Quest for the Well of Souls by Jack L. Chalker

Underside

Ben Yulin was pleased with himself as he looked over his troops. He had changed all of them into his dream women, even the two boys. Each had a distinct hair and skin tone; but nine new names were a bit much to remember, and aside from the first two, Nikki and Mavra, he just decided to settle on numbers for a while.

The savages were really that, too, not very smart and at about an ape’s level of experience. Each retained the horse’s tail, as Ben Yulin thought they were kind of sexy, and they served to further distinguish the first two from the rest.

Obie did not give them a past, of course, but he provided language ability, demeanor, and all the other things necessary. Effectively, they were amnesiacs with needed skills, but that was fine. They too were love-slaves of Ben Yulin. All lay prostrate before him at his feet.

“You are my herd, my hareem,” he told them. “You are a part of me and I of you. You are the most honored of women, and will sit at my feet as I sweep away the old order and establish the new.”

“Yes, My Lord Yulin,” they responded sincerely in unison.

He looked at them in extreme self-satisfaction. In truth, a new order, he decided. Long ago, in lands lost in time and space but alive in the tradition of Yulin’s people, his ancestors had lived amid desert wastes in tent cities that followed the water and the blowing sand. Then great lords had grandiose hareems. Some of this would be restored, he told himself.

He would create human beings in all ways so close to perfection that clothing would be a sin except when needed for protection. Powerful Lords would rule not desert wastes but bountiful planets, holding sway over their own herds of beautiful, powerful, and adoring women. Yet all would be subservient to him, the Supreme Caliph from whom all blessing and curses would flow, and for all time. A land of artisans, scientists, and engineers pushing back the ultimate frontiers.

A race to fulfill the Markovian dream of utopian perfectionism, a race to become gods.

All this was within his grasp, right now, here, today!

“Arise and go about your duties,” he commanded, and they did so. Thanks to Obie, their living quarters were already quite comfortable, with great soft beds covered in silk and satin. Obie had also provided exotic fruits, vegetables, and meats indistinguishable from the originals. Though it was true that Yulin and his harem could now eat anything organic, even grass, there was no reason to.

Yulin returned to Obie and sat at a control console, flipping the transmitter switch.

“Obie? Have you plotted our position exactly?” he asked.

“Yes, Ben. We are back in the original New Pompeii orbit, along with the robot sentries. No sign of anything within a one-light-year scan. I suppose any curious investigators would have given up by now anyway. It’s been over twenty-two years.”

Ben Yulin nodded. “What about our movement capability, Obie? Can you move us to a different point, even a different sector of space?”

“Any area whose coordinates are precisely specified in my memory. That includes, of course, all Comworlds and frontiers as of the time we were last here.”

Ben Yulin nodded in satisfaction, then shifted his thoughts. Only a few things now stood in his way. Six things.

“Obie, is there any way you can change the atmospheric content Topside?” he asked. “Alter the balance, drain it, or introduce a toxic substance?”

“Those areas are controlled by totally involuntary circuits,” the computer reminded him. “I can’t do anything about them at all. You should know that. Antor Trelig didn’t want you or Zinder or anyone else to have that kind of power—and particularly not me. For some reason he never really trusted me.” There was a hurt tone in that last.

Yulin chuckled. He trusted Obie himself about as far as he could throw the thing.

“All right, then,” he sighed. “I’ll have to deal with the Northerners as best I can. Right now I need good knockout substances that will affect Agitar, Yaxa, and Lata.”

Obie had the necessary information.

Topside

An armed guard was posted near the elevator, and the camp was moved to the center of the grassy park. They didn’t want to be surprised again.

“Why not take the ship and scram for help?” Renard suggested. “We sure as hell are living physical proof of what we say, and the Council could then move to blast this place.”

“That’s just what Yulin would want us to try,” Mavra retorted. “Once out in the ship, he could swing the big dish on us and bag us all in one sweep. That’s why he hasn’t bothered to disable it.”

Renard looked toward the elevator, perhaps a hundred meters away, now guarded by Wooley and Vistaru. “They’re going to come for us sometime,” he said flatly. “Soon.”

She nodded. “Well, we have the wire from the technicians’ repair center. Three hundred meters—that’s more than enough. If we can only get close enough to use it.”

“They have to relax the defense mode to get their people in and out,” the Bozog pointed out. “That would be the logical time.”

