The Omcri Matrix

by Deborah Chester

  It came with a roar, shaking the ground so she feared the roof would fall in. Adrenaline shot her to her feet, pressing her against the wall in a hopeless attempt to escape, but to her surprise it charged past her with its small head down and its powerful legs thrusting it faster and faster until with a savage howl it crashed full tilt into the first beast, now bloody and staggering from its fight with the wall. They faced each other, screaming in rage, and with a gulp Costa limped on, weaving and nearly falling as one leg tried to fail her. She clung to the rough stone wall, dragging herself on without heed as she scraped her hands.

  Inside the long chamber with its crumbling benches, some of the noise from the awesome battle behind her faded slightly. But she did not notice this as she scanned the place with a frown. The gruesome statues had closed their eyes and the serpents were gone. Why? Where did they await her?

  At the huge, stone-banded portals to the room of audience, the two Gerend still stood guard. As one, Phobis and Tumult swung their jackal heads in her direction as she appeared and lifted their hands to throw. Costa fired, sweeping both in one blast, and the black spheres in their hands uncoiled into long, whip-thin snakes that darted frantically away as the Gerend crumpled to the ground.

  Costa swallowed hard, panting, and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Now there was only Hosahkt left to face, and with him the best and strongest of his defenses. There was but one of her, and no matter how good, tough, and quick she was, one was not enough. She faced failure and death, and for a moment she could not go in. Pride and fear held her trapped between them. Then she thought of Haufren, lean and tough and hard as a damned Ishut club. Rangers never gave up. As long as they could move or think, they weren’t beaten. And neither was she. Costa steeled herself. She had to do it.

  Holding her breath against the sick nausea of fear crawling through her gut, she stepped over the sprawled Gerend and walked through the portals into the vast audience chamber, expecting to be fried from existence.

  Emptiness awaited her. The rich, sumptuous beauty was gone. All the torches with their multicolored flames had burned low or were dying, guttering deep in blackened sockets with faint pops of sound. The gigantic serpents of fascination, banded in brilliant color, did not appear. She limped forward, every sense straining as her adrenaline dropped by slow degrees. Disbelief washed over her, and with it disappointment and half-hysterical defeat. Where were they? Did she have to hunt them, and go through this again?

  “I remain, subject.”

  Costa jerked, startled, and stared at the shadowed dais where a winged figure slowly drifted up into sight. The aching, indescribable beauty glowed more sharply in these subdued surroundings, striking her harder than before. But she had no admiration left. She was too tired to be swayed by emotions she could barely control. She let it come toward her, her eyes dispassionately studying that mauve and golden body and those gossamer wings for the place of vulnerability where she must strike. Hosahkt bowed his head for a moment, and only then did she notice the dark wisp of Omcri cloud wreathed about his throat.

  “Where are your Omcri guards?” she asked, and her hoarse voice echoed loudly through empty space. “Where are your creatures?”

  “Destruction is a factor of your species,” said the voice like rushing waters. “Here, we have always sought continuance—”

  “Yes, by feeding upon other sentient beings!” she snapped, in no mood to listen to philosophy.

  “It is our right to survive.”

  She snorted. “We could argue forever by using the same position against each other. Where are your guards?”

  Hosahkt folded his wings and sank down before her, coiling his limbless body with smooth grace onto the floor. Even thus, they were of a similar height. “You fear they have gone to destroy your companions. Yet Omcris are not sentient. They possess no emotions or thoughts of their own which we do not transmit through them. You have caused two to be reabsorbed and have destroyed my coordinator. Do you not realize the difficulty in creating coordinators? Gerend sentience must be grafted into symbiosis with Omcri life force. Without a coordinator Omcris require severe energy expenditure to control. I have found it necessary to release all my Omcris in an effort to reestablish equilibrium. Only a portion of this one remains to serve me.”

  Costa let out her breath, wondering if she could believe him.

  “You will sense no lie within me, subject.”

  “I am not your subject! Let us go from here!”

  Amusement radiated toward her. “I do not keep you.”

