A jagged lump of masonry flew over Quinn’s head and clattered against the roadway in front of him.
He whipped around. Clogging the dimly lit roadway was a seething mass. Mogrey crawled over one another like giant maggots. Crooked Anghard leaned against their pikes. Cethlan waved tentacles. Lampetia towered over the rest, arms and legs like hawsers. Mixed in among them were other things he did not recognise—amorphous shapes with glowing eyes, which moved through the horde—creatures condemned long ago to the darkness. Their pent-up anger crackled like the charged atmosphere before a storm.
The Mogrey squealed. The Lampetia let forth an ululation that shook the air as if it were a bell.
The horde started forward.
Par-shan yelled, “Run!”
~
“Quickly, quickly!” Vil-gar’s twiglike arms whirled like scythes as he urged the ship’s party forward.
Grey slithered along the roadway, rapidly losing ground. One of the male Kimn doubled back, picked up the Osei, and ran with her under one arm as if she were a bedroll. A second male Kimn dropped to one knee, levelled his weapon, and fired an energy pulse at the surge of creatures pursuing them. White fire spilled through their ranks, but they did not break step.
Diving winged horrors forced the party to run with arms raised defensively. They crossed a junction and darted into a shadowy street. Quinn’s chest heaved, his heart pounding as he dashed after the fleeing Kimn. He’d once managed fourth in the Eire Colony games’ cross-country event, but he’d been two decades younger then and ten kilos lighter.
A barricade of smashed carts lay strung out across the road in front of them. Quinn scrambled over the barricade, twisting an ankle as he landed on the other side. He hobbled on. Par-shan offered a hand, but he waved her away. She must not have been told about his death touch.
The road narrowed. Bestial cries reverberated against the hollow buildings as the horde bayed at their heels. The road came to an abrupt end, and the party tumbled onto a flat area terminating in a dark chasm.
“The platform’s edge,” Par-shan said. “The projection has led us into a trap!”
~
In a heap of writhing flesh, the Mogrey spilled out onto the platform.
Quinn could feel the Lampetia’s massive footfalls through the soles of his boots. The rest of the horde would not be far behind.
He hurried over to Vil-gar. “Where’s your avatron?”
Vil-gar indicated the emptiness beyond the platform.
“What’s he pointing to?” Par-shan demanded.
Quinn nodded. “Of course. Very clever.”
Vil-gar’s wide mouth quirked. “Well, you would’ve expected nothing less from the greatest intelligence in the galaxy!”
Par-shan stared at the void. “I don’t see anything.”
“The avatron lies in a four-space bubble,” Quinn explained. “Essentially, it’s an area of space outside our universe. It’s not affected by any of the forces of our universe, including gravity. So you could leave it suspended out there in midair.”
“Why?” Par-shan asked.
“So that even if anyone suspected where it was, they wouldn’t be able to reach it.”
Vil-gar grinned and nodded enthusiastically.
The horde spread out in a semicircle, cutting off the party’s escape.
“But if we can’t reach it—” she began.
“We can’t, but Vil-gar can,” Quinn said. “He can form a second bubble large enough to encompass all of us.”
Vil-gar’s smile vanished like a rolled-up blind. “I cannot.”
“You what?” Quinn exclaimed.
“Energy output has dropped to a level that can barely maintain the avatron’s systems. I can sustain a field large enough to accommodate no more than four, besides myself.”
Quinn cursed under his breath. Eight Kimn, one Osei, and one human. Ten beings, three trips. Not enough time. “Par-shan, take the Osei and the two healers and go.”
She shook her head. “I am responsible for the others. I won’t desert them.”
“If Vil-gar dies, we’re all finished. The healers can maintain his vital signs while you and the Osei use your engineering skills to stabilise the avatron till we can get it back to the ship.”
“What about you, Quinn?”
“I’ll be along in a minute. Now, get going!”
Vil-gar closed his eyes. An unfolded pure-white tesseract appeared before him. It spun faster and faster then folded into a shining cube. More tesseracts joined the first and collapsed into cubes, circling like a swarm of golden bees. A semitransparent barrier formed in the air.
