by Karl Beecher
He looked uneasily between the gun and Tyresa. She guessed Forn realised, in the face of an army, he'd be better off unarmed. He seemed willing to relinquish it, so long as he could be long gone by the time Tyresa got a hand to it. That much was clear as he leaned slowly forward and set the pistol gingerly on the edge of the desk.
With his hand still on the weapon, he said, "I hope you don't need to use it. Lowcuzt is not himself. Farewell."
Suddenly, he let go of the gun and spun around. He sprinted towards the exit, beginning his dash for freedom…and, in his haste, slammed face-first into the still-closed door. He'd run too quickly for the sensors to react. The doors finally opened, but only after he collapsed to the floor like a house of cards.
He was out cold.
Tyresa shrugged. Programmers.
39
Things looked bleak. Klablath inhabited a body that drifted in and out of his control, and he was defenceless before an implacable enemy.
Crzethnuk swung his metal pipe.
Klablath desperately pulled himself together and jerked backwards. The pipe whooshed within a hair's breadth of his—or rather Colin Douglass's—nose.
"Gah!" growled Crzethnuk. "Stop moving. You're just delaying the inevitable."
He took another swing, but Klablath ducked, and the pipe whistled over his head.
Fighting Crzethnuk was no longer an option because Klablath's intermittent control left him too vulnerable. Escaping didn't seem to be an option either, judging from how long it took to open the elevator door.
It seemed there were no good options, only least bad ones.
The best bad option was to foil Crzethnuk's mass possession plan. Klablath looked at the beacon at the other end of the room, a mesh of cables hanging between it and the computer terminal. If he could cause as much damage to it as possible before Crzethnuk stopped him and beat his head in, that might buy enough time for the Collective soldiers to get here. Of course, he would be sacrificing Colin Douglass, but he'd be protecting millions of humans. It was the logical choice. The needs of the many…
Feeling steady again, Klablath made a dash for the beacon, taking the long way to give Crzethnuk a wide berth.
Crzethnuk recognised instantly what he was up to.
"Oh no, you don't!" he cried and broke into pursuit, discarding the pipe to give himself extra speed.
As Klablath neared the beacon, he had every intention of leaping onto the hanging cables. However, just a few steps from the contraption, his footing again became unsteady. His sprint degenerated until he resembled a man with a pulled muscle. He reached out towards the cables, but he was still an arm's length away. Then, the wind was knocked out of him as Crzethnuk tackled him and took them both tumbling to the floor.
As Crzethnuk's shoulder hit the ground, something caught his eye. Something under the table that glinted.
The utility knife.
He grabbed it.
Klablath was already struggling to stand, but his movements were slow and uncertain. He was still on his knees by the time Crzethnuk was back on his feet. Crzethnuk grappled him from behind. Klablath tried to resist, but the grip was too firm.
He was at his enemy's mercy.
"You really are a pioneer," Crzethnuk gloated in his ear. "Not only the first Predecessor to possess a human but now you'll be the first Predecessor to die in the corporeal realm."
"Cuh-cuh-Crzethnuk wait," stuttered Klablath.
"My host tells me that stabbing is fatal in this realm." Crzethnuk pressed the blade against his enemy's throat. "Let's put that to the test."
Klablath felt the scrape of the cold metal.
Suddenly, a loud explosion echoed around the room. Crzethnuk jumped as yellow sparks, and white fragments showered down from the ceiling. A stranger emerged from the open elevator, carrying a pistol and wearing a black t-shirt with a lame programming joke emblazoned across the front.
"Stop!" the stranger yelled, aiming the weapon at Crzethnuk. "And let him go."
Crzethnuk instinctively ducked behind Klablath to shield himself. "Who in the multiverse are you?"
"I'm the woman who's telling you to let him go," she snarled.
Klablath struggled. "Tyresa Jak," he said. "You muh-muh-mustn't—ugh!"
Crzethnuk grasped the throat of the helpless Klablath and jerked him back.
