“Why Thara?” Logos demanded. “I need to reach Socket.”
“Because that’s where we’re going,” Rebo said unsympathetically. “So get used to it.”
“What about the others?” Lee inquired, gesturing toward the rest of the hold. “It would be a crime to leave them here.”
“If you help them, the secret will be out,” Hoggles warned. “Everyone will know about the star gates.”
“So? Who cares?” Rebo replied lightly. “It beats the heck out of leaving them here.”
“The Techno Society cares,” Norr answered wearily, “and once we make use of the seed, they’ll hear about it. But Lee is correct . . . Once the gate has been established we’ll have to send all the passengers through.”
“So, what about power?” the heavy demanded pragmatically.
“It’s all around us,” the AI responded. “A dedicated source would be best, but most of the ship’s systems run off broadcast power, and the gate can feed on that.”
“But what if the ship objects?” Lee wanted to know.
“We’ll deal with that when and if it comes up,” the computer responded irritably. “Go play with something. We’ll call you when it’s time to leave.”
“Let’s get organized,” Rebo said briskly. “I’ll provide security for Lanni and Logos while the two of you go out and spread the word. I suspect that most of our fellow passengers will be rather skeptical to say the least.”
“If anyone can sweet-talk them it would be Lee,” Hoggles rumbled. “I’ll go along to keep him out of trouble.”
“Good,” the runner agreed. “But let’s pack our stuff first. We’re going to need it once we reach Thara.”
The foursome was packed and ready to leave twenty minutes later. Norr removed the gate seed from her pack while the heavy and the red hat disappeared into the surrounding murk. “All right,” the sensitive said, as she held the sphere between the palms of her hands. “What now?”
“You will find that the seed has two dimples,” Logos answered. “One located on the top of the globe and one on the bottom. All you have to do is press them at the same time.”
“I did that once before,” Norr objected. “Nothing happened.”
“That’s because you were impatient,” the AI replied critically. “Now do as you were told.”
The variant made a face, pressed an index finger into each dimple, and waited. Nothing happened. “All you have to do is maintain an even pressure,” Logos said reassuringly. “Humans tend to be extremely impatient. Once they push a button they expect instantaneous results. A long delay is sufficient to keep all but the most persistent of them at bay.”
And sure enough, once sixty seconds had passed, the sensitive felt something give. “Now,” the AI continued, “grab hold of both hemispheres and twist them in opposite directions.”
Norr obeyed and felt both halves of the globe give. Rebo, who had been watching the process, saw a crack appear as beams of light shot out into the murk. “It’s moving!” the sensitive exclaimed, as her hands shook in sympathy with the oscillating gate seed.
“Let go of it,” Logos instructed sternly, “or it will hurt you.”
Such was the sensation that the variant was happy to release her grip on the object. But, rather than fall to the ship’s deck the way she expected it to, the sphere floated in front of her!
“Good,” the computer said, as he continued to monitor the situation via dozens of sensors embedded in the front of Norr’s coat. “This is where it gets tricky. I will need to relay some messages through Socket in order to establish the gate—and it will take some time to get all of the equipment aligned. Now stand back.”
Both Rebo and Norr were quick to back away as the globe began to spin faster and faster. Then, after thirty seconds or so, it disappeared!
Meanwhile, out in the surrounding murk, Kane listened as two of the people he was determined to kill invited both him and his companions to step through a star gate and thereby escape the dying ship! Given all he had gone through to catch up with them, and the artifacts they possessed, the invitation struck the technologist as both ridiculous and sublime.
Once Lee had finished his speech, a chubby merchant shook his head angrily. “Get out of here, kid . . . And take the freak with you. Oh, and put some chains on him. You’ll be sorry if you don’t.”
The response was similar to the one the pair had already received from more than a dozen other people. The whole notion of star gates was more than they could accept. Hoggles frowned, took a step forward, but stopped when Lee grabbed his arm. “Forget it, Bo . . . They made their choice.”