The Mogrey advanced, heads moving back and forth as they quested with half-closed eyes. Behind them, emaciated green-skinned Anghard crept forward, grasping pikes and clubs, while rippling Cethlan held shining needlelike objects in whippy tentacles. The male Kimn opened up with bursts of defensive fire, batting away saw-toothed nightmares with tattered wings.
A flurry of glass-like shards peppered the party, felling one of the Kimn healers. She lay wide-eyed and unmoving.
Quinn waved an arm. “Go, go!”
Par-shan grabbed a handful of the other healer’s robe and dragged her through the barrier.
A plaintive whine cut the air. Quinn looked up just in time to see a metallic flash. A dull thud shook the air, and a pressure wave that felt like a hammer thumped him in the side and sent him sprawling.
He rolled onto his back, and dust raked the back of his throat. Swaying to his feet, he peered across the platform but saw no movement in the thick haze. Cupping both hands to his mouth, he called out in a hoarse voice, “Hey!” He strained his ears, but no one replied.
He glanced over his shoulder. The two Kimn on the far side of the semitransparent barrier beckoned him.
Turning his back on them, he headed into the dust cloud.
~
Dust clouds swirled around Quinn, stinging his eyes. Caws and shrieks pierced the ringing of his ears. Anghard and Cethlan, Lampetia and Mogrey—buried and forgotten, they were rising up to exact red revenge.
Did the Kimn not deserve their judgement? Had they not denied life and light to the lower races? Under the Consensus law of one plus one equals two, the death of four male Kimn would be an infinitesimally small price to pay.
Yet the Kimn were also victims, driven from their world and condemned to wander space before being forcibly settled on Pann. And what of Grey? The Osei were not of this world, yet they had been servants of the Agantzane and supporters of an oppressive system. Resentment was a revolving door. Where would it end?
He tripped, fell to his knees, turned, and recoiled. One of the male Kimn lay unmoving, a wide gash across his throat.
Squealing, squirming Mogrey emerged from the dust clouds, baring scissorlike teeth. Their stubby fingers grasped at the air. Quinn staggered back, almost toppling over the corpse again. Behind the Mogrey loomed the outlines of advancing Anghard.
He raised his hands. “Stop! We mean you no harm!”
The Mogrey turned their heads towards him and hissed. Maybe they’re attracted by sound. In any event, they didn’t appear to be up for a discussion.
A missile shot past Quinn’s ear. He turned and limped hurriedly away. His pursuers swept after him in a wave. More missiles clattered against the platform, and needlelike beams crisscrossed the dust cloud. The barrier loomed before him. He staggered through and dropped to his knees.
Hands reached down to assist him, but he waved them away. The barrier enclosed a bubble about fifteen metres in diameter. Vil-gar stood before a collection of some two dozen spinning tesseracts. His eyes were closed, and his lips moved, although no words emerged. The subuniverse was impressive, yet it was a pale imitation of the towering tesseract palace and the vast landscape he had generated when they had first risen through Pann’s levels.
Quinn’s mouth felt parched. “Get us out of here!”
The bubble rose from the platform and drifted away. The horde crowded at its ed
ge, their cries of frustration and fury silenced by the barrier.
“What about the others?” the healer Kimn asked.
Quinn shook his head.
A powerful shape burst apart the horde. Instinctively, Quinn threw his arms over his head as it launched itself across the chasm, limbs flailing. Penetrating the bubble’s skin, it tumbled into the sphere at Quinn’s feet. He recognised one of the male Kimn. The creature stared with soft, vacant eyes, and as he raised himself, Quinn saw Grey carried in the crook of his arm.
The Osei slipped from the Kimn’s grasp, turning orange then back to her familiar grey.
Relief coloured Quinn’s sombre mood. He knelt next to the Osei. “How are you?”
A shrill voice emanated from Grey’s mass of tentacles. “I am in need of moisture.”
Quinn smiled. “We’ll see if we can rustle up some water.”
“Too… many.” The strained voice was Vil-gar’s.
