The Forever Gate Ultimate Edition

by Isaac Hooke

  "Could it be true?" she said.

  25

  Outside, a landscape marred with dark pits and abrasions stretched to the horizon. The pocked, yellow surface reminded her of old bone. Above, a gaseous ball the size of an outstretched fist floated among the stars. In the depths of that ball, a swirl of gases formed an eye of sorts, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it stared at her.

  "Where are we?" she said, still feeling a bit woozy.

  Hoodwink was at her side. "In space. On a moon called Ganymede. That jumbo orange eye in the sky? Jupiter."

  "In space." She couldn't conceal the awe from her voice. Or was that terror? "This is the real world? How? Why?"

  Hoodwink sighed. His face was grave. "We don't know the truth of it all, but we're settlers, we think. Sent into space to escape some sort of ruin on earth. The pods kept us alive on the journey here, and amused our minds with an illusory world that was quite the hit on earth before we left."

  "Are you saying we did this to ourselves?" she said. "The Inside. The gols. The collars."

  Hoodwink nodded gravely. "That's exactly what I'm saying. When we landed, the iron golems were supposed to let us out. They never did. We're not entirely sure why yet, but from what we can tell, we weren't supposed to land here. The trip from earth took six years. But this ship was built to last centuries. By our reckoning, we've been stuck on this moon for at least two. Centuries, that is. Generations of men and women, born into the pod world. Generations who lived and died in illusion. We're not sure, but we think it was the attacks that caused the ship to crash here in the first place. Anyway, there's not enough food for a bunch of active, awake people, nor enough room. Not on this ship, on this moon. That's why the golems never woke us up. If they did, we'd all die from hunger and overcrowding."

  "I see." She thought she did, anyway. "So what's your plan then? Obviously you have one, or you wouldn't be showing me all this."

  Hoodwink gazed at Jupiter. "My ultimate plan?"

  She frowned. There was something in his tone she didn't like. Zeal, she thought. The maddest and most dangerous men she'd ever met had been those with zeal. Fanatics willing to sacrifice everyone and everything to achieve their ends. "Sure."

  "Stop the attacks. Get rid of the need to fix the ship. Let it finally heal on its own. Most of the golems have devoted themselves to the ship, swarming her wounds like flies to a scabby dog. This devotion is partly what's causing the gol mind disease on the Inside. That, and the germ the attackers have hidden in the system. That's why we need the mayor's control center. With it we'll be able to change the inner workings of the gols. And track down the germ."

  Ari shook her head. "I don't think the control center can do that. If it could, Jeremy would have tinkered with the gols a long time ago."

  "Well Jeremy's a whole different nest of voles, he is, and we'll get to him shortly. But you're right. The control center can't change the gols. We'll make the changes here. But it's hard to see the effect, given how fast things pass when you're Outside. The control center gives us a way to watch those changes. Anyway, the nitty-gritty is, I plan to bring order to the Inside. I'm going to make the utopia we were meant to live in, rather than the hell. And save another world while I'm at it."

  Ari wasn't sure what he meant by that last remark—hell, she wasn't sure what half the things he said meant—but her mind was already moving past it. "You want to stop the attacks. I can agree with that, though I'm not sure how you plan to do it. But when it's done we should get as many people out from the Inside as we can, and start over here."

  Hoodwink cocked an eyebrow. "You would doom the tens of thousands on the Inside to misery?"

  "Well, no," Ari said. "That's not what I meant. We could still help those on the Inside. All I'm saying is we should try to get as many people out into the real world as possible."

  "The real world?" Hoodwink said it as though he knew some profound secret. "Never minding the food issue, you've seen the haunted look in the eyes of the children. I know you have. And you've seen it in my own eyes, or at least you would if you looked, really looked. So tell me, would you rather live life beneath the veil, a good life, a happy life, where all your wants are yours? Where lightning flows through your veins, and the sun shines warm every day? Or would you rather live in the real world as you call it, inside metal rooms on a sunless moon, where each day is a fight for survival, and within yourself you're deader than dead?"

