by Lee Bond
A thrill of panicky excitement shot through Tendreel. So powerful was it that the fronds of her mind began spreading through the old passageways of her drying, mycological body, rushing through her and flowering stronger and more vivid than ever before. The faint flickering lights that were her interpretation of the pattern blossomed and bloomed everywhere, a thousand times brighter, a thousand times more than she’d ever seen.
This magnificent eruption of potential burned through her, showing her in a flash the true purpose behind her unexpected visitor’s presence.
This Horseman had come to stop her from finding out what Garth Nickels was up to! She should’ve realized it all along, but the cold dread seeping through the room combined with being severed from the scintillating beauty that was the tapestry had quite literally stolen her wits away.
Fenris saw the sly grin stealing across the Mycogene’s weird-looking face and did not like it. It implied that he had somehow made an error. Tactical or otherwise, errors were not something that Harmony soldiers as ancient and as powerful as he was did. Tilting his head this way and that, burrowing through the strata of the local Unreal Universe, riffling through the different possibilities like layers of an onion –and thankfully bolstered by his brethren, who were just as equally surprised by this sudden, nay, abrupt transformation- the first Harmony soldier bit back a curse a scant heartbeat before it escaped his lips.
Somehow, in some way, Tendreel Salingh’s efforts in decoding Garth’s ultimate plan had exposed her to the very chaotic essence that he embodied. It was miniscule, barely a flicker, and were it an ordinary person in front of him and not a Mycogene-Alzant capable of observing a corrupted form of Harmony, it would mean nothing. He or she or it might have the occasional strange dream, wherein powerful men did odd things. They might see N’Chalez’ wry grin, or a flash of too-blue eyes gleaming in the night sky, but that would be it.
For someone like Tendreel, though, whose continual exposure to this thing she laughably called ‘the pattern’ … she’d been tuned to N’Chalez. It didn’t matter that it was the lowest possible frequency of the man’s essence. He was the Engineer, the first Kin’kithal, he was recognized by the Unreal Universe and quite possibly even the Engines of Creation as the last great chance for proper Existence; the necessity of birth, the obligation of Reality 2.0 would grab hold of anyone it could and fold them into weapons or tools to be used in this, the last great endeavor.
These thoughts flashed through Fenris’ mind like lightning. He’d entered Vorpal Cannon on a whim, to scare some little mushroom prophetess into a quivering mass of spores and had encountered something quite unexpected. Plans whirled. Options presented themselves. Agreements between the Horsemen were reached.
This situation would be used to rid themselves –however temporarily- a deeper problem.
Tendreel missed the faraway, thoughtful look on Fenris’ face; even if she’d been paying strict attention to her visitor, chances are she’d’ve missed it anyways. As it was, the unfurling within her gave her strength where she hadn’t expected to find any.
“I will quit,” Tendreel said with a smirky smile she’d seen so many times on Garth’s face, “when and if my commanding officer, Commander Aleksander Politoyov, asks me to.”
Eyes narrowed, Fenris cast about for the lifesign that was their battle-hardened opposition. Gone. Unexpected, but then again, convincing the mushroom prophetess to stop was no longer the plan. Not at all.
The Harmony soldier stepped forward menacingly, drawing on as much power as he dared; too much and the debilitating effect the Latelian shield had on him -while on the other side, at any rate- would destroy the quantum projection of his will. Dark shadows boiled and radiated outward, blanketing much of the Myco’s quarters.
“Do as I say, Tendreel Salingh.” Fenris intoned, enjoying himself mightily. When this Garth-touched fool of a mushroom was left to her own devices, her panicky overreaction would require the presence of someone physically capable of leaving Latelyspace. “The matter you are digging into is best left alone. There are things greater and more powerful than you can imagine. Brush up against them and you will be snuffed out.”
Thrilling at the feeling of this newfound courage, Tendreel squared her shoulders as she’d seen so many people do in her life and stood her ground. “When my Commander Aleksander orders me to stand down, I will do so. Not a moment before.”
