by James Axler
Then it came to him: starting with the idle thought that one section of the city believed in worshipping the stars while the other believed they came from there, and would once return, he began to work on the theory that perhaps there was a link between the two in the form of space.
It wasn’t long before logic, fevered imagination and a handful of old tracts and books gave rise to the unified theory of the city of light.
The people adored it. They adored Gideon. It would take many years to come to fruition, but then, what were a couple of decades in the history of the world? Nothing more than a blink of an eye. However, if they were to fulfill the theory—which was fast becoming a prophecy, such was their fervor—then it was necessary to harness the energy that could only be supplied by young, vital life force.
And therein lay their problem: they had a birth rate that ensured that it would be many generations before the city bought the farm and ended up as deserted as it had been for the many millennia before they arrived. It was steady, with only a small rate of decline. But it wasn’t enough.
The people turned to Gideon again. This time, the man of supposedly towering intellect turned to his childhood. There were few books in the city that could be read and understood by the young, and during his period of convalescence after his accident he had read them all—taught as he was by his mother—so many times that he was sick of them. He wished to forget them.
But they stuck. And at that moment, he was never more glad for the childhood stories that haunted his dreams and nightmares. One came back to him: the Pied Piper who charmed the rodents, then took the children when payment was welched. Why bother with the first part? Just skip to the chase… They had the mutie powers among them to carry it out, so it was just a matter of working out a plan that would allow them to enter a ville to study and ingratiate themselves before going in for the chill.
There were those who objected that it would be easier to just ride in and blast the way out, taking as they went. Gideon smiled that beatific and patronizing grin, explaining carefully that that was wasteful. They would risk losing their lives, and wasting potential life energy in the cross fire. Besides, without a firefight, how many more life energies could they spirit away with each journey?
The power of thought triumphed over the power of brute force once more. That was an overriding concern and obsession throughout Gideon’s life, and now that it was nearing its conclusion he didn’t want to be proved wrong at the last.
So it was that he gathered the elders in the communal palace they now shared, having given up their separate palaces for the good of the whole, housing the hordes of young life force that they had brought to them.
“We are nearly there,” he began in stentorian tones that echoed in the stone interior. They had kept the most opulent of the structures for themselves, and the building had ornately carved and high ceilings that added weight to his already impressive tones.
“The stars are finally coming into alignment,” he continued. “There is only a matter of hours before they are in the right place, and the ceremonies can begin. These rituals are only to prepare the young, whose life force shall help propel us to our destiny while also being their salvation. We do not need them, for we know that our own beliefs are strong enough.
“But having come so far, we must not let anything come between us and our destiny. We have been protected for so long by the forces that we have harnessed to protect our perimeters that we have become slack. At the last we have allowed intruders to breach our defenses. I know that there were others in their wake who were repelled by the advanced measure we put in place, and that we now have three of the intruders in thrall to us, but the fact remains that we have some still at large. Patrols have been sent to find them, but to no avail.”
“Perhaps they have run scared,” Delroy suggested, his voice as dark and gaunt as his demeanor.
Martha snorted. “If they had run, they would have come up against our psychic wall. I have felt nothing, have any of you?” She waited impatiently while there was some muttering before continuing peevishly. “Exactly. They are still inside the canyon. Why we haven’t found them is beyond me, but—”
“I think the answer to that is simple,” Gideon interrupted. “We have never had to deal with such intruders, and so we do not have the skills in which they excel. That is reasonable, and I think no grounds for apportioning blame…”
Martha’s mutterings suggested that she felt otherwise, but the fat man was aware of the need to keep unity among the elders so close to the goal, and so pressed on regardless. “I would suggest that we use those things in which we do have skill to trap them and nullify their threat. Delroy, I would like you and those who use their power to maintain the wall to draw it in so that it gradually enclosed nothing but the valley of the canyon.”
“Won’t that leave us open to any possible intrusions?” the gaunt man questioned.
Gideon sniffed. “So close to the goal, I feel we can take that chance. The continued presence of those irritating bastards is a greater threat. Pull the net tighter to catch them and draw them out. It will keep them occupied while we prepare, and it will also leave them open to being picked off as they emerge. Furthermore, to speed the process, I have a second measure… Bring the three intruders to me,” he snapped, indicating to an elder at the back.
The elder—one of the incredibly tall men who accompanied him on life energy gatherings—nodded and slipped through the doors. While he was gone, the remaining elders discussed the fine details of what would occur on the following day. The circle was now complete, and the energies that had been released by sacrifice were now within the circle itself, adding to the power it contained and the beacon it became. As with any kind of ritual, there were mundanities of organization to sort out before the day itself came upon them, and these were now falling into place. The discussion was more by way of confirming that well-laid plans were in place and proceeding smoothly.
Gideon was pleased. Once the day had come and gone, there would be nothing left in this place to mark his achievement, but to have reached this point was monument enough for him. His monstrous ego was satisfied with the culmination of a plan conceived by himself and activated by the elders as a whole. To wield such power demanded no other statue.
