Authors: Margaret Weis
"I have
that, as well," replied Raoul, smiling serenely, removing a vial
from the belt he wore around his waist, "but I did not think you
would take kindly to the suggestion. The painkiller takes effect
quickly. He will be ready to travel in only a few minutes."
"Good."
Xris stepped over and around hunks of broken steelglass. The cyborg
moved cautiously, the floor was slippery with oil and dead Corasians.
"See anything?"
Harry was
covering their exit. He shook his head.
"No, but
that wailing noise is slicing right through my skull! What the devil
do you figure it is?"
"An alarm
of some sort. We're about ready to move out. We head down this
passage, then into another one of these caverns. Off that, there
should be another passage leading to the computer room."
"How's
Britt?"
"That shot
tore hell out of his leg. He's in shock, lost a lot of blood. But the
Loti's giving him something. He'll be feeling no pain, at least."
"Goes till
he drops over dead, huh, boss?"
"You got a
better suggestion?" Xris asked grimly.
Harry glanced
down at the dead Corasians, shook his head. "No, boss. Sorry."
Britt hobbled up
to meet them. "This guy's a genius." He threw his arm
around Raoul, squeezed him tight. "The leg feels great! I feel
great! In fact, I've never felt this good in my whole life!"
The Loti flushed
delicately, shook his head in modest deprecation.
"Who
knows," Britt continued with ghastly cheerfulness, "I might
have 'em amputate the damn leg, give me one like yours, Xris."
"You should
be so lucky," said the cyborg, smiling.
Britt laughed,
limped ahead, on down the tunnel.
"You and
Bernard stay with him," Xris ordered Harry, who nodded.
The cyborg
glanced down at the rock floor, at the bloody footprints his friend
left behind.
Taking a twist
from his pocket, Xris stuck it between his teeth.
"Yeah, you
should be so lucky."
... I fled and
cried out
Death!
Hell trembled at
the hideous name, and sighed From all her caves, and back resounded
Death!
John Milton,
Paradise Lost
The tunnel was
dark, silent, dimly lit by the flickering light coming from the
cavern ahead. Maigrey and her small force moved forward cautiously,
Agis in front, the half-breed guarding the rear. When they reached
the entrance to the machine room, the mind-dead opened fire.
Laser bursts
exploded around them. Apparently, as Agis said grimly, this area of
the caverns was "safe" for laser fire, probably due to the
presence of the machines. Nuke lamps hung from various portions of
the machinery's anatomy, lit the room. The lamps swung and rocked
with the machinery's pounding vibrations, their light stabbed
erratically here and there, caused the shadows to expand and
contract, made the lifeless metal come alive.
The four took
refuge behind one of the strange machines that looked as if it had
been designed by a drug-crazed Loti on a bad trip, and attempted to
get a fix on the enemy's position. It became quickly obvious that
they were outnumbered, outgunned, and pinned down. They fought until
the beam rifles were drained of energy, the lasguns' firepower
depleted. They flung the useless weapons to the floor, drew dart
pistols and bolt guns, and fought on.
Time and again,
the mind-dead could have taken them. Time and again, it seemed that
their position must be overrun. But the enemy held back.
And then,
abruptly, all firing ceased.
"What does
it mean?" whispered Brother Daniel. Creeping up to Agis, he
handed the centurion what spent bolts and darts he'd been able to
glean from those fired at them. "I'm sorry.
This is all the
ammunition I could find. But perhaps they've gone?"
"Not
likely," said Agis grimly. He'd taken a bolt in the right arm,
was white-faced with the pain, but had transferred his gun to his
left hand and continued fighting. "Regrouping for the final
assault."
Sparafucile
perched above them on a ledge formed by a part of the machine. His
rags hung around him. His eyes, peering intently into the darkness,
gleamed with blood lust. He held long knives in both hands and
reminded Maigrey of some hulking, sharp-taloned bird of ill omen,
eager to swoop down and deal death.
"I think
there be nothing out there," said the half-breed. He sounded
disappointed.
"Impossible,"
Agis snapped, fighting against the pain of his wound. "They're
trying to trick us, make us let down our guard."
