaining of it.

  Very interesting to watch, but there was something else Kifo was supposed to do, wasn’t there?

  Something important?

  He waved his walking stick, became fascinated by the thousands of ghost walking sticks that strobed behind it. Drew interesting patterns in the perfect air, watched them fade slowly. Ah, well. It must not be too important, else he would remember it.

  “Looks like a wall of light,” Bork said.

  Taz nodded. “Can’t see anything through it.”

  Bork moved closer, close enough to touch the wall. Reached out, thought better of it. Given the way things were in this world, maybe putting your hand into strange places like this wasn’t a good idea. “Try your staff,” he said.

  Taz extended the stick. The end of it vanished into the whiteness. “Doesn’t feel any different than the air,” she said. She pulled the wooden rod back. It didn’t seem any the worse for its experience.

  Bork was thinking again about whether he should risk trying his hand when Taz said, “Hello. Company.”

  He turned away from the white.

  Half a dozen of the things like the floating meat loaf with ears moved lazily toward them.

  “Looks like felix told his friends about us,” Taz said.

  “Felix?”

  Taz nodded at the floating things. She shifted her grip on the staff, held it like a javelin. “Should we feed ‘em?”

  “By all means.”

  She threw the staff like a spear. It arced up and over the floating things, fell into the purple mists, landed soundlessly. The creatures turned and headed that way.

  “I dunno how long one staff will satisfy them,” Bork said. “What say we find out what’s on the other side of this?”

  “I’m with you.”

  He took a deep breath. Well. He’d walked through solid walls a couple times already. In for a demi, in for a stad …

  Kifo’s designs with his walking stick had become more and more complex. He’d progressed to making multiple figure-eights lying on their sides, sketching the sign of infinity in overlapping plates, turning in a quick circle so that he was completely surrounded by the ghosts he created. If he hurried, he could overlay a zigzag pattern before the first eight faded …

  A big man in dark gray orthoskins came through the wall into Sanctuary. A moment later, a woman followed him.

  For a few seconds it didn’t track, was meaningless. Then the shock of it flowed over Kifo like ice water from a high pressure hose.

  Somebody not of the Few had entered Sanctuary!

  This couldn’t be!

  “No!” he screamed. “You aren’t allowed in here!”

  Taz blinked at the scene before her. It was right out of a pornoproj-a bunch of naked men and women wrapped around each other, rolling around on the ground, making noises of pleasure. And one guy standing there waving a stick and yelling at them.

  Jesu Damn. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn�
�t this.

  Bork shook his head. Well. Looks like they’d found the folks they were after. But he’d have guessed all day long and not come up with this scenario. Some party.

  “Mkono!” a man screamed. “Mkono! Infidels!”

  A figure separated itself from the squirming mass of flesh; he was as naked as the rest, but Bork recognized him even without clothes. Couldn’t be two like him on this world.

  A large chunk of supercooled metal formed in Bork’s belly all of a moment. It felt like a boulder. The rock of defeat and fear.

  Bork reached for the hand wand on his belt. Just because it hadn’t worked on the floating thing didn’t mean it wouldn’t work on humans. Didn’t mean it would, either. Only one way to find out.

  “Unclean! Desecration! Blasphemy! Stop them or the gods will smite us all dead!”

  The big man-Mkono, was he?-grew a following as the others on the ground untangled themselves and began scrambling toward Bork.

  The matador wanted very much to toss the wand aside and meet the giant’s charge barehanded. That wouldn’t be real bright, given what happened last time they fought, plus there were the others, must be fifty or sixty altogether, though a bunch of them were a couple hundred meters away. The knot closest to him was made of a dozen, none of them moving too well save the big one. The wand had multiple charges and at this distance he could probably knock them all down with two or three shots. He didn’t want to do it, but he had a family now, and that weighed heavily on him. He had responsibilities.

  Then again, a man could be paralyzed if he considered all the things that might happen to him and stopped to worry about them. You could get flattened by a hovercab while crossing the street. Could get caught in an earthquake. Hell, a meteor could zip along from ten billion klicks away and whack you right between the eyes. What were you supposed to do, hide under your bed until you died of old age?

  Fuck it. He had to find out something.

  Bork stuck the wand back on his belt and went to meet Mkono.

  Taz saw Saval recrow his hand wand. Damn, they must not be working. Just to be sure, she pulled her own stunner and pointed it at the group of naked people still scrambling to their feet. Ten or twelve of them, behind the big one. God, look at that guy!

  Taz thumbed the wand’s control, expecting to hear a hum and have nothing happen. Instead, five of the throng closest to her collapsed and sprawled on the ground.

  Hello?

  She took a more careful aim at the others still on their feet, fired again.

  All but one of them went boneless and fell.

  She grinned. Hot smoking damn! A third blast took the straggler out. Three shots, plus the one at felix, that left her four charges.

  She twisted, but Saval and the big man rushing to collide like planetoids were too close to shoot without hitting them both. And the one who had been yelling was out of range and running farther away fast.

  Taz stuck the wand to her belt and pulled the fat-bladed knife. She turned toward Saval and the big man.

  Grinned wolfishly. Took two steps toward them.

  “No!” Saval yelled. “Get the leader!”

  That was all he had time to say before he smashed into the naked giant.

  Kifo ran, panic filling him like his own blood, pounding into his brain. How could this be? Sanctuary was supposed to be inviolate, pure, without taint! Why had the gods allowed those two inside? It went against all he knew, all he had been taught, all that was right. It was unthinkable.

  Another test; yes, that was it, it was a test, but oh, how could they do such a thing? If the gods could break this, the most sacred of promises, what else might they do?