  Ari was adamant. "I'd choose the real world."

  Hoodwink smiled patiently. "Real is only a matter of opinion, it is. But I want you to know, as things currently stand the worlds are joined at the hip, and depend on each other. If one world dies, all worlds die."

  "All worlds." Ari rubbed her chin. "Earlier you mentioned different levels of the mind, and I asked you if this, right here, right now, was real. So tell me plainly. Is this world false? And if so, what's above it?"

  "Nothing." He said it just a little too quickly for her to believe him. "As far as you're concerned, there's only the two. The Inside, and the Outside. Focus on these. Please."

  A flash came from beyond the window, and a distant rumble shook the floor.

  All the children turned toward the glass.

  "So soon?" Hoodwink said.

  Outside, a dust wave swept rapidly over the yellow landscape, bringing with it the threat of utter annihilation.

  "That's not good," Hoodwink said, gripping a nearby desk. "Not good at all. Hang on."

  26

  Ari braced herself as the wave struck the window. The iron walls rumbled in protest. The siren started up again, and a beacon she hadn't noticed before came to life in the ceiling, cutting that familiar revolving swathe of light across the room.

  "Damn it," Hoodwink rushed over to Caylin, who was moving her fingers rapidly over the white pad on her desk. "They don't usually attack on this side."

  She saw it beyond the glass then. Some kind of falling star, streaking through the night sky. It struck the surface almost right outside. Dust and chunks of rock—or was that ice?—smashed into the glass and completely obscured the view. She felt the vibration of the impact deep in her chest, and the whole room tossed.

  Cracks began to spider along the window.

  "Uh, Hoodwink?" Tanner said.

  "Stanson!" Hoodwink said. "Get the children to Beta Station! Everyone out!"

  Stanson, an androgynous-looking child who seemed the second oldest after Tanner at fifteen or so, ran to the door, and most of the children piled up behind him. He punched in a code and the door opened. Stanson fled the room, and the children drained after him, white gowns swirling like miniature snowstorms. Tanner, Ari, and Hoodwink herded the remaining kids. Now was the time for calming words, but all Ari could think to say was go go go.

  Another boom shook the chamber. The children began elbowing one another.

  "Easy now kids," Hoodwink said. He seemed the only levelheaded one there. "Give each other room."

  Little Caylin was the last child to go through, and she paused at the door to look up at Ari. She seemed about to say something.

  "Go girl!" Tanner shoved the child outside.

  Ari gave Tanner a dirty look, then hurried after Caylin. But before she could make it through the door, a terrible crash shook the room, and Ari lost her balance and keeled backwards into Tanner. The two of them fell to the floor, and their faces were only inches apart. She saw something then, in his eyes. Fear. And something else. Something she hadn't seen in a long time.

  "Warning," a female voice monotoned. "Decompression imminent. Warning. Decompression imminent."

  Ari quickly rolled away from Tanner.

  She spun toward the door, but it sealed before her eyes.

  Tanner scrambled to his feet, and frantically pressed the buttons beside the door. The pad flashed in confirmation, but the door didn't open. Tanner tried again. Still nothing. He looked at Ari, his face a mask of fear. "It's stuck!"

  Cracks continued to etch their way acros
s the window.

  Somewhere in the room, Hoodwink moaned.

  Ari spun around, not caring then that death was coming down on them. Her father was injured. And he needed her help.

  Right now.

  She rushed to Hoodwink. A section of the roof had caved, and he was pinned beneath a steel girder.

  "Guess I'm paying for my sins sooner than I thought." Hoodwink managed a smile, though he was obviously in pain.

  "We're going to get you out of this," Ari said.

  She noticed Tanner at her side, and nodded to him. "On three." She gripped one corner of the girder, and waited for Tanner to grab the opposite corner.

  "One."

  Though her fingers and arms were skeletal-thin, she would find the strength to lift that girder.

  "Two."