"No,"
said Maigrey, "Sparafucile's right. They're gone. They were
ordered to go."
She stood up,
looked past the machines to the opposite side of the room, to a
cavern in which it seemed she had lived herself for these last weeks.
"It's safe.
We can go on." But she didn't move, except to lower her
bloodsword, close her eyes.
She was
exhausted. And it wasn't physical fatigue. A little rest, time to
catch her breath, ease cramped muscles, and her body would be able to
proceed. It was her spirit that longed to crawl quietly into darkness
and find refuge there, as had Sagan's. She was frightened, frightened
for her men, for Dion, frightened for Sagan, for herself.
Fear was
Abdiel's weapon. She knew it. She continued to try to fight, but it
was a losing battle. She was alone, the silver armor that protected
her flesh could not save her spirit from the continued jabs that
portrayed to her the lives of those bitten by the serpent's tooth,
the soul forced to watch in appalled horror from behind prison walls
erected by the mind.
"My lady!
Are you hurt?" Brother Daniel asked, hovering.
Maigrey shook
her head, smiled bitterly. "That would be difficult. Not a shot
came near me. See to Agis's wound."
Sagan. She
needed Sagan. She couldn't bear being alone like this.
Agis leaned up
against a portion of the machine, was trying unsuccessfully to tie a
crude bandage around his arm.
"Let me do
that," offered Daniel. "Move over here, into the light."
"It's
nothing," said the centurion, jerking away from the priest's
touch.
"That's an
order, Agis," said Maigrey.
She looked
around. Sparafucile had leapt from his perch, disappeared into the
darkness on some errand of his own. Maigrey, sighing, turned back to
the centurion.
"How bad is
it?"
"Not as bad
as it might have been," said Brother Daniel.
The priest
probed the wound with gentle expert hands. Agis stood quiet beneath
Daniel's touch, jaw clenched, lips pressed tightly together. "A
small explosive charge on the tip drove the dart through his armor,
but the armor still kept it from penetrating too deeply and entering
the bone."
"Can you
take it out?" Agis asked. Sweat glistened on his face.
"Yes. But
it's one of the barbed kind."
"I know.
You have to push it on through. Go ahead. If you're strong enough."
Agis looked into Brother Daniel's pale face.
"I'm strong
enough," the priest said quietly. "I have some painkiller
in my kit, but I don't suppose you'd take it."
Agis shook his
head, braced himself.
Maigrey knelt
beside him. "Hold on to me," she said.
At first, she
thought he would refuse, but then his hand clasped around her
forearm. She took hold of his arm and held tightly.
"Lord Sagan
is in the next room," she said to divert his mind from what must
come.
"I won't
take you by surprise," said Brother Daniel. "It's best to
be prepared. When I count three. One ..."
"The
chamber is large and filled with the burning water. Four bridges span
it, meeting in the center."
Two . . .
Maigrey felt
Agis's grip on her arm tighten. He kept his eyes open, focused on
her. "Yes, my lady," he said steadily. "Go on."
"There are
four entrances into the room, located at ninety-degree angles from
each other. You and Sparafucile will guard those while Brother Daniel
and I—"
"Three."
Brother Daniel
gave a sudden shove. Agis caught his breath, stifled a groan. His
eyes shut, his fingers clenched painfully over Maigrey's arm. She
held him fast. He drew a deep, quivering breath, relaxed his grip.
Brother Daniel
held up the blood-covered bolt for Agis to see, then sprayed the
wound with the combination bandage and disinfectant he carried with
him in his medkit.
"This will
numb your arm. I can't help that," he said, seeing Agis's frown.
"It's either that or you'll bleed to death."
Maigrey offered
him her canteen. "Only water. I wish it were stronger."
Agis took it,
smiled at her. "Thank you, my lady."
"Don't
thank me. Thank Brother Daniel."
"All thanks
should be offered to God," said the priest. Packing up his kit,
he stood up, reached out his hand to Agis.
The centurion
hesitated, then slowly raised his hand to the priest's. Brother
Daniel eased Agis to a standing position, steadied him when he swayed
on his feet.
"I'll be
fine. Where's the half-breed?"