  “Janal and Duval must be reactivated. You—”

  “If I summoned an Omcri you would cause it to be reabsorbed. Oh, yes, the emotions are strong within you. So much hatred, so much arrogance, so much misunderstanding. We are higher beings. We require survival, even at the cost of yours.”

  “No,” she said, gritting her teeth. “That is falsehood. Your species could live on manufactured foods as we do. You choose to sell us as luxury goods for a higher price. You wish to breed us on Settle so we will be tender! Don’t speak to me of arrogance and misunderstanding!”

  He began to sway gently from side to side before her, glowing in his beauty, soothing murmurs humming from him. “Yes, yes,” he said, his voice slowing and becoming soft. “Settle. Tell me about Settle. Tell me what you found out from the Ranger.”

  “No.” Her eyes watched him sway back and forth. She blinked fiercely, but the movement continued, gently back and forth, back and forth. “There is nothing. It is a…lie. They…age…” She felt herself sway as he did, and tried to stop. “You want to…destroy…”

  “Yes, of course. You believe you are very clever to see through my little ploy. But it is foolish indeed to try to deny me the information I seek. The Rangers guard their place very tightly, but you know the secrets. The Rangers trust you, little one. As does Hosahkt. Hosahkt knows his subjects will never harm him. Will they?”

  A deadly lethargy crept over her. Dimly she perceived the danger, but it was too late. She swayed from side to side, her eyes gradually losing focus as his voice bored deeper and deeper into her.

  “No harm is ever done to Hosahkt. No harm.”

  “No harm,” she echoed dully.

  “Put away your toys, subject.”

  No! screamed something within her, but her hands uncurled and let the wands drop to the polished blood-purple floor. Her foot moved in a slow kick that sent them spinning far away behind her.

  “Approach Hosahkt,” murmured the gentle voice, rushing over and around her. “Approach. Yes. Hosahkt hungers. Lie down, subject, and feed Hosahkt. Now.”

  She folded bonelessly to the floor, her scream no more than a soundless little sigh as he uncoiled his heavy body and unfurled his wings until he hovered directly over her. Her eyes stared, mesmerized by that widening, gaping mouth which stretched itself unbelievably. And then she realized through the fog holding her that he was going to swallow her whole.

  Everything left within her strained to its utmost, and she succeeded in moving only one fingertip. Hosahkt noticed, and radiated a warmth akin to love toward her.

  “Such spirit,” he murmured and dropped to the floor by her feet. The horrible mouth stretched further, nudging her into place, and then it closed about her boots. She felt the grinding of innumerable teeth through the tough leather and writhed, screaming.

  Tith lifted his aching head with a jerk that rattled the chain binding him to Hosahkt’s throne. He blinked, free at last from the crushing mental pressure Hosahkt had held over him, and drew a shuddering breath, wanting to be sick. Then he saw Costa lying helplessly on the floor and the monster stretching itself to swallow her. Beyond them Haufren clung weakly to the doorway as he aimed a weapon. Tith’s heart thudded with violent alarm as he saw the grim expression on Haufren’s face. The major couldn’t fire yet! He would kill Costa too!

  The harsh restraints of Zethian law cracked apart as raw instinct surged through Tith. Baring his small fangs, he forced himsel
f to his feet, straining against the collar which choked him, and loosed a shrill version of the death cry as he hurled his untrained mental powers at Hosahkt.

  It was enough to rock the monster. Turning a bloody shade of purple, Hosahkt pulled away from Costa and flew furiously at Tith. Haufren fired, engulfing Hosahkt in a crackling nimbus of raw energy. Hosahkt’s scream mingled with Costa’s, then he was gone, the invisible fetters upon her falling away as he collapsed into a smoking heap of ooze and charred remains.

  Slowly, shaking all over, Costa sat up and drew her mangled feet toward her. She stared at Tith, who was snarling on the dais with his teeth bared and his young eyes blazing fiercely. For a moment she was too numb and dazed to comprehend what had happened, then her head snapped around in time to see Haufren stagger to his knees. He let the Omcri wand drop, and the noise of its clattering fall brought her back to reality.

