The Crucible

by Mark Whiteway

  The chimera let forth an almighty roar that shook the cage.

  The crowd stood and shouted, clapping, waving arms and tentacles, and flapping wings. They chanted, “Open! Open! Open!”

  Quinn stared at one of his white-gloved hands. Resting in it was a bronze skeleton key. Set in the key’s bow was a circle within a triangle.

  “Open! Open! Open!”

  His fingers closed around the key, and he walked slowly towards the cage door. He felt a rumble in the chimera’s throat. Its incisors ran wet with spittle, and its breath smelt like a charnel house. Branded into its forehead was the same symbol as the key’s. His heart pounded like a forge hammer against an anvil. His muscles knotted, screaming at him to flee. Ignoring them, he inserted the key in the lock and turned…

  The key, the lock, and his hand exploded in white light.

  His eyes snapped open. He was lying on his bunk on the Shasallah, bathed in cold sweat. That was no ordinary nightmare. What the hell just happened? Was it to do with the information bottled up in his head? He recalled Salahan’s warning. It will haunt you in your dreams.

  Shifting onto his side, he stuffed his knuckles into his mouth and stared into the darkness.

  I’m not sure how much of this I can take.

  ~

  He drifted off to a fitful slumber and was later roused by a female voice.

  “Quinn.”

  He screwed his eyes shut and squeezed out the afterimages. No, not again!

  “Quinn, get up.”

  Realisation penetrated his sleep-starved brain. The voice was Vyasa’s.

  He sat bolt upright. Between him and the door was a cylinder of light, and within it was Vyasa’s glowing image. Her long white hair shone like strands of moonlight.

  “You!” Quinn spat. “What have you done with Conor?”

  “Nothing. He’s quite safe, on my honour.”

  “How dare you speak of honour! Return my son. Now!”

  “I can’t,” she said. “He isn’t here. You have to come with me, right now.”

  “Are you mad? I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  “If you don’t, you’ll never see him again.”

  Quinn’s body tensed. A part of him wanted to grab her by the throat.

  She stretched an arm out toward him. “There’s a ship lying alongside this vessel, but it’ll only be there for another two minutes and fourteen seconds. Come with me, and I’ll take you to Conor.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “There’s no time to explain.”

  “You’re going to have to try.”

  She cast about, helpless. “Look, the folk here don’t realise what’s about to happen. We’re on the cusp of the final conflict. Those on the losing side will be completely wiped out. You can’t prevent the inevitable, but you can save yourself and Conor if you come with me now. Please, Quinn.”

  “That ship out there—it’s Damise, isn’t it?”

  She hesitated. “Yes, but it’s not what you think.”

  “You’re linked to them.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s exactly what I think.”

  “They risked themselves to come here in an attempt to reach out to you.”

  “Then you can go back and tell them they needn’t have bothered.”

  “And what would you like me to tell Conor? He begged me to come get you.”

  “After you kidnapped him.”

  “I saved him. And now I’m trying to save you. One minute, ten seconds, Quinn. What’s it to be?”

  Quinn balked. Concealed within him was the answer to defeating the Damise. As far as he was aware, the Damise had no inkling of that. But by placing himself in their hands, he would still be risking everything and everyone he knew. He weighed that against losing Conor. Whether Vyasa was being genuine or playing him false, her claim that he would never see his boy again was likely truth. Despite all the pressures and obligations others had placed on him, he was first and foremost a father. Conor’s welfare was his responsibility and his alone.

  He slid off the bed and joined her in the cylinder of light. Her smile seemed born of genuine relief. He thought of Syn-moon and the others. Yet again, he was choosing to betray those who had placed their whole trust in him. Redemption would have to come later… if he ever got the chance.

  He glanced at Vyasa. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Part Five: The Crucible

  As the cylinder of light faded, Quinn stepped off a circular dais and was greeted by a dark-robed Badhati.