Thus it was that their business was almost concluded when the door opened and the tall elder led in Krysty, J.B. and Jak.
Krysty looked around at the palace. It was opulent compared to the other interiors she had seen thus far, and certainly it had less of a stench, though it was still pretty overpowering. She also noticed that there were bowls of differing herbal mixtures everywhere. The scents from these intermingled with the stench, both disguising and adding to it in equal measure. Because of the differences in scents, she knew that these tinctures weren’t for the same purpose as the one that was painted on their scratches. Nonetheless, they were used by the elders for whatever purpose, and meant that in effect they were as high in their own way as any jolt-head. Which would explain a lot, she figured wryly, if not how to extricate themselves from this situation.
Her train of thought was interrupted as they were brought in front of Gideon.
He sighed heavily. “Your fellow fighters are giving us problems. We cannot afford to have such problems. We are not fighters. We have some capability, but not your experience. Or theirs. However, we do have you, and you know them well. With your knowledge, we can send out men to crush them.” He looked them over, and a sly smile spread across his face. “Now, I suggest that you tell me all you know of your friends. What their strengths and weaknesses are, and how best to combat them.”
Krysty shook her head and looked at Jak and J.B. They, too, seemed resolute. Yet she could feel something within herself that she knew would also be flooding over their consciousness. No matter what the intent, the combination of herb and hypnosis was making
her irresolute. She could feel her weakness growing, and the desire to spill her guts wash over her. She knew that Jak and J.B. would be the same. And that there was nothing they could do about it.
The fat man’s loathsome face was wreathed in a smug grin. “Bring forward the guard. They should pay particular attention to this,” he said, beckoning to some of the elders.
Despite herself, Krysty felt her mouth open and the words spill out. Detesting herself, and more so the influences that were making her do this, she told all. The fat man smiled. When she had finished, he simply indicated that Jak continue. And despite the loathing in his voice, he took up where Krysty had left off.
She hung her head. Forgive us, Ryan, Doc, Mildred… .
* * *
NIGHT HUNG HEAVY over the canyon. In the depths of the valley, the companions felt safe in coming out of hiding. The shadows were deep and dark down here, and as the city on the ledge slowly extinguished its lights and settled for the night, there was little chance of their being observed.
“Man, I’m getting really stiff and ring rusty cooped up in that place,” Mildred said as she stretched. “I don’t think I can wait much longer, Ryan, no matter what.”
“Patience, my dear Doctor,” Doc mused as he flexed equally cramped and stiffened limbs. “A straightforward assault would not be a good idea. You know that.”
“Yeah, but even so,” Mildred began, trailing off as she caught sight of Ryan. The one-eyed man was standing apart from them, staring up at the ledge. “What is it?” she asked with an urgent edge to her tone.
Ryan turned to her. “Why can’t we just go up there? It’s the middle of the bastard night. They’re so arrogant that they don’t have any kind of defense, and when they sent out sec patrols they were shit. Fireblast, even a blind stupe stickie could have worked out where we were by now. Unless they do know, and they’re just playing bastard games with us… But why the fuck would they do that? Why would they do anything? Look at it.”
Mildred and Doc followed the direction of his arm. The city looked quiet, peaceful…and completely defenseless.
“Weight of numbers, Ryan,” Doc murmured. “That’s why we haven’t done it. Two ways up, two ways down. The slightest alarm and we’re trapped on either of them. And then when we’re up there—”
“We have the element of surprise if we go now. We didn’t want to take out any of the kids last time, either, so we held back. Fuck the mission. K wasn’t straight with us, so all bets are off. We get our people back. That’s our only mission now. We go in, we hit hard, we get Jak, Krysty and J.B. and we run. Maximum chaos and we get the chance to run before they can regroup.”
“If that were our only option, then perhaps I would agree with you,” Doc mused. “But I tell you, Ryan, we are an irritant to them. They will come out and give us an opening. I’m sure of it.”
“I wish I could be,” Ryan said softly.
Mildred looked at him askance. “This isn’t like you, Ryan. You feeling okay?”
The one-eyed man shook his head. “No. I’m not. I feel like…like there’s something unbalancing me,” he said, his tone suddenly changing as a realization dawned on him. “Mebbe they’re not leaving us alone.”
“Look!” Doc said, interrupting.
Mildred and Ryan followed Doc’s indication. Deep in the shadows at the foot of the canyon, beneath the city, something stirred in the black, forming into shapes that detached themselves and seemed to make their way across the flat canyon floor.
“Cover,” Ryan snapped, willing to take no chances.
As they took whatever scant cover they could, blasters drawn, the detached shadows became shapes that became recognizable silhouettes. Then, as they neared and the three hidden companions prepared to draw a bead, a flash of moonlight caught the three figures and revealed them as Krysty, Jak and J.B.
They came to a halt about five hundred yards from where their friends lay in cover.