Tyresa took a few more steps forward.
"That's close enough!" yelled the Predecessor, brandishing the knife dangerously close to the jugular.
Tyresa held the gun steady. "You get one chance with me, Lowcuzt. Or Crethnook. Or whoever you are. Let him go."
"And if I don't?"
"Then your face ends up looking like that hole in the ceiling."
Crzethnuk glanced up at the charred, smoking hole as wide as a hand that she'd blasted in the pristine white surface.
"No, Tyresa," wheezed Klablath. "Don't shoot him. Lowcuzt Null is still in that body. He's a victim in this."
Crzethnuk relaxed his hold a little and smiled. "Listen to your friend, Tyresa," he crowed. "He knows what he's talking about."
"Destroy the artifact," said Klablath. "Destroy it and send Crz—ugh!"
Crzethnuk seized him again. "No! Actually, don't listen to him. He's lying. Destroying that beacon will kill your friend."
Klablath mumbled and shook his head.
Tyresa's aim flitted between Crzethnuk and the artifact. Ideas of what to do next tussled in her mind, but she couldn't be sure of anything. She could shoot at Crzethnuk, but she couldn't be certain of missing Colin. Right now, she couldn't even be sure who was talking to her.
Shoot the artifact? She couldn't destroy the thing she'd spent so much effort pursuing. This wasn't just another piece of treasure, it was the treasure, the ultimate Predecessor discovery. It represented not just a few days' effort, but a whole career's.
Crzethnuk spoke again. "Listen to me. This beacon is the key to treasures your human mind can scarcely dream of. It embodies knowledge that will smother its discoverer in riches and glory. I need it only for a short time, but when my work is complete…it's all yours. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
She certainly would, Tyresa thought to herself, more than anyone could ever know.
"Let me talk to Colin," she said.
"Impossible," replied Crzethnuk. "Klablath is in control of his body now. Forget Colin Douglass."
"Not good enough," said Tyresa. "If he's still in there, there must be a way to reach him. I want to know Colin is safe before I even consider your offer."
Klablath wheezed. "It is possible. You know that, Crzethnuk. I can hear Colin inside my head, just as you can hear Lowcuzt. I can relay what the human says."
Crzethnuk paused a moment. "Fine," he relented, waving the blade at Tyresa. "But no tricks. If I detect a hint of subterfuge, I open his neck."
"Colin?" Tyresa called out. "Are you there?"
A pause.
Klablath nodded. "He says he can hear you."
"What can you tell me, Colin?" asked Tyresa. "Are you safe?"
"He says—"
Crzethnuk pressed the blade against the flesh. "Keep it simple," he warned.
Klablath nodded and went on. "He says, ‘Don't worry about me, Tyresa. I'm certain you'll do the right thing.'"
Tyresa shook her head. "Tell me something only Colin would know."
Another pause.
"He says," began Klablath, "that you're an archaeologist."
"Everyone knows that," said Tyresa. "Try again."
"He says, you have trouble with your temper."
"After coming in here and shooting up the ceiling? No shit! Like that's not obvious."
Another pause. A longer one this time.
"He says that only a few minutes after you met you were dressing him like a baby because he couldn't move. He says you introduced him to the galaxy. You very kindly took him to Procya to get him cured. You came after him when he was kidnapped… the first time, that is. And the second time. And now for th
e third. He says this kidnapping ‘lark' is becoming a bad habit. He says sorry, he's beginning to ramble. Anyway, you've always been there for him. He only made it this far thanks to you. Whatever you choose to do now, he's eternally grateful to you for everything. You're a true friend. Whatever treasure is in this room, your friendship is the greatest treasure to him."
Crzethnuk groaned. "I think I've just remembered what being bilious feels like."
Klablath continued. "One other thing, he says. He suspects you're in love with Robbi Leet and you two would make a great couple. Although to be fair, that's something he knows, but you don't."
Crzethnuk tightened his grip again. "All right, that's enough of that garbage. Are you happy now? Have you heard what you needed to?"