“Yeah, maybe we should wait by the bridge,” Renard interjected. “Ready to go, so to speak.”

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “No, the plans indicate that Obie can see the entire area from the end of the entrance corridor all the way across to his door. And if we stay in the corridor, our backs are to the elevator; Yulin can change his zombies into whatever he wants and nab us. No, I think—”

“Hey! Something’s coming up!” Wooley yelled, and both she and Vistaru tensed and the others started toward them.

The elevator door opened and emitted a hideous-looking cloud of mixed orange-and-green gases. It was thick and enveloped them. A wild shot was fired from near the entrance, then nothing.

The others reached the area where the cloud hung but stayed back cautiously when the first whiff proved acrid. The Yugash and Bozog advanced, disappeared, then reemerged moments later. The huge ball of smoke started to rise up and away as the automatic circulation machinery caught it.

“They are gone!” the Bozog exclaimed. “Both of them! Vanished!”

Renard shook his head sadly. “Now we are four, damn it all!”

“And, more important, he’s eleven, even without including himself,” Mavra responded. “This changes everything.”

“We could give chase in the other car,” the Bozog suggested.

She shook her head. “No, that’s no good. It always stops at the upper door, remember? And it whines. So we get there, the door opens, and we’re all taken.” She turned to Renard. “Still got your energy pistol?”

“Here,” he said, slapping his holster.

“All right, then. We’ll give them some time, then we’ll call a car. You’ll spray it with stun fire before we board, and the Ghiskind and the Bozog will also check it out. When we get down, you’ll spray again as it opens, and all the way down to the lower floor. We’re going to go fighting!”

“But just that very activity will alert him,” the Bozog objected. “Logically, he’ll keep his people inside until he needs to send them out. Yulin will want to avoid something happening to one of them. He cannot know all our capabilities.”

“I’m counting on that,” she replied. “And on the fact that the lower car was down and they used the upper. If that is the case, we’re safe for almost an hour. Ghiskind, you and the Bozog keep watch just in case. Renard, one last trip to the ship, and then it’s do or die.”

“Or learn to love Ben Yulin,” he sighed.

* * *

Lights flashed, figures spewed forth under Renard’s hands but Mavra’s guidance. It took several minutes, but finally they were through.

“It’s an automatic sequence,” she told him. “If we manage the explosion, it’s entirely possible life support will continue, at least for a while. If so, you might be able to get up here—with the others if you can—and get to the ship. Once you activate the fuse, don’t waste time! If power goes, you’ll be asphyxiated in the elevator. Get everyone you can, get inside, get up here, get into the ship, close the locks, and punch e-lift on the board. The ship will disengage and follow a course that will bring you within radio range of the Council inside two days, so then you call for help. They will board you, see you, and believe. Tell them New Pompeii must be utterly destroyed. Atomized. Otherwise, some scientists will come here, and some politicos will get control, and it’ll all be for nothing. Everything must go.”

Renard didn’t like the tone. “You’re talking as if you won’t be among us,” he protested.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” she replied. “We can’t take the chance on me being here. If you can, get into the control room and get the people out.”

“But they’ll all be Yulin’s slaves!”

She shook her head. “No, they won’t. Physically, yes. But any mental controls put on them will fail. Nikki Zinder was under a love-slave compulsion to Yulin when she was lured here, but when they disconnected Obie to relocate him to New Pompeii, the spell was broken. It should be the same this time.”

“All right then, but I won’t leave without you.”

“If it’s necessary, you must!” Mavra snapped. “Believe me, Renard. You’re the only one now who knows these procedures. And don’t let anybody else go for me or try to rescue anyone else if they can’t be gotten to immediately. You can’t kill all those people for me. Promise me you won’t!”

He sighed. “All right, I promise,” he almost whispered.

They left the ship, locks open, and rejoined the two Northerners.

“We’re lucky it wasn’t Renard they grabbed,” she told them. “The three of you can still pull this off if one bit of luck shows up.”

Even the Bozog was getting nervous. “What’s that?”

“We’ve got to have them all inside the control room,” she replied. “I hope he has enough ego to think he doesn’t need guards, and enough insecurity not to switch off the defense mode unless he has to. If he doesn’t know we’re down there until we’re ready, we’ll make it.”

“But how will I get past the defenses?” the Bozog asked her.

“Diversion,” she responded. “Me. I’m going to be the bait. A little pony sitting out there watching the end of the bridge. It’ll be too tempting to pass up.”

