by Garon Whited
“Probably, although I doubt they’ll be so direct. I think it more likely they’ll try to attack your plans, rather than you. I get the idea they want to oppose you rather than destroy you. Killing you seems impossible, although I don’t know why they think so.”
“I have an idea,” I muttered.
“As you say. One other thing.”
“Why not? Go ahead.”
“That thing you did to make me immortal. They’d really like to know how you did it.”
“The Ninjas of the Light?”
“No, no—the magicians who asked me to, ah, participate in their studies. They have been entirely courteous, if a bit over-enthusiastic and insistent. There are a few others,” he added, “who still want to drain blood out of you and make themselves nightlords. Many think your blood holds the key to living immortality. But my former hosts would like to know how you moved me to an elf-body.”
“Okay. I’m not sure I can teach it to them, though. And it requires an empty elf to make it work.”
“They won’t mind.”
“The elves will. Although,” I paused for a moment. “I’m told it takes about seven years to make a new elf. I don’t know how long one takes to grow up, though. I’m trying to help the elves out in that regard so they don’t kidnap and kill humans for the process, but there are problems…” I thought about it some more.
“Here’s a question, T’yl. If I can get some empty elves, would your ‘friends’ settle for being put into elf bodies, like you were, rather than doing it themselves?”
“I would think so,” he agreed. “You must remember, any magician who gets to a certain age and doesn’t look forward to the great journey… It is not inaccurate to say they will do many things they would not normally consider to keep from making the trip.”
“I think I understand. Okay. Let me see what I can work out.”
“So, I may tell them you’re willing to help?”
“If it will get you out of their clutches, yes. I’m already working on it.”
“Very good. Do you mind if I bring a couple of them back with me? They would like to continue working with me on elf-body immortality, and I am certain they would be delighted to help you with other matters if it helps your work on their project.”
“As long as you vouch for them, I agree.”
“As you say, Sire. We should be there tomorrow, I think.”
“Sounds good.”
We signed off and I went to get Bronze.
I’m a physics and computers guy, not a biosciences person. Admittedly, I have some natural—make that “unnatural”—advantages when it comes to analyzing living things. This doesn’t change the fact I simply don’t know enough to understand everything I’m seeing. It’s one thing to know I can plug a sperm cell into an egg cell and plant it in a uterus. It’s quite another to combine two normal cells—well, two non-reproductive cells—from different organisms and artificially grow the result. The first one is on the order of pouring cake mix into a bowl and following directions. The second one is more along the lines of, “Step One: obtain a farm. Step Two: Plow and plant wheat. Step Three: Build an oven…” on your way to making the cake.
Fortunately, I have no problem whatsoever with Sir Isaac Newton’s philosophy on the matter. “If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” I’ll happily make use of what someone else has discovered, if for no other reason than duplicating all their work is not only outside my talents, but outside my interests.
And I’m lazy. Sue me.
The problem, of course, is finding someone who knows more about it than I do. I’m probably the closest thing to a geneticist in this world—barring supernatural entities such as Rendu or the energy-state things who occasionally interfere with life as we know it. Even with the limited reference material Diogenes provides, I merely know the depth of my ignorance. I certainly can’t risk going to Mary’s world and consulting someone at a major university; I don’t dare give Johann more chances to detect and nail me. I also feel less than confident about deliberately dialing up some random world in the hope it’s technologically advanced enough to be useful. At the moment, randomly dialing up strange universes strikes me as a way to multiply my problems, not solve the ones I already have.
However, there is a world I know of—hopefully no longer full of giant ants—which seems to have made great technological advancements. There’s no one to consult, but there are still computers, libraries, and—possibly behind sealed doors—medical equipment.
So, my Clever Plan runs like this.
I’ve got a couple of magical rings with gate spells on them. Even better, I have a target gate in my destination world. So, I open a portal through my geode-room gate. Bronze and I step through. I then transfer the link between the main gates to the tiny gates and watch the power levels. If it doesn’t look good, I abort the mission and come back immediately. If the power levels give me enough time, Diogenes and I will start raiding the local ruins for information and equipment—and, hopefully, by maintaining an active link between worlds, the time differential will stay constant.
Hmm. How to tell? I’ll need a candle, so I can look through the ring gate and watch it burn. I should probably set up a power jet in the geode room, too, to extend the life of the ring gate I mount in the wall… and I should probably bring some pre-charged power crystals, just in case, to provide power at the other end.
We went down to set things up.
Okay, power jet pushing energy into the ring gate. Main gate and ring gate temporarily wired together. Jumbo-sized candle burning. Secondary power-jet spell assembled and held ready. Bronze wearing a brand-new Ascension Hide spell and standing before the arch. Armor on and both swords belted in place. Diogenes in my pouch. Yep, ready to go.
“Let’s do this,” I said. Bronze nodded and silently pawed at the floor.
Then I realized I had a problem. Two armored guys with grey sashes. When I moved to stand in front of the archway, they moved up behind me, ready to go through with me. They watched me work. They even helped me set it all up. They knew this was a gateway to another world.
