Cluster

by Piers Anthony

  "The system is"—Spica paused in evident surprise—"is Kirlian."

  "Jackpot!" Flint exclaimed. "The Ancients did have advanced Kirlian technology—and now it is ours!"

  "We should not tabulate our gains until hooked," Nath warned.

  "Canopus, can you hear us?" Flint asked.

  "I hear you, Sol," H:::4 replied immediately. "And I now confirm with the instruments aboard my craft that there is a diffuse Kirlian aura emanating from that region. It does not pulsate in the manner of a living aura; it appears to be inorganic. Inanimate."

  "But the Kirlian aura is a function of life," Mintaka protested. "This is the distinction between life and death."

  "Not any more," Flint said. "So now we know the Ancients had the secret of inorganic Kirlian aura generation. I'm not surprised. I'll bet this is what Andromeda is using against us. They are able to imbue matter and energy with a Kirlian field, then transfer that field to their home galaxy. Now we will be able to stop them. This is exactly what we have been looking for."

  "Concurrence," Mintaka said. Something nagged at the fringe of Flint's awareness. It was the second time the creature had used that expression. But of course it was only a translation. None of these entities used human idiom or construction; its translator did that. "We must investigate this equipment thoroughly, and make report to our Spheres."

  "This has the aspect of a Tarot temple," Nath remarked.

  "Tarotism has spread to Sphere Nath?" Flint asked, surprised.

  "And to Sphere Bellatrix," Nath said. "Perhaps further. I understand it originated in your Sphere."

  "Yes, about five hundred years ago, in the time of Sol's 'Fool' colonization period. We almost bankrupted our origin planet, Earth, mattermitting the entire population to other worlds, as though that would solve the problems of increasing population and wastage of natural resources." He was merely parroting part of the indoctrination he had received after making his report on his experiences in Sphere Polaris. But it was amazing to discover how fast and far this cult had spread, more than humanity's own interstellar explosion. Would it survive mankind, as Christianity had survived the Roman Empire?

  Flint continued: "One planet had a natural animation effect that a religious scholar, Brother Paul of the Holy Order of Vision, investigated and described. He had no intention of starting a pseudo-religious cult, but the notion of animation captured the popular fancy, and it went on from there."

  "This Sibling Solarian of the Arrangement of Hallucination must have been a redoubtable figure," Nath said. "Tarotism has much pull in our Sphere, and we honor it without ridicule. And perhaps the Sibling is serving us well now, for animation is a function of the Kirlian aura. I suggest that we may profit most rapidly by drawing on the Ancients' equipment from this vantage."

  "This might in fact be a communications station," Polaris agreed. "Perhaps we can animate the presence of an actual Ancient. This would be most circular."

  "Amen," Flint agreed. "In fact, I would even call it 'most direct.' But we run the risk of evoking the killer who is stalking us—if it really is that Ancient ghost."

  "At risk of antagonizing," Spica said, "I reiterate that the killer strikes by direct physical means, and this is not within the compass of the Ancient mechanism."

  "Unless the Ancient mechanism generates a Kirlian field of sufficient power to override that of a living entity," Mintaka flashed. "It could then temporarily preempt or transform the individual consciousness, or otherwise influence it to implement physical action, even as your own transferred identity controls your Antarean host."

  "This is most perceptive," Polaris said. "Sphere Mintaka, so new to transfer, has been remarkably quick to appreciate its intricacies." Flint had thought the same, and recognized this as a roundabout challenge.

  "Merely ordinary intelligence that would have occurred to you in a moment," Mintaka flashed. "However, we have long been aware of transfer, and have maintained a cadre of potential hosts, hoping for the technological breakthrough. We are a large Sphere, and normal means of maintenance are cumbersome. Thus when the envoy of Mirzam came, we were very quick to implement the information provided. Though at present we know of no involuntary hosting, if this is indeed possible, it would seem to have been within the capability of the Ancients."

  The Mintakan was very well coordinated, intellectually, Flint thought. But of course all the Spheres would have sent smart representatives, as well as Kirlians. This was a most select archaeological group, well versed in everything but archaeology.

