The Crucible

by Mark Whiteway

  “Then I must attempt to free us.”

  Quinn blinked. “I thought you told me that was against your principles.”

  “I know you, Quinn. Humans are stubborn creatures. If I do nothing, you will try again, and like as not, your ham-fisted efforts will set off a Transformation-type event. So I can either expire you to prevent your foolhardiness or commit gazzath tamah. I choose the latter.”

  Quinn attempted a smile. “Maintaining the Helix’s integral shape isn’t too difficult, but doing so while folding new tesseracts is a trick. It’s like your mind needs to be in different places at once. Slow and steady is the way to go. Once you find your rhythm, it becomes easier.”

  “Insufficient power remains to operate the sphere’s drive,” Zothan said. “If I succeed in generating a viable subuniverse, I will attempt to alter its external gravity so as to push us out of this fold of space and away from the Haven. However, I doubt I will be able to generate anything more than a low thrust, and I do not know how long I will be able to sustain the anomaly. We could reappear in plain sight of the blockading vessels. Or we could become trapped within the spatial currents and eddies of this universe.”

  “Your chance of success is greater than mine,” Quinn said. “Your skills are more finely honed, and you have something to fight for—your home.”

  “You, too, have a home, Quinn.”

  Quinn stared into the middle distance. “Home isn’t a place. It’s a sense of belonging. When Sarah died, I lost my home. That’s why I fled to the stars. Shortly before we arrived at the Haven, Keiza showed me Ireland, but that’s not home either. I no longer have a home. But you do.”

  “My home is a desolated desert world wracked by time storms.”

  “But it’s where you belong. On your world are those you care about. Remember them when you’re building the Helix and your head is threatening to explode.”

  Zothan’s expression was solemn. “I will. And I will think of my other home.”

  “Your other home?”

  “Magatha rashan. I belong with all of you as well.”

  The bond between Quinn and Zothan derived from their symbolic sharing of water on Nemazi. He had never heard Zothan extend that to others of the group.

  He fought down an irrational jealousy. “Good. That’s good.”

  “Perhaps you, too, can find such a home.”

  Before Quinn could frame a reply, Zothan had lapsed into meditation.

  ~

  The air in front of Zothan glowed as, one by one, tesseracts formed, collapsed into cubes, and joined a slowly rotating helix. An expanding four-space bubble stretched across most of the sphere’s interior.

  It’s working! Quinn turned and was confronted by Conor’s contorted face.

  Tears squeezed from the boy’s eyes. “It’s all my fault.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I ran off. You had to use Shade abilities to come get me. Now you’re dying.”

  “I’m not dying,” Quinn said.

  “Don’t lie to me!”

  Vyasa took a step forward, but Quinn frowned and waved her away.

  “My… condition has nothing to do with fetching you. Messing with abilities I didn’t fully understand brought it on. But it’ll be okay. You heard Zothan. No one knows more about the Transformation than his people.”

  In truth, Quinn had no idea which of his actions had accelerated his physical degradation, but however it turned out, he was determined not to riddle Conor with guilt. He locked eyes with the boy, who finally sniffed and nodded.

  “Okay, now the next few minutes could get a bit dicey. I need you to hold it together for me. Can you do that?”

  Again, Conor nodded.

  Quinn squeezed his shoulder. “Good lad.”

  The bubble’s frosted surface expanded beyond the sphere’s hull.

  “We are moving,” Rahada said.

  Quinn felt no sensation of movement, and the view beyond the window remained black, so he had no idea how she could know that, but he wasn’t about to choke on a crumb of good news.

  He caught Conor’s eye and attempted a smile. “It’s working. We’re getting out of here.”

  Conor’s expression turned sour.

  I must look grotesque.

  “We have cleared the spatial fold.” Rahada sounded devoid of emotion, as if relaying a weather report. “The two nearest Damise ships are pivoting, training their weapons on us.”

  “What?” Quinn exclaimed. “How is that possible?”

  “The subuniverse that the Nemazi has created is unstable. Fluctuations within the event horizon are visible to the Damise. They are targeting the anomaly. Both ships have launched chuthahs.”

  The window was still dark.

  Must be out of position. “All right, so they know our location. But we’re separate from the universe out there. No energy weapon can touch us.”

  “Unfortunately, the same fluctuations that make us detectable will also admit a proportion of the energy discharges,” Rahada said.

  “How much?”

  “Unknown. Impact in nine seconds… eight…”

  Quinn thought of tapping Zothan on the shoulder and asking him to speed up, but any increase was likely to be marginal, and breaking his concentration could mean the collapse of the subuniverse and an end to whatever protection it afforded.

  “Four… three…”

  The window and the sphere vanished. Quinn was standing at the edge of a curved cliff enclosing a massive hole in the ground. Standing in the hole, four stone giants faced one another, heads and shoulders rising above the cliff. Around and behind the chasm, a vast funnel like a natural amphitheatre rose upwards, with radiating ditches connected by rock bridges. A frigid wind chilled Quinn’s face. Faint howls or screams drifted up from the pit.

  He became aware of a presence at his shoulder and whirled.

