by Jeff Stanley
Danger. Hurt. Flee.
Rian? He stared at the Rian-thing, and became aware of something . . . something. Some new threat. Something that had not been there before. Something dire. Something dreadful.
Rian had been altered. Something, a deadly something, rode now within Rian, dormant, but waiting.
Kill. Kill. Destroy.
Rian came closer, looking up at him through the glass. He drew back and closed his eyes, unable to face that baleful, horrible abomination.
Chapter 17
“Are you hungry?” Erekel asked Dersi. He held her, steadying her.
She dropped her gaze, shaking her head. “No. No. Tired.”
“Come,” he said. “I’ll take you somewhere you can rest. We . . . We can talk more when you’ve slept.”
Dersi allowed Erekel to guide her to her feet. The other Bhajong whispered among themselves. She ignored them, refused even to look at them. Erekel supported her wavering footsteps.
“Get out of the way, Baedere,” Erekel said.
“All of our questions haven’t been answered yet, Erekel.”
“They will be. Trust me.”
Baedere chuckled. “Trust you? You’ve asked that a lot today, haven’t you?”
“I’m asking it again, of you.”
“Very well, Erekel. Go. Find her a place to rest. Then come back here. We’ve a lot to discuss.”
Erekel grunted and led Dersi to the back of the metal room. She could feel the eyes of the other men on her back. Their whispers began again, and she caught some of their words. Still they questioned her presence among them, and cast doubts on Erekel.
She could not argue with them or their feelings.
“Come on, Dersi,” Erekel said gently. He reached up and touched a depression in the smooth metal of the wall. With a click and the sound of running water, a portion of the featureless metal slid down into the floor, revealing a doorway. A metal corridor stretched away into darkness.
With Erekel’s first footstep in the corridor, bands of light flickered on, illuminating a short stretch of the hallway. Dersi blinked, but could not begin to fathom this new revelation. She had seen too much, experienced too much, to wonder.
“This place is incredible, isn’t it? I don’t think this is of Gagash construction,” Erekel said. His voice echoed down the corridor. More lights, farther along the passage, flickered on, while those behind them extinguished. “There seem to be sensory capabilities here that turn the lights off and on. As well as other things.”
Dersi shook her head. “What?”
“I said there are other things this place does. Lots of things.”
She put her hand to the side of her head. Her skull pounded.
“I’ll keep quiet. Here. This room’s empty.” Erekel stopped and touched the corridor wall. Another doorway appeared, opening into darkness. A band of lights flickered on, illuminating a square, metal-walled chamber. A low shelf was positioned on one wall and several cylinders bulged from another. A complex array of transparent tubes and rods hung from the ceiling.
“That’s a bed,” Erekel said, pointing to the low shelf. He half-carried her to the bed and lay her down. The smooth, cold metal surface warmed at the touch of her skin, becoming strangely soothing. Like liquid, the surface welcomed her body. It welled up, pillowing beneath her head. She gasped and tried to sit up. Erekel’s calming hand on her shoulder prevented her. “Relax. It takes some getting used to, but there’s no harm in it.”
Dersi eyed the flowing surface of the bed. Her hands grasped at the hard, planar edges. “What is this?”
Erekel shrugged. “I don’t know, really. But it’s harmless.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve slept there many times. This is my room, when I’m here.”
“Your room?” Again she tried to sit up. This time Erekel did not prevent her. The surface of the bed became harder beneath her, offering firm support. The warmth continued to radiate from it.
Again he shrugged. “I’ve claimed it. There are literally hundreds of rooms in this place. I don’t know if any of us have ever even fully explored it.”
“What is this place?”
Erekel smiled. “You’ve already asked me that, and I’ve told you I’m not sure. I have my theories, but nothing for certain.”
“Theories?”
He held up a hand. “Rest first, Dersi. We can talk later. Now, I think it’s best you get some sleep. If I’m not mistaken, you didn’t exactly sleep last night.”
She shook her head. Shuddered. “No. No, I didn’t.”
