The Dark Path

by Walter H Hunt

  She hadn't stopped him. He never looked back. Her promotion to commodore had given her the Cicero command, but it had never been the same.

  Now at last, back in the present, somewhere in the deep and unstructured void of her mind she put her head in her hands and cried as she had not done in many years, and another part of her cursed herself for feeling self-pity. It wasn't as if feeling remorse or anger or pain could change the past . . .

  Jackie.

  Slowly she lifted her head up again, taking her hands away from her eyes, to behold a scene of wondrous beauty. In the void, no longer formless but filled with pastel-colored patterns that slowly changed according to some unknown harmony, were three crystalline figures: herself, Ch'k'te and a zor female she knew to be Th'an'ya—two zor and a human, two living and one but a memory, two Sensitives and one untrained . . . and over and around them, she perceived the ethereal enfolding wings of another mind, Ch'k'te and yet not Ch'k'te. It was a sort of meta-Ch'k'te, a name she attached to the protective consciousness that held them all and protected them from the gently shifting chaos all around.

  What has happened? Jackie asked, looking at her translucent hand and through it the void around her.

  Breakthrough, meta-Ch'k'te said, from all around. We have brought forth si Th'an'ya, whose skills we need, and you have Remembered in sufficiency to restore your persona.

  I am sorry if it was a painful experience, se Jackie, Ch'k'te said. My soul-mate, he added, gesturing toward the crystalline form of Th'an'ya. My comrade-in-arms, he said to Th'an'ya, jointing to Jackie.

  Your hsi is strong, Th'an'ya said to her.

  We must reach the Gyaryu'har, meta-Ch'k'te said.

  Without indicating assent, Th'an'ya's mind reached out across the void, taking the other entities with it.

  It was a profoundly skillful mind. Th'an'ya was more adept than anyone Jackie had ever experienced—certainly more powerful than Ch'k'te, and more than a match for any of the Sensitives that had examined her when she entered the Service. It was more than just power. While the Navy Sensitives had almost made her skin crawl with their disdainful, burrowing minds, Th'an'ya was like a sculptor or even a graceful dancer, weaving a pattern from the chaos even as they seemed to hurtle through it.

  As they traveled, the light around them grew brighter, pulsating rhythmically. Slowly shadows and shapes began to form, then whirling, geometric patterns of two and three and more dimensions—and suddenly Jackie recognized what they were: minds, human as well as alien. The human minds seemed to be arranged in patterns that were almost familiar, spinning off stray surface-thoughts like sparks from a pinwheel during an Emperor's Birthday celebration; the zor minds seemed familiar as well, though their patterning was totally different and betrayed far less of their inner composition.

  But there were other minds as well, and Jackie felt them as distant, hovering shapes, waving tendrils in the ether, as if they sensed a presence but could not determine its location.

  How will we find se Sergei? Jackie asked.

  By his pattern, Th'an'ya replied. I can see it.

  Jackie looked ahead of her and noticed that a shape was coming into view: a pattern of eleven glowing points, with the helix of a human mind hovering within.

  He dreams, Th'an'ya said, hovering at a respectful distance. Surely we intrude—

  The need is great, meta-Ch'k'te said. We must wait for the dream to pass.

  ***

  They had placed a mask upon his face, that he might not see them; they had taken his blade, that he might not fight them. Thus, blind and unarmed, he came at last to the Fortress, high in the crags of the Icewall. The storm raged, though he felt no rain upon his back; the lightnings split the sky, though he felt no fear.

  The force of Despite had no power over him as he journeyed, for it no longer inhabited this land. It had come to him during his travels and it had slain him, though his body lived on.

  The Fortress jutted from a great promontory, overlooking a flight of steps spanning uncounted kilometers. He had climbed them all, impervious to cold and pain and fatigue, a young man in his dreams; the steps had not been difficult to traverse, for Despite welcomes those who come to it willingly.

  As he expected, there was a guardian.

  "Admiral," he said, for he was able to see in this land.

  "Sergei, why have you come here?"

