“Get the children onto Wrath-Pei’s ship,” General Pron-Kel said quietly, then went back into the command tent to coordinate a last stand.
Waiting patiently by his desk, Trel Clan knew what was happening. His Screen was on, the sound off, but the shouts and cries outside in the ministry’s hallway perfectly mimicked the Screen’s action.
Occasionally a plasma soldier, a humanoid form made all of light, could be glimpsed on the Screen—soon after, that picture would go blank and another view would replace it. The outside wide-angle shots were spectacular: Titan’s dark sky lit with light brighter than the daylight generators had ever produced—so bright that, for the first time in Trel Clan’s life, he could not see the stars, only the radiant beams from the plasma soldier generators low in orbit. Then all of the beams went out as one, bringing back eerie darkness, permeated by the soft glow of plasma troop movements.
The close-in shots were more horrific—fierce close-in battles that ended with a blank Screen or a close-up remote-controlled shot of a pile of severed Titanian bodies, some with battle cries still locked on their dead lips and useless weapons clutched in dead hands. Trel Clan watched with interest as raser fire, whether at close quarters from a hand weapon or by rifle or cannon fire, went right through the light soldiers, impeding them not in the least. A stick of wood or metal rod used as defense seemed to bounce off the plasma bodies; such an attack was inevitably followed by a lightning-quick movement from the assaulted light soldier, resulting in a bisected human attacker, lifeblood pumping onto the ground. Waves of attacking Titanian soldiers were quickly reduced to dying piles of twitching bodies by as little as two or three plasma infantrymen; desperate measures, such as the spilling of hot liquids from rooftops, attempted rammings by vehicles, all met with failure. A group of enterprising young men managed to tilt a ground transport over onto two plasma soldiers; after a moment of seeming victory the light forms seemed to flash out from beneath the wreckage, regained their forms, and proceeded to destroy the young men in an instant.
In the Ministry of Foreign Import Trade, Second-Class Division, Expendable Goods (MFITSCDEG) hallway, the commotion was reaching crisis proportions; already the electricity had gone off and on, and what sounded like raser fire now punctuated the shouts and screams.
When the Screen finally did blink off for good, followed by a permanent loss of electricity, Trel Clan calmly lowered his feet to the floor from his chair and walked to the window; there he sat on the floor with his back against the wall and waited.
There came a tentative sound at his door; a voice vaguely familiar from the ministry shouted, “Doesn’t anyone work in there?” When there came a reply from another vaguely familiar voice in the hallway of, “Don’t know,” the first speaker grunted and the two moved on.
There were more shouts and more raser fire; then a short period of relative silence, at least in the hallway—battle sounds could still be heard outside the window, in a great general rumble of activity.
Then came the sound of marching out in the hallway; and the sound of other doors being opened one by one in a succession getting closer to Trel Clan’s own; then finally his own was tried, and opened, leaving the intruders with the moved furniture to contend with.
Trel Clan readied himself, made himself look presentable and believable.
Two loud sounds, and the furniture was not so much moved as blasted aside.
Trel Clan faced his intruders; for a moment his heart sank, because they were not the plasma soldiers he had expected, but black-suited soldiers formerly in the employ of Wrath-Pei.
They shone a light around the room; it hit Trel Clan.
The soldier held the light steady, studying Trel Clan’s hunched form, mock-frightened eyes, thumb in his mouth.
Finally the soldier barked, “Here’s another child! Get him out of here, quick!”
In Huygens City, outside the palace, the perimeter defenses were shrinking. Two light soldiers had beamed down on the palace grounds, but they had been drawn out of the ring by a squadron of Titanian soldiers, subsequently slaughtered. One of the plasma generator’s shields had been damaged, the satellite eventually destroyed by raser cannon fire; a platoon of light soldiers east of the city had immediately vanished, which had sent up a brief cry of victory from the Titanian defenders—until a new plasma generator had materialized in the old one’s place and the platoon of plasma invaders had beamed down anew.
And then the western defenses began to crumble. General Pron-Kel, in his command tent, watched it happen on a Screen.
“Shore up that area!” he shouted, knowing full well that there was little to shore it up with. Already most of the technicians in the tent had been given weapons and sent out to do battle; only one other technician, and Commander Solk, remained in the tent.
“Wrath-Pei’s ship?” the general asked, and Solk said quietly, “So far, it has not been touched. When it is filled, we will shut off the shields and it will make a run for it. That is all we can hope.”
“We’ll flank it with every ship we can find. It’s obvious we’re going to lose here on the ground.”
Commander Solk turned her old eyes on the general and said quietly, even as the Screen before them showed a complete breach of the western defenses, “Yes.”
It was time to leave Earth.
Something stirred within Queen Kamath Clan, and she responded to it. In her perpetual dream, the skies of Earth were clouding, darkening, and the petaled apple tree lost its petals in a sudden bracing gust of cold wind, which made Kamath shiver.
“Titan…” she mumbled.
Standing unsteadily, the queen tried to focus her eyes on her surroundings. She took a step, and the fleshy strip connecting her to the inverted Quog stayed her. She blinked and focused her eyes on the connector, watching the slow pulse of the liquid flowing toward her upper arm.