“But he’ll know we’re around,” Renard pointed out. “What if he makes a try for us, too?”

“It won’t matter. You see, they’ll have to switch off the defense mode just to send his slaves out. It’s a long way across that bridge. When I’ve gone as long as I can stall, I’ll charge them.”

“And what happens to us while you’re doing all this?” the Bozog prompted.

“Bozog, you’ll take the wire and go along the outside of the bridge. Ghiskind, you’ll lead him. Renard, keep that energy pistol firm and stay slightly back, out of sight. Yulin might see the wire but not figure out he’s been had. Even if he does, he’ll have a job getting at it. As soon as the wire is in place, tug three times. That will tell Renard to give it all he’s got. Get clear after you tug, and make it back up if you can. All hell will break loose when that goes.”

“And you?” Renard asked, concerned.

“If I get inside, I’ll try and raise as much hell as possible,” she replied. “No matter what, Yulin’s attention will be on me, I think. You should have several minutes—more than enough time. If they do catch on, Renard, use your energy pistol on anybody and everybody. There’s no way Ben Yulin can neutralize the effects of that on a living body!”

“But it might be Wooley, or Vistaru!” he objected.

“Even if it’s me!” she snapped. “Renard, save as many of the living as you can, kill who you must. It’s that or good-bye to us all! This plan’s got enough holes in it, that it’ll probably fail anyway!”

“There is no better that I can devise, not at this late stage,” the Bozog added. “Shall we go?”

She nodded. “Renard, call the elevator and hold that pistol ready.”

There was no one on the elevator.

“A good sign,” the Bozog said, approvingly. “I think Mr. Yulin may yet be in for a shock. He does not know how fast a Bozog can run!”

Underside

They waited anxiously in the corridor next to the elevator car for the Ghiskind to return, Renard’s pistol at the ready. The Yugash had already been out once and verified that no living creatures were to be seen anywhere.

A tense fifteen minutes passed before the Yugash returned a second time and merged with the Bozog.

“I have located the explosive module,” it told them. “Rather primitive, really. A thermal device. However, it will cause massive disruption of circuitry if it goes—including some of the involuntary sections that affect life support. Be warned of this.”

“It’ll do,” she responded. “Those sections are the weakest point in Obie’s construction. Through that tunnel runs the junction with its power supply and much of its operational circuitry. That’s why the charge is there—it doesn’t have to be big, it just has to go off.”

“It will,” Renard said grimly. He rolled the wire coil out in front of him. Although it wasn’t copper, it was conductive enough.

“We shall have to run the wire a bit farther for insurance,” the Ghiskind warned. “I should like to have it directly on the main junction, very near the explosives. That way, if triggering fails, the voltage generated might set the charge off directly. This will also give friend Bozog a better place to attach it, and perhaps a little additional time to get clear.”

Mavra took a deep breath. “All right then. I guess there’s nothing left to do but go and do it.”

“I still don’t like you being in the clutches of that bastard,” Renard muttered.

“For the last time, Renard, forget about me! I’m not important. Remember, it’s up to you to get everybody away, to blow this place to hell. And,” she added, “do you remember that string of symbols and numbers I recorded on the ship’s recolog?”

He nodded.

“A gift from Obie, Renard, twenty-two years delayed. It’s the arresting agent for sponge. It will free millions and break the back of the syndicate. You of all people must understand what that means. You must get that to the Council! Remember your responsibilities, Renard!”

The Agitar nodded. He didn’t like the order, but she was right. If only he could get out, then it was his duty to do so.

Mavra walked slowly, deliberately down the hall and they followed. Just ahead was the opening to the first platform, then the bridge over the great shaft that led to the big dish. Once they were framed in that archway, Obie would be able to detect them and would be forced to warn Ben Yulin and his love-slaves.

Renard ran out a few meters of wire, then sat on the floor, just out of view of the open area, his thin goatlike legs splayed in front of him.

The orange liquid inside the Bozog’s forward bump swirled, then exuded a serpentine tendril that grabbed the wire and twisted around it.

Mavra scanned the area. Renard was in position, hands on his energy pistol—it was not on stun. His face was grim, and he was perspiring, but he nodded.

“Here we go,” Mavra said tensely, and stepped out through the archway.

