by Greg Cox
Farewell, Marla, my love. May you keep my memory alive.
But, to his surprise, the thunderous roar gradually diminished in volume, until all that remained was the faint skittering of a few last rivulets of dirt. Joaquin stirred above him, and Khan felt the bodyguard rise to his feet, apparently unharmed. A cloud of dust, stirred up by the avalanche, enveloped the air around the two men. Khan coughed on the dust, spitting out blood from a torn lip.
“Your Excellency!” Joaquin called out in alarm. “Are you well?”
Khan took a quick inventory of his vital organs and bones. “Do not distress yourself,” he assured the bodyguard. “It seems I have come through this trial more or less unscathed, thanks to your timely intervention.”
Joaquin offered his hand, but Khan chose to rise under his own power. He stood up slowly, brushing the powdery debris from his robes. The other colonists, attracted by the clamor, came running to investigate. Khan raised his hand to indicate that was quite unharmed, to the disappointment, perhaps, of Ericsson and his fellow malcontents. You shall not be rid of me quite so easily, Khan gloated.
The thought sparked an immediate suspicion in his mind. What had triggered the landslide in the first place? He peered upward at the rugged cliff face. A telltale trickle of loose scree marked the path of the avalanche. Khan instantly spotted a narrow ledge not far from where the rock-fall appeared to have originated. A skilled rock climber could have easily attained the ledge and set off the landslide from there, retreating back to the bed of the gorge amid the confusion and clouds of dust. Khan imagined Ericsson or one of the others using a walking stick as a lever to start an avalanche directly above Khan’s head.
Traitor! Assassin!
Suspicion turned to certainty within Khan’s mind; it could be no coincidence that the rockface chose that particular moment to rain down upon him. “Who?” he demanded furiously. “Who among you is responsible?”
“Lord Khan?” Ericsson blurted, feigning ignorance. Khan was not surprised to see the rebellious Norseman in the forefront of the crowd. He had removed his kaffiyeh and visor, revealing a golden beard now streaked with gray. His blue eyes mocked Khan with their ill-disguised malice. “I don’t understand.”
“Do not dissemble!” Khan raged, his temper pushed to its limit by this brazen attempt on his life. The dusty haze began to settle at last, clearing the air between him and other colonists. He searched their faces, determined to find the guilty party. “I know an assassination attempt when I survive one.” He grabbed on to Ericsson’s collar and all but yanked him off his feet. “Where were you mere minutes ago? Up there on the cliff above me?”
Ericsson refused to flinch before Khan’s fury. “Of course not, Lord Khan,” he insisted. “I was refilling my canteen with the others.” He tipped his head toward his fellow colonists. “Ask anyone.”
Khan turned his volcanic gaze upon the assembled bearers. “Is this true?” he barked, still holding on to the collar of Ericsson’s dusty burnoose. “Answer me at once!”
Murmured assents and nodding heads replied, but Khan’s anger was not assuaged. “Then who was it?” His suspicious gaze alighted on Paul Austin; he could well see the impertinent American serving as Ericsson’s cat’s-paw once again. “One of you must have seen something!” Khan accused the others. “Tell me the name of the assassin now, or I will hold you all responsible!”
Silence, and sullen looks, were all that the members of the caravan offered up in response. Their mute complicity further infuriated Khan, who felt betrayed beyond measure by their galling ingratitude. For five and a half years, I have devoted my every waking hour to keeping my people alive—and this is how they repay me! “Vipers!” he cursed them. “Conspirators, all!”
“Your Excellency!” Ericsson protested, his voice all wounded innocence. He smoothly extricated his collar from Khan’s grasp and stepped back from Khan. “It was a freak accident, no more. You know how unstable this gorge is!”
“No one is such a liar as the indignant man,” Khan thought; so said Nietzsche, who knew well the ambitious heart of the Superman. Khan’s lips curled in disdain. “Very well,” he snarled. “If none among you will come forward with the truth, then you will all pay the price for your reticence.” He paused for emphasis. “There shall be no more food rations until we return to Fatalis!”
