William F. Nolan - Logan's Run Trilogy (v4.1)

by Unknown

  I'll be there. Soon.

  Stile was in the corridor, running toward Logan, a weapon in his hand.

  Gun on ripper.

  Logan fired, tearing him apart.

  Lacy saw this, darted back into her chambers. The firebirds cawed and fluttered.

  Gaining strength by the second, Logan swept past her, reached the outside door, raced for the roofport.

  Behind him, Lacy was screaming: "Stop him! Stop—"

  Three guards tried to—without success. Logan chopped them aside with blows from Gun and body. Lacy appeared in the roof door, Fuser in hand, firing as Logan reached his paravane. Her first beamblast sheared away a section of alum sheeting next to Logan's head.

  He swung bitterly toward her, triggered the Gun, on tangler.

  The swift whirl of steelmesh filament engulfed her and she fell back, clawing at the choking, constricting coils of metal.

  Dia was not alone when Logan reached her. The man from the Wilderness camp who had flown her to New York was there.

  "How did you find another paravane?" Logan asked him.

  "There are still a few around," the man told him. "Found this one in West Virginia. She needed a new gyrounit, but she's fine now."

  "Tell Jonath how grateful I am," said Logan.

  "He'll be glad to hear you're all right."

  Thanks to you, Logan thought, looking at Dia.

  And she smiled at him.

  "Will you be following me back?" the man asked Logan.

  No. We're going west. Together.

  "No," said Logan. "We'll be going west."

  The two men shook hands. "Good trip," said Logan. With Dia, he watched the ship fade into night sky.

  Where now? asked Logan. How far west?

  All the way to the Coast, she told him, sitting beside him in the humming paravane. The New York Territory unrolled below them, night-black and massive.

  I want to take you home, Logan. She smiled, her hands touching gently at the planes of his face. West, to my home.

  As heat is felt on skin, Logan felt the passion radiating from her mind.

  He owed her his life, but could he give her something more than gratitude? Was he capable, now, of a greater commitment to her?

  Logan wasn't sure.

  He would know when the time for knowing was at hand.

  EYES

  Liath was waiting for them on the shore.

  Before he saw her, Logan received her warm thoughts, reaching into the sky to greet him: Welcome, Logan…Welcome to our home!

  The paravane, sweeping over her, whipped Liath's long hair in a silver halo around her delicatelysculptured face and neck. The smokegown she wore billowed up in a swirl of mistsilks, revealing a lithe, cat-muscled body. She waved happily at them.

  Is she not beautiful? Yes—as you are, Dia.

  Logan set down in the sand at the ocean's edge. The Pacific lifted sleeves of bluegreen lace and spilled them at their feet as Dia and Logan climbed free of the ship.

  The two sisters embraced, holding one another tightly.

  There was no hesitation in their movements, no blind fumbling—yet they were sightless!

  No, we see, Logan.

  And with a clarity much greater than yours.

  You steal my thoughts!

  Both girls smiled, a double radiance. It was early morning and the sun made a bronze shield of the ocean; the sky was newly-washed with wind, and flowed like another iron blue sea, free of clouds, to the horizon. The sharp odors of brine and kelp reached Logan, mixed with the cry of an overhead gull, circling and curious.

  Liath took Logan's hand. I am glad you are safe, she told him.

  Your sister…She reached me when no one else could.

  They walked along the wet sand.

  Dia took Logan's other hand, and the sisters guided him inland, toward a rising cliff of pink coral.

  Our home, nodded Dia.

  Our castle! enthused Liath.

  It was literally that: an immense castle of fibrous pink-and-white coral rising sheer from the sand. Sun spangled its daggered edges.

  Careful…Walk where we walk, warned Dia. The coral is very sharp.

  Logan followed them along a path of beaten stone which wound up into the depths of the structure. They emerged, finally, into a wide, sun-splashed chamber, lined with thick, tufted flowcloth. Here every coral edge was softened by resilient layers of cloth, by pillowrugs and foamcushions.