  A smile broke out within the creature’s cowl. “Greetings, Human Quinn. It is an honour to have you aboard. I have been asked to show you our humble vessel, if you would care to follow me.”

  Quinn felt his hackles rise. “What’s going on?”

  The Badhati’s expression turned quizzical.

  Vyasa appeared at Quinn’s shoulder. “Do you remember I explained that the AI was like a harness? It only interacts with biological forms long enough to quell harmful impulses and impart values of cooperation and harmony. This is one of many vessels now crewed by individuals who have made the transition.”

  “You also said that those who didn’t or couldn’t adjust perished.”

  “Would you not think that a price worth paying to achieve universal peace?”

  “No,” Quinn said. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Perhaps you’ll feel different when you’ve spoken to some whose lives have been transformed by the AI.”

  “The only person I want to see right now is my son.”

  “Soon, Quinn. We are taking you to where he is.”

  “Where is that?”

  “A world not far from here. Someone else there is anxious to see you.”

  “And who might that be?”

  She smiled. “All in good time.” She took him by the hand. “Come.”

  The craft was a fraction the size of the cathedral-like vessel Quinn had woken up on in the neighbour universe, but every nook and cranny held someone of a different race. He was introduced to Shanata, Medyr, Darshan, and even one of the carrion-eating Grok. Then they turned a corner, and he almost collided with a golden apparition. Instinctively, he cowered before a dark-eyed Damise.

  The creature drifted two or three centimetres from the floor, and its outline was hazy, as if it existed partly in a different reality. Its voice seemed to come from every direction. “This is the human?”

  The Badhati, who he learned was called To-shar, made a sweeping gesture. “This is he, Excellency.”

  “He must be treated with the utmost care.”

  “I shall see to it personally,” To-shar said.

  As the Damise drifted past, Quinn felt icy talons closing around his heart, and he pressed himself into the wall.

  Long after the creature was gone, his skin was damp and cold as a crypt.

  ~

  Later, the dreams returned.

  He was back on Nemazi. Rust-coloured sand stretched to the shimmering horizon, and the fierce desert sun clawed at his neck. He felt cold sweat in his armpits and a grain of sand in his left shoe. He started forwards and heard a click and a whirr coming from behind a nearby bluff.

  He backed away. The clicks multiplied, and the whirring grew louder. A gormgast appeared at the top of the bluff and scanned the area, eyestalks waving. Soon, it was joined by a companion, then a dozen, then a hundred. They surged down the cliff, their metal coverings glinting like a waterfall in sunlight.

  He turned and ran. The uneven surface did its best to trip him with stray rocks and small ledges and cracks just large enough to trap an ankle. He hazarded a glance over his shoulder. The gormgast horde was closing in.

  He spied a narrow cut just ahead. If the biomechanical creatures wanted to follow him, they would have to funnel through the gap. He headed straight for it.

  Sheer rock walls on either side gave some welcome relief from the sun’s direct heat, but loose scree slipped under his boots, and boulders half his hei
ght blocked the way. He scrambled over them just as the gormgast entered the gorge.

  Larger boulders lay strewn across his path. He spotted a gap between a pair of ten-metre-high rocks and squeezed through. With a creak, the left one shifted a fraction, trapping his knee. He pulled on his leg, and agony lanced through the joint. The front rank of gormgast were already past the first set of boulders and scuttling towards him, five abreast.

  Grasping his knee in both hands and gritting his teeth against the pain, he pulled with all his might. The leg slipped free, and he toppled backwards, rolled onto his side, and clutched the injured limb. After forcing himself upright with his good leg, he lurched away.

  Clicks and whirs echoed against the canyon walls as if he were being pursued by a giant clockwork toy. He heard another sound like a whistling kettle.

  Scrabbling up a slight rise with his good leg, dislodging sheets of scree, he climbed out of the cut.