In Fenris’ mind, across Harmony, Lokken, Nalanata, Solgun and Stride were absolutely beside themselves with hilarity, both at the methods their eldest brother in arms was taking to turn one sentient mushroom virus witless and at what would come of their impromptu game.
It was all there, in the files that Tendreel Salingh had been working on nonstop since being given permission to do whatever was necessary to discover Garth’s true purpose in the Universe; in this instance –owing to the shield- the Myco’s research into those who’d come into contact with Garth and had become changed because of it was far more thorough than their own prying.
Naturally, the Harmony soldiers had already been aware of the effect N’Chalez had on everyone. It was just … disconcerting … to see how easily it took hold. Fenris cautioned his brothers to look into those men and women in Latelyspace who’d spent considerable time with Garth. Then the glowering, shadow-wreathed Harmony soldier turned his attention right back to Tendreel, who was positively vibrating in place.
“Listen to me.” Fenris’ voice rolled through the room, heavy with purpose, laden with threats, snapping the foolish mushroom prophetess’ eyes to him instantly. He grinned toothily. “And listen well. We can feel you, my brothers and I, tip-tapping across the skein of the Universe, digging and prying into secrets and whispers. You will stop.”
“And if I don’t?” Tendreel wanted to put a hand to her mouth in amazement at the bravado she was displaying. She’d never stood up to anyone before, and yet here she was, not only doing so, but to a … whatever he was.
Fenris allowed the projection of his body to swell up to three times normal size, a sinister form filling the Tech Expert’s quarters full to the brim. Mushroom eyes started blinking out of sequence, and a faint tremor appeared in the Myco’s right hand; sure sign that the viral intelligence inside the body was beginning to understand just what was –or what seemed to be- at stake.
But it wasn’t enough, not really, not yet. New to the whole concept of theatricality, Fenris felt he should –as Garth would say- step up his game a bit. And so, knowing full well that the expenditure of energy would have his psyche hurtling back through the void and into his body sooner rather than later, Fenris began pulling heat from the room, leaving behind absolute chill.
“Well, Tendreel Salingh of Special Services,” Fenris breathed icily, “we will come back, won’t we, my brothers and I? We will return, in force, and we will come for you. We’ve been willing to let you lot try to hammer your way in through our shield, but this … digging … is unwanted. Besides, you are just one little mushroom. This secret is too big for you to handle all on your own. Poke and prod, dig and dig, and you will only ever find one morsel at a time. It would take you a million years to uncover the whole of everything, Tendreel, and you do not have that much time. You are one. We are legion.
Abide by the rules of standard conquest, Tendreel, and we will leave your ship, your precious Commander Aleksander, alone. Keep on as you are and your vessels will burn in the night sky like beacons of warning to those who will come after you. Am I clear?”
Tendreel tried to find her voice, but whatever … whatever power this unnamed Horseman was displaying had stolen it from her again. The bristling brilliance that had only just risen in her was almost gone; only a tiny little spark remained, but it was enough to keep her resolve, and for that, the Myco gave thanks to her most ancient sporefather and the stories he should not have told her.
Fenris eyed the mushroom prophetess thoughtfully, wondering if perhaps he’d displayed too much … too much. It was hard to say and th
ere wasn’t going to be any way of knowing whether or not he’d overdone it, not until he mentioned this little foray to Huey, and not until well after the AI God returned from dealing with the Mycogene-Alzant; his time in this more solid form across the shield was over with.
Fenris nodded once, firmly, eyes full of dark promise and grim intention, then faded from view, pulling along with him tattered shadows.
Tendreel stood stock still for a solid five minutes, mind a whirling morass of plans and terror, fear and judicious thought; if she ignored the Horseman’s threat, there was little doubt in her mind that he and his brothers –those other men who floated in deep space as though it were no big thing- would return. She had to confess she had little idea how a … a … disembodied mind could do what this Horseman had done, but done them he had, and it would come as no surprise to her that if they were all present, they could do definite damage.