  Watch!

  Delightedly, Liath skipped across the room to a large, coral-crystal pillar. She placed her hand on the pillar and, slowly, a series of silver curtains hushed down from the ceiling, forming a protective tenting over their heads.

  These are weather shells, Dia told him. We are not like father. Our skin grows cold at night. They protect us from wind and fog.

  And for warmth… said Liath.

  She pressed another section of crystal—and a fire bloomed to life in the center of the floor.

  Incredible.

  We want you to live here with us, Logan, Dia told him. Share our home, our lives…our love.

  Liath's thoughts flowed in: There are just the two of us. One is nearly always with father at the Bridge. We alternate.

  When Liath is gone, it can be lonely…

  For me, also, when Dia is away…We need you, Logan.

  Need you…

  A pairbond? questioned Logan. Between all three of us?

  It could be beautiful, Logan!

  And Logan thought: Jaq is gone.

  Gone, they echoed.

  Jess is gone.

  Gone…mind-whispered Dia.

  And we are here, said Liath.

  A night—A day. Another night…

  Logan found joy with Dia and Liath. Their minds and bodies rioted together in a spillout of sensual delights, a crossfire of thoughts, emotions, impressions, shared experiences…

  But there was a barrier.

  Your eyes, Logan. They blind you to sight.

  Dia was with him. They were lazing nude in the slow ocean tides along a sun-tinted stretch of yellow beach.

  Logan smiled. I see the sun on the water. I see gulls in the sky…He touched her body. I see your beauty…

  But I see more, she told him. So much more, Logan! My vision is achieved with the inner eye, and is on a scale beyond your conception. Whole worlds are open to me which are closed to you. I want to share them.

  How?

  You must free your inner eye—allow it to expand your total consciousness.

  For me, Dia, that's impossible.

  No, you're wrong. You need only remove the barrier of your outer sight to free that greater sight which is within you. It waits to be released.

  Are you saying that I should—blind myself?

  She shook her head, smiling softly. No, I'm saying you should free yourself…enter our world…Liath's and mine. Become truly bonded to us. You have the ability as few others have it. As we are gifted, so are you.

  And how would I do this?

  There is a heat shield in the castle…of sunmetal. Its surface is as bright as the sun itself. Stand before it, gaze full into it with your physical eyes—and it will free you. It will take away the barrier which separates us.

  Is it really possible?

  It is, Logan, it is!

  That night, in the castle, Logan could not sleep. Existence had no reality, now, beyond the daughters of Andar. Dia had saved him from certain death and, in a way, his life was hers.

  She had asked nothing of him; she had only given. Now she wanted to give more…wanted to give him her inner world, share it with him.

  Why was he so afraid of losing his eyes? He had seen the cities, the cruelty, the terror and frenzy of runners fleeing the Gun. He had seen the plague run its terrible path across Argos, destroying his friends, all the people he had come to know and trust. He'd seen the Wilderness People, lost and helpless against the ravages of nature. He'd seen his son's sprawled body…

  Jaq was dead. Jessi
ca was dead. What more was there for him, in this world of shadows?

  Noon. The sun tall and direct above the castle. The three of them standing before a high, curtained object. When we move aside the curtain, look full into the shield, Dia told him. Do not blink or shift your gaze.

  For ten seconds. That's all it will require, assured Liath. There will be no pain—only an intense brightness.

  I understand.

  Dia embraced him, kissed his lips. Trust us, Logan.

  I do. I trust you both.

  Ten seconds—and you will be with us forever, said Liath.

  Logan braced himself, teeth clamped, jaw muscles tight. He nodded.

  Open the curtain!

  Dia moved to the shield, drew back its wine-red cover.

  Brightness! Incredible, penetrating brightness…a sun-glare of fierce light so intense that Logan flinched back from it.

  Yet, he did not blink.

  Six seconds!

  Seven…

  Three more seconds, Logan!