  "We become enmeshed in dialogue," Nath clicked a bit impatiently. "We are naturally hesitant to pull on the main problem—but pull we must. I suggest that two of us explore the Ancients' Kirlian arena while three maintain guard. Assuming that the aura is hostile, it still does not seem to strike openly. We may be able to ascertain what we wish without further loss if we act boldly and carefully."

  "I agree," Flint said. "If the Ancient force can take over an individual life form and use it to kill, there are still certain limitations. Spica cannot readily make the kind of puncture we have noted, unless it carries a weapon we have not perceived, and I think similar attack would be difficult for Nath, and not easy for Polaris. That leaves Mintaka and me—"

  "And me," Canopus said from the translator. "I am compelled to advise you that if I should be taken over, I possess enough weaponry in my craft, including pain-generating units and explosive devices, to eliminate all of you and destroy the site. I would not voluntarily employ it, but faced with this potential, I can only recommend that you treat me as a potential enemy of most serious nature."

  Friendly advice—or a threat? "We are all potential enemies," Mintaka pointed out. "We may be forced to destroy the Ancient site in order to escape it. But first we must understand it, or our mission is pointless."

  Flint was paying lip-service to the Ancient-malevolence theory, but he was skeptical. Why hadn't Canopus already been taken over, if that were possible? And why should the Ancients set such a boobytrap? All he really knew of them was their star-dome, but that indicated that they had been artistic, philosophical, peaceful entities, not warriors. Spica had said the equipment could not act violently, and Flint had the impression that included taking over the mind of another entity by force. It was safer to assume that one of the creatures here was an Andromedan spy. By elimination, he had a strong notion of who that was. Except that it had an alibi.

  "Pursuing my prior line of reasoning," Flint said, "I suggest that those of us most able to kill in the fashion shown should be most suspect, and should therefore be treated with utmost caution. So Mintaka and I should enter the animation arena—if that is what it is—and try to make contact with the Ancients. The others should maintain close perception, and if only one of us emerges, that one should be immediately incapacitated, or killed if necessary." That put it on the line. If the Mintakan balked....

  "An excellent suggestion," Mintaka flashed. And rolled toward the great central plate below the suspended cage.

  So much for that ploy! Flint suddenly realized that if Mintaka were the spy, it could try to kill him in the guise of self-defense, claiming that he, Flint, had attacked it, so Flint must have been the spy. Or that one of them had been taken over by the Ancient aura. Who would be able to prove otherwise? By a similar token, if Mintaka were the spy, and attacked him, and he killed it he would be suspect as the survivor. He had fashioned a trap for himself! But he was committed now, and hurried after. Together they entered what they presumed to be the animation arena.

  Nothing happened. But why should it? It was necessary to imagine something. So he thought of Honeybloom, as he had known her: voluptuous, vibrant, lovely, her green body moving in that distracting way it had.

  And she formed, ghostly at first, then more firmly, as if the mind's artist were strengthening the key lines—except that her eyes were like lenses, and they flashed laser beams. An imperfect rendition, but definitely animation. He even saw the emblem of her Tarot card, the Qu
een of Liquid, with a brimming cup—

  "It strikes!" a voice cried in his translator.

  Flint charged out of the arena. The girl-figure faded.

  Polaris and Nath stood facing each other. Between them Spica lay puddled. Its suit had been holed, and though chamber pressure kept it from decompressing, the creature was obviously dead.

  Flint hefted his spear. "Which of you did it?" he demanded. And realized that this approach was futile; each would accuse the other, preventing him from ascertaining the truth. Impasse, again. Unless he could bluff: "I'll spear you both, if I have to!"

  "No, friend Sol," Polaris said. "I am innocent, and I know Nath would not do this thing."

  "And I know Polaris would not," Nath clicked. "Our Spheres have known each other long. We trust each other."

  "And we trust you," Polaris said. "A laser beam emerged from the swirl of the arena. Neither of us perceive specific light well, so could not ascertain its precise orientation, but there was no question."