The Horseman’s promise of destroying the vessels, and all the life contained within, was a powerful motivator to do ‘the right thing’. There were perhaps a hundred thousand men and women and various flavors of Offworlder on this side of the shield, undoubtedly close to a million spread around the Latelian shield. That would be tremendously costly.
As warmth returned to her quarters, so too did her intelligence begin to spread back through her body. Tendreel sighed a happy little sigh as the fronds –replete with their newfound brilliance, whatever it was- made their way into her furthest extremities.
Motes danced in the air, showing her the likely repercussions of failing to abide by the Horseman’s offer of leniency if she followed ‘standard conquest’ rules. He would come with the other four, he would wreak havoc and destruction on the ships. Trinity, when It learned of the wanton devastation, would be outraged. It would send more ships with more people, but until It –or someone else- discovered a way to undo the shield surrounding Latelyspace, doing so would continue to be pointless.
For all the effect they were having, they could just as easily leave a handful of Tech-ships and achieve the same thing.
If she persisted, though… Tendreel felt in her very atoms that whatever Garth Nickels was up to, it was the most important thing in the entire Universe. The Horseman’s words, repeated over and over again in different ways, had made that abundantly clear. But he was right.
She was only one. Her talent, buoyed aloft by this new surge of confident energy, might allow her the chance to see things a little clearer, a little quicker, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not on her own.
An option presented itself, one that should have her intelligence-fronds quivering in fear and trepidation. Failing that, the very least it should do was have her on the Q-Comm to her sporefather, begging permission to return home, begging to be forgiven for even thinking the thought but …
But the opportunity, once considered, wouldn’t shake loose. Wouldn’t go away. As she moved to her terminal to see what the Horseman had been looking at, Tendreel stopped. The idea. The idea wouldn’t quit.
Tendreel nodded. She knew what she had to do, even though it would brand her outcast in the eyes of her civilization, even though Trinity, when It learned of her terrible crime, would come to burn Vorpal Cannon from the sky.
The Myco turned her many eyes up to the vent set into the ceiling. This one, like all the vents throughout the giant vessel, were connected to a central atmosphere regulator. The perfect deployment vector.
“Where I was worried Commander Aleksander is missing,” Tendreel shuffled closer to the vent, so that when she fruited, the intake valves would first suck the spores into that central chamber, then seed the entire vessel with copies of her viral intelligence, “now I am pleased. Of all the people on this ship, I wouldn’t want him to become as one.”
Tendreel hunkered down and willed her body to change, to grow fungal vents that would shoot spores directly upwards, willed her viral intelligence to dig deep into past parts of itself, to remember a time when each and every Mycogene-Alzant was capable of producing cross-species biochemical infectious agents that could sweep across a city, a continent, a world.
Her last thought before those forgotten connections were made was:
We are Legion as well, Horseman. We are Legion as well.
***
For once in dealing with the Latelian God Army, Candall didn’t mind the blindfold; from the moment Ute had promised that they would use the Q-Gun against the Hungryfish’s AI, a weird sort of peace had settled into his bones. Shane’s death still bounced and juddered against his insides like a rubber ball, but the certain knowledge that he was going to be able to avenge the man’s foolish death was calming.
So the blindfold –as itchy and claustrophobic as always- was a small price to pay for the privilege of being able to launch a handful of Hand of Glory missiles at a pack of Deep Strike cyborgs who had no right living in the first place.
Shane had always claimed that all was fair in love and war, that they were two sides of the same coin. Those Deep Strikers were about to learn the truth behind that Trinity-espoused maxim the hard way.
“We’re here.” A gruff voice announced.
Candall smiled.
Nothing had changed, not even for this momentous occasion. As with every time he’d been brought before someone in the Army or their masters, it’d been under the blanket of utter anonymity and secrecy.
