"The King has risen!
The Golden March resumes!
Southmark, that was no more,
Will rise again!"
Moontouch reached out to me with one hand, looking right at me from a far, far distance.
"Your son will rule, Slayer. I will die if you do not rejoin me. I await you, weeping in the dark. Do not betray me, my only love!"
And she faded away into the dark. The light came back—bright green light, blinding me. Pain crawled over my body until it was all burning, a fire on my skin. I tried to open my mouth. I was choking. I blinked and opened my eyes. That white ceiling again, aflame with greenish lights. I was lying on my back. Hurting, but alive. Sweat and blood, trickling over my skin—I could feel it but I could not move. I was tremendously weak.
I wanted to move my head, to see. I was conscious now. Someone was beside me, close beside me to my left. I was naked, I realized, covered with bloody wounds, lying on a hard surface. My eyes—I could move my eyes. I saw a slim female body, also naked, pale brown skin, cut and bruised and burnt, completely still. Tara! I would know her anywhere! It was Tara, lying close beside me on this cold slab, as if the two of us were dead. I struggled to control my limbs. My fingers were twitching. I concentrated on the right hand, and dug my fingers into my palm, as hard as I could. Pressure—I could feel it. This was not a dream—it was real! Tara and I were lying together, somewhere, under these evil lights. I strained to take charge of my body, but I could not. I was as weak as a newborn mumpup.
Movement. Something approached. It was an Omni. It loomed above us looking down, a gaunt, dark, skeletal figure. It carried no weapons and it was not in armor. There was no mag field. It was horribly there, horribly close. A bolt of terror shot through my body. It was such concentrated fear that I could do nothing but gasp. Tara and I lay on a slab about waist-high to the O. I tried to avoid looking at it but it paused by my side. I was aware of its awful split head and dead dry eyes, blinking at me.
I raised my right arm suddenly, easily, involuntarily.
The O grasped my arm with one awful wet hand and pressed something up against the flesh of my biceps with the other hand. Then it released me, leaving a bloody mark. My arm fell down to my side.
The O moved, slithering and scratching, to the other side of the slab. Tara raised one arm. Alive! She's alive!
The creature pressed an instrument against her arm, then pulled it away. Tara's arm fell. The O stood there, a massive presence. I could feel only helplessness and terror. Long, spotted fingers wrapped around Tara's hair and the O yanked her to a sitting position. Tara whimpered. The creature looked into her face for one horrible instant, seemingly curious. Then he slammed her back onto the slab. Her body twitched. Now the O slithered around to my side. It snatched me by my hair and I was suddenly looking right into its awful face, alien eyes full of hatred, a black maw opening full of needle teeth, a snakelike hissing. I was struck with despair, shot through with terror. I was helpless in its mighty grip.
The O slammed me back to the slab and moved off, then turned calmly, watching us. My muscles trembled. I could move! I twitched my arms. I struggled to get up, freezing and terrified. Tara lay helpless beside me. I was suddenly overcome with revulsion for her. Faithless bitch! She got us into this! I straddled her, and seized her tender throat in my scarred hands. Terror showed in her eyes. I'll strangle the bitch, I decided, I'll throttle her to death.
I squeezed her throat with all my might. She convulsed, her arms suddenly scratching at me helplessly. I laughed at her hopeless struggles. I'll kill her and then rape her, that's what I'll do. A perfect end for our hopeless relationship!
The O laughed. It was a croaking hiss, but I knew it was a laugh. It disappeared. I realized that a door had snapped close, and Tara and I were alone.
I released my grasp from her neck, horrified. She coughed and gasped, thrashing her arms around blindly. I embraced her, in shock.
"I'm sorry, Tara—the bastards made me do it! I couldn't resist! I couldn't!" We collapsed in tears, lying there side by side in each other's arms on that hopeless slab, under those awful lights.
"Are you all right, Tara? Can you move?"
She could only nod her head, her lovely face streaked with tears. I pulled her tighter and we lay there, naked and freezing, terrified and helpless, seeking solace in ourselves.