And it didn’t matter to them in the slightest.
“Guys?”
“Yes, my lord?”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Guarding you, my lord.”
Ask a silly question…
On the other hand, maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. Or, rather, maybe I could turn it around into a good thing.
“Yes, but you can’t both come with me. One of you has to stay here to keep an eye on my lifeline.”
They consulted. I waited.
“With your approval, my lord, Sir Sarron will accompany you.”
“Sir Sauron?”
“Sarron,” he corrected. There was a subtle difference in pronunciation, but I knew I’d never hear anything but “Sauron.” I wonder if anyone is named Saruman, Gandalf, or Frodo—or some reasonably-similar-sounding names. Not impossible, I suppose. But if I find out the headmaster of the Arondael Academy of Magicians is named “Dumbledore,” I’m going to have a quiet little breakdown.
I approved their plan and instructed both of them in the fine art of watching the little ring-gate and monitoring the power reserves. Since Sir Lorodin would remain behind, I cautioned him about the potential length of his watch—I might be gone for more than a day.
“If necessary, my lord, I can summon a relief,” he assured me.
“Good man. Now, are we ready?”
“Yes, my lord,” they chorused, and Bronze nodded.
First, dial the ring gate to connect with the Library of Carnivorous Ivy. It’s cheaper to look through it and make sure I’ve got the right place. Hitting the wrong target was unlikely, but it’s best to be safe. I spent a lot of time building the archway in the library, carving symbols and spells into the concrete base, chanting at the braided strips of metal, the works. Plus, I had Diogenes’ quantum crystal; it was an artifact from
that world and should help with targeting it.
Plus, I get to test my wormhole-transfer connections between ring gate and archway.
I peered through the tiny gate like looking through a small peephole in the wall. It certainly looked like the library I recalled. I could even see some of the book-plate things I left on a reading couch. Good enough. I switched the wormhole from the ring to the arch.
The image flicked into the arch and rippled, expanding and contracting for a few seconds. Distortions in spacetime as one portal changed size so radically? Probably. We waited an extra couple of seconds after it stabilized before stepping through. A quick flick and the makeshift arch in the library transferred its connection to the ring gate I carried. Another spell-based click and the archway in Karvalen should have switched back to the ring gate mounted on the wall.
I looked through the ring gate I held. The viewpoint was at about eye level and I could make out the edge of the free-standing arch that was the main gate. Sir Lorodin moved forward, one eye closing as he prepared to look through from the other end. Success!
What would happen if I had an active connection between two ring-gates and carried one of them through the arch? It might not do anything, at first—much like feeding a small tube down a larger tube. But what would happen if the archway shut down? Would it take the smaller connection with it? Would the smaller one “snap sideways” and maintain its integrity? Or would it come apart, catastrophically or otherwise?
An interesting experiment to try… much, much later.
Now, some quick spell work to check on the power drain. It was an active, open, inter-universal connection, which is always expensive, but the surface area of the gate was a minute fraction of the usual gateway—some fraction on the order of one percent of one percent of one percent. The hole was only about an eighth of an inch—call it three millimeters or so. Compared to an archway big enough to pass Bronze easily, it was less than tiny.
I watched the power levels on the connected gate spells for over a minute. I didn’t see any decrease. They looked pretty good, actually. The power jet in Karvalen was supplying enough power to maintain the linkage, or so it seemed. If it wasn’t quite enough, it was so close as to be imperceptible to casual observation.
Nevertheless, I brought out my pre-assembled power-jet spell and connected it to my local ring-gate. The magical environment in Carnivorous Ivy Land is about the same as Mary’s world—piddly, but present. That’s why I built the spell in Karvalen. It sucked in what was available and fed it into the local ring gate, feeding the spell from both ends.
Could I set up shop on top of a nexus in this world? Would it make the magical side of things that much easier? Or does this world even have magical lines of force running around it? Something to look into… again—or as always—later.
I continued to watch the spells. They seemed solid and stable. I might not actually need to locate a nexus after all. Is that a tiny bit of power-profit I see? Could I actually have the makings of a permanent interdimensional link?
The implications are staggering and too big to consider right now. I’ll have a panic attack about it later.
God, how I wish that was hyperbole.
With my escape route established, I sat Sir Sarron down and had him monitor the spells. He wasn’t happy about the idea of leaving me alone.
“I came with you to guard you, my lord.”
“I know, but someone needs to guard our way home. Besides, I’m in my armor, I have Firebrand, and Bronze will take over bodyguard detail.”
Sir Sarron looked at Bronze. She looked back at him and cocked her head. She felt qualified and dared him to say different. I don’t know if he could sense it. Maybe he could. He took a step back and bowed deeply to her. She curled one foreleg back and bowed in return.
“I stand relieved,” Sir Sarron said.
With that settled, we headed to the front door of the library. As expected, ivy covered it completely. I opened one of the other doors in the front façade—one I hadn’t sealed shut—and Bronze munched her way out, clearing the way through the carnivorous plant life. Once she had a suitable clear space, I came out and helped, cutting away large swathes of vegetation.