You simply couldn’t beat the Latelian God Army for paranoia, and little wonder! From what he’d heard en route to this clandestine location, Trinity troops were infiltrating the sleepier towns and countryside villages all across Latelyspace, claiming with remarkable skill and surprising depth of knowledge that they were disenfranchised citizens who’d lost all hope in how the war was being handled, that they were intent on living the rest of their lives in peace and quiet.
Under normal circumstances, such a ploy would have even the sleepiest village’s warning systems firing on all cylinders within seconds, but the truth was pretty simple: the war was a drain on people’s spirits. They were losing hope.
Scuttlebutt had it that no more than four Trinitymen had been found holding varying degrees of local power, ranging from a police chief all the way up to a mayoral assistant. Grand scheme said it wasn’t too much to worry about, but a stepping stone was a stepping stone.
“Well?” Candall asked impatiently. Just because he was okay with the blindfold didn’t mean he wanted to be wearing it for any longer than he needed to. With his goal so close he could taste it, every second grew out of proportion.
“Hold your horses, there, friend.” The brusque voice snapped. “We’re being scanned.”
Paranoia. Everyone had it, these days. And in such a remarkably short time, too, and for good reason; the fake police chief had only been discovered because he’d outed himself by failing to know some obscure, minute detail about fishing in the Big City lakes.
Of all things! Fishing etiquette!
That’d triggered the suspicions of a few of the man’s underlings. They’d quietly investigated their chief on the sly and like the proverbial fish on the line, that saboteur had been caught with plans to restructure not just the police force but the entire town’s ruling body with Trinitymen.
All because a man didn’t know how to bait a hook like they did over Toolsie way.
Candall smiled again, unable to resist. Herrig’s plate was full to overflowing, now. Good. The man deserved as much difficulty, as much frustration, as much fear and panic, as could be flung his way. It didn’t matter that the Trinityman wasn’t directly responsible for Markson’s demise. All that mattered was that Herrig was the leader of the Latelian Commonwealth.
That he could’ve done something to stop the charade and hadn’t.
“What I wouldn’t give for some good old-fashioned regime right now.” Candall muttered. “And when the hell is the damn thing com…”
Someone snatched the blindfold off savagely, nicking the side of Candall’s temple with a sharp fingernail. He his
sed a curse but stayed where he was, blinking against the harsh bright light. It never paid to lose your temper around army, not anymore, not even against non-Goddie staffers. They all had each other’s backs now. Push one, you pushed them all.
God Army blindfolds. Good Christ –as Shane used to say- but they were a pain in the ass. Candall pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and rubbed them furiously, rubbed and rubbed until they started watering.
Blinking the tears free, Candall stood and took stock of where the Army had brought him this time.
“Well,” Candall said loudly, “you certainly have a stranglehold on ‘cavernous’.”
And that was about it. Wherever he was, on whichever planet or moon or over-sized asteroid, he was definitely underground, and definitely in one of the biggest single rooms ever constructed; his skill at reclaiming things gave him the ability to automatically size all manner of things up, one of those being actual dimensions, and the brightly lit, white painted ‘room’ was easily a mile from end to end on all sides.
“And I warrant your electric bill is through the roof.” Candall continued, taking a few steps around, just to listen to the echo of his boots. His unnamed host stood off to one side, mute and plainly disinterested in having anything to do with the man he’d brought all this way.
“Actually, sa,” Ute’s booming voice appeared behind him, “we’re hooked up to a jury-rigged hydroelectric dam.”
Candall wasn’t one to be surprised easily. Nevertheless, Ute’s sudden appearance took him for a momentary ride of fright until the rational side of his mind cottoned on to the secret. “Extra underground.” A smile split his face. That put them on Vashti! Not so far from home, after all.
Wondering how they’d managed to cajole the sentient space craft to another world when all it’d done before then was destroy everything that came near it, Candall slid a little jab into the air. “No one does paranoia like you lot.”