"We're dead," she finally choked. "I can't even begin to counter them. They're too powerful."
"I'm sorry, Tara." I knew it was impossible to resist. We were doomed.
"I'm sorry, too, Wester. We tried."
"We tried! We did that! We did our best."
"Our very best!"
"No matter what happens, remember I love you. Even if they make me kill you."
"Yes, Wester—I love you too. Let's close our eyes now, and imagine it's many long years ago, and I'm Tara and you're Wester, and we're just a girl and a boy, together, in a warm night."
And we did that, under those alien lights, side by side, holding hands like children. It almost worked. But then the door opened again.
Light, from the doorway. A tall figure against the light. It stepped forward. Gildron. It was Gildron, Tara's man-ape, dressed in elektra violet, the Maiden's litesuit, the material scorched and melted. Another vision, surely, from the O's nasty bag of mind-tricks. I turned away and squeezed Tara tighter. It was an O, I knew, come to tear us to shreds.
Gildron paused before us. Now he leaned over us, one massive, hairy hand cupping Tara's head, gently pulling her to a sitting position. Tara was paralyzed with terror—she too thought it was the O. I watched in horror, totally helpless. Gildron's eyes were full of tears. His face came up against Tara's and he gathered her up in his arms, just like a baby, and lifted her off the slab.
"Gildron! It's you!" Tara called out. Gildron threw his head back and moaned.
"Zin-da," He said. "Zin-da." He gently set her on her feet, and went down on one knee, embracing her. I hardly dared move. Tara was crying, running her hands hopelessly through Gildron's hair. I slid off the slab slowly to an icy floor. I had no explanation, no idea at all what was happening.
Gildron got to his feet, a massive, powerful figure. Had I ever really looked at him before? I had always thought of him as an ape, but now he looked like a God. He put one great, hairy hand on Tara's shoulder, and one on mine. And he led us toward the doorway. Right into the light.
We walked through icy air, green lights glittering all around us. And two gigantic O's stood aside and let us pass. My heart was pounding. It was like a dream. My fingernails dug into my palms, and I could feel it just fine.
This was no dream—it was real! Gildron had just walked us past the O's!
Chapter 13
Two Billion Ghosts
"Hold still. This is a deep cut," Tara said. I held still. Tara pressed a fleshpad over a wound on my cheek. My body was slimy with medgel. I was covered with burns and cuts and bruises. I still didn't feel much because Sweety had pumped me full of mags and biotics during the assault, but it was going to hurt a lot when the mags wore off. My right leg was already tingling; it had been badly scalded.
Tara was in better shape because she had not spent as much time in the starmass as I had. But she was also covered with little cuts and bruises. As our A-suits had slowly deteriorated in the superhot temperatures, the interiors had begun to heat up.
"It's cold," Tara said with a shiver, continuing to dab at my face. She was wearing Gildron's huge elektra-violet tunic. It was so big, it was all she needed. I was still naked. We were sitting on a small ledge jutting out of the wall in a circular room. There was a round structure set in the middle of the room that looked like some kind of high-tech table, about shoulder-high, full of recessed slots and grooves, hiding unknown things. There were a couple of large vertical cushioned structures against the wall as well that might have been beds or chairs for the O's.
Tara was exhausted and stunned, but still absolutely lovely, fragile and
slender, as exquisite and ethereal as a princess from the clouds. Her auburn hair was stringy and sticky with sweat, but it made no difference.
She was the same girl I had known in my other life, before the Legion.
"The bleeding's stopped," she said wearily.
"Wonderful," I replied without enthusiasm. Gildron had left the room, leaving us alone. We didn't know where he was. The O's had evidently let Gildron retain his medpak, and he had handed it to Tara before he left. We still had no idea what was happening. It was so strange and I was so tired that I did not even have the mental energy to wonder about it.
"We're not on a star run, you know," Tara said, huddled inside the tunic.
"Doesn't seem like it," I replied. I couldn't feel any of the pressure that came with being in the hole.
"Ship's grav is on, but we're not in stardrive. I wonder why."