  "I have chosen this flight, Admiral, hi Ke'erl dreamed that the esGa'uYal would come here."

  "As they have." A flash of lightning illuminated Marais' visage, looking stonily down at him. "The Deceiver, who once sought to separate the People from the naZora'i, has sent his minions here. Now he brings another race to bear, delivering both naZora'i and the People into his hands. Still he knows that we are not weaponless before him."

  "I do not understand."

  "You could not understand. It is beyond your comprehension, just as it was beyond mine. esLi knows, for He knows esGa'u. He has sent me to bring you a message in this hour of dishonor, to plant the seed of esGa'u's destruction."

  "What seed shall I plant?"

  "esGa'u cannot destroy the body, so he shall destroy the soul. In the hour of darkness, He shall provide one to lead you into the talons of Despite and thus destroy yourselves. It will be a matter of enGa'e'Li: the Strength of Madness.

  "You shall be free and you will destroy; for this you will be judged. esLi has seen this. You will plant the seed of the hatred, Sergei. This seed that was formed while I lived and when you were young. The road is long and narrow, but ultimately leads only one way."

  "Who will tread this road?"

  "The Destroyer," the Admiral answered. The lightning flashed again and he saw the Admiral reach to his face. Sergei realized with a start that the Admiral, too, was wearing a mask: a smiling, sneering caricature of the face he had worn in life. As he pulled it aside, Sergei found himself backing away, while his eyes remained riveted upon the true face of Admiral Ivan Marais: esHu'ur, the Dark Wing, bringer of destruction, the awful, grinning visage of death . . .

  Sergei toppled from the high cliff and fell into infinity, feeling the grasping tendrils of the esGa'uYal upon him. He opened his eyes, praying that the mask would not prevent him from seeing these predators before he perished. Instead he felt himself buoyed up and saw instead familiar hsi-forms: two zor and a human.

  ***

  Suddenly the crystalline form of the Gyaryu'har materialized before them, as if it had fallen from a great height. It was se Sergei and yet not, for his form was enfolded in a zor's wings.

  "se Sergei," Ch'k'te said. "You were dreaming . . . I humbly ask eight thousand pardons for the transgression of touching your mind, but the need is great. My Ssthe'e-self will protect us for a short time."

  He gestured around them, indicating the ethereal form of meta-Ch'k'te. "We are several hours away," Ch'k'te continued. "We sought to recover the gyaryu, and we hope to rescue you as well."

  "You are truly . . ." Sergei's mind was in clear turmoil for a few moments as he looked from face to face. "The aliens have stolen your form, se Commodore, as well as yours, se Commander, though I am the only one who could tell the difference. They have restrained me so that I could not see them.

  "As for you, si Th'an'ya—I see that what you foresaw has come to pass."

  "saShrne'e," she answered, inclining her head. "The shroud is pulled aside."

  Ch'k'te looked at her for a moment, his wings forming in a position of curious inquiry.

  "How many aliens are there?" Ch'k'te asked.

  "Six at least. I cannot be sure."

  "What others have they replaced?" Jackie asked. "Do they have the run of the base?"

  "Commander Noyes and my aide have been replaced," Sergei replied. "It appears they have kept to the same routines in order that they might not attract attention. There was a report of trouble at Cicero Op, but that appears to have been passed over. At the moment it is as if they are waiting for something."

  "We'll get you out of t
here."

  "The gyaryu," Sergei said, reaching a crystalline hand down to touch an empty scabbard. "That is far more important—I am not; at least not without the sword—I am merely an old man. Recover the blade and return it to the High Nest."

  "You're damn important—" Jackie began, but she stopped suddenly as the pastels of the void suddenly became dark and milky. Swirling patterns of light formed themselves into tendrils that struck against the form of meta-Ch'k'te.

  "Go. Quickly." Sergei raised his wings in an invocation to esLi and vanished.