  Keiza wore the same flowing white robe as when she’d appeared at the conclusion of the Trial scenario. A faint smile played about her lips. “Welcome to the ninth circle of hell.”

  ~

  Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness you’re here! The Damise are firing at us, and I’m not sure how long Zothan can hold them off. Can you get us away from the Haven?”

  “In time,” Keiza replied. “There’s something I need to show you first.”

  “I assume you’ll get us back before the chuthahs reach us?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Quinn nodded and turned slowly. “You called this place the ninth circle of hell. Sounds like something out of Dante.”

  “Correct. He was a human poet you read during your college years— one with a peculiar imagination.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. You used to say our entertainment proved we were a dangerous, violent race.”

  “Perhaps I have come to see humanity from a wider perspective.”

  From outspoken critic to settled advocate—her conversion seemed rather sudden, but larger issues were looming.

  “You’ll have to forgive me,” Quinn said. “It’s been many years since I read this stuff, and I’ve forgotten most of the details.”

  “This is Malebolge, the eighth circle. We stand before the Great Well, at the bottom of which lies the ninth and final circle.”

  “Right. But what does any of that have to do with our current predicament?”

  “In Dante’s poem, the ninth circle represents treachery.”

  Quinn stared at her. “You’re saying there’s a traitor in our group?”

  “I am.”

  “Who is it?”

  She extended a hand. “Come, and I will show you.”

  Quinn peered over the sheer cliff. “How do we get down there?”

  She smiled again. “The same way Dante did.”

  Quinn heard a rumble and grinding stone. The nearest giant turned its head.

  “In the poem, this is Antaeus, slain by Heracles. However, in this re-creation, the giant is rather more familiar.”


  An orange beam picked them out, and Quinn stared into the stone visage of the dolin. It was perhaps fifteen times the size of the dolin he knew but otherwise identical.

  “In the poem, Antaeus responds to flattery. Fortunately, your friend requires no such persuasion.”

  She beckoned to the giant, and it stretched out its great hand until its palm was level with the cliff top. She stepped aboard with the grace of a dancer. After a moment, he joined her, and they began their descent.

  ~

  By the time they reached the bottom of the Great Well, Quinn had lost the feeling in his extremities. Sheet ice covered the entire floor, barely lit by feeble light from above. A spiteful wind sucked cold from the ice and hurled it at his face. Through cracked-open eyelids, he could make out round objects sprouting from the ice at regular intervals, like frozen cabbages. His stomach turned as he realised they were human heads, their bodies encased in ice.

  Keiza hopped from the giant’s palm with a jaunty air. Her only covering was a loose-fitting robe, yet she seemed immune to the cold. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Quinn slid from the giant’s hand, turned, and looked up at its immense stone visage. “Thank you.”

  The giant rose erect without a word and resumed its station, facing outwards from the cliff.

  Pulling his Nemazi mesh garment tighter and leaning against the wind, Quinn struggled to find purchase on the ice as he slid after Keiza. Agonised expressions on the faces of those trapped in the ice showed they were still alive. He shelved his compassion, reminding himself that neither this place nor these people were real. They were nothing more than the fevered imaginings of a long-dead fourteenth-century poet.

  Keiza stopped a short distance ahead, turned, and smiled. “We’re here. Come, meet the traitor.”

  As he caught up, she stepped aside. A tortured face stared up him from the ice—Keiza’s face. Her mouth opened soundlessly.

  “What the—” He rounded on the figure standing beside him, but the person smiling back was no longer Keiza. It was Rahada.

  “In Dante’s poem, the outermost ring of the ninth circle is reserved for traitors to their kin,” Rahada said. “This one betrayed her race. She is now under my control.”

  Quinn’s mind raced. “Who are you?”

  “Don’t you know me?”

  “I know who you look like. But you can’t be Rahada. She’s Shanata. Only an Elinare could extract Dante from my memories.”

  “Very good, Quinn.”

  “Where is the real Rahada?”

  “Back on the Haven, a guest of my people.”

  “You mean a hostage, don’t you?”

  “Her presence will guarantee that you and your kind will not return.”

  “I want you out of my head,” Quinn said. “Do you hear me? I want you out!”

  Rahada laughed lightly as if responding to a witticism at a cocktail party. “You have no say in the matter, human. You will do as you are told, as will Keiza. If you do not…”

  She nodded to her left. Quinn followed her gaze and saw himself, buried to the neck in ice, eyes squeezed shut, lips drawn back over his teeth in a silent scream.

  The Well vanished, and he was back aboard the sphere, listening to Rahada’s countdown. “Two… one…”

  A wall of sound detonated in his ears as a supernova of light exploded in his head.

  ~

  Quinn awoke to pandemonium.

  Conor held the back of his head and whimpered. Vyasa knelt over him, clucking with concern. Zothan barked orders at the sphere, which responded with a dim patch of light and a steady babble of diagnostics. The dolin swept each in turn with its eye beam.

  Quinn got to his feet, swaying slightly.

  Zothan approached. “Are you injured?”

  “I’m fine. What happened?”

  “I failed.”

  Quinn looked around. “We’re still alive and in one piece. I wouldn’t call that failure.”