She had indeed.
"Yes," she replied in a quiet, trembling voice. "I heard it. Thank you, Colin."
Her grip on the gun tightened. She raised it to full height and stared coldly down its barrel.
Even Crzethnuk recognised the look of steely determination. "What are you doing? Wait, no! What are you—"
She took a deep breath and shot her dream to pieces.
40
The fabric of multi-dimensional spacetime localised around the Milky Way galaxy—and around one of its stars in particular—underwent sudden stresses and distortions the like of which it hadn't experienced in aeons.
Sadly, since humans lacked the necessary senses to detect extra-dimensional energies, they didn't notice a thing. In fact, only a couple of them, gathered in a basement on Alcentor, were aware that anything had happened at all.
"Nooooo!" yelled Crzethnuk.
The beacon exploded, torn apart in a torrent of protonic energy. Great chunks blasted free, releasing brilliant yellow flashes of interdimensional rift energy.
Tyresa Jak ceased her barrage of fire and dove behind a nearby terminal as sparks erupted from the obelisk and arced across the room.
Crzethnuk sensed his link across the dimensions dying. Immediately, he felt like his spirit was being yanked towards the disintegrating beacon, like matter being sucked inexorably into a black hole.
"Aaaagh!" he cried, throwing Klablath aside.
Klablath didn't matter anymore. There was only one thing on his mind: escaping the pull of the interdimensional chasm. Simple physics—simple to a Predecessor at least—dictated his efforts were hopeless. Without the beacon, the link would collapse, and he would be cast back into the ethereal realm. It was just a matter of time.
Despite that, he urged his host's body forward, hoping against hope that he might somehow escape. Control was rapidly weakening. Simply taking a step required immense effort.
Then he felt something physical. Someone had seized his leg. He looked down. It was Klablath, still lying on the floor, grasping at his ankle.
"No, Crzethnuk!" Klablath yelled. "It's over. You're going home."
The forces pulling on Crzethnuk were piling up, but he wasn't going to let go so easily. Inside Lowcuzt's head, Crzethnuk grasped onto his host's mind with a virtual grip.
But then, Lowcuzt Null strained with all his might to reassert control. His resistance plucked Crzethnuk's ethereal fingertips one-by-one from the parapet of Lowcuzt's consciousness—pluck, pluck—until finally, only one remained.
Well, whaddya know, declared Lowcuzt. Looks like I can get you out of my head!
He plucked away the last thing anchoring the invader to his mind. Lowcuzt was instantly hit by a feeling like an express hovertrain roaring through his brain.
Crzethnuk vanished with a fading cry.
And then, suddenly, silence.
Silence in Lowcuzt's mind.
Silence in the room as the last echoes of the explosion faded away, and the remains of the beacon settled on the ground.
And silence in the multiverse after a connection between two dimensions—ethereal and corporeal—snapped apart with a burst of rift energy and dissolved into nothingness.
It's a shame humans couldn't see it. It was a hell of a spectacle.
"Colin? Colin, can you hear me?"
Colin drifted back into consciousness. He felt exhausted and could barely open his eyes. He was still lying on the ground in Lowcuzt Null's lair. He could just about make out Tyresa standing over him, looking desperately worried and pleading with him to answer. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He might have felt scared if everything hadn't felt so unreal.
Other people were in the room now, uniformed, some recognisable as the security team from Cruiser_89. Some were fishing through the mess in the room while a couple of others barked orders. Nearby, Commander Leet was helping a medic lift Lowcuzt Null into a kind of hovering wheelchair. Lowcuzt looked exhausted and dazed, but at the same time oddly upbeat. He was prattling incessantly.
"No, really," he babbled, "I'm turning over a new leaf. From this point on, I'm going to use my genius to serve the people properly in the spirit of collectivism."
"Really?" said Robbi deliberately, sounding like a teacher humouring a four-year-old who'd just declared their intention to visit the moon. "That's very good, citizen, good for you."