  The sun reasserted its blinding dominance. He shielded his eyes and gazed in the direction of the whistling. A massive black cloud was rolling across the desert, heading straight for him. He swallowed. Time front.

  The gormgast started up the incline towards him. The frying pan or the fire? Resuming his uneven gait, he headed towards the cloud. Better to be lost in time than torn apart by those things.

  The cloud’s whistling became a shriek, as if a banshee were trapped within. Quinn glanced over his shoulder. The gormgast were moving forward, but their ranks had thinned against the battering wind. Wrapping his Nemazi garment tightly around him, Quinn pushed on.

  Partially blotting out the sun, the cloud reared up before him. He dropped to his good knee and stared upwards, helpless before its raw power. A chink of bright light appeared in the cloud, resolving into three circles linked by two triangles. Quinn had no more idea what it meant than the symbol in his previous dream.

  The cloud rolled over him, covering his eyes and filling his mouth, ears, and nostrils. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. The cloud grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard.

  “Quinn!”

  He tried to turn away, but the light prised open his eyes.

  Vyasa searched his face. “Quinn, what’s the matter? You look as if you were having a bad dream.”

  He shook his head. “Yes… no… I’m fine.”

  She smiled like the sun breaking from behind a cloud. “Good. Because we’ve arrived!”

  ~

  Quinn waded through a sea of waist-high yellow grass with Vyasa on his left and To-shar on his right. The sky was bright blue with a scattering of fleecy clouds. The planet could have been Earth, although he had never set foot on Earth. Yet this world seemed strangely familiar.

  Vyasa pointed. “There.”

  A lone building sat in the midst of the vast plain, its roof shaped like a sail.

  Quinn felt like the mouse that realised too late it was caught in a trap. “This is Ximun’s world.”

  Vyasa cocked her head to one side. “Interesting designation, although I suppose it’s essentially correct. This world is actually called Garuya.”

  “The home of Ximun’s people.”

  “You remember.”

  “But during our last visit, you told me you’d never been there before.”

  “I was being truthful. The Agantzane pulverised the original Garuya following the uprising centuries ago. Ximun had this world transformed into a replica—without the people, of course.”

  “But why would he join his people’s enemy? And why choose to live on an empty world?”

  “You can ask him shortly. He’s anxious to see you.”

  Silver glinted in the swaying grass.

  “What’s that?” Quinn asked.

  “Nothing to worry about,” To-shar said.

  “It’s coming this way.”

  “Stay still and remain calm.”

  “Do as he says, Quinn.” Vyasa’s tone was as strict as a parent’s.

  A cylindrical machine with a black top ringed by flashing lights floated towards them. Humming steadily, it halted before To-shar and extended an antenna until it was five centimetres from his face. A fan of light extended from the antenna and moved down To-shar’s body.

  “Passive scan,” To-shar said. “No cause for alarm. Just try to remain as still as possible.”

  The machine completed its scan of To-shar and moved on to Quinn. The fan of light lingered over his head before moving on to Vyasa. Then the light extinguished, the antenna withdrew, and the machine moved off.

  To-shar exhaled slowly. “There, you see? Nothing to worry about. Come, Ximun will be waiting.”

  The layout of Ximun’s house was akin to a four-space dimensional maze. Quinn followed To-shar into a bush and emerged through a wall into a wide room laid out with gurneys and banks of machinery. Ximun’s laboratory. Vyasa appeared through the wall a step behind him.

  A lanky figure rushed Quinn and gave him a powerful embrace. “Dad!”

  Quinn examined Conor at arm’s length. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Vyasa said you’d come. Don’t worry. You’ll be well again real soon.”

  Ximun strode across from the laboratory’s far side. A close-fitting yellow coverall emphasised his angular frame. Quinn was fixated on the deep blue eye set in the creature’s forehead.

  “Good to see you, Quinn. It’s been a long time.” He turned to Conor. “I need to talk with your father in private. Is that all right? Vyasa and To-shar will take care of you.”