He rose from the bedside and crossed to the doorway. Pointing toward a shallow depression on the interior wall he said, “If you want to leave this room, just push your hand into this niche. The door will open. I’ll be outside in the hallway, waiting.”
She nodded, staring around the room.
“If you lay down for a few moments the lights will dim. Sit up and they’ll brighten.”
Again, she nodded. She focused on the contraption of rods and tubes in the center of the ceiling. She wondered at their purpose.
Erekel paused at the door, just outside the room, and stared at her. “If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.” He dropped his gaze, licking his lips. “Are you alright, Dersi?”
“Go away, Erekel,” she said. “Just go away and leave me alone.”
He nodded and touched the wall outside the room. The door slid up from the floor.
Dersi rose from the bed and watched as fluid ripples traveled across the metal surface. A moment later she reached down and touched it—cool and hard once more. She frowned. The need for sleep pressed down on her, but she would not lie on that alien surface. She tugged the tatters of her sleeping gown tight around her body and lay down on the floor. Within moments she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
She’s physical form grew weary, limbs becoming heavier and heavier as night approached once again.
The cold, pale lunar mass rose on the horizon, striped by the thrusting trunks of once-alien trees. She climbed a steep slope, avoiding more of the sharp-leafed vegetation. Naked stone protruded from the landskin, bathed by the soft caress of the wind stirring through the hills.
The landskin resisted her steps, calling out to her with touch, with scent. Joy-pheromones rose with each footstep, clouding her nostrils. Shivering tendrils tickled the soles of She’s feet, twined about her calves, tasting. She pulled her feet away from the eager touch, the loving embrace. There was no time for the ecstasy of the landskin. There was time only for He.
At the top of the rise She stood and looked down into a narrow, high-walled valley washed with silver lunar light. The landskin had grown thick as it climbed the walls of naked stone, before its weight dragged it down into the deep crevices of the valley floor. It pooled. It thickened. It bulged, creating a fat knobbed globe atop a thinning stalk.
She felt joy. The promise of new life flooded her with comfort and certainty. The infant ool sang, calling out to her.
The knobbed head atop its stalk trembled. It shook, straining against the bonds of the landskin. Flesh expanded at the rear of the knob, filling with buoyant gases.
The chaining stalk stretched, strained.
She felt muscles in her facial structure tug, becoming taut. Her lips peeled away from the hard, calcified ridges in her mouth. She sat, feeling the comforting touch of the landskin drinking her essence, tasting her, feeling her, knowing her. She entered a vast communion, and watched. Watched as the infant ool broke free and sailed into the moonlit night.
Dersi awakened to a light, hesitant touch on her shoulder. She jerked back, cracking her head against something hard and cold. A scream died in her throat as she saw Erekel kneeling on the floor, a shocked expression on his face. He held a cup in one hand.
“Dersi, I—”
“What! What are you doing?” She pulled the flaps of her sleeping gown tighter about her body. Behind her, the bed warmed, melting heat into her skin.
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“It’s been nearly twelve hours, Dersi. I thought you might be thirsty, hungry.” He stood and offered her his hand. She stared at him. “Come on. I won’t bite.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Still, she accepted his hand and climbed to her feet. He frowned at the unused bed, but said nothing about it. Instead, he handed her the cup.
“What is it?” she asked, swirling the milky-white liquid.
“From what I’ve been able to tell, some sort of nutrient drink. Proteins, sugars, vitamins and minerals. It doesn’t taste too bad.”
“From what you’ve been able to tell?” She passed the cup back to him. “No, thank you. I am thirsty and hungry, but not that much. Just tell me where I can find the nearest feeding tube.”
He shook his head. “Not here. You’d have to leave this place.” He held the cup out to her again. “It’s this or nothing, I’m afraid.”
Hesitant, she took the cup and stared at the liquid. She was hungry. Her stomach growled. Her throat felt packed with dry grit. Sniffing the cup, she found the odor acceptable.