A collective wail erupted from the throng. “You can’t!” Amy Katzel cried out, a look of utter disbelief upon her face. Other voices took up her anguished cry. “It’s not fair!”
Khan braced himself for whatever was to come. If the caravan was going to rise up in open mutiny, now would likely be the moment. His hand dropped to the knife upon his belt. He heard Joaquin take up an aggressive stance behind him. Let us see, he mused, how deep this insurrection runs.
“You have brought this on yourself by refusing to name the would-be assassin among you,” he said decreed. His stony face betrayed not a flicker of trepidation. “My decision is final.”
He saw anger and resentment in the faces and postures of the people before him. Fists were clenched and several eyes looked to Ericsson for a signal. Several meters away, an awakening geyser bubbled ominously, threatening to spill over at any minute—like the tensions simmering between Khan and the other colonists. Khan waited to see if either geyser would erupt.
But Ericsson merely shrugged. “Too bad we no longer have a phaser,” he remarked as though to remind the others of how Khan had inadvertently destroyed the weapon years ago. “It would have made cleaning up this debris so much easier.”
Turning his back on Khan, he headed back toward the hot springs with his canteen in his hand. The moment passed, and the crowd began to disperse, muttering darkly among themselves. Khan and Joaquin soon found themselves alone amid the newly fallen rubble. The confrontation appeared to be over … for now.
Intriguing, Khan thought. He could only assume that if Ericsson was not yet ready to force the issue then the Norseman must not have been certain that he enjoyed the support of the entire caravan, not to mention a majority of the colonists back at Fatalis. Not every heart has turned against me, it seems.
Still, today’s brush with death had been a close one. I can take no chances, Khan realized. I must be on my guard at all times.
Joaquin retrieved Khan’s walking stick from the scree and brought it over to his leader. The axebreaker staff would be a formidable weapon, if need be. “You must be careful, Your Excellency,” the bodyguard grunted. “Your enemies plot against you.”
“I know, my friend. I know.” Thank the heavens, Khan thought, that I can always depend on Joaquin.
And Marla, of course.
20
“Have you got it?” Ericsson asked.
He held a rag over his mouth and nostrils as he spoke, due to the nauseating stench coming from the compost pit a few meters away. The rotting waste matter turned his stomach, but that was exactly why he had chosen this spot for the meeting; with luck, the fetid atmosphere would guarantee their privacy. Ericsson couldn’t imagine anyone visiting the pit unless they absolutely had to.
“Well?” he repeated impatiently. “Do you have it or not?”
Saraj Panjabi looked about furtively before answering. Beads of sweat dotted his brow. Fear showed in his darting eyes. “Are you sure it’s safe?” he whispered.
“No one is listening,” Ericsson assured him. “Austin is standing lookout in the corridor, just in case.”
Panjabi nodded, looking only slightly less nervous. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Reaching under the edge of a ragged vest, he drew out a transparent plastic vial and handed it to Ericsson. Inside the vial, a slimy black eel larva wriggled against the sides of the container, searching for a way out of the vial—and into the nearest convenient ear canal.
Ericsson could not repress a shudder at the sight of the dreaded creature. He double-checked the seal on the container, making sure it was intact. Only then did he smile in anticipation of what was to come. “Perfect
,” he declared. He eyed Panjabi cautiously. “The doctor won’t miss this specimen?”
Panjabi shook his head, revealing a mutilated profile. Khan had sliced the man’s left ear off after Panjabi had been caught stealing from one of the colony’s underground gardens. Bloody tyrant! Ericsson thought angrily. Khan’s punishments were growing increasingly severe as the embattled dictator struggled to maintain control of Fatalis.
“The larvae are hidden beneath the dorsal ridges of the adult eels,” Panjabi reminded Ericsson. As the doctor’s husband and number one orderly, the Indian superman had easy access to Hawkins’ medical laboratory. “No one will ever notice that one small larva is missing.”
Ericsson chuckled. “Just so long as no one blows the whistle in the next few hours.” He tucked the vial into the pocket of his tattered jacket. “If all goes as planned, we won’t have to worry about Khan’s so-called justice much longer.”
