by Hal Annas
“Your loveliness is beyond dreams. Do not keep me waiting.”
That much she remembered and the import dawned. She was expected to complete physical union with him. It both terrified her and sent a tingling of anticipation through her flesh.
But it couldn’t be. Her mind had not accepted the ceremonies as a wedding. She’d never seen him before. Her own wishes had been ignored as if she were property. She knew she would have to escape.
She was carried to a flower-bedecked chamber and a score of women remained to prepare her to receive him.
She recalled listening to her mother tell of her father. “He was a strange man, and I remembered once how his hand felt like metal.” The implications were startling. “And there were times,” her mother had added, “when I thought he wasn’t human, that he was something more.”
She wondered then about herself. The impressions she got of moods, of how others felt and thought, as if she could commune with her surroundings, had made her think that she was different, that she had qualities lacking in others.
But she’d been intensely human with Chris Darby. The memory was as fresh as in the hour he had held her. Tears came with the thought, and with the tears the startling fear that she couldn’t be entirely human without Chris.
A slender woman came and held her hands. “You understand the honor, don’t you?” the woman asked. “And why it was conferred on you?”
Aline didn’t.
“Lon-den,” she explained, “is from the future, your future. To us he grows younger instead of older. He lives conjointly but in an opposite time stream.”
Aline didn’t grasp it.
“Something like it must’ve happened ages in the past, our past,” the woman went on. “There are legends of gods. Similar legends are in Lon-den’s past, which is our future.”
“Is he a god?” Aline asked.
The woman smiled, shook her head. “As mortal as you. But think! You grow older, he grows younger. Your children’s children may remain ageless, a balancing of two time streams.”
It was beginning to come clear. She was to be the mother of a new race, a race of gods.
At that moment something struck with the violence of an earthquake. Parts of the ceiling came crashing down. Women screamed, clawed at the rubble, tried to help one another. Sounds of grinding and crashing reached her from every side. The walls cracked and split, the floor heaved upward, she sprawled face down, felt stones strike her back.
Then came the voices of men. They expressed pain and fear, but were less panic-stricken. They came closer, and through the dust and red flashes of agony she saw them at the entranceway, tearing the rubble and huge blocks of stone away from the opening.
In the forefront was Lon-den. His golden garments had burst under the pressure of his swelling muscles. She saw him lift a stone that even a Novakkan of Rahn Buskner’s proportions might not have moved. He came on toward her, tearing a path with his hands.
Close behind him was Acra-non and two of his followers. Others of the crew were missing, but men she had seen in the hall were there.
She felt herself lifted in powerful arms, and heard other women whimpering as they, too, were helped.
The jolting came again, longer and harder. She felt Lon-den stagger to his knees, force himself up and carry her on to the corridor. As they emerged, the third jolt came. The ceiling of the corridor stretching to the hall came down with a roar that deafened her. Dust and the biting smell of photonic energy stifled her.
And then, as she looked where the ceiling had been, she saw yellow daylight filled with innumerable glowing balls of red. She knew what was happening. She had seen the red afterglow of photonic bursts in space.
And she knew these chambers were deep under the mountain. Nothing but the heavy batteries of raiders or warships could rip a mountain apart.
She was carried along the rubble-strewn passage to the left. Acra-non and others followed, but she noted they were fewer now. Some were buried back there, their cries stilled forever.
What had been a realm of enchantment had become a scene of death and horror.
They entered a room filled with equipment such as she had never seen.
“We can reach the inner planet from here,” she heard Acra-non say.
Lon-den stood her on her feet, probed her body with hands that strove to be gentle. She had no broken bones. Except for bruises and shock she was unharmed. Others were not so fortunate. She watched a man set a woman’s broken leg while another held her steady. She saw another, her body crushed, gasp out her last breath.
Lon-den worked with the controls of the equipment, setting up a field that might enable them to escape.
Acra-non switched on a planetary visual. It picked up several channels at once. The earth shuddered, rocked. The visual went dead, then came on again. A redfaced Earthman screamed out at them, “Open channel X-ninety-six. Open channel X-96.” Beside him a blase Earthman talked. She understood that they were far apart but both coming in on the visual.
“Clear channel X-96,” the Earthman screamed. The other went on talking, said, “Elements of our fleet are making a valiant stand against Rahn Buskner’s butchers beyond the orbit Pluto. Stations on the moons of Jupiter, Mars, Earth’s satellite, the rings of space stations, the reserve ships on the planet, and the ground defenses have been alerted.
“Elsewhere Moxol’s murderers are still laying waste the outer planets of SYZ. This is thought to be an effort to draw out our main forces, but the heavier elements of our fleet were earlier reported operating in that vicinity, in coordination with the SYZ fleet, which suffered heavy losses in its premature effort to halt the third armada approaching the Eg System.
“The SYZ Patrol, which bore the brunt of the first onslaught against the outer space way, was last reported being reorganized under a valiant young officer who, after his commander had been killed in action, took command of his ship and put their own tactics of lateral motion simulataneously with forward motion to use against the Novakkans, and succeeded in fighting his way out of an encirclement. His name is Christopher Darby.