  The buffeting grew stronger, and the echoing silence of the void was replaced by a peculiar buzz. meta-Ch'k'te raised his wings in alarm as the tendrils buffeted him, breaking shards away from his form. Th'an'ya extended her wings to cover Jackie, and a rainbow of light sprang from her in all directions—

  Somewhere in the distance a dark and quivering form be came visible. It was a huge misshapen thing with many tentacles; it seemed to reach across an enormous distance to grasp them. There was little hope in trying to outrun it.

  meta-Ch'k'te braced for its touch and a cloud of dread swept through the link, as each awaited the attack of the alien mind. Instead, however, the reaching member struck meta-Ch'k'te like a sledgehammer, shattering him into uncountable fragments and sending the others spinning into the void, unable to control their flight.

  Jackie saw the cliffside approaching, its surface sparkling with jagged ice. It was immense, extending for as far as she could see up or down. She knew she would strike it, and that it would shatter her, leaving her easy prey for the monster behind.

  It was the Icewall, the boundary of the Plain of Despite, the insuperable barrier that kept the minions of esGa'u from escaping onto the plane of normal existence. Its presence meant that esGa'u had come at last, bringing the Plain of Despite with him, to rule and conquer . . . and there was no escape.

  She struck the wall and shattered. Each of her tiny fragments cried out in pain until, at last, darkness overtook them.

  Chapter 9

  "se Jackie."

  She let her eyes open slowly, fearing what she might see this time.

  What she saw was the tent illuminated by the pale reddish rays of a sun low on the horizon. They struck Ch'k'te, cloaking him in crimson.

  She looked at herself and took inventory. She was solid (Good start, she thought) and in human form, though her shoulders felt like they'd been in a vise for several hours. She was still wearing her cold-weather suit and she was dripping with sweat inside it. Ch'k'te looked exhausted; his wings drooped and his arms hung loosely at his sides.

  It suddenly felt strange for just the two of them to be there. Jackie had become accustomed to the feel of Th'an'ya and to the enfolding presence of meta-Ch'k'te, even though it couldn't have been more than a few hours. Similarly, the tent felt close and confining after the limitless reaches of the void through which their minds had traveled.

  Then the memory of the Icewall came back to her. It was like a physical blow.

  "Christ," she tried to say, and found that her mouth was dry as dust. Ch'k'te held out his canteen to her and she drank slowly, watching the sun set through the transparent flap of the tent.

  She looked at her chronometer and confirmed that it was evening. Nearly a full day had passed since Ch'k'te had forged the mental link to reach the Gyaryu'har.

  She turned to him. Every muscle proclaimed its agony. "Report," she said.

  "The link was broken. Something detected us. se Sergei separated, and then something forcibly destroyed the link."

  "Does this 'something' know now that we're alive and nearby? Did it overhear what se Sergei said to us?"

  "I do not know. It is possible."

  "Shit." She tried to settle herself into a less uncomfortable position. "We're screwed now, Ch'k'te. We're completely screwed. We might as well walk up to the goddamned landing-field gate and wave an Imperial banner. They know we're coming and they'll be waiting for us."

  Then, as she sat trying to unkink the muscles in her lower back, her expression changed. "Wait a minute . . .

  "se Sergei said there were only a few of these aliens at Cicero Down and that they'd taken the place of key personnel, including the two of us, but that most people on base didn't even know a switch had taken place.

  "Suppose we carry it a step further—suppose we make no attempt at disguise but simply go in disguised as ourselves. Only a few individuals can't be fooled by that, and we're not going to surprise them anyway."

  "Surely they will know of our presence sooner or later."

  "Yes, I imagine they will." She looked away again, out through the tent-flap. "But hopefully we can reach my office first."

  "Your office?"

  "Commander's privilege," she said. "I'll explain if we get there."

  Ch'k'te remained silent, unwilling to inquire further.

  "Six individuals, Ch'k'te. We may only have to worry about six individuals, two of whom will look exactly like us."

  "If they indeed know we are coming, there is considerable risk. And even if they do not, what if we meet 'ourselves'?"

  By way of answer, Jackie reached for her gunbelt and secured it around her waist.