"Yes," he continued. "I've got lots of ideas. I'm going to create a transit service. I'll build a capacious vehicle that travels around a settlement at regular times and makes scheduled stops along the way. And—get this—anyone can use it. It's like a private shuttle, but for everybody. Brilliant, yes?"
"Actually," said Robbi, "we do already have that, citizen. It's called a metro."
Lowcuzt sounded disappointed. "Oh…well, how about this? I will bring together all the documents in the Collective, then create an online service where I make them available and anyone—no, really, anyone—can request temporary read access to them." He began getting excited again. "Think of the possibilities, the potential for disruption, the—"
"Hmm," interrupted Robbi. "You have enviable enthusiasm, citizen, but again we do already have public libraries. Please relax. Just remain in your seat. Save your strength for your inevitable trial."
Robbi nodded at the medic, who piloted the hoverchair and its gibbering occupant away. After that, she came and took a knee beside Tyresa.
"Anything?" she asked, peering at Colin.
Tyresa shook her head. "He hasn't moved. Hasn't said a word."
Colin tried again to speak without result. He attempted to move his body but didn't budge an inch.
"There's a stretcher coming," he heard Robbi say as his vision faded to black. "We'll get him onto a shuttle and take him to hospital."
Darkness.
A floating sensation, like in a dream.
Distant sounds, white noise.
It was like being halfway between awake and asleep.
Colin Douglass? Can you hear me?
Klablath?
Yes.
Klablath, what happened?
All is well. Your friend destroyed the beacon. Crzethnuk's link with the corporeal realm was severed. He has been cast back into the ethereal realm, where my fellow Predecessors are waiting to apprehend him. The threat has passed. The people of your dimension are safe from us.
What about me? I still can't speak. I can't even move.
Indeed. I remain, against my will, in control of your body.
Can't you give it back?
There have been developments in the last few moments. I have managed to re-establish contact with my people. However, they have presented me with a dilemma.
What dilemma?
The only way I can give up control of your body is to retreat back through the portal, the inter-dimensional rift that exists inside your mind.
Doesn't sound like a dilemma to me. I thought that's what you wanted.
It is. However, my retreat would cause the erasure of that portal. The rift energy would disappear.
But…but that energy is the only thing that's stopping my disease from killing me.
Now you see my dilemma.
Can't you go back but leave the rift energy in place?
No. Even if I knew how, the other Predecessors wouldn't hear of it. We cannot allow humans to learn about that energy. Were we to leave it in place, your species would analyse it and might even succeed in harnessing it. You are not mature enough to deal with the power it brings. That is why I have been ordered to return as soon as possible.
But you have to do something! I was all but dying the moment before you arrived in my head. If you leave, you'll put me right back in that condition.
That is true. Klablath suddenly sounded grave. Indeed, my analysis of your disease reveals that you are now beyond assistance. After I leave, you will quickly descend into a coma. But then, if we had never met, you would have entered into a coma anyway. And since we are forbidden to interfere in human affairs, it is correct that events take that course as if I had never interfered. Unfortunate, but we must remain logical and dispassionate.
Logical? fumed Colin. Dispassionate? You're talking about destroying me. How can that ever be the logical thing to do? I thought you were supposed to be advanced life forms. Don't you care?
Do not mistake me, Colin Douglass. That is why I speak of a dilemma in the first place. I do find myself caring. It is a most problematic and distracting experience. I do not understand why it is happening. It is possible that my exposure to the corporeal realm has ignited a feeling in me: empathy, something I have not experienced in aeons.
But… Colin stuttered. But empathy is not some impediment to your thinking. It's telling you something. It's telling you what you're being ordered to do is wrong.
That may be, but the decision is largely out of my hands. Were I to resist, I would simply be pulled back through by my people.
The background noises began growing louder. The darkness gave way to a brightening light.
You are waking again. I shall attempt to confer with my people and seek alternatives. I hope we will speak again shortly.
Klablath, where are you going. Klablath?