I did not reply. It didn't matter, I thought. We were in the power of the O's—we were dead. It was just a matter of time.
"If we're not on stardrive," Tara continued, "it means we can't be too far from Uldo."
"Were you born with this optimistic streak," I asked, "or did you have to work at developing it?"
She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Pale green lights and alien devices, watching over us.
"I don't understand it," she said. "About Gildron. What does it mean?"
"You're the psycher. You tell me."
"I have no idea, Wester. No idea at all."
"They must like him," I said. "Maybe they think he's cute."
"Another thing," Tara said. "They're not psyching us. I couldn't even move when they were psyching us. Now there's nothing."
"Yes, it's strange. Of theoretical interest, perhaps. Something to puzzle out between now and whenever that door opens and the O's slither in to kill us." It was freezing, and I didn't think I'd ever be the same again. Then the door slid open and my adrenalin surged wildly.
It was Gildron, shirtless, carrying some of our gear. The door snapped shut behind him. I breathed again. He dumped the equipment on the floor before us. Fieldpaks, another medpak, ratpaks, a toolpak, one canteen, a cooler, and our own litesuits, scorched and torn. Tara reached out and touched him, overcome. He grinned at her like a big, friendly monkey. I grabbed at my litesuit pants, shivering.
"You're all right, Gildron," I said. "Next time bring us the E's and a Persist."
"Poo-sit," Gildron said. "Dak-more." He opened up a fieldpak and hauled out my tacmod. I was so stunned I couldn't say a thing. He placed it gently into my hands, looking deep into my eyes. Then he turned back to Tara.
I struggled into my smelly, half-melted liteshirt and powered the tacmod on. The faintest spark of hope had just come alive inside me. Sweety, you lovely bitch, power up and give me the word. Just give me the word, tell me you're mine once again. Together, we may just have half a chance, against the O's.
"Hello, Thinker," Sweety said. "I am fully functional, on disconnect. Awaiting your commands." It was sweet music to me, the music of the angels.
"Low power, Sweety," I said quietly. "Map the ship."
"It's done, Thinker. How would you like the output?" I closed my eyes. Salvation! I could hardly believe it.
Tara moaned. Gildron knelt before her, gently cupping her head in his massive hands. He looked into her face calmly, blinking his eyes. She was sweating and trembling, her own eyes shut tightly. Now what, I thought—what the hell. She cried out, once, and her slim arms went up and she clawed helplessly, blindly, at the air. Then she screamed, a piercing shriek of horror that froze me in place for an instant.
I was at her side immediately. She had fainted, slumped in Gildron's arms. Gildron was obviously distressed, pawing at her hair. I snatched up the canteen and wet her face as we lay her out on the ledge. I ripped the medpak open again and her eyelids blinked and she came back to us.
"Talk to me, Tara. What's the sit?" She was holding her head in apparent agony, her eyes focused on Gildron.
"Answer me, Tara. Are you all right?" She just kept staring at Gildron, almost as if she was in shock.
"Legion to Tara, respond please," I repeated. Tara stirred, forcing herself to sit up on the ledge, silent and stunned, pale and weak. Still staring at Gildron. He showed his teeth, and touched her on the cheek with his hairy fingers. She took the canteen from me and emptied it over her forehead. It dribbled all over her face. She dropped the canteen and massaged her face gently. Then she spoke.
"I've been such a fool, Wester."
"Well, don't keep me in suspense."
"It's Gildron—he's not the same as us."
"I already knew that, Tara."
"It feels like my head is splitting wide open."
"Would you like a mag?"
"I'd better not. No—better not." She did not look good at all.
"Are you going to tell me about this?"
"Gildron—what a fool I've been!"
"We've already established that, Tara. Could you give me a few more details, please?"
She slumped back against the wall and looked vaguely around the room. "It was pure knowledge," she said. "It was…communication, but not as we know it. It wasn't psionics, or psyching. Not at all. It was a transfer of knowledge. Pure knowledge. So powerful I could barely grasp it. But he burnt it into my head. And it's about the O's, and about Gildron."
"And Gildron did this?"