  “I was unable to prevent the subuniverse from collapsing. The sphere is badly damaged. Were it not for its automated repair systems, we would be exposed to space. The next salvo will obliterate us. We also lost Rahada. When the chuthahs detonated, she disappeared. I fear the impact might have thrown her into another spatial fold. This space is riddled with them.”

  “That wasn’t Rahada.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Long story. Right now, we need a way out of this predicament. Can we drop into another subspace pocket?”

  “I tried that, but manoeuvring systems are no longer functioning. We are adrift.”

  The patch of light beeped. Zothan glanced at the display. “Another pair of chuthahs is inbound.”

  Two new sections of the sphere’s hull grew transparent, revealing two brilliant points of light.

  “If anyone has an idea, I’m listening,” Quinn said.

  Vyasa ruffled her wings and stepped forward. She pointed at an upper corner of one of the windows. “What’s that?”

  Quinn peered at the spot. At first, all he could make out was darkness, but the darkness where she was indicating seemed deeper, more substantial. He discerned a partial outline. “Something’s approaching.”

  Zothan stared at symbols scurrying across the suspended patch of light. “Other than us and the Damise vessels, I read nothing out there.”

  The shadow drifted across the window, occluding the light from the incoming chuthah.

  Quinn nodded towards the window. “You’re saying that’s nothing?”

  Zothan shook his head. “Sensors may be damaged. I cannot tell.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s interposed itself between us and the chuthah,” Vyasa said.

  “Second chuthah is still on course,” Zothan reported. “Impact in thirteen seconds.”

  ~

  The starlike object grew brighter until its rays filled the window. Then it was gone.

  “It missed,” Quinn said.

  Zothan stared at the empty window. “That is not possible.”

  “Look!” Vyasa pointed out the opposite window, now dominated by the zone of shadow. The second chuthah shimmered as it approached, briefly illuminating a curved surface before being snuffed out like a lighted match dropped into a dark lake.

  “It’s a ship of some sort,” Quinn said.

  “I do not recognise the configuration,” Zothan said.

  “Is it Elinare?” Vyasa offered.

  “It is possible,” Zothan replied. “We know little of how their technology has developed over the centuries.”

  “But if they had something so powerful, why wait until now to use it?” Conor asked.

  No one had an answer for him.

  “I am detecting a launch from the unknown vessel,” Zothan reported.

  Quinn frowned. “You detect a launch from the vessel but not the vessel itself?”

  Zothan shook his head. “I cannot explain it.”

  “Can you tell what it is they launched?”

  “Not precisely.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Centre,” Zothan said.

  A tiny flickering light appeared in the second window.

  “Magnify times ten.”

  The light grew to a stuttering star.

  “Times one hundred.”

  The star bloomed like a festive sparkler.

  “Times one thousand.”

  The star was now an orb. Its surface displayed patches of light and dark like molten rock, and it threw off streams of white and purple lightning.

  “Is that a zahar or a chuthah?” Quinn asked.

  “Both,” Zothan replied. “And neither. I have never seen anything quite like it… They have just launched a second.”

  “At us?”

  “No, the objects appear to be targeting the two nearest Damise vessels,” Zothan said. “The Damise are moving off… The objects are pursuing…”

  The view through the window exploded in dazzling light,
and Quinn shielded his eyes.

  “Both vessels are gone,” Zothan said.

  “Gone?” Quinn asked.

  “I detect only subatomic particles. The Damise ships appear to have been utterly destroyed. Damise ships farther along the grid are retreating.”

  Quinn’s mind struggled to catch up.

  “We are moving,” Zothan announced.

  “You restored propulsion? That’s great.”

  “I have not. The unknown vessel is exerting a gravitational force on us.”

  The shadow in the first window loomed larger.

  “Can we talk to them?” Quinn asked.

  “Our communications array was destroyed in the chuthah attack.”

  “Whoever they are, they must be friendly,” Vyasa said. “They saved us from the Damise.”

  “Perhaps,” Zothan said. “Or perhaps they are aware that we possess the most powerful weapon in the Consensus.”

  The dolin stared down at them as the shadow filled the window.

  “Bay doors are opening. We are being drawn inside.”

  A lightless hole yawned before them like the mouth of an abyss.

  ~

  The windows grew opaque as the sphere settled with a bump and a creak. Outside was silence. Quinn held his breath. Apparently, his was the next move.

  His initial instinct was to begin with a show of strength. Sending the dolin out first would be a clear signal that he and the others weren’t to be trifled with. But that might also be interpreted as provocative. If the unknown vessel’s occupants planned to gain control of the dolin, he would be gifting them the opportunity.

  “All right,” Quinn said. “Zothan and I will venture outside. The rest of you remain here. Is that clear?”

  “My principal directive is to protect the subjects,” the dolin boomed.

  Quinn pointed at Conor. “Protect that subject. I will be fine.”

  “As you wish.” The dolin raised its head.

  “Hatch,” Zothan said.

  An opening appeared in the sphere wall, admitting a wash of artificial light. With Zothan half a pace behind, Quinn stepped out onto the wide floor of an empty landing bay. He took in a sharp breath. The layout was exactly the same as the Shanata vessel.