The variant nodded reluctantly and took a step backward. Kane saw his opportunity and was quick to seize it. The operative stood and bent to retrieve his pack. “Wait for me! I not only believe you—I volunteer to go first. Anything is better than starving to death on this ship.”
Lee stared at the man. He looked familiar, but why?
“Good for you,” Hoggles rumbled sincerely. “You won’t be sorry.”
Lee continued to feel doubts about the man in the black bandanna, but having been unable to place him, kept those concerns to himself as they left the merchants behind. “Let’s go back,” Hoggles suggested. “It seems as if no one wants to listen, and the gate should be established by now.”
Kane managed to carry out a surreptitious check of his weapons and felt a keen sense of anticipation, as he followed the odd-looking pair over to their fire. The boy had yet to recognize him, nor had the heavy, but the sensitive would. That meant he would have to act quickly. The key was to kill the man with the guns, the heavy, and the female in that order. The boy would be easy. Then, with both the gate seed and Logos in his possession, he could return to Anafa.
Norr “felt” the technologist’s presence before she actually saw him, turned, and opened her mouth to shout a warning. But Kane had already drawn his weapons by then. Lee saw the pistols appear and acted without thinking. The boy hit the operative from behind, heard one of the handguns go off, and felt a moment of nausea as they fell through the star gate together.
Rebo saw the air shimmer as the twosome disappeared and heard Norr shout “No!” as he followed them through.
Kane landed hard, felt the pistol fly out of his right hand, and heard a metallic clatter as it slid away. He scuttled forward, wrapped his fingers around the gun butt, and realized that something had gone awry. Either the gate had been locked onto the wrong destination, or was badly out of phase, because everything about the environment was wrong. Thara had a reputation as a rather pleasant planet but this world had been ravaged by war.
As the operative rolled over onto his back what he saw were banks of darkly roiling clouds punctuated by occasional shafts of orange sunlight and the occasional bolt of lightning. Thunder rolled across the land as drops of blood-warm rain hit his face, and Kane’s lungs struggled to process the painfully thin air. The technologist fought to rise, discovered that his body was at least 20 percent heavier than it had been on the ship, and barely made it to his feet. Farther out, in the jagged, bomb-ravaged ruins that surrounded him, a tornado could be seen. The twister wandered through what remained of the once-proud city as if searching for something to kill. The operative might have seen more, but that was the moment when the man with the guns appeared out of nowhere and landed a few feet away.
What happened next was more the result of impulse than planning. Kane grappled with the man, let go of a gun to free up a hand, and grabbed a fistful of jacket. Then, moving as if in slow motion, the operative brought the remaining pistol in from the side. It connected with his opponent’s head and drew blood. Rebo staggered, started to black out, and fell.
Lee threw a rock at the blond man, saw it hit, and began to run. Or tried to run, since it felt as if his lungs were on fire, and his legs were made of lead. There was a loud bang as Kane fired but missed the boy. Lee staggered along a debris-strewn street, wound his way through a maze of passageways, and found himself within the em
brace of a U-shaped wall. A hole beckoned, the boy fought his way over a pile of bricks, and went down onto his knees. Then, just as he started to enter the heating duct Lee felt a set of viselike fingers wrap themselves around his ankle. The youth’s fingernails clawed at duracrete as Kane dragged him out into the wan sunlight.
For the first time since giving them up Lee wished he had his knives. But they were in his pack back on the ship. The boy sought to turn, and had just managed to do so, when Kane pressed the gun barrel against the center of his forehead. The operative produced what was supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a grimace, and ordered the pistol to fire.
The message had left Kane’s brain, and was halfway to his trigger finger, when Rebo beat him to it. The Hogger boomed, the .30-caliber slug blew half of Kane’s head away, and sprayed Lee with gore. The youngster screamed, looked at his blood-drenched arms, and started to cry.