“It won’t hurt you, Dersi. Actually, I’ve grown rather fond of it. It’s different than ool-milk, but not offensive in the least.”
Dersi tipped the cup and touched her tongue to the liquid. Sweet. Thick. Much thicker than ool-milk. She took a mouthful and swished it around her mouth. It tingled as she swallowed, flowing down her dry throat like a healing balm. Prickles climbed her arms and legs, spreading outward from her stomach.
“Where does this come from?”
“From one of the machines in this place,” Erekel said. He gestured at the room around them and walked toward the cylinders protruding from the wall. “These seem to process it, though I can’t say where it gets the raw material to make the drink.”
“You’ve drunk this?”
“Often.”
She steeled herself and gulped down the rest of the liquid. It rested heavily in her stomach.
“It’s time we talked, Dersi.”
Handing him back the cup, she nodded. “Yes. I think so.”
At that moment Dersi heard hurried footsteps outside the room. She and Erekel turned. A moment later Baedere rushed to the doorway. He leaned against the frame, breathing heavily.
“Baedere! What is it?” Erekel demanded.
“Guards. Well-armed. Bearing acidrods.”
“Where?” Erekel seized Baedere by the shoulders and shook him. “How many?”
“Coming down the stairway. At least two dozen.” The Bhajong shook himself free and speared Dersi with his gaze. “It’s her fault! She led them right to us.”
“Stop being a fool, man!” Erekel snapped.
“How else do you explain it?”
“I don’t know, but that’s not important right now. Where are the others?”
“Fleeing. Taking the side passages out of here.”
“Good.” Erekel turned to Dersi. “We’ve got to get out of here, too, Dersi. Come.”
“You’re not bringing her with us, Erekel,” Baedere said. He blocked the door. “Leave her here. She’s what they’ve come for.”
Erekel shook his head. “No. I’ll not leave her in their hands. Go, if you must, Baedere. We’ll make our own way.”
“You’re a fool, old man. A damned fool.” He shook his head. “I hope to see you again.
“Lady Dersi,” he continued, “if anything happens to Master Erekel, you’ll pay for it.”
“Get out of here, Baedere,” Erekel urged. “Before it’s too late.”
Baedere turned back toward the common room and ran. His footfalls echoed down the hall. In the wake of his departure Erekel grabbed Dersi’s hand and pulled her into the hallway. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“There are places in this complex they’ll never find,” Erekel said. “Places few of us have ever been.”
“Safe places?”
“I don’t know. Safer than here, certainly.”
“But I—”
A harsh crackling sound tore the still air of the hallway, and a man—Baedere—screamed. Dersi looked toward the common room, seeing Baedere reeling back into the corridor. Shadowy figures moved into the doorway. An acidrod barked with a crackling hiss. Baedere’s head exploded in a bright spray of blood and brains.
More screams echoed through the hallway, the gurgling of dying men. The invaders raised their weapons, pointing them toward Dersi and Erekel. Voices called out, ordering them to halt.
“Come on. This way,” said Erekel, tugging on her arm. “There’s another way out of here.”
Erekel shoved Dersi ahead of him and they ran. Dersi risked a glance behind them, seeing their pursuers closing the distance between them. One of the shadowy figures raised an acidrod and fired. Instinctively, Dersi dove to one side, pulling Erekel with her.
The acidslug smacked into the opposite wall and burst. Bubbling acid spread its acrid stench through the corridor. Dersi coughed as Erekel jerked her forward. He pulled her toward an intersection that flared into brilliance. More acidslugs slammed into the walls.
“This way. I think,” said Erekel.
“Stop, damn you! Stop! That’s her. That’s Lady Dersi,” a rasping voice cried from behind them. “We need her unharmed.”
Erekel and Dersi ducked around the corner and ran onward, their footsteps echoing on the metal floor. Dersi’s lungs burned, her breath coming in ragged spasms.
“Damn!” Erekel said.
Dersi peered over Erekel’s shoulder. Ahead of them, no more than thirty feet away, the corridor ended in a blank metal wall.