“Efforts to relieve the beseiged garrisons in the Eg System were reported making progress, but the commanders were reticent as to their strategy . . .”
“Flash! A report just handed me reads, ‘Heavy elements of our fleet are at this hour striking enemy units and installations in the Eg System and making progress.’ This may be presumed,” the interpreter went on, “to be an effort to relieve pressure on SYZ and the home planet. The move has clearly been made in force. We may anticipate the recapture of the Eg System within seventy-two hours . . .
“A wave of hysteria is still continuing,” the man added, “for the release of that regal, haughty woman Aleta, who proudly calls herself Aleta Buskner, nee Winrow, and whose restraint, under a charge of treason, is said to have caused the Novakkans to gather.
“The years have in no way diminished her beauty. She is said to have reigned as a queen on a remote planet. Earlier she sent a warning to the Council, begging to be imprisoned on the moon or a thinly populated planet, so that fewer would die when Rahn Buskner comes for her. She has never once admitted the impossibility of her rescue, despite her knowledge of the might of Earth which stretches halfway to Andromeda.
“In her own words, she said, ‘A galaxy may stand between us, but he will come’.”
“Clear channel X-96,” screamed the other Earthman. “The commander wants orders relayed to our support.”
The voice of a third Earthman came in: “Channel X-96 is no more. The relay ship has been lost to the enemy.”
Then a roaring Novakkan voice: “We’ll relay your message. Supporting units of SYZ Fleet and Patrol, close up. Your commander wants you to fill those holes made by our guns. We. have them zeroed in. We ripped the top off a mountain to keep you from bobbing above it, using our own tactics, the Infinio Curl. Close up. We welcome you with ten thousand guns.”
The visual went dead. The earth went on
shaking. A hand fell on Aline’s shoulder, pressed her toward the equipment. Her mind spun. She couldn’t put in order the horrible things she had heard. But gradually they began to fall into place. Chris Darby had been the one who had adopted Novakkan tactics. Units of the Syz Fleet and Patrol were attacking the Eg System. They had used a typical Novakkan maneuver.
Other things seem unrelated, but she knew that somehow they tied in. From what she’d heard, the vast triangle, the corners of which were the Eg System, SYZ and Sol, was aflame with war.
The scent about her began to sparkle, as with stars. She held her breath. She seemed to be falling down inside solid substance. It went on and on. Some of the other women fainted.
Then there was an overlapping. She seemed to be inside solid matter, and yet still in the same vast, equipment-filled room. It took a moment for her to note the difference. Overhead miniature planetary systems moved precisely as their huge counterparts moved out in the galaxy. On vast cosmographs the action outside was reflected.
The earth still shook. Flashes of white and red came from somewhere. Lifting her eyes, she looked into an infinity of depth. Lon-den explained, “It’s transparent. This planet is also under attack.”
She saw radiant streaks flash overhead, knew they were ships somehow visible here inside the planet. She saw one burst in a blinding flash, saw others careening out of control, sucked inexorably toward the planet and death for their occupants.
The earth overhead erupted. The shock came on down through the ground. Distant walls flew apart.
“The return is geared to planetary motion,” Acra-non said, “but if we move now—”
Lon-den nodded, worked with the controls.
A woman gasped. Aline kneeled beside her, suddenly felt bitter cold. The next she knew she was clutched against Lon-den’s body, the shreds of his golden jacket about her. He was running toward a faint blob of radiance. She recognized it as the cruiser.
They had to wait for Acra-non to get the airlock open. Lon-den deposited her inside, then was gone. He returned carrying another woman, again departed. Other men brought in women, some of them badly injured, then hurried out again.
Then she heard the signal that meant the airlock was closing. She stared about in terrified wonder. She went from compartment to compartment, to the control room, the engine room and finally the turrets. Aboard the cruiser were only women, many of them seriously hurt. The men had vanished.
In the darkness beyond the ports photonic energy flashed and flamed, faded to a red glow and vanished from sight. Radiant streaks passed so fast that ships that made them could not actually be seen.
The whole sky was filled with brilliant flashes.
Vibrations ran ceaselessly through the cruiser. And Aline knew that they were shocks from distant explosions coming through the tortured earth.
Alone, with hysteria all around her, she went to the medical compartment, broke out supplies. She slapped one woman who was clawing at the airlock and screaming for the men not to desert them.
“They haven’t deserted us,” she flared. “Whatever they’re doing is important. Keep quiet and help me with those who need help.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE men returned, all but Lon-den.
She wanted to ask about him, but held her curiosity in check. As she went on working with the injured, she learned from Acra-non that Moxol had left Delos untouched and turned away from the SYZ System. Only speculations could be made as to his next objective.
But the weight of probability was that he was deep in space in the wake of the SYZ Fleet and Patrol. The Novakkans hadn’t expected an effort to be made so soon to recapture the Eg System. If the Earthmen succeeded here, the third Novakkan armada would be endangered.
That this was an extensive effort was indicated by the fact that the SYZ Fleet and Patrol were supported by heavy elements from the mother planet, Earth.