  His vision of the flashing eye lenses! "It could not have been real!" Flint exclaimed. "An imaginary creature, a mere image, could not project a real—" Or could it? An image might clothe the shaping of existent forces. Had he inadvertently killed Spica?

  Then he realized: "Mirzam was the only one who could directly identify a true Mintakan—and it was the first one killed. Antares and Spica could have detected any additional transfer activity, such as an Andromedan transfer message—and they died. Our Mintakan must be a fake."

  "No," Polaris said. "The Mintakan is a genuine, physical representative of its species. But that species is not—" Suddenly he launched himself at Flint, his wheel screeching against the floor in the sheer velocity of takeoff.

  Flint dodged aside, bringing his spear about, but he was not quick enough. Polaris struck him, bowling him over—and simultaneously there was a flash.

  Flint flipped to his feet, raising his spear as the creature's wheel spun again. "Push-hook!" Nath clicked. "Polaris protects Sol!"

  About to spear Polaris, Flint realized it was true. The creature had not been attacking him, but knocking him out of the way of the laser. He shifted his weight and hurled his spear at the creature just emerging from the arena.

  They had all assumed that if a creature were a genuine Milky Way resident, it would be on their side. But if a creature were brainwashed or corrupted—

  His shaft bounced harmlessly off the metallic disks. Another beam shot out, creasing the fingers of his loft hand. The material of his suit melted, and his air leaked out.

  Flint clenched his fist tightly, closing off the leak. In a vacuum this would have been a useless expedient, but the chamber was pressurized by helium. "Polaris! Nath!" he cried. "We know our enemy now. You investigate the Ancient equipment. Get yourselves out of laser range. I'll tackle the spy." And he leaped toward the Mintakan.

  He had been face to face with his enemy all the time, and not known him. But now the battle had been joined.

  "What is the situation?" the voice of Canopus asked.

  But a laser caught Nath. The creature convulsed, its hooks firing out randomly, then lay flat. Apparently its central nervous complex had been burned out. Another down. Those beams were deadly.

  And Mintaka was already rolling after Polaris, who fled across the room and through a far doorway. "I will distract, you search!" it cried to Flint.

  Not much choice, now! Polaris could move faster than any human being could. Flint stepped onto the animation plate and made a wish for an Ancient. There was a swirl of mist, but no form developed.

  "Mintaka is our Andromedan spy," Flint explained while he concentrated on the animation.

  "But Mintaka had an alibi."

  "So it seemed. But those lasers are devastating. I'd say he can beam any potency from conversational to killing. He must have stunned Nath before, gone and killed Antares, used some device—maybe a specialized laser—to erase his trail, and returned before Nath recovered. Nath only thought Mintaka was with him all the time; Nath had been unconscious or in a trance. This is another resourceful, unscrupulous agent, and we're in trouble."

  "Sphere Mintaka cannot support Andromeda," Canopus protested. "Our entire galaxy will disintegrate! It must be a renegade, not representative of the government of Sphere Mintaka."

  "A traitor to its species," Flint agreed. "Maybe a condemned criminal, with nothing to lose, desiring vengeance. If any of us survive this, the authorities of Sphere Mintaka will have to be informed. Now let me concentrate."

  The Master was silent. Flint worked on the animation image, but it remained formless. The problem was, he had no idea what the Ancients had looked like, so could not re-create them.

  But their appearance was irrelevant! He had a notion of their spirit, for they had loved the stars of their home region as he did. And it was the Ancient science he wanted—and he had a fair notion of that. It was similar to contemporary transfer science, only more advanced, and this field itself was an example. "Define yourself!" Flint whispered to that field.

  "Explain, please."

  Flint jumped. But it was not an Ancient voice answering him, but H:::4, who had overheard his remark.

  "I'm talking to the Kirlian field, trying to get its secret," Flint explained."

  "Try visualizing the equations."

  "Good idea!" Flint animated the complex formulas he had memorized eidetically for spreading transfer technology. They took form in midair, the symbols of mathematical, engineering, and symbolic logic chains. He spread out the whole thing, then willed the complex calculus forward in thrust—beyond what he had in his mind.