  A rush of sound above them. Blades chopping air. The red curtain swirled, lifted itself, settled to halfcover the shield. Logan turned away to a wild cry from above: "Logan! Quick, Logan! I have news!"

  The voice of Jonath.

  In a fantail of sand, the paravane came to rest on the beach. Jonath leaped from the machine, ran toward Logan, waving, shouting.

  They met at the coral's edge.

  "I flew here the moment I heard the news. I would allow no one else to bring it."

  "What news, Jonath?"

  The Wilderness leader gripped his friend by both shoulders; his eyes blazed with the words: "She's alive! Jessica's alive!"

  JONATH

  "All right, tell me everything you know," Logan said tightly.

  They were in the castle. Jonath was seated on a fall of snowpillows, sipping green seawine which Dia had brought him. She and her sister hovered near Logan, who was never entirely still. He paced constantly as he listened to Jonath, questioned him on details.

  "An ex-Sandman named Evans brought me the news," said the Wilderness man. "He told me—"

  "Evans 9?"

  "Yes," said Jonath.

  "I've known him since childhood. We worked the Angeles Complex together."

  Jonath nodded. "He said he was your friend—that he'd become a runner because of you."

  "Evans…running?"

  "You made it to Sanctuary and so he decided to try for it—but he couldn't connect with Ballard's people. Evans was hiding out when they penetrated the Line at Steinbeck."

  "Why would he tie in with Gant?"

  "After the Thinker died he told me he just naturally gravitated back with other ex-Sandmen. When Gant took command of their group Evans followed along."

  A flash of instant mental communication between Logan and the sisters: Who is Gant?

  A monster. The worst of the Sandmen. He hates me.

  Why?

  He was in charge of Angeles Complex when I became a runner. My escape to Sanctuary was a personal embarrassment to him, a black mark on his record. I was the only Sandman to ever reach Sanctuary, and he hates me for it.

  "Evans and Gant argued," said Jonath. "Gant tried to have him killed. He got away, came to us, looking for you. He wanted you to know that Gant bought Jessica on the Market."

  "That Borgia bitch lied to me," said Logan. "She had me convinced that Jess was dead."

  "To protect herself, obviously," said Jonath. "By shifting the blame to Prince, she thought you'd let her go."

  "But I didn't," said Logan flatly.

  Dia looked agonized. You're leaving us! Your thoughts say it.

  I'm going after Jess.

  But Gant—he'll never let you have her.

  I'll take her.

  He'll kill you, Logan!

  He'll probably try.

  The Sandmen are with him. You'll never—

  "Where is she?" Logan asked Jonath. A muscle danced in his cheek. "Where does Gant have her?"

  Jonath told him.

  DAKOTAS

  Deep green below them. A forest flow of pine-thick wilderness, broken by high granite cliffs and jeweled lakes, darkened by the swift-sliding shadow of the paravane.

  The Black Hills of the Dakotas.

  "When we get there," Logan said, "I want you to stay with the ship until I bring Jess out."

  "Negative. I'm going in with you," said Jonath. "You'll need all the help you can get."

  "Then take one of these." He handed Jonath a Fuser. "Courtesy of the Borgias."

  "I've never fired one."

  "Nothing to it. Just aim and press the gripstud with your thumb. It's laser-powered. The beam will cut through any surface."

  "Do you think we've actually got a chance of bringing her out?"

  "Would it make any difference if I said no?"

  Jonath sighed, idly turning the weapon in his hand. "The fact that you know he's got her…that dictates your action."

  "But not yours," said Logan. "Why did you come with me, Jonath?"

  "Because you're my friend." He smiled. "And I happen to place a high value on friendship. It's one of the few real things I can count on in this brave new world of ours."

  "Did Evans tell you how many Sandmen Gant has with him?"

  "At least two dozen…maybe more. He wasn't sure."

  "It's Gant himself I worry about," said Logan. "The man's a total fighting machine. And he doesn't make mistakes."

  "Evans told me Gant thinks you're dead, that the Borgias killed you at Steinbeck."

  "Good. That means he won't be expecting our visit. Gives us a slight edge going in."