“Hold fire,” Ryan whispered. Then, throwing caution to the wind in a way that would normally have been out of character, he rose to his feet. “Krysty, J.B., Jak…how the hell did you get away?” He stepped out of cover and went toward them, blaster falling at his side.
Doc—his nerve ends twitching with some kind of crazy instinct for such things—looked up at the sky, then yelled, “Ryan.”
The one-eyed man turned back to him, a puzzled expression on his face. Doc was gesturing upward.
“There is no moon, Ryan…”
Ryan looked up to the skies above the canyon walls. Doc was right. The night was clouded, and the scant sliver of new moon was only occasionally visible through the heavy, rolling cover. There was no way that he should have been able to see their three companions in such relief.
“What the fu—”
Ryan raised his blaster, but it was too late. As he watched, the three people in front of him suddenly grew in stature until they were five yards high, looming over him. Their features changed, morphing into some kind of demonic mask like those he had seen in old books and vids. Mouths open, they stooped down toward him, and he could feel the hot, fetid breath of all three as they closed on him. With a yell that was half anger and half unfettered fear, he threw up the SIG-Sauer and unleashed a volley of blasts that he knew was stupe and wasteful as soon as his finger twitched on the trigger.
These were phantoms. They could do him no harm, and they had no more substance than the wall, mountain and abyss that they had seen on their journey to this place. All he had done was waste three slugs and alert the city on the ledge that they had come out of hiding. Which, he realized, was probably the point. He cursed himself as he turned his back on the phantoms and ran toward cover.
“Doc, Mildred, take cover,” he yelled, realizing even as he said it that it was a waste of breath, and that they had already taken evasive action.
He was wrong. Although both of them had momentarily been fascinated and frozen by the sudden change in the figures of their erstwhile companions, they had soon realized that these chimera were merely the vanguard of a further attack, and so had opted to regain cover.
As they headed for cover, they found that the ground rose up around them, forming a semicircle that started to close in on them, directing them back the way they had come.
“It…is…not…real…” Doc told himself as he came close to the edge of the rising ground. Figuring that belief was all, as before, he opted to try to break through the illusion by running through. It was, after all, the only way that he would make cover. He steeled his soul, and flung himself forward into the rising wall of earth and rock that was slow and inexorably coming toward him.
Whether the illusion was stronger and the force at the back of it more aware of the flaws that had betrayed it once before was open to debate: the only thing he knew was that he felt the impact of rock and dense packed earth as he hit it full-on. The momentum of the forward roll hit him hard and threw him back, dazed. The ground seemed to rise beneath him as he landed, pushing him back in a direction he didn’t wish to go.
Mildred wasn’t aware of that, but she had opted to try to take a different route. If she was unsure enough not to risk running through, then she could at least try to get over the top and beat the illusion that way. She ran at an angle to the rising wall, so that she might counter its roll and use that to aid her speed as she attempted to climb.
It was worth a try. Grunting with the effort she pumped her way up three-quarters of the wall, and was within reach of the ridge when it seemed as though the earth movement was sentient, and able to respond to her actions. With no warning, a wave shuddered along the length of the wall, taking her feet from under her and causing her to stumble and fall. As she did, the ripples of the wave rose to meet her, catching her under the chin and making lights flash in front of her eyes. She felt herself black out for
a second, and when she fought her way back to consciousness it was to find that she was rolling down the ridge, her progress aided by a push from the wall of earth beneath her.
Ryan, meanwhile, was having problems of his own. As he tried to run from the demonic figures that loomed over him from behind, he found that the shadows around him were now beginning to take substance. He saw Krysty, Jak and J.B. All grew up from pools of shadow around him, and all were carrying blasters directed at him.
Blasterfire chattered at him: the staccato shrill of the Armorer’s mini-Uzi set on short bursts, the crisp crack of the Smith & Wesson, and the muted boom of the Colt Python. Despite the fact that he knew these were nothing more than phantoms that couldn’t hurt him, he dropped to the ground and rolled in evasive action, returning fire and cursing each time instinct made him waste another round. He knew that he couldn’t hurt these things that were smoke and mirrors, plumbed as they were from the depths of his mind. And yet could they hurt him? He wouldn’t have thought so, based on previous experience, but he could feel the shells whistle past him, could taste the earth their impact threw up as it showered over him, landing with a bitter taste in his mouth. What if the psychic force—whoever or whatever it might be—had found a way of realizing itself in some physical manner? With a renewed vigor he returned fire, wondering all the while if the spending of ordnance until they were defenseless in this way was its intent.
And then, as suddenly as the psychic attack had begun, it was over. The silence was almost deafening after the sounds of blasterfire echoed and died. It weighed down on them as they stood beneath the ledge, looking up at the sleeping city. Despite the noise and activity that had occurred beneath it, the city appeared to be as somnambulant as before.
“What the hell is going on?” Mildred whispered. “They must have heard that shit going down. Hell, I can’t believe they weren’t directly behind it themselves.”