Shade's Children (21 page)

There were seven Overlords sitting on seven thrones in the domed tower. Each of the thrones was carved from translucent stone in the Overlord’s primary color and lit within by a soft light. They were also engraved with scenes of battle and decorated with weapon and skull motifs. A carpet the color of dried blood ran at the foot of the thrones, the ends tasseled with polished white rods that looked all too like human finger bones.

The thrones sat on a low balcony shaped like a crescent moon. Ninde had been right in thinking the tower looked like an observatory. It was—an observatory where the Overlords watched their battles.

The space under the dome was filled with holographic images, the colors and action bleeding between a dozen different, constantly shifting scenes. Every few minutes one image would expand to fill the whole dome, shrinking back only when it became less violent or otherwise lost the Overlords’ interest. Then another horror would take its place.

Myrmidons decapitating each other; impaling enemies; stamping out Claim Fires, the flames licking at their feet. Images of Trackers finding cleverly hidden Myrmidons, now counterambushed. Glimpses of Wingers fighting in midair, ripping the throats from their enemies, losers tumbling from the sky.

There was sound, too, but muted, like some ferocious musical background. Screams and shouts of rage and pain, half heard as if from far away.

It was clear these battles were happening right now. Creatures were fighting and dying at the whim of the Overlords, whose greedy eyes remained fixed upward at the terrible sights taking place beyond their walls.

Here they wore helmets and soft clothes instead of armor. Four men and three women, they were outwardly indistinguishable from the humans they tormented and used in their awful games.

Before the Change, none of them would have looked out of place in a supermarket, except for a certain cruelty that shone in their eyes.

All of them were watching the holograms, occasionally making notations with light pens on the electronic map boards in the arms of their thrones.

The sun had almost set on the images of battle that flickered above them. When the last orange-red light finally drifted away, the fighting stopped and the holographic globes switched to show Ferrets waking in their nests, ready to issue out for their less formal combats.

One scene, showing Ferrets coming out of a manhole in a park, grew larger, expanding till it filled most of the dome. The Ferrets, their long, sinuous bodies pressed against the concrete pathway, were obviously on the track of something. One caught a scent and hissed, quickly leaving the path to lope across the grass. Ahead of it, a child suddenly broke cover from behind some bushes. A ragged, dirty boy, something like Gold-Eye had once been, he got only twenty yards before the Ferrets dragged him down, their long drinking fangs flashing in the yellow light from the park lanterns as they began to feed. Two of the watching Overlords laughed.

The scene dwindled then, and the globes sorted themselves out to show twelve separate locations. At the same time, the large double doors opposite the Overlords’ thrones opened, and four white-clad Myrmidon Masters marched in, the Shade spider robot between them.

The Overlords looked down at him from the holograms as if seeing a particularly unpleasant dog brought in by the dogcatchers.

Finally, Red Diamond—a fattish, pasty-faced man with long thin hair combed across a balding scalp—stood up from his blood-red throne. But he didn’t speak aloud. Instead he subvocalized, his words transmitted to the others and Shade by the communications system that rode on the Projector net.

Red Diamond: It is the machine-mind Shade.

Shade: I have come to collect what we bargained for. The body-construction data and access to an appropriate laboratory.

Red Diamond: It is agreed that I will speak for the Council.

Shade: Good. Unblock the data and grant me access to the lab. I am keen to get started.

Red Diamond: You may be interested to know that the two other animal subjects somehow survived their fall. They were seen in the river, obviously alive.

Shade: So? That is irrelevant. I have delivered two to you.

Red Diamond: It means we can get two more if the ones we have die…when you do.

At the word
die
, Red Diamond suddenly snapped up a metal tube he had by his side and fired a white-hot beam of energy straight through the spider robot. Liquid metal and molten crystal exploded everywhere, splashing across the Myrmidons. Not a creature moved until Red Diamond strode down and examined the smoking wreckage of the spider robot. The Thinker inside was almost completely melted. Whatever it had once housed was totally destroyed.

Red Diamond: The machine-mind is terminated. You—bring the animal subjects here. If they’re still alive. And clean up this mess, and yourselves.

Black Banner: I trust they are still alive. Since one of them is mine.

Emerald Crown: They are common property. That has been decided. Of course, if you do not want to abide by the rules…

Black Banner: No, no. I simply forgot.