"Here,"
said Sparafucile, materializing out of the darkness as if he were
made of it and had only decided at the last moment to take shape and
form. "I bring weapons. The dead provide." He gestured. "It
safe to go on. I look. Dead-ones gone."
Of course,
it's safe to proceed. I have cleared the way. I would have enjoyed
amusing myself with you longer, but Dion's spaceplane is arriving,
and I must put my forces to better use. The young man has brought the
bomb with him. Extremely thoughtful, to save me the trouble of going
after it. Yes, my dear, I'm to have that, too.
I should warn
Dion, Maigrey thought, and it took an effort to think, just as it
seemed to take an effort to breathe. No, she decided wearily. He
knows the danger already.
Sparafucile
plucked at her sleeve. "We wait here long enough, maybe more
mind-dead come to let us kill them. Except maybe this time they find
their aim and kill us."
"He's
right, my lady," said Agis. "We should leave this place."
"It's the
silver armor," she told him. "It's so heavy. I could walk
easier if it weren't for the armor."
They were all
staring at her, puzzled, concerned.
Maigrey shook
her head. "Never mind." She sighed, and moved on.
"Xris!"
called Lee urgently.
The cyborg
halted, turned.
Britt had
collapsed. He lay on the floor of the dark tunnel, Lee's arm cradling
his head.
"Sorry,
Xris. Damn stuff that poisoner gave me's makin' me drowsy. I'll take
a little nap—" His eyes closed.
"Sure,"
said Xris, kneeling beside him. "You rest. We'll pick you up on
the way ..."
"He can't
hear you, Xris. " Lee laid the flaccid body down on the rock
floor. "He's gone."
Xris removed the
half-smoked twist from the corpse's ashen lips, tossed it with a
sudden, angry jerk to one side of the passage. Then he stood up.
"Move out."
"We just
gonna leave him?" Harry demanded.
"He's not
going to care one way or the other now. Go on. Move out."
The others left.
Xris stood a moment longer, staring down at the body. "You'd
have made a rotten cyborg anyway."
They continued
down the tunnel, moving warily, weapons drawn. No red glow appeared,
however. The corridor was dark, silent. Rounding a corner, they came
to a section where several passageways converged.
Xris motioned to
his companions to fall back. Cautiously, keeping his body flat
against the wall, he looked down one of the passages. About ten
meters distant, at the end of the long corridor, was a dimly lit
room, filled with banks of winking, blinking light. He adjusted his
vision, enhanced the image, brought it nearer. He could see the
computers themselves now, in sharp focus.
"That's
their main frame system?" he muttered. "Hell, I haven't
seen anything like that outside of a museum."
"Sure seems
quiet," said Lee uneasily.
"Sure does.
I don't like it." Xris flattened himself against the wall.
Actually, it
wasn't quiet. Strange machines were clanking and clattering and
pounding, added to that were whining and whirring sounds he could
hear coming from the antique computers and the teeth-jarring wail of
a siren. But Xris knew what Lee meant. It was too damn quiet.
The cyborg
risked another look at the room that housed the Corasians central
computer system. It was large and would have ordinarily been dark,
since Corasians needed no lights by which to work. But nuke lamps had
been added, probably for the convenience of the mind-dead, whose
human eyes required light to see.
Two of die
mind-dead stood outside the door of the room. Guards, most likely. By
their rigid, unmoving stances, they could have been either asleep or
truly dead, but he had the distinct and unpleasant feeling that they
were very much awake and alive.
He pulled back.
Two zombies guarding the entrance. No sign of Corasians, though. I
wonder where those bastards have got to all of a sudden.''
"They are
preparing to attack the young king and steal the space-rotation
bomb,' stated Raoul.
Xris dared at
him. "Oh, yeah? How the hell do you know that?"
"I do not
know. The Little One knows."
"He reads
Corasian minds, too?" Xris eyed the raincoated figure
suspiciously.
"He reads
the collective mind. It is not pleasant for him and he does not enjoy
it. Corasians think of little else except devouring."
"So where
are they now?" Xris asked, putting a twist in his mouth.
"They have
an army, massed on the surface. When the spaceplane belonging to the
young king sets down, they will launch an attack. Mind-dead fight
among them. What are we to do?"