Quinn glanced around. The addition of Grey and the male Kimn made five flesh-and-blood passengers. Vil-gar had said this mini universe could only accommodate four.
“Just try to hold on till we reach the avatron,” Quinn said.
“Docking… now.”
A hole appeared in the bubble’s surface, showing the inside of a second sphere. Two miniature universes colliding.
“Great! Well done,” Quinn said.
“You do not… understand.”
The hole widened until the bubbles merged into one. Quinn spotted the oval coffin that was the avatron and gestured to Grey and the two Kimn females. Vil-gar’s projection appeared trancelike as his physical mind was devoted to maintaining the subuniverse. The Kimn male’s expression was blank.
Par-shan peered at a lighted display at the foot of the avatron and shook her head. “Vil-gar was right. Power levels are dropping off.”
“Can you correct it?” Quinn asked.
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “The device seems to be powered by a portable energy unit.”
“I know. I installed it.”
She looked him up and down. “I see. Well, the unit is failing.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“The same thing that’s wrong with all of this equipment—it’s incredibly ancient. The fact that it’s running at all is a testament to the technology of the Farish who built it.”
“Well, we have to do something.”
“Our only chance would be to get it back to the ship. Up there, I could restore power, replace some of the worn-out circuits, maybe. Even then, the being inside would probably not survive.”
Quinn turned to the healer Kimn. “You have to keep him alive.”
The healer stared at a series of readouts built into the avatron’s side. “I’m not sure that’s possible. The creature is febrile and extremely weak. If these readings are correct, its internal organs are failing.”
Quinn’s frustration boiled over. “You’re a healer, aren’t you?”
“It’s the last of a long-dead race. I know nothing of its metabolism… its anatomy. Any treatment I attempt could just as easily expire it.”
“Then we have to get the avatron back to the Shasallah right now.”
“Quinn,” Grey said.
“What’s the matter?”
“We are descending.”
Par-shan glanced around. “The Osei is correct. Rate is increasing.”
“Vil-gar, take us up.” Quinn’s stomach rose as if he were in an elevator.
The bubble’s surface flickered and flashed.
“Gravity is pulling us in,” Grey trilled.
Quinn put a hand to his forehead. “No, that can’t be right. We’re in a separate subuniverse, isolated from the forces in our own. How can the planet’s gravity be affecting us?”
“The intricacies of four-space mechanics are far beyond the Kimn,” Par-shan replied. “However, the projection appears to draw energy from the avatron’s power source, and the unit is breaking down. Vil-gar told us the bubble could sustain only a limited number.”
And we’re overloaded. “Is there any way we can compensate?”
“We have no alternative source of power and no way to repair the damage,” Grey said. “The subuniverse will eventually collapse, and we will be dashed to pieces on the lower levels.”
Quinn’s mind raced after the problem like a hound chasing a hare. If there was a way out, he couldn’t grasp it.
The male Kimn stood, his muscles taut and twisted like tree limbs. A rack of sharp horns crowned his chiselled features. As he regarded them, his face softened, and his mouth opened as if he were about to speak. Then, as if in slow motion, he turned and faced the fizzing, popping barrier. He raised his arms and pushed through.
“Nooo!” Par-shan’s guttural cry filled the sphere. She shot forward, arms outstretched.
Spread-eagle like a skydiver, the male Kimn shrank to a mote before darkness swallowed him.
~
Par-shan lay prostrate, wracked by sobs, while the healer held her in an embrace.
Quinn stood back, cut off from physical contact by his Agantzane death touch, denied the ability to express compassion. He felt like a limp balloon. “I’m so sorry.”
The healer Kimn raised her head. “Lenkh was Par-shan’s mate.”
“I’m… sorry.” He retreated in disarray.
Grey’s tentacles were wrapped around the avatron, reminding Quinn of an ancient sailing ship caught by a sea monster. He could not guess the reason behind Grey’s gesture and didn’t feel like delving into the ins and outs of Osei psychology. He lowered his voice. “What’s our status?”