While she chomped rapidly through the pile of thorny vines, I ducked back inside to check the time. The candle still burned as expected. It didn’t seem to have made any unnatural progress. It was slightly before lunchtime when I left Karvalen but it was early morning here—Karvalen was three or four hours ahead at present. With the gate room deep in the undermountain, the only sunrise or sunset I needed to concern myself with was the local one… okay, this might be doable.
Bronze continued grazing around the library while I took Diogenes to the server room. Very quickly we determined we needed more equipment. Specifically, equipment a fumble-fingered ignoramus—me—hadn’t ruined. Well, I’m a little behind the times.
Bronze confirmed a lack of dangerous insects, so we took a walk through the campus. I tried to identify the rest of the buildings. Chemistry, physics, engineering, language arts, performing arts—aha! Biology!
Much to my delight, the building was locked up as tight as a wine barrel. This boded well. I spent a little time to magic the lock open, not wanting to break anything I didn’t have to.
I went in while Bronze chose to wait outside, not fully trusting modern floors. I didn’t blame her. She was also a perfect sentry. Her head is nine or ten feet off the ground when she holds it high. If giant ants started closing in, I wanted to know about it the instant they came into sight.
Inside the Biology Department building, I searched the place. There were a lot of things that looked interesting, including some things which might possibly be some sort of artificial growth tanks. Sadly, nobody bothers to label anything anymore. Tags with the name of the device and what it’s used for would be so helpful to post-apocalyptic scavengers searching for high technology. They might be useful to barbarians from the distant past, too.
It was some hours and considerable fruitless labor later when I sat down on a relatively-intact chair, broke it into pieces, and swore viciously. After picking myself up and finding a sturdier place to sit, I drank from my water bottle—I remembered to bring mundane supplies, this time. I am capable of learning! —and realized I should have brought some to Sir Sarron. Drat. I hadn’t allowed for company on this side.
I put the subject aside for the moment and consulted with Diogenes on matters technological, first.
“The difficulty,” he said, “seems to be the nature of the power systems. While you can magically enhance a computer core to function properly without technological power, I cannot access a network unless you find a way to activate the network.”
“So, I need to swipe more solar panels from the cars and connect them to the grid?”
“This is certainly one option, jefe. However, you also have a limited amount of time. From what I gather, without disconnecting the small gates, you must return in time for your meeting, leaving you approximately thirty hours?”
“About that. Technically, I could arrive a little later. The party doesn’t start until I get there.”
“You could also disconnect the small gates and, potentially, find the time differential gives you more time here compared to Karvalen. Do you wish to take that risk?”
“No, I do not.”
“Then I suggest duplicating your effort, jefe.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. How? I can’t exactly clone myself.”
“Not at present. However, in a highly-advanced technological culture, it is possible there may be robots suitable to your purpose available. If so, and if you can activate one or more of these hypothetical robots, it may be possible for me to operate such devices to carry out your wishes. The risk is that the time required to find such a robot and bring it on-line may take more time than you presently possess. Do you wish to take that risk?”
I thought about it. I could spend the next day or so swiping panels from cars, wiring them to
gether, tracing wires in the Biology building, isolating it from the rest of the power grid, all that stuff. Or I could play with one of the local robots.
Come to think of it, when I swiped a suit of SWAT armor from the police station, there were a couple of robots lying around, probably bomb-disposal models. They had hands and looked pretty solidly built. They might not be completely dead.
“Let’s see if we can dig up a robot,” I decided.
“May I make a suggestion?”
“Sure.”
“A robot inside a sealed building would be preferable. A robot which requires excavation is less likely to be in functional condition.”
“Of course.”
Bronze remembered where the police station was. We could have been there in five minutes, but I chose to drop off my mundane supplies with Sir Sarron and check in. Bronze chomped back the ivy and Sir Sarron reported no difficulties.
We continued to the police station. I insisted on traveling cautiously. The trip took us fifteen minutes, but I felt better for not charging blindly around corners.
I saw the first example of large animal life in this world, and I do mean large.
Its ancestors may have started life as elephants. It had a trunk longer than I thought was proportional—I’m tempted to call it a face tentacle—and a hide like a mix of armadillo and rhinoceros. The tusks were wide-spaced and shorter than I would have thought, but instead of being round and pointed, they had a distinct flattening, almost an edge along the inside of the curve. The feet looked mostly elephantine, but the toes seemed odd, somehow. It was hard to tell while they were half-hidden by the long grass in what used to be the street.
It looked at us as we stopped at the cop shop. It didn’t move to attack, but it didn’t run away, either. It just stuffed more green things in its mouth and chewed at us. I’m tempted to say it chewed belligerently at us, but I couldn’t tell for certain.
I hoped it was strictly vegetarian, but those edged tusks made me wonder. Bronze felt confident it would leave me alone, one way or another. It was bigger than she was, but I’m certain she’s he stronger of the two. I accepted her assurances and went into the police station with Firebrand already drawn. There was no telling what might have taken up residence since the last time I was here.