  “Haufren!” she gasped. “How did you get here?”

  He was white, spent, and clinging to the leg of one of the braziers with desperation, but he managed to lift his head. “Your blood,” he said, “smeared all over the walls. A few people besides patrollers can follow a trail, you know.” He paused for breath and his eyes traveled to Tith. “Well done, little warrior.”

  Heartily agreeing with that praise, Costa lifted an unsteady hand in a grateful salute to the nib. “Very well done,” she said. “I owe you my life.”

  Tith’s small bony chest swelled proudly. “To home now can we go?” he asked.

  Haufren grinned weakly at Costa. “You heard him, Lieutenant. Take us home.”

  Epilogue

  Costa stood at ramrod attention in the small reception chamber of the infirmary building at Settle HQ, faced by an impressive delegation from the Zethian government. Five adult males, heavily maned and attired in the glittering robes of public office, flanked the Zauran matriarch herself who was regal, battle-scarred, and white-furred with extreme age. To one side stood Tith, his golden pelt sleek and glossy once again, his eyes gleaming jade. A slim, competent tutor held him tightly by the hand, but there was no need. Tith was absolutely motionless through the matriarch’s long speech translated carefully into Unise by a clerk in the Ranger service. His huge eyes shone alternately at Costa and the tallest male in the Zethian contingent, furred a dark tawny gold with a magnificent auburn mane that brushed the collar of his white robe. The order of the Ambassador to Terra gleamed upon his chest.

  “…and so as a token of gratitude for Lt. Costa’s courageous endeavors toward preserving a royal nib of the House of Zaura, descended from the Matriarch Istisse and born of the House Daughter Sheatha, most excellent warrior of the female line, the government of Zethia hereby bestows the title of Spear-bearer of Zethia upon Lt. Costa and grants her honorary citizenship with all rights due that position.”

  The matriarch opened a small medal case and handed it to the ambassador, who hung the shining emblem of crossed lances about Costa’s neck. He shook her hand, permitting himself a smile which revealed his side teeth.

  “And I wish to add a personal thanks,” he said, sotto voce, “from Tith’s matre and myself. Impetuous children make the best warriors, but raising them safely is sometimes difficult. Consider our home yours, Spear-sister.”

  Costa smiled back, then snapped a crisp salute as the ambassador stepped to one side. She remained in place as the Zethians filed out after their matriarch. But as the others vanished, Tith pulled free of his tutor and came running back to butt her in the stomach with his round head.

  “Costa, miss you I shall!”

  “I’ll miss you too, Tith,” she said unsteadily, hugging him tightly. “Shilorr.”

  “Shilorr,” he whispered. “When I grow up I shall be a Ranger just like you and the major!”

  “Tith!” called the tutor sharply. “Time it is to go!”

  “Just as strict as Unru Del,” said Tith with a sigh and obediently ran out.

  Costa stood there a moment longer, fingering the medal, then she sighed and picked up her cane to slowly make her way to the lift.

  High on the observation deck, she seated herself in one of the chairs that was more comfortable than its utilitarian lines suggested, and gazed out through the plexibubble protecting the main complex of Settle HQ. The view behind her showed a fascinating network of plexitunnels containing the supply lines, with all the activity that work entailed, supporting the shuttle field out of sight beyond the second wing of the complex. But Costa kept herself facing the view of the wind-raked plains containing nothing but rock ridges and dust dunes shifting in aimless patterns. Her mind moved back, still trying to piece together the fragments of memory: dragging Tith and an unconscious Haufren through the passageways, unable to walk herself, yet walking, running, crawling, then going back for Duval, who was weak but himself again, and Janal who helped her struggle to subdue the mad Silta; the desperate moments in activating the transender, not knowing how to set new coordinates, hoping the old ones were correct, losing consciousness only to wake up in some formless place glazed with cold, and dying inside moment by moment with fear until the next link of the transender was found; the moldering remains of the Kanta temple, where they stumbled across the picked bones of Wob Nogales; finding a deton-bomb in a discarded pack and timing it for delayed explosion as she sent it back through the transender; little Tith, muddy and scratched bloody from sawtooth vines as he helped her break out the sled from its hiding place in the ruins.