“But what if something goes wrong?” Panjabi fretted. He wrung his hands together apprehensively. “Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea….”
“It’s the only way,” Ericsson said sharply. He couldn’t allow the other man to back out now. It was too late for second thoughts. “Khan is guarded night and day. If we want to get rid of him for good, this is our best shot.”
Just be ready to head for the hills, he added silently, if the plan goes awry. They were playing a dangerous game here, and the consequences of failure were almost too ghastly to contemplate. But we’re not going to fail, Ericsson thought. This time tomorrow we’ll be running Fatalis.
“Trust me,” he promised Panjabi. He patted the pocket containing the stolen larva. He visualized the obscene parasite squirming within the vial, eager to find an unwilling host. “Khan will never see this one coming!”
“Lady Marla?”
Marla was heading back to her quarters, after a long day looking after the colony’s children, when a voice called out to her from behind. She turned to see Karyn Ericsson hurrying down the torchlit corridor toward her.
She paused to let the other woman catch up with her. “Yes?” she asked patiently, despite her fatigue. Her ubiquitous tricorder was slung over her shoulder, ready to disgorge another day’s worth of recordings onto her dwindling supplies of data disks. “Can I help you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Karyn said. The former college professor, whose dark hair was cut just below her ears, had an anxious expression. “But I was wondering if you could spare a few moments to come see Astrid?”
“Is something wrong?” Marla asked. She had noticed that Karyn’s daughter had not shown up for class today. Along with Joachim, five-year-old Astrid Ericsson was one of Marla’s prize pupils. Even among a brood of genetically enhanced prodigies, all of whom were maturing at an accelerated rate, Astrid was smart and capable beyond her years. Marla had already pegged the little girl as a rising star and likely future leader of Fatalis. “Should we go find Dr. Hawkins?”
Please, Marla prayed, as a sickening notion occurred to her, don’t tell me the eels have gotten to another child….
Karyn shook her head. “I don’t think she’s sick. Something’s bothering her, though, and she won’t tell me what it is.” Worry deepened the furrows on the woman’s face. “She won’t eat, she won’t do her homework, she’s barely speaking. I was wondering, perhaps you can talk to her?”
That’s odd, Marla thought. She couldn’t think of anything that might be troubling Astrid. The little girl had gotten a perfect score on yesterday’s quantum mechanics exam and was well liked by her peers. What on earth could be bothering her?
“Of course,” she volunteered, sympathizing with the obviously worried mother. “I’ll be happy to talk to her, if you think it would do any good.”
Karyn beamed in relief. “Thank you so much,” she said, taking Marla’s hand. “I’m sure you can find out what the problem is. Astrid thinks very highly of you.”
Then how can I say no? Marla thought, shrugging her shoulders in resignation. She cast a wistful glance in the direction of her own quarters as Karyn guided her in the opposite direction. She had been looking forward to spending the evening with Khan, in the privacy of their own chambers, but apparently that was going to have to wait a bit. A teacher’s work is never done, I suppose.
Karyn and Harulf Ericsson lived in a block of rough-hewn apartments carved out of one of the lower levels of the underground complex. Marla felt a familiar pang as she and Karyn passed various other families retiring for the night; after five years of marriage, she and Khan still had no children of their own and by now Marla had pretty much given up on the prospect. For years she had nursed a secret fear that Khan would seek out another woman to bear him an heir, yet Khan had never even spoken of looking elsewhere, choosing instead to groom young Joachim as his future successor.
Then again, Marla mused, Astrid Ericsson may have something to say about that further on down the road.
A hanging metal curtain marked the entrance to the Ericssons’ quarters. Karyn pulled the curtain aside and gestured for Marla to step inside. “Go on,” she urged pleasantly. “Astrid is waiting.”