He smiled as this was transmitted, obviously lying. None of the other Overlords smiled back, but one of the women—the oldest of them, by the look of her white hair and wrinkled skin, stood up from her gold throne.

Gold Claw: These animals have proven troublesome enough without causing quarrels among us. Let us examine them, decide who shall carry out the investigations…but not now! I must prepare my plan for the battle tomorrow with Blue Star. I believe that success in that battle may well place the trophy in my hands come year end-and that is much more important than the genetic peculiarities of animals, however useful!

All the Overlords instinctively turned on the word
trophy
and looked at a small golden figurine locked behind a translucent window on the far side of the room. Only six inches high, it represented two Myrmidons in the act of running each other through with broad-bladed spears. The small bronze plate beneath the statuette was inscribed with lines of symbols. There were fifteen altogether, each the name of the Overlord who had won the most battles in the fifteen years since the Change.

Red Diamond: Very well. We all have battles to plan. We shall decide on the animals’ disposal the day after tomorrow.

Despite their all-night cycle ride, Ella and Drum slept for only four hours before resuming their journey in midmorning. Both feared that Shade would tell the Overlords of the plan to attack the Grand Projector. Equally worrying was the thought that the Deceptor batteries would run out before they got there.

Fortunately the whole area seemed totally empty of creatures. And both Ella and Drum were now freshly equipped with warm clothes and ski parkas, sleeping bags, and new backpacks stuffed with rope, packaged foods, and other odds and ends. Drum also had a long steel pinch bar, thrust through his belt as a replacement for his lost sword.

It was sunny again too, the air crisp and clean, the sky blue. Both felt heartened and as optimistic as they ever got. Neither wanted to think ahead to what they would actually do when they reached the Grand Projector.

By one o’clock they were three quarters of the way up the access road and just starting to encounter patches of ice and shadowed areas of frozen snow, mixed in with short yellow grass and gray-green stones. They also got their first glimpse of Mount Silverstone—and the Grand Projector.

The mountain was easy to spot. It was a great jumble of enormous gray stones shot through with silvery mica, piling up to form a small peak above the rest of the Crookback Range. It even did shine like silver when the sun caught it, though Mount Graystone would have been a more accurate name.

The Grand Projector was harder to make out, but there clearly was some sort of building on top of the mountain. A tower, perhaps seven or eight stories high—and light-colored, so it was hard to see against the sky.

Ella was staring at it, wrinkling her eyes against the sun, when Drum tapped her elbow and said, “Battery warning.”

“But I changed it only an hour ago!” exclaimed Ella, looking down at the red half-charge light flashing. “It was one of the spares, fully charged…. Ah…”

She looked back up at the distant tower on top of the mountain.

“The Grand Projector,” she said. “If it’s draining the batteries at this distance, we won’t have any power left at all when we get close.”

“I haven’t seen any creatures,” offered Drum, shrugging. “So it may not matter.”

“They’ll be there,” said Ella. “Somewhere. Come on.”

It was a hard slog up the access road. The ground rose more than a thousand feet from Vanson up to the ridge, in less than a mile of horizontal distance.

Probably only a ten-minute ride in the cable cars, thought Ella, as she crossed under the cables again, the shadow of one of the pylons giving her a temporary chill.

It was clear they’d only just make the top of the ridge by dusk and would have to seek shelter. The late-afternoon sun was already failing to deliver much heat, and the clouds were coming down. Mount Silverstone had already vanished into their wet, hidden depths, and the ridge would soon follow.

Ella knew that sitting clouds and no wind meant a warmer night than a clear sky and a chilling breeze. But every time they stopped for a rest, the air bit at her face and she felt colder than she ever had before, despite her ski clothes.

Finally the road leveled out on the ridge, sweeping around the cable-car station and a restaurant building to merge with a parking lot still occupied by four-wheel drives, a small bulldozer, and several bright-orange snowmobiles.

Beyond the parking lot, a boarded trail led off along the ridge, across boggy heather till it disappeared into cloud forty yards out. A sign at the trail-head read,
MOUNT SILVERSTONE WALKING TRACK. THREE MILES. MEDIUM DIFFICULTY
.