  Conor grinned as if Ximun had suggested a hover-car race. “Sure, no problem.” He placed a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Just do whatever Ximun says, and you’ll be fine, okay?”

  Quinn nodded and waited till Conor, Vyasa, and To-shar disappeared through the far wall before addressing Ximun. “What’s going on?”

  Ximun motioned to a chair. When Quinn sat, Ximun seated himself on a bench, giving himself a psychological height advantage. “It’s exactly as Conor says. We’re going to make you well again.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s perfectly simple,” Ximun said. “Vyasa thinks a great deal of you, and yet she has been forced to endure as she watched you get sicker from the Shade illness. The Nemazi didn’t help you. None of your so-called allies and friends helped you. Even the all-powerful Elinare were content to watch you suffer.

  “Vyasa asked for my help. I told her the only way to get you treatment would be through Conor. She told him of the plan to cure you, and he was eager to go along with it.” He spread his arms theatrically. “And so here we all are.”

  “The last time I saw you, you tried to make me commit suicide,” Quinn pointed out.

  “And yet you prevailed. A test of human resilience. I would say you passed with flying colours! Now, let’s get you some refreshment.”

  Ximun’s preoccupation with humans included experimentation with human cuisine, and Quinn, the only human within fifteen parsecs, was the designated guinea pig.

  Quinn allowed himself to be led to a table with two chairs. The table held a pitcher and a tall glass with a matching pattern of elephants, giraffes, and lions as well as a pile of cookies on a traditional willow-patterned plate and a pack of playing cards.

  Ximun poured a glass and handed it to Quinn. “Raspberry cordial.”

  Quinn stared at the rose-coloured liquid. Clearly, Ximun wanted something from him, so poisoning seemed counterproductive. He took a sip. It tasted more like banana than raspberry.

  “How is it?” Ximun asked.

  “Just right,” Quinn lied. He quaffed more deeply and eyed the playing cards. “Are we going to play a game?”

  “In a while, perhaps. Try these. They are called chocolate chip.”

  Quinn seated himself, accepted a cookie, and bit into it. It tasted as bitter as coffee grounds, and he couldn’t disguise his grimace.

  “No good?”

  “Well,
they never were a favourite of mine,” Quinn croaked.

  “You’ll have to let me have a list of your favourite foods,” Ximun said. “Although reproducing them solely from information picked up through Earth’s transmissions isn’t easy.”

  Quinn couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being played. “So when do I get the cure?”

  Both of Ximun’s mouths grinned. “I’m glad you asked. Actually, I’ve already begun. I have the scans recorded by the perimeter drone and my monitoring devices within this structure. I’ve already removed the death touch we imposed on you. And I’ve synthesised a counteragent to the Shade sickness, which should begin working shortly.”

  Quinn swallowed. “The cordial.”

  “The cordial. You may experience one or two unwelcome side effects until I perfect the formula and the dosage. I’m afraid my experience with human physiology is limited. There’s some minor damage to internal organs as a result of your condition, but I can accelerate healing.”

  “How long?”

  “How long will the treatment take? A few days.”

  “Then I can take Conor and go?”

  “That will be up to you and him. Conor is quite comfortable here. This is, after all, his birthplace.”

  “He was born on Eire Colony.”

  “He is a reanimate, Quinn. He came into existence on that bioberth over there. All his memories prior to that were superimposed. In a sense, I am just as much his father as you are.”

  Quinn’s fingers twitched as he barely controlled his urge to knock Ximun out.

  He forced himself to change the subject. “I don’t understand you. You live here alone on a replica of your dead home world, and you’ve allied yourself with those who destroyed your people. Why?”

  “What is the point of life if not to improve oneself, to become more than we were? I am master of an entire world, and I am one with the mighty Agantzane, governors of a thousand worlds, the vast Consensus, the greatest civilisation ever to occupy the stars. By the way, did you know there’s a hole in your head?”