  ***

  They crossed the snow plain under an almost moonless sky, making them virtually invisible to visual surveillance. There was no sound other than the ceaseless howling of the wind. It was even colder at night, though with the cold-weather suits and facemasks, it hardly penetrated to their bodies. The necessity for keeping warm enforced isolation, preventing conversation while they were moving.

  While they were resting from a particularly strenuous uphill climb, Jackie broke the silence.

  "I want to know what happened, Ch'k'te, but first I want to clarify something else, se Sergei knew si Th'an'ya and didn't even seem surprised to see her."

  "li Th'an'ya was known to the High Nest," Ch'k'te said. He bent to examine the bindings on his skis.

  "Nice try."

  Ch'k'te straightened and looked at Jackie. "I beg your pardon?"

  "He knew her, Ch'k'te. Not only that, he was not surprised to see her even though she's transcended the Outer Peace. You didn't expect to find her hsi in your mind . . . but he did."

  "I am not certain of that. But if it is true, what does it mean?"

  "I don't know. But he told her that what she'd foreseen had come to pass. He told me several days ago, in not so many words, that he had come to Cicero precisely because he thought something was going to happen here."

  "I am certain that se Sergei was here for that reason, li Th'an'ya was a powerful precognitive; I am sure that is what he meant."

  "There's more to it than that."

  "Perhaps so. I cannot say."

  Jackie looked away at the dark sky, filled with the diamond points of distant stars.

  "Tell me about what happened."

  Ch'k'te turned away. "Eight thousand pardons, se Jackie—"

  "I'm not asking for an apology, just an explanation. I want to understand it."

  "It was a dangerous thing to do, especially with an alien mind, but I was . . ."

  "Desperate."

  "An accurate description. I realized that I was not strong enough to reach the Gyaryu'har. Then I sensed the presence of my soul-mate's hsi . . . and with her help I realized that I might be able to succeed. She did not know that she was . . ."

  "A memory? And you had to convince her?"

  He looked at her then, the profile of his face etched in starlit shadow.

  "li Th'an'ya was assigned to be a part of an exploratory mission, which was lost. We linked and mated the night before she departed; the ship misjumped or crashed. In any event she never returned.

  "She left her hsi-pattern within my mind. The hsi I found during our link was far stronger than I would have expected. When I sensed it, I realized that she had left much of herself behind in me."

  "What does it mean for her to have left hsi behind that way?"

  "She was
a powerful Sensitive, se Jackie." Ch'k'te looked down at his hands. "She could not have continued to function thus without so much of her hsi. She must have known that she would not return.

  "Every person's hsi is different, never seen before, never to be repeated again. With her pattern so strong, I reasoned that I could make use of that strength. What happened . . ."

  "You didn't expect her to take over. To take me over."

  "I expected . . . No. I did not expect that. I can only again ask eight thousand pardons and thank esLi that your hsi was strong enough for you to Remember."

  "I remembered, all right, though I don't think I'd ever really forgotten."

  "There is a difference between Remembering and remembering." She saw his shoulders flex in a certain way, as if he were trying to position his wings. "Th'an'ya displaced you in such a way that I might have had to break the link if she had permitted me. As it was, you reached a rather primitive point of self-awareness and worked back through your Academy and Service experiences until your emotions returned you to us."

  Her mind jumped across several of the images she had experienced the night before: Moonbase, Big Fredericks, the time on the beach, Dan McReynolds . . . "Wait a minute. How do you know—"

  "I . . . we . . . observed the process."

  Jackie's stomach jumped. "You were watching? I spilled my guts out! I was fighting back from whatever damn place your mate put me in, half zor and half human, torn apart from all the crap that I went through over the last fifteen years, and you sat by and watched!" Ch'k'te didn't reply.

  She grasped him by the shoulders. "You bastard! You put me through that and you didn't raise a talon to help?"

  "There might have been some therapeutic effects—"

  "I don't need therapy, damn it! I didn't need to have it all thrown back at me—"

  "—and further, it was not something I could control. I had no choice."

  "What the hell do you mean?"