* * *

Ben Yulin was exceptionally pleased with his girls’ catch on their first attempt. Wooley’s unconscious form had been hardest to move, particularly to get down the stairs and onto the disk, but they’d managed, and the transformation was swift and complete. The tiny form of Vistaru was next; the transformation equally swift. Since they had names, he let them keep them, but he observed no other restrictions regarding them: he wiped their memories clean, reprogramming them as two more loving slaves, horse tails and all, only slight variants of the others.

And, after, he joined them and initiated them into his hareem as he had the others.

He was holding them both to him, patting one on the head, when Obie suddenly broke the mood. “Intruder on the far bridge,” it announced.

Yulin immediately abandoned the two new recruits and bounded up to the control console. “Who is it, Obie?” he asked.

“One life form, very large,” the computer replied. “It appears for all the world to be a horse!”

Yulin’s eyes blazed. “Mavra Chang!” he grunted under his breath—the one person he still considered a threat to his dreams, for she had some sort of rapport with Obie.

And she was the only other pilot.

“What does she appear to be doing?” he asked the computer.

“Standing just in front of the bridge,” Obie replied.

He frowned. Now why the hell would she expose herself like that? “You sure there are no other life forms on that bridge?” he asked, puzzled.

“No other,” the computer assured him. “Unless the Yugash is with her. That one would have to be a lot closer for me to detect unless it was inside her body—then it would be undetectable.”

Yulin nodded. That must be it. She was setting herself up as bait, and when he got her in, the ruse would also get the Yugash in.

“Obie,” he asked, mind racing, “could the Yugash communicate with you?”

“Yes, Ben. Of course it could.”

“But nobody in this room could be taken over by it.”

“No, Ben.”

He considered that. “Obie, basic programming line establishment.” He tapped out a long string of numbers on his keyboard.

“Running,” the computer responded.

“You are not to take orders of any sort from a Yugash, whether on its own or in someone else’s body,” he said flatly. “Further, you are to ignore all Yugash-generated information.”

“Clear and locked,” the computer came back.

Yulin nodded in satisfaction. All right, he told himself. Let the Yugash get in. Without a body, and powerless to communicate with Obie, it would just have to compromise with him or float around aimlessly. Offer to send it home, somehow get it under his control.

He smiled. This might be the best break yet. He got up, walked over to the balcony, and called, “Wooley! Vistaru! Nikki! Mavra! Come here!” The honor, he thought with grim humor, should be theirs.

Four women scrambled eagerly up to him.

“There’s a horse out there at the other end of the bridge,” he told them. “It’s more than a horse. It is a person inside a horse’s body and it can talk. It is one of the people opposed to me. A very dangerous one, the most important one. We must get it inside here. However, others are waiting just out of our sight and may rush you.” He thought furiously for a moment. “When you reach the horse, work your hypnos on it. Give it all you have. Tell it it is your horse and must follow you, then lead it, ride it, or in any other way possible bring it and yourselves back here.”

“What of the others, My Lord?” they all asked in unison.

“Numbers one and three, up here with your weapons!” he yelled. Two more women came. They held energy pistols.

Obie couldn’t design an organic defense against energy pistols, but he could make them easily enough.

“You will follow the others to about halfway across the bridge,” he told them. “Keep your pistols ready, and get into position so you can cover both them and the hall opening. If you see anything coming out of that opening, kill it. If the horse gives the sisters any trouble, stun the whole batch and bring them back. Understand?”

“We hear and obey, My Lord,” the two responded.

He nodded, then turned back to the control board. “Obie, on my count, you will drop out of defense mode and open the door. You will reinstitute defense mode on my command the instant I order it. Got that?”

“Got it, Ben.”

“Get ready, girls. All right, Obie—five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . now!”

The door slid open and Wooley, Vistaru, Nikki, and Mavra rushed out. A few seconds later the pair followed, pistols ready. In two groups the six ran low and carefully out across the bridge.

Mavra saw them immediately. “Okay, Bozog, Ghiskind! Now!” she hissed.

Like a flash the Bozog was across the bridge and over the side. The women, still carefully keeping low, didn’t see it.

Renard was almost dragged into the archway by the sudden force of the uncoiling wire and he struggled to keep his legs in position. He was afraid that he would lose the wire, or that the Bozog would pull him into the opening.

Mavra was acutely aware that the wire was visible and very noisy as it unreeled. Since she did not want it noticed, she was left only one choice. She reared up like a wild horse, kicked off, and charged across the wide bridge.

At first, the women were taken by surprise, but they recovered quickly and waited for their quarry to come to them.