Kane felt the bullet nudge the side of his head and tried to object as the physical plane fell away. That was when the operative saw his most recent life pass before his eyes, felt the pain he had caused, and tried to scream. But, many years had passed since a previous him had given the order to nuke the planet Poxor, so no one was present to witness his anguish.
Meanwhile, Rebo discovered that his head hurt even more now that he had a moment to think about it, returned the weapon to its holster, and trudged over to where Lee lay. It took repeated attempts to help the youngster to his feet, but the third was successful, and the runner took the boy’s hand. Hopefully, if they were lucky, the gate was open. If so, they could step through, and return to the ship.
But that was the moment when the runner realized that all of the ruins looked the same, that he had no idea which way to go, and that he was hopelessly lost. Lee, who had started to recover, felt Rebo pause. The reason for the runner’s hesitancy was obvious, and the boy had just experienced the first stirrings of panic, when he spotted what could be their salvation. “Look!” the boy said. “Blood! We can follow it back!”
Rebo looked, saw that droplets of blood from the gash on the side of his head led out into the ruins, and realized that Lee was correct. Quickly, lest one of the rain showers wash the red dots away, the runner followed the regularly spaced blobs back to the spot where the empty shell casing marked the point of arrival. The air shimmered where the space-time continuum had been disrupted. “You—first,” the runner gasped, and pushed the boy forward.
Rebo experienced a profound sense of gratitude as the youngster disappeared. Then, having achieved his goal, the runner collapsed. He fell into a well of darkness, felt his body start to spin, and waited to die.
FIFTEEN
The Planet Thara
In spite of all the wisdom that has been spoken, or preserved in manuscripts, each soul must search for enlightenment. There is no single path, but rather a multiplicity of ways, some short and some long. Go forth and find your path, help others along the way, and enjoy the journey. For this is life.
—The ascended master Teon,
An admonition to my students
Death isn’t so bad after all, the runner thought to himself, as he opened his eyes and looked up through lacy fronds into a pale blue sky. Paradise felt deliciously warm, a soft breeze stirred the thick foliage off to his right, and brightly colored insects darted through his vision.
There was a problem, however—and that had to do with the persistent pain associated with the left side of his head. Dead people don’t experience pain, or so Rebo assumed, although there was a great deal about the spirit realms that he couldn’t remember. But then, as if to assure the runner that he really was in heaven, an angel appeared. She had high cheekbones, a narrow face, and her eyes were filled with concern. “Jak? Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” the runner croaked. “Are we dead?”
Norr looked relieved. “No, silly. We’re on Thara.”
Rebo blinked. “On Thara? But how?”
“You fell through the portal onto the ship. Logos reset the gate for Thara, Bo carried you through, and I put some stitches into your scalp. You’ll have a scar—but your hair will cover it. What else would you like to know?”
Rebo pushed himself up onto one elbow. He had been laid out on top of his sleeping bag. Packs were stacked all about. “Where’s Lee?”
“Right here,” the boy said as he knelt next to the runner. “Thanks to you.”
Rebo felt a profound sense of relief. “We made it then . . . How ’bout the rest of the passengers?”
The sensitive looked down at the ground. “Bo made one last attempt to round them up . . . But none were willing to listen.”
The runner thought about what it would be like. The strongest passengers would kill weaker ones and take their food. Then, once that was gone, they would start to feed on each other. Not a pleasant way to die.
“So,” Rebo said out loud, “the man who was following you is dead. The rest should be easy.”
“Should be, but won’t be,” Hoggles said darkly, as he entered the clearing. “Look at this . . .”
The heavy handed a flyer to Norr, who looked at it and frowned before turning the document around so that the others could see it. “It looks like me!” Lee said in astonishment.
Rebo glanced at the crudely printed sketch, then at the boy. “You look a lot like you did when we were on Ning,” the runner observed. “What does the text say? I can’t read it from here.”