“We’re still falling,” Grey replied. “However, our velocity has slowed markedly. If Vil-gar can maintain the sphere’s integrity, then we should make landfall on the first platform that lies in our line of descent.”
“Washed up on a distant shore.” Quinn shook his head. “Never mind. Have you any idea which level that will be?”
“Difficult to say. We are already beneath the realm of the Anghard. It is said that fearsome creatures lie on the deeper levels, beings warped by darkness and fury.”
“I know,” Quinn said. “I’ve met some of them.” A shiver slithered down his spine, and he changed the subject. “What are Vil-gar’s chances?”
“I am not a healer.”
“Best guess.”
“His corporeal form could expire at any moment. Even with major intervention, I don’t think he can survive.”
“If he dies—”
“I’m aware of the situation, Quinn. But I cannot change the inevitable. Neither can your Kimn friends… We have company.”
“We… what?”
“Outside. Vessels of some sort.”
Quinn hurried to the sphere’s edge and peered out. He spotted three shapes in the gloom and nodded. “They’re Cethlan.”
“You’re certain?”
“I’ve seen them before.”
Grey’s epidermis oscillated between red, yellow, and orange, which Quinn took to be excitement or possibly alarm. “The lower races are degenerate by all accounts. It’s incredible that some could build and maintain ships down here.”
“You underestimate them, just as your Agantzane masters did.” The words were out before Quinn could censor them. He glanced at Grey. “Sorry. I meant former masters.”
“Osei are unlike other races. We do not recognise the concept of offence. Among our Unity, we share only truth or untruth.”
Yet now you have no Unity. Quinn pushed away the thought. More than enough misery existed already in their tiny universe. “Can they see us?”
“That is an interesting question. The subuniverse has stabilised somewhat, yet energy levels remain critical. There may be some subspace leakage.”
“So we might be visible.”
“Partially, yes.”
Quinn stared at the three ships, which hadn’t moved relative to the sphere. They’re shadowing us. “Reduce power.”
“T
hat would increase our rate of descent.”
The healer rose. “It’s suicide.”
“Not if we do it in a controlled fashion,” Quinn countered. “If those ships can see us, that means we’re partially in their universe. It’s conceivable they could destroy us. We have to evade them, and we can’t go up. That leaves only one alternative.”
Grey slithered back to the avatron and wrapped tentacles around the orb at its base.
Quinn dropped to his haunches next to the Osei. “I want you to divert every bit of power you can to the avatron, but try to keep enough in reserve to cushion us for a smooth landing.”
“Our landing will likely be anything but smooth.”
“Do the best you can.” Quinn felt the queasiness of free fall once again. He glanced up. The Cethlan ships had receded. Caught napping. Quinn smiled then caught himself. They won’t be far behind. He leaned towards Grey. “Can we find a landing place?”
“I am presently monitoring power distribution.”
Of course. He turned to the Kimn. “Can you look for a suitable place to land?”
Like sleepwalkers, the two Kimn moved to the sphere’s edge. Silence descended as they and the Osei concentrated on their tasks. I’m the only useless person here.
“There.” Par-shan pointed.
Quinn joined her and gazed where she was indicating but saw only unremitting darkness. Apparently, Kimn had superior eyesight as well as hearing.
“Can we manoeuvre this thing?” Quinn called over his shoulder.
“I will attempt to do so,” Grey replied.
The darkness below seemed palpable, enticing, like the mythical sirens of old who were said to draw sailors to their deaths.
“Brace yourselves.”
Quinn placed a steadying hand against the avatron. The sphere’s surface fizzled once more like a pot boiling on the stove. Vil-gar’s projection shimmered. One by one, the shining cubes unfolded into tesseracts and vanished. The sphere jarred and rolled, sending Quinn spinning in a half somersault. He landed on his back just as the bubble disappeared in a paroxysm of light.
Blackness lay all around. The surface beneath him felt smooth. He got to his knees and reached out. His fingertips touched something cold and wet, and he recoiled. Turning, he spotted a smudge of light. The avatron’s display panel. At least something was working.
The Crucible Page 23