But instead of the precocious child, Marla found Harulf Ericsson and Paul Austin instead. The two men grinned wolfishly as she entered the cave. Marla suddenly sensed that she had made a frightful mistake. “What—?” she began, backing away, only to feel Karyn’s hand clamp tightly over her mouth. The other woman shoved Marla toward the waiting men, who pounced forward to seize her. An old piece of rubber, cut from the sole of a discarded boot, was thrust between her jaws and tied in place with a gag. Austin yanked on her arms, trapping them behind her back. Marla struggled to free herself, but the superman’s grasp was too strong.
She was caught.
I don’t understand, she thought. Why are they doing this?
Harulf Ericsson smiled at her predicament. “Why, Lady Marla,” he said sarcastically, making a joke of her title. “How nice of you to grace us with your exalted presence. I’m sure our humble abode hardly compares to the one you share with our glorious leader, but we’re hoping to improve our situation soon—with your generous assistance.”
What does he mean by that? Marla wondered fearfully. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to anticipate Ericsson’s plans for her. Her eyes searched the cramped, sparsely furnished cave, but saw nothing that offered any hope of mistake. Astrid, she could not help noticing, was nowhere to be seen. Probably off with a babysitter, Marla guessed. She realized now that this had nothing to do with Ericsson’s daughter—and everything to do with his ruthless ambition.
She cursed herself for her naïveté. I should never have trusted Karyn, no matter how talented her daughter is. She felt a surge of anger at the duplicitous mother. But how dare she take advantage of my concern for the children!
Not a trace of remorse showed on Karyn Ericsson’s face as she joined her husband in front of their captive. Marla wanted to shout at them both, tell them how despicable they were, but, gagged as she was, she couldn’t even threaten them with Khan’s wrath. A chilling thought occurred to her: They wouldn’t risk provoking Khan like this—unless they never expected me to see him again.
“I’m sorry our daughter isn’t here to welcome you,” Ericsson continued, “but there’s someone else I’d like to introduce you to.” Karyn fetched a sealed clay jar from a limestone shelf and offered her husband a pair of metal tongs. Ericsson carefully opened the container and reached in with the tongs. “And here he is.”
Marla’s eyes widened in horror as she spotted the greasy larva squirming in the tong’s grip. No! she thought, literally frozen in shock. Not that! Anything but that!
Panicked, she fought to break free of Austin’s grasp, but the tattooed superman held her fast as Ericsson approached her, bearing the quivering eel in his tongs. He lifted her hair with his free hand, exposing the area around her right ear. Please, no! she pleaded with her eyes. Don’t do this! But Ericsson ignored her petrified expression, lifting th
e tongs toward her ear. Marla flinched in terror as she felt the slimy larva come into contact with her skin.
The next few seconds felt like an eternity. The eel slid upward, leaving a trail of mucus behind it. She felt the larva navigate her lobes, then slide implacably into her ear canal. A searing pain erupted inside her head as the larva burrowed through her eardrum on its way toward her brain. Relief, of a purely physical nature, came a few moments later, as the eel sprayed some sort of anesthetic goo inside her ear, sealing the gap in the perforated eardrum; apparently, the parasite had no intention of rendering its host crazed with pain—at least not yet.
It doesn’t matter, Marla thought numbly. She knew there was no possible hope for her now.
She was a dead woman.
But what did Ericsson hope to gain from killing her?
Revenge?
She could feel the eel moving through her inner ear. She felt a growing pressure within her skull, like a tumor at work, and a sort of fog descended on her thoughts, along with a peculiar sense of detachment….
It was like one of those dreams where one is acting and watching oneself act at the same time. One knows what’s going to happen, but goes through the motions anyway, like an actor following a script laid out by one’s unconscious mind. Marla felt like an outside observer in her own body, listening to her heart calmly settle down as though nothing horrible was happening to her.
As though she hadn’t already been murdered.
In a grotesque parody of compassion, Karyn Ericsson wiped the blood and mucus from the outside of Marla’s ear, concealing any evidence of the larva’s passage. Harulf watched Marla’s face carefully while he waited for the larva to complete its trek to her cerebral cortex. He stared into her eyes as if he expected to see the deadly eel staring back at him.