“The Earthmen have already regained control of the outer planets,” Acra-non said. “Their garrisons there were still holding out.”
One of the two crewmen came from the chartroom and said, “We’ll have to get out of this spot. Not much radiance from the cruiser and as long as the defense of the planet is effective it may go unnoticed here in darkness. But the moment the defense begins to break, and the Earth ships can slow their maneuvering, they’ll spot everything that even remotely resembles an armed ship. I needn’t tell you what will happen.”
Aline had seen gigantic ships, their hulls and armor almost as thick as the cruiser was broad, torn to fragments by a series of hits. Inside the cruiser they would never know what hit them.
“What are we to do?” she said.
“We have to get across the mountain,” Acra-non said. “Join force with the Novakkans and hope we can hold out until Moxol comes—if he does come.”
The thought left her cold with fear. Acra-non seemed to understand, tried to reassure her. “It may not be so bad,” he said. “The Earthmen have a brilliant commander who’s using Novakkan tactics effectively, but when Moxol hits him from space—”
The blood drained from her features. “Who is that commander?”
“Darly or Durly. Didn’t come clear.
Too many channels crossed. But he’s got his hands full here, and Moxol is known even on Denovo as a tactician second only to Rahn Buskner. He’ll have a surprise for the Earthmen.”
To cover up her sudden weakness and trembling, Aline said. “I don’t understand about Denovo. You’ve told me it’s a remote planet, but—”
“It is. Its populace scattered. They are the forerunners of the new race. Lon-den’s people of the future—”
“Where is he?”
“Leaving a message with his people about what to do if he doesn’t survive. But I’ll tell you the whole story.”
She was blinded by a flash beyond the port. A photonic blast had occurred somewhere on the snow mesa. Seconds later the shock waves rolled over the cruiser, caused it to rock and shake. She didn’t see how ships above could fail to locate them now. But Acra-non went on talking as if nothing had happened.
He explained that those of the future had become aware of her mother and father nineteen years ago. It was believed that her father was the son of a man much like Lon-den who had lost communications with his era. Their scientists worked to reach her father and the effort was rewarded, to some extent, when he and her mother were standing off Novakkans on the inner planet. Later her father died and those of the future lost contact.
But they were ready and waiting, and they became aware of Aline herself while she was on Unor. Acra-non gave a date which coincided with her experience under the stairs in the tower.
The future people had learned earlier that they could communicate with the Denovians who were then mystics. The communications were vague, but the Denovians were induced to spread about the galaxy in search of others who were in rapport with the inanimate. They found many scientists who could qualify, but they were hard-headed and overly practical, and they and the mystics failed to cooperate.
Finally Lon-den appeared in the positive stream. At first they accepted him as a god, and wherever he was was Denovo. Thus far, he was the only one from that era who had survived the transfer from one time stream to another; but their scientists had hopes. In the meantime he was searching for a mate with whom to begin the new race.
When they became aware of her, they were certain that Aline had some element of that future in her physical and mental composition.
The Denovians undertook the task of finding her, and Lon-den had aided them with a whole new metallurgical science. Of the thousands who went on the quest, eight succeeded in getting aboard her cruiser. Five of them were now dead.
They had no doubts about her because, in rapport with Lon-den, they detected qualities in her similar to his. And they had somehow known that she would come to the Eg System. There they had prepared to receive her.
As photonic blasts turned the blackness outside to brilliance surpassin
g the yellow daylight beyond the mountain, Aline stood in silent incomprehension. Acra-non’s story had been the most improbable she’d ever heard. And yet it all fell into place. From as far back as she could remember, from the time of the first tales heard from her mother, something had drawn her toward the Eg System. It had seemed that her destiny was there.
But she still couldn’t quite accept it. It didn’t seem real until a dreamy lassitude stole over her. Then her interest rose and it seemed that she was in command with not only her surroundings, but the intelligence in that other time stream.
She lost all fear. It no longer mattered whether the Earthmen located the cruiser.
Acra-non buckled a belt about her waist, said, “You will find your weapons lighter now. I’ve had them since your dance in the hall.”
Memory of how she had shed her clothes and danced brought color to her cheeks.
He drew her blade, said, “Open your palm.” There was a blurring flash and the haft was in her hand. “This,” he said, “is the seat of intelligence.” He showed her a metallic-looking spot on the haft.
As she touched it she had to suppress a cry. It felt exactly as Lon-den’s hand had felt.
“Hand me your photon gun,” he said. “It is likewise attuned to your vibrations.”
She passed it to him, and as she watched she saw it snap his hand round to point the muzzle at his own breast. She saw his knuckles whiten as his finger tightened on the trigger. She held her breath.
“I left the safety on,” he said. “But take it from me and run your finger along the grip in circular motion.” She did so and again passed it to him. It was then just like any other gun.
“It’s time for Lon-den,” he said. “If he isn’t here in another ten minutes we must move anyway.”
The thought of leaving the godlike man disturbed her. She remembered how she’d stared at him, thinking him a statue, and the tingling she’d experienced when his arm came about her. She remembered how he’d carried her along that rocking, rubble-strewn corridor, and how tenderly he had cared for her.