Mavra got up so much speed that she decided to try to run right past them, into the open door of the control room. The four lead women leaped out of her way, leaving a path for her, which Mavra took. Just as she passed them she felt, first, a sharp series of stings and then the sudden force of someone jumping on her back. Then more stings, this time in the neck.

She tried to throw the rider, but things suddenly slowed, her mind clouded, and she came slowly to a dizzy halt.

“Keep going, horsie,” a soft, sexy feminine voice said to her. “Right through the door, at a trot.”

She obeyed unthinkingly. The three other women jogged alongside, and the two backups followed last, ensuring that there was no pursuit.

“Defense mode on, Obie!” Yulin yelled. The door slammed shut as the bulk of a horse almost crowded him out. He managed to turn and asked, “Obie, any life forms now in the bridge and shaft area?”

“No, Ben,” Obie responded. “No life forms in that area.”

Vistaru still rode Mavra’s back, smiling like a child with a new toy.

“Such a nice horsie,” she said to Yulin. “Can we keep it? As a pet?”

He chuckled, but he liked the idea. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded.

“Take her down to the disk, my love. A pet you’ll have, but a new kind.”

The girls had some problems negotiating the winding stairs with Mavra, but they managed it. The horse-woman was taken to the disk, placed on it, and the girls stepped away.

Yulin chuckled to himself. He’d never seen Mavra Chang as an Olbornian mutation, but he had some notion of it, which he found erotic and exotic. A pet! he thought gleefully.

“Obie, you have Mavra Chang’s original encoding still, do you not?” he asked, hardly able to suppress himself.

“Yes, Ben.”

“All right. Encode subject on the disk,” he ordered.

The little dish swung over, the blue glow enveloped the disk below, the horse flickered and disappeared.

“New encoding for subject,” he said to the computer. “Body that of Mavra Chang with tail, as placed in previous run-through. Arms and legs are to be those of a small horse, body facing down and resting on them, length and muscle size in proportion to human body. Internal muscle tone and bone structure sufficient to support weights up to one hundred kilos, or pull even more. Ears will be as on a mule. All skin and body color to be human, but digestive system shall parallel mine, ability to eat and digest anything organic. Got it?”

“Got it, Ben. Has anyone mentioned that you are beginning to resemble Antor Trelig?”

“Who said it mattered to me?” he retorted. “Continuing instructions. Enlarge breasts so they almost reach the ground. Sensory perception human norm in all areas. Make the tail long enough to reach the ground, and establish hair on subject’s head and neck to be thick but short. Okay? And make her hermaphroditic—self-reproducing by parthenogenesis. Identical copies. Got it?”

“Yes, Ben.”

“Attitudinal adjustments: Subject is to be fond of humans, particularly those in this room, and to require constant love and attention. Totally docile and obedient, no memory before this point nor reasoning ability above the level of a highly intelligent dog. Got it?”

“I’ve got it. Ben, you are a true rat.”

“Thank you, Obie,” he responded. “Lock and run.”

It took less than six seconds.

* * *

The Bozog oozed down the side of the shaft, following the Yugash closely and maintaining a tight grip on the wire. Finally, after passing what seemed like thousands of panels and openings, they reached one that the Yugash pointed to, then entered. The Bozog followed.

Just inside, the wire snagged, and the Northerner had to stop and gently free it, afraid that Renard might interpret any tug as a signal to fire away.

The shaft led past large humming modules for some distance, then up, back, and around. It was quite a maze, and the Bozog stayed close to the Yugash, knowing full well that should the other abandon it there was no way it would ever find his way out of there.

Finally the Yugash reached the correct point. Only a meter or so away was a very odd-looking cube with a lot of connections. It didn’t match anything else around, and so it had to be the bomb.

With the Yugash guiding, the Bozog placed the wire on the proper module. The device was incredibly complex—millions of tiny hairs, each surrounded by countless tiny, perfectly round bubbles, protruded from the surface. At the proper spot, the Bozog emitted a sticky, glistening substance, then embedded the wire in it.

Hastily, the Bozog started to back out, following the wire. It got a fair distance when the Yugash started making anxious gestures.

For a moment the Bozog was puzzled, then it thought about it for a second and gave a slight tug forward on the wire.

It moved easily.

Retreating, the Bozog had pulled the wire from the jury-rigged connection. With a grunt that the translator would make a sigh, it followed the Yugash back toward the bomb.

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