  Suddenly the equations spread. Perhaps through some kind of animation-enhanced telepathy he was drawing the answers from the Ancient equipment, reducing the field itself to its conceptual expression. Perhaps the equipment was geared to provide this sort of information. Maybe the Ancients had wanted this technology to spread! At any rate, here it was.

  And Mintaka sliced into the room. Polaris was not in evidence; he had either been lost or killed. There was ichor on one of the disks: Polarian blood?

  It took Mintaka only a moment to appraise what he was doing. Then the laser beam flashed.

  Flint was a sitting duck. He threw himself to the floor, rolled, and flipped about to come at the disk-harrow feet first. It tried to move aside, but he caught the creature by surprise, and it was not made for sideways travel. His feet struck the disks, shoving them to the side. One of the end-tentacles wrapped around his left ankle and hauled his foot toward the nearest disk. The entire creature rolled, trying to pin his foot between the floor and the cutting edge.

  If Mintaka were represented by a Tarot suit, Flint thought amidst his desperate effort, it should be Solid; otherwise known as Disks.

  Flint had worked out a general plan of combat against this creature beforehand, in case of need. He had similar contingency plans for all of the group. It was the kind of thing he did automatically, as a Stone Age hunter who liked life. He jammed the reinforced heel of his right foot down between the first and second disks, forcing them apart in what had to be a painful hold. Then he grabbed the tentacle with his right hand and bent it at right angles. Like a pinched water hose it lost power, and he drew his left foot free.

  But now the body twisted. From between the farthest two disks another laser flashed, similar to the communications signal, but more intense. The beam missed him—but the next one wouldn't.

  Flint realized that the creature was too tough for him. Mintaka could finish him with a laser before he could knock him out. But at least he had bought time for his allies.

  His allies? Only Canopus remained, and H:::4 was not in immediate danger. Flint was fighting for his own life and information, nothing more.

  Yet there was more, something highly significant. But he could not identify it in the throes of this battle.

  He shoved violently with his feet, making the creature slide cross the floor. Before it could orient on him again, Flint leaped int
o the animation stage. And thought of himself.

  Suddenly there was another Flint beside him, his duplicate. Then two more, and four more. In moments a score of Flints were running around the arena, capering like monkeys. The Mintakan's ray speared one, but had no effect. "You can't hurt me, nyaa, nyaa!" that image mouthed. "I'm only a Doppelgänger."

  The laser struck another image. Then a third. It seemed the spy had plenty of power, and was prepared to wipe out every image in order to nail him in the end. The law of chance dictated that this effort would succeed in time.

  "Canopus!" Flint cried, and all his images mouthed it with him. Good thing the spy's translator couldn't orient specifically on the origin of the sound!

  "Sol," H:::4 replied. "How may I assist?"

  "Use your armament. Demolish this entire site. Kill every creature in it."

  "Do not do it!" Mintaka cried in translation. "Sol is the spy. He wants to prevent us from acquiring the Ancient's secrets."

  Time and again, Flint realized, this creature had raised seemingly valid points that had led them astray. Even the agreements had been camouflage, making it seem to be a true Mintakan in spirit as well as in body. But it had given itself away by that "Concurrence," which Flint now recognized as an Andromedan transfer-message convention. "I commence action," the Master said. "I am recording our dialogue, since I will be obliged to defend myself from suspicion as the sole survivor. Can you provide the key formulations?"

  "Yes," Flint said. He concentrated, and the equations appeared again, superimposed on the moving images of himself. "This is terrific! The Ancients had complete mastery of inorganic Kirlian aura: How to set up a field around energy that enables it to be transmitted any distance instantly, how to orient on any Kirlian transfer—"

  "Begin with that one," H:::4 said. "I shall ensure its arrival at all our Spheres."

  "Keep firing," Flint said. "If this spy survives me—and if any survive, it will be the Mintakan—it will ray you down. Destroy everything, and don't let anything you may see dissuade you. It will probably be an animation image calculated to deceive you."