Norr turned the flyer around. “Be on the lookout for this boy . . . Though posing as the reincarnated spirit of Nom Maa, the youth called Tra Lee is actually little more than an imposter, bent on stealing the throne of CaCanth. All sightings should be reported to the nearest black hat monastery to receive a material as well as spiritual blessing.”
“Where did you get that?” the runner wanted to know, his eyes on Hoggles.
“It was tacked to a tree next to the main road,” the variant replied.
Rebo shook his head disgustedly. “It looks like the other kid managed to reach Thara before we did, and his supporters are hard at work.”
“Which makes sense,” Norr added thoughtfully, “since nobody was chasing him.”
“Where are we? Does anyone know?” the runner inquired, as he struggled to stand. His head hurt and he felt dizzy.
“I spoke with a farmer,” Hoggles replied. “He was on his way to a town called Nomath.”
Even though Rebo had left Thara when he was very young, he still remembered the names of the cities that he and Crowley had passed through, and Nomath was one of them. He had obtained a map from the runner’s guild on Anafa and the time had come to take a look at it. The norm dispatched Lee to fetch the document while he took a seat on a flat-topped rock and probed his bandage. It hurt. The boy returned, spread the map out on the ground, and pointed at one of the symbols. “Here’s Nomath,” Lee said, “and look! There’s CaCanth!”
The youngster was correct, and it was then, as Rebo eyed the road that connected the two places together, that the reality of the situation struck him. He was home! And there, located in a small bay about a hundred miles east of the holy city of CaCanth, was the village of Lorval. Was his mother still alive? Or buried next to the symbolic resting places that she had established for her dead husband and sons? There was no way to know.
Something of what the runner felt must have registered on his face, or been visible among the colors that shimmered around him, because Norr knelt next to Rebo and placed an arm around his shoulders. “We must be close to the village in which you were born. Very close.”
“Yes,” the runner agreed. “We are . . . But CaCanth comes first. It’s obvious that the black hats are out looking for us, and it wasn’t for the completely unexpected manner in which we arrived, would have located us by now. We’re safe for the moment—but someone is bound to report us.”
“That’s true,” Lee agreed as he brought a grubby digit down onto the surface of the map, “but here’s the solution.”
Rebo s
quinted at the map. Part of the symbol was hidden by Lee’s grubby finger. It lay a little to the north, in the direction of CaCanth, but east of the main road. “Nocar Rebu? What does that mean?”
“It means the ‘Temple Red,’ or the ‘Red Temple,’ in Tilisi.”
“It’s a red hat monastery,” Norr observed. “Perhaps they could help.”
“I like it,” Rebo replied thoughtfully, as he remembered the well-armed Dib Wa warriors they had encountered on Pooz. “And who knows? Maybe they would supply us with an escort.”
And so it was agreed that rather than strike out for CaCanth directly—the foursome would head for the Red Temple instead. The problem was how to complete the three-day march without attracting the wrong sort of attention. Norr was the one who came up with the solution and the clothing necessary to make it work. “There,” the sensitive said, as she tied one of her scarves under Lee’s chin. “I had to wear a disguise on Etu. Now it’s your turn.”
“But I don’t want to dress like a girl!” the boy objected as he looked down at the hem of his skirt. It was too long for him, but the sensitive solved that problem by rolling the excess fabric up around his waist. When covered by a jacket the bulge made the youth look as though he was significantly overweight. A plus insofar as the disguise was concerned.
“And I didn’t enjoy wearing chains,” Hoggles put in unsympathetically. “Get over it.”
There was a moment of silence followed by an embarrassed smile. At that particular moment it was as if the boy was someone much older. “It seems that even now, after many lifetimes, it is still difficult to focus on that which is truly important. I apologize.”
There was no slavery on Thara, which meant that Rebo and Norr could pretend to be husband and wife, while Lee posed as their daughter. Then, in an effort to break up what would otherwise amount to an easily identifiable group, it was agreed that Hoggles would follow a quarter mile behind, thereby creating the impression the variant was alone. That stratagem would still allow the heavy to rush forward should that prove necessary.
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