  They rode in silence above the Dakotas. Logan thought of Liath, and of Dia. Of ocean sunsets and midnight sands and clean sea air—and of lying with them in soft coral darkness…They knew he'd never return to them. And when he left they'd sent their farewells soaring after him as the paravane lifted away from the beach…

  We love you, Logan!… We'll always love you.

  Always.

  Always.

  Fading. Dying out behind him…

  Always.

  Always.

  Always.

  "There!" Jonath pointed excitedly downward. "Rushmore! We're close now."

  The rippling shadow of the paravane flowed over the somber granite heads of Mount Rushmore. Logan took precautions: Gant might have posted a lookout, and since surprise was essential he brought the paravane down in a tree-screened ravine well short of their goal.

  "Last chance to change your mind," Logan said as the blades idled to silence.

  "Let's go," said Jonath, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

  "If we move fast enough," said Logan, "we should be able to get there by sundown."

  He stowed the Fuser in his belt and removed a canister of water from the paravane.

  "We should cover the ship," said Jonath. "If we make it back here and it's gone…"

  "No one can spot it from the air," Logan assured him. "Not down in this ravine. It's safe enough."

  And they set off. The country was extremely ragged, laced with drifts of sharp rock and tangled root-grass which slowed their progress. Brambles tore at their skin; sun hammered their backs. At a rest halt Logan shared the canister of water with his friend.

  "How much farther?" asked the Wilderness leader, breathing heavily, his back against a pine.

  "Hour maybe," said Logan. "When I was here before, with Jess, I came in from another direction. But we should sight it soon."

  They did.

  The pride of the Dakotas.

  A carved granite mammoth rising for more than five hundred and fifty feet into the sky of the Black Hills.

  A warrior chief riding a mighty stallion. A mountain that had become a man: Crazy Horse. They were standing on a high ridge with a clear view of the mountain.

  "Magnificent!" declared Jonath, staring at the awesome figure.

  "He led the Sioux against Custer at Little Big Horn," said Logan. "Tashunca
-uitco. A great leader. They say his arm points toward the Happy Hunting Ground of his people."

  "And now he belongs to Gant," said Jonath bitterly.

  They started down the ridge. The sun had tipped to the western horizon when they reached the base of Crazy Horse. Logan raised a hand, hesitating. A gold object glittered in deep grass to his left. Something alive? A hidden Sandman?

  He moved cautiously toward it, weapon in hand, Jonath following.

  A glazed ruby eye stared up at Logan; its lens was shattered; part of a broken, rusting bulk of sunken metal.

  "What is it?"

  "Mech eagle," said Logan, leaning to examine the ruptured metal corpse. "Robot guardian designed to protect Crazy Horse. Looks like this one died with the Thinker."

  Jonath picked up a portion of bronzed wingfeather. "Big," he said.

  "And deadly," said Logan. "A pair of them ripped me last time I came here." Logan pointed upward, to the head of the warrior. "They lived on his shoulders. Went after anything that moved."

  "Then let's be glad this one's not active."

  Logan smiled.

  "How do we get inside?" asked Jonath.

  "There are three main access caves, but Gant would likely have men at each…Our best bet is to get in from above. Through a break in the rock."

  "I'm not much good at climbing," Jonath said.

  "We won't need to go too high," Logan told him. "Mountain's split in several places. Just a matter of picking one."

  Logan reconnoitered the flank of rising rock, climbing up to investigate two of the cave-like surface splits. Satisfied, he gestured to Jonath.

  "Here," he said. " 'This one."

  Awkwardly, Jonath climbed up to join him.

  "Be extremely careful inside," Logan warned. "One loose rock could fall all the way to the bottom. Our game would be up."

  Jonath nodded. Logan removed a small bulletlight from his tunic. "I'll have to keep this shielded," he said, "but at least we won't be in total darkness. Stay behind me."

  "I sure don't plan to lead," smiled Jonath.

  "One thing puzzles me," said Logan.