"Yes—my darling Gildron." She smiled, a dazzling white smile, and ran a hand through his hair. He grinned back at her like a happy chimp.
"He never did this before?"
"No…I thought he was retarded. He's not. He's far, far beyond us. He's on an entirely different level. It's not really thought, the way we know it. It's…something else. I'm not sure what. But it's more powerful than thought. Whatever it is, he's able to communicate with the O's."
"Deadman! Really?"
"Really. They told him something, and he told them something."
"Well? What!"
"Hold me!" She was shivering, whether from cold or fear I did not know. I sat close beside her and pulled her to me.
Gildron squatted before us, still gazing into Tara's eyes, panting happily.
"I can hardly believe it," she said.
"Tell me."
"He told the O's we're intelligent."
"Huh?"
"They hadn't known it. They thought we were vermin. Troublesome, sometimes dangerous pests. Their intelligence—their awareness—is on a different level from ours. Different. A very advanced type of awareness. They thought we were just animals to be harvested, to be exploited. They had no idea we were sentient, intelligent beings, with emotions, and hopes and dreams and feelings. No idea at all. They thought we were…bugs. They felt about us just as we feel about exosegs."
I greeted this news with stunned silence.
"They recognized Gildron as intelligent," she continued. "God, he told me so much! It's all a jumble."
"Un-jumble it. I want to hear this."
"The O's…they're from far, far away in spacetime. They are a hard race, with a long history. They've lost all their worlds, and need more. They need our worlds."
"Well, we'll just see about that."
"No, you don't understand. This changes everything! The O's understand now, about humans. Gildron told them all about us. The O's have nothing against us. They'll happily live side-by-side with us on the same worlds, if we stop fighting them. They want only peace for themselves.
"Physical energy weapons—warfare itself—is difficult for them. It's not really a physical world they live in—that's the only reason humanity is still alive, because they have had to adopt our primitive methods to fight us."
"They want only peace! Are you crazy? Can you hear yourself?"
"It's true, Wester! I can feel it! It's like…a blessing. It's a pledge, to us all. Peace, like a silent snowfall. Peace, a blessing from the sky, from the O's. Peace for the Galaxy. Peace at last! And it's all from Gildron! My God, he's…a h
ero, a God. Gildron, I love you!"
"They've psyched you! You're babbling idiocy!"
"You can't feel it, Wester! It's true! They told Gildron, and he told me! They hadn't understood us—they said they're sorry."
"Sorry? Sorry! What are you saying? We've lost two billion dead—maybe more! And now they're sorry? Sorry? Scut! They can burn in hell!"
"Wester! It's up to us to tell the others. Peace, Wester. Real peace, universal peace, the end of the war with the O's!" She seized my shoulders, and her eyes were blazing.
"Get your hands off me! You must be insane! Two billion dead! They've been harvesting us like animals, for meat and blood. You want us just to forget about that? For peace? Sure, let's deal—just like the Systies did on Andrion 3. Peace for us, death for our children! I've got two billion ghosts crying out for revenge. Peace? I'll give these bastards peace! Gildron, I want our E's—now! Tara, look at this—Sweety has mapped the ship!" I was trembling so violently with rage that I almost dropped the tacmod.
Tara pushed it aside. "Wester, don't do this. I won't let you do this! You've got to listen to me. We can end the war! You and me and Gildron."
"I don't want to end the war!"
"You can't mean that!"
"I'll end the war when the body count is two billion O's—all right? Until then, you just stay out of my way!" I tore away from her and ripped open our gear, strewing it out on the deck. I was so enraged, I did not even want to talk with her any more. A tangle of equipment, but it wasn't enough. The toolpak, the medpak, the tacmod. They'd be useful. But we had no weapons.
"Gildron…" I began.
"Wester, please." Tara's slender fingers were on my shoulders again. She knelt beside me. "I know how you feel. I, more than anyone. I've dedicated my life to the Legion—my whole life. I've sacrificed everything for the Legion. But this is important. More important than anything that either of us has ever done before. It could mean peace for humanity, now. The end of the war. Think about it!"
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