It was time to leave Earth.
She forced her eyes along the length of the flesh, which snaked back to Quog’s chest.
“Quog…” the queen said dreamily.
The old man opened one deeply deformed eye, but made no sound but a rustle.
Time to leave Earth…
“I must go to my Titan,” Queen Clan said, and now Quog began to shiver, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as the queen began to pull weakly at the flesh strip that led into her.
In the briefest of whispers, Quog said, “Noooo.”‘
Upside down, the old man began to rock on his perch, holding out one deformed, puttylike hand in supplication.
“Noooo”
With a faint ripping sound, the flesh strip dropped from the queen’s arm; for a moment she looked at it with incomprehension, her thoughts still caught by dreams of Earth and the smell of grass in her nostrils.
Time to leave Earth.
The spot where the flesh strip had been was blue-black and swollen, puckered like a hungry mouth, slowly bleeding a mixture of blood and Quog’s essence; the pucker tried to suck in the essence, but even now was closing.
The queen walked unsteadily to the lift tube’s door.
“Open,” she whispered, and it obeyed.
Quog, behind her, with failing strength, tried to reel in the length of pulsing flesh; but even in the middle of his labor he failed, his arms dropping like weights toward the floor, the flesh strip unreeling, pumping his drying essence tepidly out as the old man’s eyes went glassy, their last vision the ruined queen moving slowly away.
He tried to hold a hand out toward her—even as his heart stopped beating.
After an eternity, Queen Clan emerged from the lift tube, stumbled through the corridors of the palace and outside into her realm.
How bright it was!
How filled with destruction!
With dreams of Earth fading in her memory, she came to realize what was happening and was filled with a sudden spasm of terror and rage.
“Cornelian!” she screamed.
From a nearby tent two figures emerged. She kne
w them; General Pron-Kel and Solk, the religious leader.
They hurried toward her tottering frame; but then came two flashes of light, and beside them suddenly stood two figures all made of light.
And then Pron-Kel and Solk lay ruined on the ground; behind them, a third Titanian, a young man, emerged from the tent, but he, too, was immediately cut down.
Around her, Queen Clan was suddenly ringed by soldiers of light; even as they converged and she felt them cut into her, she raised her fists to the over-bright heavens.
“Damn you, Cornelian!”
Memories of Earth and Titan dimmed and went out within her.
Titan’s shields went down, which was the signal for Captain Stel-Far to gun his engines.
In a matter of moments, Wrath-Pei’s huge ship was free of Titanian airspace; within a half hour, Captain Stel-Far had put enough distance between himself and the Saturnian moon to begin to breathe again. The plan was to make a run for the lower cloud tops of Saturn and remain there, hoping that the interference from the planet itself and its rings would enable them to avoid detection.
Then, in a few days …
“What in hellation—”
Suddenly Wrath-Pei’s ship was surrounded by a phalanx of Martian cruisers. They had appeared out of nowhere, undetected, and now closed in to boarding speed.
Before Captain Stel-Far could even order his battle stations to fire on the hostile ships, one of the Martian cruisers activated a smaller version of one of the plasma generators in its snout; there was a bar of light that bathed Wrath-Pei’s ship in light from stem to stern.
The captain, sensing movement behind him, turned in his seat to see a plasma solder leaning down over him.
He was able to give a strangled cry of protest before annihilation.
Settled in one of the ship’s huge holds along with a hundred children, Trel Clan waited patiently. He had already rejected offers of friendship from two eleven-year-olds, who wanted him to play a card game with them: a brisk curse and dismissive wave of his hand had sent them on their way. Since that confrontation, hours ago, Trel Clan had been left alone to contemplate his empty belly; he wondered when they would be fed, and what kind of pablum it would be—
The hold’s wide doors flew open; for a moment a knot of true terror replaced hunger in Trel Clan’s stomach at the sight of six plasma soldiers marching into the room ahead of a Martian Marine. But he calmed himself, following the plan he had crafted so diligently these past months.
The plasma soldiers fanned out into the room, studying the children one by one.
Quickly Trel Clan sidled over to one of the children whose advances he had previously rejected; the boy held a clutch of playing cards loosely in his hand as he stared openmouthed at the nearest light soldier making its way in their direction.
“Here, let’s play,” Trel Clan said fiercely. Getting no reaction from the child, he hunched down and tried to imitate the child’s demeanor, holding his own cards and looking with wonder up at the light soldier, who reached them, paused, and then moved on.
After the light soldiers had traversed the room and returned to flank the Martian Marine, the boy turned finally to Trel Clan and said, “Do you want to play now?”
“Later,” Trel Clan snapped irritably, pushing the cards he held back into the boy’s hand.
Trel Clan’s eyes were on the Martian Marine, who now stepped boldly into the room, smiled a false smile, and proclaimed, “Children! I am proud to announce to you today that you are now happy subjects of the High Leader of Mars!”
Chapter 26
In her solitary orbit amid debris, Kay Free continued to wait.