  Her father was pinned. Her father. She wouldn't see him die. Not if she could help it. She would lift that girder.

  "Three!"

  She heaved. The strength came from a part of herself she didn't know she had, a part that was close, yet far away somehow. She couldn't explain it.

  Her side of the girder lifted just a fraction compared to Tanner's side, but it was enough for Hoodwink to slide his leg free.

  And not an instant too soon, because Ari lost her grip and the girder crunched to the floor.

  Ari and Tanner helped Hoodwink to his feet.

  "Tanner," Hoodwink said. "Get to a terminal. We have to close the blast shield."

  "Warning," the female voice droned. "Decompression imminent."

  Tanner rushed to one of the desks, and Ari helped Hoodwink over to him. The room shook with the resound of a nearby strike.

  Tanner studied the white pad on the desk. He swiped his fingers across it, and paragraphs of text slid by repeatedly. He entered a code.

  Tanner glanced at the window nervously. "The shield won't respond!"

  "Try again!' Hoodwink said.

  Tanner did. He looked at Hoodwink and shook his head.

  Behind them, the dust-obscured window cracked audibly now. It sounded all too much like ice that was about to collapse.

  "Warning. Decompression imminent."

  27

  Ari glanced at the door behind her. "Can't we force the entrance instead?"

  "There's no way." Hoodwink didn't even look at her, his eyes intent on the small pad. He shoved Tanner's hand away, and he began swiping and tapping his own fingers across the thing. "And no time. But the blast shield will close. It will."

  If that thing operated on the sheer force of Hoodwink's will, she might have believed it. Unfortunately, she didn't think the shield worked that way.

  Ari rushed to the entrance by herself and tried to squeeze her bony fingers between the edge of the door and the wall. It was useless. The door may as well have been melded to the wall. She let her eyes wander the room, looking for something she could actually use to open the door. Something like an ax.

  "Warning. Decompression imminent."

  She saw a steel cabinet off to one side. She ran to it, momentarily losing her balance as the room shook. When she opened the cabinet she found a pair of strange metallic suits inside. "Dad," she said above the siren. "What are these?"

  Hoodwink glanced up distractedly. His eyes widened when he saw the suits, and he limped over immediately.

  "That's my Ari!" He slid the first suit from the rack. It was a bulky, single-piece costume similar to the uniform she wore, complete with arm and leg holes, and a zipper on the back. But it was much roomier then her own suit, and all puffed up just as if someone was already inside.

  Hoodwink shoved the suit toward Ari. "Put it on."

  The thing was heavy, at least for one with her withered strength. She managed to slide her feet into the leg holes, and once that was done it was easy enough to yank the bottom on like breeches. The fabric slid over the iron braces on her legs, but the fit was a little tight, and portions of the braces dug into her flesh. Nothing for it but to grin and bear it.

  She shoved her hands into the arm holes, and thrust her fingers into the extremities as if she were putting on long gloves.

  When that was done, Hoodwink zipped up the front of the suit, and then he lowered a glass globe over her head. The globe warped the edge of her vision, but also had the welcome effect of considerably muting the attack siren.

  Hoodwink twisted the globe sideways until it locked in place, and then he touched something near her neck. A mechanism whirred to life behind her ear, and fresh air brushed her cheek. A green light turned on near the top of her vision.

  "Tanner," Hoodwink said. "Over here! Now!"

  Tanner abandoned the desk and rushed over. Hoodwink helped him into the second suit.

  "What about you?" Ari said. Her voice sounded odd in the tight environment of the suit. Distorted, and full of fear.

  "When the glass breaks," Hoodwink said, his words sounding muted through the helmet. "All the air will be sucked out, along with anything that isn't tied down. Depressurized, it's called." Hoodwink nodded toward the cabinet. "Hold on to the rack inside. The cabinet's bolted to the wall. You'll be safe."

  "There has to be another suit in here." She scanned the chamber, her heart pounding in sudden alarm. But there were no other cabinets. No other suits.

  "Warning," the mechanical voice intoned. "Decompression imminent."