“We’d better find some shelter till morning,” panted Ella, leaning forward to massage the muscles at the front of her thighs. “Unless you think we should go on.”

“No,” said Drum, looking out at the befogged track, his breath steaming out in front of him. “I think we’d freeze—and we need a good rest. Better to get a fresh start tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” said Ella absently, noting the only two buildings on the desolate ridge—the cable-car station and a large, multiwindowed structure proclaiming itself
AL PINE’S LOOKOUT RESTAURANT
.

“Tomorrow,” she continued, still speaking as if trying to convince herself that it was possible. “Tomorrow we destroy the Grand Projector.”

Ninde and Gold-Eye had no idea how long they’d been in the cell when the white-clad Myrmidon Masters came to get them out. Judging by the meals delivered, it was at least thirty-six hours, maybe more. Ninde had a watch, but it had ceased working back on the railway bridge—perhaps from the shock of the grenade explosion.

They’d talked and slept for most of those hours but hadn’t even tried to make love. Desire had slipped away from them. And they felt watched all the time. Both also remembered Shade’s comment about breeding, too, though neither mentioned it.

It was enough to lie together on the bed. To talk about their early lives, the slight differences between their Dorms, the people who’d been important to them. Talk that somehow shared and lessened their unspoken fears without directly mentioning them.

Then the Myrmidon Masters were at the door, two of them filling the frame with their bulky forms. Ninde was in the small bathroom, washing her face, when she heard the door open. For a moment she thought they might take Gold-Eye by himself, and dashed back out, her face still dripping water.

But the Myrmidons wanted both of them, and propelled them out through many corridors and several doors, till they came to a set of double doors ornamented with heavy golden bosses.

Here they waited for a moment till the doors swung open. Beyond lay the Battle Room, with its seven Overlords sitting, lolling, and even sleeping on their thrones of lit stone. Above them scenes of mayhem shone in the domed ceiling, and the whisper of battle filled the room.

Gold-Eye and Ninde were pushed in. Heavy Myrmidon hands on their shoulders forced them to kneel.

“People,” whispered Gold-Eye, looking up at the thrones, up at the faces above the colorful robes. “Old people.”

None of the Overlords paid them any attention. Apart from Gray Crescent, who was asleep, all were focused on the images above them. Gold-Eye looked too and saw that it was about ten in the morning, the sun bright and the shadows short.

Still no one paid them any attention, and they seemed to kneel for at least half an hour before a bell chimed and the battle images faded. At the same time, white-clad Drones entered the room, carrying trays loaded with a great variety of food. These trays were delivered to the Overlords, who finally gazed down at the two captives.

None of them spoke aloud, but there were gestures between them that suggested dialogue, and Gold-Eye noticed the muscles in their throats moved.

Then another Drone entered the room and stood in front of the children, its pale, noseless face devoid of any expression. Slowly it raised the medallion of a mind-call to its forehead and cleared its throat.

“I speak with the voice of Red Diamond,” it said, voice slow and partly swallowed, as if it couldn’t control its tongue. “I require you to demonstrate your power of invisibility.”

With the word
invisibility
, the Myrmidon behind Ninde tightened its grip on her shoulder, and she yelped with the sudden pain. A grunt from Gold-Eye confirmed he was getting the same treatment.

“It wasn’t anything to do with us,” protested Ninde. “Shade made the Deceptors. I don’t know how they worked.”

“If you do not demonstrate this invisibility, you will be punished,” the Drone continued, ignoring Ninde’s interruption. “This punishment will continue until you do as I ask. If you persist, you will be—”

The Drone stopped in mid sentence as all the Overlords suddenly looked up, responding to something only they could hear or feel.

Gold-Eye and Ninde looked up too, to see a holographic scene swirling into view, filling the whole ceiling of the dome.

“Ella and Drum!” exclaimed Ninde, indescribable joy rising in her as the two familiar faces swam into focus. They were wearing strange clothes and seemed to be on a mountaintop where it was very windy—and next to a pale-gray wall of some kind. Not just to shelter from the wind, because they were running their hands along a crack—no, the faint outline of a door—and then both were looking down at their belt pouches, doing something…and Ella disappeared, followed a moment later by Drum. They hadn’t moved. They’d just vanished out of the picture.

Ella checked the new battery, then turned her attention back to the slightly indented line that possibly marked a doorframe.