Chapter 18
Rian heard voices in his soft, private darkness.
“What’s happening to him?”
“I don’t know. Something. We’ll know more once we get the test results.”
“The preliminary data suggested nothing like this. There’s more than we suspected. Something else is happening that’s not easily explained. Another agency seems to be at work in him. On him.”
“Another agency?”
A sigh, disgusted confusion. A voice that was almost recognizable, even through the sound of crashing waves that pounded on his ears. He struggled to define the voice, but could not. “We’ve isolated the primary infiltration. It seems to be viral in nature. Closely linked to the genetic composition of the anomaly. Certainly, it has its origins with our special guest. But there is another contagion at work in him, on a cellular level. We can’t pinpoint what it’s doing to him yet, but it’s something.”
“There’s no rejection? His system isn’t fighting it? I see no indication of fever.”
“No. It seems to be assimilating quite nicely. White cell count slightly elevated, but not to the extent that would indicate systemic rejection.”
Pallas? Elder Pallas? But . . . Rian tried to open his eyes and found that he could not. Slight pressure on his lids told him his eyes were covered. Panicked, he tried to reach up and pull away the obstructions. But he could not move his arms.
“Is he conscious?”
“He shouldn’t be. But there is significant electrical activity in his brain.” Yes! Pallas!
“Will he recover?”
“The pupa should keep him stable while we study him. Providing whatever’s at work on him doesn’t begin to cause damage.”
“Can he hear us?”
“I doubt it. The fluid should provide a dampening effect, for one thing. And then there are the monitors. I doubt he can hear much, if anything.”
“What’s this?”
“Hmm. I don’t know. A spike in his brainwaves. He’s waking up?”
“Like this? Could he survive full wakefulness?”
“I’m not certain. But it would do our research little good. I’ll put him back under.”
“How long will that ta—”
Floating.
“Rian. Rian, can you hear me?”
Rian twitched, the voice throbbing in his ears, floating beneath the sound of gently pumping
liquid. He moved, twisting his body. Warm, thick gel muted his motions, resisted him. He tried to open his mouth, gagged on a fat, throbbing tube in his throat. His hands, free now, rose through thick, viscous jelly and touched a mask covering the lower half of his face. Gnarled, ropy tentacles of landskin stretched away from cups suctioned to his eyes.
“Relax, Rian. You’re in a pupal cylinder. Nod your head if you can hear me.”
There were currents in the gel, streamers of hot and cold, numbing. His skin tingled.
Rian’s hand climbed the tentacles rising from his eyes until they merged with a thick, pliant membrane. He could feel veins throbbing in the membrane wall. Beyond the membrane, the cool, smooth feel of glass. He wrapped his hands around the base of the tentacles, tugging.
“Don’t do that! You’ll jeopardize everything!”
Rian tugged harder, feeling his skin stretch taut. Sharp, stinging pain flared through his face.
“Rian! Don’t, or I’ll have to sedate you again. If I do, I won’t bring you fully awake again.”
Rian dropped his hands. They flowed slowly through the jelly to his sides. More tendrils sprouted in vertical rows from his crotch to his armpits. He felt a peculiar lassitude, knew he should care, should be alarmed, should want to remember. But he did not.
“There. I’ve given you a mild sedative. Should keep your stress minimal.”
Minimal. The darkness pressed in on him. The darkness, and the weird weightless feel of suspension. He gagged on the throat tube, trying to force it from between his lips.
“No. Don’t try to talk. Just listen.”
Rian managed to nod.
“Good.” The voice—Pallas, some small part of his mind informed him—paused. Rian could hear other sounds over the pupal tide: grating machinery, electric humming, other voices, raised in animated discussion. “Listen closely, Rian. Listen very closely.”
Again, he nodded.
“The pupal cylinder should keep you alive, healthy and unharmed, for quite some time. It is not our intent to torture you, Rian. I regret the manner in which we took you. All of us do.”