But no calling had come. Her own melancholy had once again deepened, to the point where she had moved from the Kuiper Belt to the much farther out and lonelier Oort Cloud. In the Oort Cloud were the ancients of this Solar System, bits of detritus from its very beginnings, the longest period comets, ice balls that took thousands of years to make their way toward the distant Sun. Sol itself was so far away that it was nearly lost in the stellar background, but the lack of warmth or brilliance only added to Kay Free’s mood of despondency. She had begun to wonder if one were not feeding the other.
She had begun to wonder about much.…
“Kay Free?”
Startled, and angry at herself for not sensing another presence, Kay Free turned her attention to the newcomer; in the midst of her startlement she assumed it was Mel Sent.
It was not.
“Mother?”
Mother laughed, a bemused sound mingled with fondness. “You needn’t sound so surprised, dear.”
“But I thought you never—”
“Left my settling place? Ridiculous! You shouldn’t listen to everything Mel Sent tells you about me, Kay Free.”
Having regained her composure, but retaining her curiosity, Kay Free said, “Why …”
“Why did I come?”
“Yes.”
“Simple: I thought you might be in need of some company about now.”
Kay Free said nothing.
Again Mother laughed, and gave Kay Free something like a pat upon the head. “You know, dear, I’m not quite as ancient as you and the others think I am. And I was sent to oversee your progress. Which has been commendable—up to a point.”
“Up to a point?”
Another laugh. “You’re so serious all the time! I always knew you were the sensitive one of this group. And that I would have to talk to you alone eventually.”
Kay Free found her questions and frustrations suddenly bubbling to the surface at this show of attention. “But everything we’ve done here—”
“Hush!” Mother said, though not sternly. “And merely listen. I will not be able to answer all your questions or soothe all your concerns. But I will be able to share my own thoughts with you. Believe it or not, I don’t know much more about anything than you do. But I have been around longer. And I’m not quite the fussy and complaining biddy Mel Sent thinks I am!” Again the gentle laugh, and the pat on the head.
“I’m listening, Mother.”
“Good. Then keep listening. Because it’s what you do best. All I can tell you is that I was in a similar quandary once. And though I never did figure it out, I came at least to understand my ignorance.”
“I don’t—”
“Listen! For there is hope in this case. Mel Sent brought you my news of the young man, did she not?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I am ignorant of why, but after brushing against him I am convinced that he is a … key to this situation. And I’m telling you now to be aware of him.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Mother gave something like a sigh. “I’m afraid that’s all I can say, dear. These things are much more intuitive than those like Pel Front seem to think. And he’s so impatient!”
“He is! And Mel Sent is—”
“Now, now!” Mother laughed again. “I didn’t come here to gossip about your colleagues. You have a few annoying traits of your own, you know!”
Humbled, Kay Free said, “Yes, Mother.”
Sounding suddenly tired, Mother said, “And it’s time for me to return to my settling place. At least it’s not so far from here.” Something like a yawn escaped her, and she prepared to leave.
“Mother?” Kay Free asked.
“Yes, dear?” Mother replied, though her thoughts were already on returning, and sleep.
“May I ask you one question?”
Another yawn. “1 suppose so, dear.”
“You said that you were once in a situation similar to this?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Did it work out for the best?”
“For the best? Don’t things always work out for the best? That’s part of the understanding I spoke of, dear.” Mother began to move away; she was distracted now, her mind elsewhere.
“I mean,” Kay Free called, “how did it work out for the … place involved?”
“Hmmm?” Mother
said.
“The place where you were—how did it work out for them?”
“Oh,” Mother said, a bit sadly, perhaps a bit of the understanding of her ignorance which she had spoken of creeping back into her memories, “unfortunately very badly, dear. Very badly.”
Chapter 27
The Machine Master, Visid noted, had been very silent all morning.
Visid was used to his silences, of which, of course, there were many. She was even cognizant of their differences. There was the silence of discovery, when Sam-Sei was so concentrated on a problem that the entire world was removed from his thoughts. There was the silence of frustration, when a problem would not yield to him and his concentration was broken by this frustration. During these times he would pace around the laboratory, obviously angry, and in need of anything but solace. In other words, he was to be left alone.
And then there had been a different sort of silence lately—which, Visid noted, was pointed in her direction; sometimes she would catch the Machine Master looking at her intently, with an unreadable expression on his ruined face. Rather than turn away in embarrassment when she caught him in this pose, he would seem to study her harder—as if trying to solve yet another problem.
But today’s silence was different—frightening, almost—for the Machine Master, rather than stealing glances at Visid, had been absolutely avoiding her, to the point of retrieving his own parts and instruments and keeping a good distance between them.
Finally, Visid could take this behavior no longer and said, from across the room where she puttered at her own shop table, “Have I done something to displease you?”
The Machine Master said nothing, hunched as he was over an open hand transmitter unit (as he had been all morning, without doing anything to alter it in any way); but Visid was sure that he visibly flinched when she spoke.
“I said: have I done something to displease you?”
Slowly, the Machine Master looked up from his mock work and said, “Visid, come here.”
Journey - Book II of the Five Worlds Trilogy Page 18