  Hoodwink grabbed her by the shoulders. "Ari. You have to hold on."

  "But what will happen to you? Will you survive without a suit?"

  Hoodwink smiled sadly. "I have to go Topside anyway. But I'll be back. I promise. Tanner knows what to do."

  "Can't you hold on with us?" she pleaded.

  He shook his head. "Then you'd just get to watch me die up close."

  "But I've only just found you." Ari felt the tears coming. She held them back. She wanted her father to see how strong she was. "You can't go."

  "Ari, I have to." He shoved her into the cabinet, and fetched a cord from the wall. He tied her and Tanner to the rack. "Look at that. Not even crying. You're so strong, Ari." He said it with such tenderness.

  She shook her head. "I'm not. Please don't go. You've already died once for me."

  "And I'll die a thousand times more for you."

  Her chin quivered uncontrollably. "I love you."

  "I—" The chamber depressurized, and her father was sucked out into space.

  28

  Ari felt the pull of the outside, and if it weren't for the cord that fastened her to the rack, she would've joined her father. The pull soon subsided, and she remained there, motionless, staring into the void, watching her father and other debris spin away. When she could no longer pick out his distant form on the rocky landscape, she suppressed a fresh wave of tears.

  The siren abruptly stopped, and the red beacon turned off.

  The attack had ended.

  When she was sure she could speak without a quaver, she turned to Tanner and said, "I hate you."

  "Why?"

  She was surprised to hear his voice come from inside the helmet, near her ear, but the astonishment barely registered against the backdrop of sorrow within her. "For seeing me at my weakest. For watching my father die, and doing nothing. I'll never forgive you."

  He had nothing to say to that. Smart.

  She closed her eyes. Pull yourself together Ari. Tanner was the only one she had left. She didn't hate him, not really. She was more mad at herself than at him. Besides, she had to work with him to get out of this. Pull yourself together girl.

  She looked at Tanner. "So what now? Can we open the door to the hall?" It was hard to keep the tremble from her voice, but she had to fight the sorrow. Had to move forward and find a way out of this.

  Tanner met her eye. There was sadness there. And pity, she saw. The latter only angered her.

  "The safety protocols won't let the door open," Tanner said. His voice had a strange, tinny quality. "Not when the room's depressurized like this. And we can't restore the pressure because the mechanism that
operates the blast shield is fused."

  She stared at him blankly. "English."

  Tanner raised his voice. "We're fucked, okay?"

  Ari felt like swatting him. She'd heard enough patronizing for one lifetime. "Would you mind not swearing?"

  He didn't answer.

  She gazed beyond the broken window. "I say we go out there, then. Look for another way back in."

  Tanner shook his head, though the globe around his face remained still. "Won't matter. All the compromised areas will be the same, the doors sealed by safety locks."

  "Override the damn locks."

  "Can't."

  Ari couldn't believe his closed-mindedness. "I'm sure we'll find a hallway that's been torn open, or something."

  "There are doors in the hallways, and they seal too when there's a breach. Otherwise the whole place would depressurize."

  Ari wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. "Aren't there hatches or something?"

  "There are, but we won't be able to open them. Only Hoodwink knew the access codes. And he kept them to himself. For our protection."

  Ari raised her voice incredulously. "Our protection?"

  "He was worried that some of the children would kill themselves. Either accidentally, or intentionally."

  "Oh." She remembered the haunted looks in those eyes.

  "Besides, we can't go out on the moon. There's iron golems outside, fixing damaged sections of the hull. If they spot us..."

  She stared at the jagged pieces of glass along the windowsill. One fragment in particular caught her eye. The tip was smeared red. She quickly looked away.

  "I thought the ship was self-repairing?" She spoke fast, trying to get her mind off that jagged shard. The tears threatened to come all over again. Focus Ari.

  "It is self-repairing," Tanner said. "To a degree. But hit a certain section too many times, and the iron golems have to send the repair units."

  "So what can we do then? I need options Tanner!"