  Costa blinked, realized her cheeks were wet, and angrily brushed them dry. Tith thought she was a Ranger, but of course she wasn’t. It was her last day on Settle. She had been told this morning that she would be dismissed from the infirmary at 1200 hours.

  The memories did not take her much further. Duval and Commander Janal had been left behind on Playworld. But she could not recall how she had found a ship or who had piloted it. She had since speculated that Playworld authorities had let her go off-world to prevent Rangers from coming onto the planet to pick up Haufren and Silta. But it was all unclear.

  Drones and an elusive medic had tended her in the stark infirmary on Settle where she had fully awakened at last. She was soothed with meaningless words like a child, and told only that the two officers she had brought in were making satisfactory progress. She had seen no one else; no one had come to her. Twice, a drone had wheeled her about unclassified parts of the complex, which were few, consisting primarily of the library reception area, the cafeteria, which nauseated her, and some of the walkways overlooking service areas. From the observation deck she had once seen lean men in silver, striding easily along, laughing with each other as they greeted an incoming shuttle piloted by two women. Even from that distance the camaraderie had been apparent. Costa stared at her hands with eyes that burned. Being there, shut off though she had been, was like seeing glimpses of home. The viewer permitted for her use had played texts of the history of the Ranger Corps, outlining backgrounds and achievements of selected officers. All she had worked for, all she had stretched and yearned for was here. This was where she belonged, and yet, the ache of being an outsider continued.

  Today had brought the stark announcement of dismissal at 1200. Her eyes moved reluctantly to the wall chronometer. A few minutes left, and then she would have to go. The coldness of the Rangers overshadowed the honor given to her by the Zethians. Obviously it was not Ranger tradition to commend or celebrate, or else Haufren and Silta had died and she was being ignored because of official mourning. Surely if Haufren were able he would have sent some brief message of farewell.

  The chronometer clicked again. She heard the doors at the far end of the observation deck slide open and sighed, leaning down to grasp her cane. It was time to go. She would not embarrass these unfriendly Rangers or herself by lingering. She would go back to her contract on Playworld with dignity, and no one would see the ache of her dreams ever again.

  “Attention!”

  Even as her body responded automatically to that command, her heart leapt i
nto her throat. That was Haufren’s voice! He was alive!

  Gladly she stood at crisp attention, holding discipline as Haufren and a white-haired man walked toward her. Haufren moved a bit stiffly, but he was obviously whole and well. The lines of pain and hunger were smoothed from his face, and being rested made him look younger. His blue eyes were fairly snapping with vitality and they raked her up and down critically as they stopped before her.

  “At ease.”

  She snapped to rest, holding her cane at her side as unobtrusively as possible.

  “Sir, this is Lieutenant Costa.”

  “Yes.” The white-haired man was stocky and very fit. His gray uniform was tailored perfectly, and he wore silver stars on his sleeve. Costa’s eyes widened. “How do you do, Lieutenant,” he said. “I am Admiral Vance.”

  “Sir,” she said faintly, awed to the third part.

  “I understand you are to be dismissed from the infirmary today.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He glanced at her feet. “Healthy again? Everything satisfactory?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. The medic has written in his report that you should be fit for duty within two weeks. At that time you will report to Section Four for active training. In the meantime, you will assign yourself to the library for passive training. That course usually takes four weeks, but if you apply yourself—and we have reason to believe that you are a remarkably bright and able individual—you should be ready in a shorter time.”

  She blinked, not understanding, not quite daring to understand. “Yes, sir. But—”

  “Official swearing in doesn’t take place until passive and active are completed,” said Haufren, grinning at her. “Think you can make the grade?”

  “You did it!” she exclaimed, forgetting discipline. “Haufren, how—” She broke off in confusion, clearing her throat. “Sorry, sir.”

  “That’s quite all right, Lieutenant,” said Vance with a dry smile. “I’ve seen your Playworld record. Commendable.”