“I have no idea how it opens,” she said despairingly. They were down to their last batteries now. Even a fully charged one lasted only ten minutes this close to the Grand Projector. When the one she had just put on was exhausted, they would be easy prey to any passing Wingers.

“We need those explosives!” Ella shouted in frustration, slapping the concrete. Though secretly she doubted there would have been enough to cut through the door anyway.

The tower that housed the Grand Projector was a fortress—a massive reinforced-concrete structure in the shape of an obelisk. Six stories. No windows. Only the faint outline of a door in one side hinting there was any way in at all.

Ironically, it had clearly been built by humans, not creatures. A faded sign nearby gave the details of the architect and builders, describing it as a “religious temple” constructed for the Church of the Overlords. The builders could never have known what they were constructing: housing for the evil machine that would destroy them and their children.

“This has to open somehow,” said Drum, once again trying to force his pinch bar into the tiniest of cracks—and failing.

“Too late to go back,” murmured Ella, looking up at the concrete tower, fleetingly wondering if they could climb it—and dismissing the idea even as it came.

“Much too late,” said Drum. Something in his tone made her turn around. She followed his gaze and saw the tiny black dots—nine of them—down in the valley near Vanson. Wingers, climbing up toward them.

At the same time, her battery started flashing. Half charge, after only four minutes. Four minutes left till she would be visible to Winger eyes.

As Ella and Drum vanished out of the image, leaving only a windswept mountain and a concrete wall, the Overlords suddenly sprang into action. Red Diamond and Black Banner jumped down from their thrones and ran to another door, which slid open before them. There Drones waited, holding armor open for them to step into. Gold Claw, Blue Star, Emerald Crown, and Gray Crescent started tapping at maps and control boards with their light pens, while battles ceased overhead and Myrmidon Masters stood to receive new orders.

Silver Sun stepped down from its throne and approached Gold-Eye and Ninde, who were still kneeling and flanked by the Myrmidon Masters.

As Silver Sun got closer, Gold-Eye realized the Overlord was a woman. A pretty woman, perhaps in her mid-thirties, with light, straw-colored hair cut short and lacquered back.

As she approached, the Drone Red Diamond had used as his mouthpiece turned away, and Silver Sun spoke directly to them.

“So. You are the ones the machine-mind called Gold-Eye and Ninde.”

Her voice was rich and musical, though she spoke English with a strange inflection. It was too good a voice for someone who was responsible for destroying ninety-eight percent of the human race, someone who now preyed upon captive children.

“And you say this…invisibility…that we have just seen demonstrated by your friends is something the machine-mind created?” she continued. “Red Diamond really was precipitous in destroying it.”

“Shade?” asked Gold-Eye. “Shade…dead?”

“Absolutely,” replied Silver Sun. She smiled, showing teeth filed to points, her eyes remaining dead and cold. “Now, while my colleagues rush off to deal with your pathetic friends, we shall go and have a private…chat? I do speak your language well, don’t I? Such a fascinating means of communication. So dreadfully slow. But quite sophisticated for an animal race.”

“Why do you kill us?” asked Ninde, looking up at the still-smiling face, the teeth hidden behind soft lips, the bright hair so glossy with lacquer. “Why do you…do any of it?”

Silver Sun looked down at her, head tilted to one side as if she didn’t understand. Then she smiled more broadly, teeth glittering, and said, “That’s what you’re there for. It’s the way things are meant to be. You animals really are so stupid.”

When she finished speaking, her throat twitched, sending some message to the Myrmidon Masters. They lurched into action, dragging Gold-Eye and Ninde to their feet and pushing them out the door.

“They’ll be here soon,” said Ella, watching the Wingers beating furiously to gain height, still only halfway up Mount Silverstone. “I suppose…I suppose it was foolish to think we could…”

“Not foolish,” said Drum. “If Shade hadn’t betrayed us, we might have done something…”

“But he did,” interrupted Ella bleakly. “And no one’s going to follow us, are they? Children will still escape from the Dorms, but they’ll live only short, wild lives. No one will train them, guide them…. No one will know about the Projectors…and the Overlords will just…keep on for a thousand years. A hundred children a day for a thousand years…”

“No they won’t, Ella,” said a voice behind them.

It was the voice of Shade.