  Kifo felt sick; his bowels churned with broken glass and scrap iron. He wanted to stop and vomit, but he could not. The demons were loose in Sanctuary, and to slow would be to fall prey to them. The woman-surely she was more than that? Surely the gods had strengthened her, given her superhuman powers?-the woman was even now gaining on him as he ran. He had the hidden stun wand built into the walking stick, but he suddenly had no faith in it. How could a man trust a simple machine when the gods themselves had proved false? It wouldn’t work on her, he was sure of it. He had to run! The gods had betrayed him!

  No, no, don’t think that! Don’t let your faith be shaken! It is a test, the severest test of all, the final hurdle to be cleared before …

  Before … ?

  The thought was slippery, it nearly escaped him, but he clamped down on it with frantic haste: before he went to the center of Sanctuary and spoke directly to the gods!

  Yes! Yes! That was it, that was what he had been planning when he’d been sidetracked by the pleasures of this place! Could he but get there, he would be safe! He would speak to the Zonn, he would prove himself worthy by attaining that place, and they would reward him!

  Now Kifo’s speed increased, his legs churned like never before. He was the hot dry wind across an empty plain, a cheetah pursuing prey. He did not feel fatigue. He flew like the arrow of time; nothing could stay him from his goal. This body meant nothing, and did he have to burn it to total exhaustion, even death, that would not matter. Old flesh meant nothing to a new god. He would remake himself.

  Dedicated to a single purpose, Kifo the Unique ran to find his gods.

  Mkono was bigger but Bork had built up more speed. The balance of mass and momentum was enough so when they hit, the impact stopped both of them. They locked arms like wrestlers and strained against each other. Before, he had been surprised, taken from behind. Now sucker, let’s see what you can do to a man who’s ready for you!

  Bork remembered all the times when he had gone beyond his normal limits, when the machines said he couldn’t do it, when he’d reached deep into himself and come up with just a little more. Now he went to his depths again, seeking that essence of who he was, demanding everything he had. Now or never, Bork. Let’s see what you’ve got.

  He gave himself up to it, knew that he’d tapped energies beyond any he had ever called upon before, knew that every bit of his available strength flowed up from his center and went into this single, simple command: throw or be thrown!

  For a heartbeat, the two men stood locked like a quivering statue, tendons creaking, muscles groaning and tearing. Both of them screamed, primal, wordless roars.

  Then Mkono lifted Bork from his feet and threw him.

  Shit-!

  Ahead of her the running man sped up as if his feet had grown power jets. Taz sheathed the knife to keep from cutting herself as she pumped her arms to increase her speed. She zipped past the larger group of mostly naked people who seemed too wit-fogged to get in her way. She had been gaining but the guy’s spurt of speed amazed her. She was strong and fast, but she might as well have been walking compared to this guy. What the fuck had happened to him?

  She hit her own top speed, thinking that he would have to slow down, he couldn’t maintain that for long.

  After another thirty seconds, she realized she couldn’t keep sprinting, either. She eased up a little, still moving fast, but also still outside her breath. He gained further. He was a hundred meters ahead and pulling away.

  Dammit!

  After another thirty or forty seconds she recovered a little wind, not much. She dug down and demanded more from her burning legs, her aching lungs. She had a stitch in her left side, but if she stopped he would get away. Fuck that.

  He must be slowing some because while she wasn’t gaining, neither was he pulling away any more. He was maybe two hundred meters away but they were moving at the same speed.

  Taz intended to keep running until he stopped. Or until she dropped. One or the other ought to happen real soon.

  Kifo felt his body protesting, screaming for rest, for air, but he denied the demands. He lived from the neck up now, focused on his final destination. The veil Sanctuary had dropped over his mind was gone.

  He was sharp, a living razor, nothing would fog him. It wouldn’t be far, he could feel the power rippling from
ahead, emanating like the heat of the sun. There, there ahead was a shimmer in the air, a sparkle only just visible. The center of Sanctuary, it had to be, must be, where a man could claim his reward. He would be there soon. Soon-Bork had trained too many years in mastering the Ninety-seven Steps to allow himself to be hurt in this kind of fall. He stretched out into a long dive, turned himself into an egg-shaped half hoop, and rolled.

  He came up facing Mkono. His body moved into a defensive pattern without conscious thought. It wasn’t a reflex, but it was close. His body knew what to do even if his brain wanted to force it to do otherwise.

  Mkono grinned. “I am stronger!” His already hard muscles tightened yet more and he made fists and crouched to move into another attack.

  “Yes,” Bork said, finally acknowledging the truth of it. Mkono was physically his better, no way around it. Well. There was nothing to be done for it. That’s how it was.

  Damn.

  Mkono moved in. Reached out to grapple with Bork again, self-confidently, almost lazily.

  Bork allowed the bigger man within a hair of touching him, then spun into the second variation of Laughing Stone. He stretched the edge of his right hand into a perfect chop, thumb tucked in just like the boss had taught him, and slammed it into the back of Mkono’s head where the muscle met the bone.

  Mkono stretched out and went face first into the ground. Bounced.

  Oh, that felt good.

  The bigger man shoved himself up, shook his head, and growled like some huge carnivore. Leaped at Bork, fingers extended into claws.

  Bork twisted, dropped sideways, and put the heel of his foot into Mkono’s ribs. Heard bones snap wetly as the power of his kick shoved the other man sideways.

  Mkono screamed, rage or pain or both, came down hard but stayed on his feet. He lunged again.

  Bork put Mkono in the Vacuum Cage; his elbow flattened Mkono’s nose with a splat. Blood sprayed as if from an aerosol pump.