That was sobering news.
Spirit was rather startled by the twins. Just as Jeff had never reconciled himself to his mother’s sexual activity, she had never thought of Matson in that way. Still, she could understand why he’d bent in this regard. Although they looked quite different, very attractive—hell, they were gorgeous—they still had a strong dose of Cassie inside, particularly in the face and eyes and the various small gestures they affected as well. More than even Mervyn, she could also see the enormous power potential in them.
“That’s who your prime components should be.” she told the Soul Rider.
For sheer power I would have to agree. Together those two could potentially break and defeat almost any wizard on World. They are unsuitable, however, for other reasons. They are far too young and inexperienced to make hard decisions, for one thing. For another, although they are quite intelligent, they are products of their culture and believe in its basics, quarrelling only with some specifics. This is not by coercion or spell, as with Cass, Suzl, and Sondra, but something they take utterly for granted. It would be fascinating to see just what sort of Fluxland they would create, but I assure you that you wouldn’t like it.
She let it drop. More and more she was becoming aware that events were closing in on them, and that time was running out. She had never been that much aware of time before, but now she simply had the sense, through the Soul Rider, that things were soon to change forever, and that a crisis was imminent that even the Soul Rider was powerless to influence. She knew, however, what the Soul Rider’s overriding mission was, and its justification for all that it had done, because the Soul Rider itself was receiving more and more information daily from its controller.
The Soul Riders were part of the defense of World, and that cause was so absolute that the rights and lives of individuals were of no consequence. For twenty-six hundred years they had managed to foil, confuse, or stave off any real attempts at opening the Hellgates, but now it was beyond their individual control. Individuals, and sometimes events, could be manipulated, but World was now too complex, too populated, and too diverse for the Soul Rider and its controller to deal with. They could only warn and, as always, prepare for the worst.
Mervyn, for his part, was doing much the same. He had already seen the information Matson had gained through Sondra, and, in fact, had done an overflight himself in bird form. His sources were better than Matson’s.
“There’s no question that Sligh is the newest member of the Seven, something I pretty well guessed long ago. Tilghman was too dedicated to his great vision, and Champion has limited Flux power—enough to form a pocket temporarily, or enslave an individual—but not enough to really matter. He has the right attitude, but not the inborn abilities the position requires. No, it had to be Sligh. I suspected that when I saw how much he was pouring into power studies and broadcast communications, and how he fought against and delayed for many years the implementation of the landscaping program, which made things a bit more difficult for him. He was with Coydt almost from the beginning, though, and well known to the others.”
“I just don’t see how he could have gotten this far, though,” Matson said. “I mean, he’s still suckering everybody and he’s on top.”
“The key was Champion, I suspect. The man’s brilliant, but he’s also ruthless, vicious, and petty. I think he has his own, far uglier vision for New Eden, and I think Sligh played on his ego. He’s never forgiven or forgotten his slave-boy origins, and he’s driven by blind hatred. Sligh has played on that, and on Champion’s feelings that Tilghman’s devolved into a silly dreamer and is of no more practical use to them. They needed the old boy’s organizational mastery to set it all up, but they don’t want what he wants for the new land. The only chance we may have is that Tilghman’s now tipped off to the plot and they will almost certainly have to rush their coup. That will mean civil war, and we have to pray that Tilghman can reach that tower before it is completed and blow it up.”
“No chance of anything from the air, then? Cass and I, years ago, did a nice bombing job as big birds.”
“With Flux right next to you, and with a small blockhouse as an objective. Consider how many you’d have to get in, and how far they have to fly—and do you think that the amount of explosives a large bird could carry could knock down that thing, solid steel anchored in tons of concrete? Not to mention the fact that when Tilghman moves, or even before, they’ll have all sorts of defenses set up in no time. Those ray projectors of theirs could knock everything living from the sky for ten kilometers.”
“Anything on the other Gates?”
“Plenty. In separate but well-timed incidents, Krupe, MacDonna, and Hjistoliran have all been assassinated in Anchor, all by people they believed friends, allies, or loyal priestesses. Various attempts have been made on others of the Nine in Flux by members of the Seven and affiliated wizards, many using amplifiers. The devices Sligh created are heavily booby-trapped and tied directly into the regulator circuitry. Our experts have said that without the circuit diagrams and top engineers and a lot of time we couldn’t hope to deactivate and disconnect any of them, and if they blow they’ll take the regulator with them. Our experts claim that this would cause an unrestrained release of massive quantities of raw, uncontrolled Flux that would make at least that cluster a horrible wasteland in which nothing could live.”
“After so long they make it look so effortless, so easy.”
“No, it’s complex. Not only did they have to gain hidden political control of the clusters and maintain it indefinitely, they had to wait for the mechanisms to be developed. That was Coydt’s job. It took him a century to break through anything at all—the amplifiers, and the codes for access to the Hellgates, for starters—and to be confident enough to test and use them. That’s why he needed Anchor Logh to get any further. He needed a large area where scientific testing and research could be undertaken under constant physical laws. To do that he needed to totally control an Anchor, and that was the source of the New Eden movement. Sligh continued the work, but found he hadn’t the resources or industrial capacity to properly develop and test what he discovered, which was why he fed the weapons research and the expansionist aims of Tilghman. Now Tilghman’s in the way of the last great experiment and must be disposed of.”
Matson sat back in his chair and shook his head sadly. “How could we have let this happen? How could we have sat back so complacently and let them do it?”
“We did try it another way. When it was clear how pervasive the Seven’s influence was growing, we created the Reformed Church movement and the Empire. However, speed was essential before they could regroup, and that meant we had to have a physical center to unite the peoples of Flux and Anchor for war. She was their motive force.”
“Cassie.”
“Exactly. And we were winning! They were beaten back, unable to cope with such devotion and fanaticism. That’s why Coydt kidnapped Spirit, then chose Anchor Logh particularly for his new research laboratory. He had to hurt Cassie, divert her, and draw her in where he was certain he could finish her off. And, even in death, he did just that. He removed the Empire’s heart, and its momentum collapsed. Because of that disarray, we of the Nine actually accelerated the Seven’s takeover process. The half of World still under their influence easily picked up the shattered pieces of the Empire in disarray. It’s all over, Matson. Everyone on World is now waking up to that fact, with the discovery of the timing mechanisms, but it’s too late. They’ve won. Our only hope, and this is the irony of ironies, rests with Adam Tilghman.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate the old boy, but I wouldn’t sit here and sulk, either. Get out the word. Fly around World as you never have before. The stringers will help you, too. Mass every damned army you can muster. Keep a well-armed and fortified twenty percent in Anchor and block those temple accesses. Through everything else, everything and everybody, to the Hellgates. Put a million damned troops in the field! Let the invaders shoot their cannon into a horde of a million fanatical cockroaches who must either win or die! Give it to ’em! It’ll cost ten, maybe even a hundred, for every one of them, but we can take them! Believe it!”
“I don’t know if I can,” Mervyn sighed. “I’m suddenly feeling very old and very stupid. But I’ll do it. If it can be done, we’ll do it.”
They both stood up, and shook hands. “Where do you go now?” the wizard asked the stringer.
“Back. If I can expose Sligh, I can turn the army. If I can’t, and get away, I can still organize my own band of cockroaches.”
The two men looked straight into each other’s eyes, and in them was the understanding that they would probably not meet again. Finally Mervyn asked, “If they want to surrender? Make a deal?”
Matson smiled. “Tell ’em—tell ’em to remember Anchor Logh.”
Sondra took the small key from the parlor dresser and crept into her husband’s study. The previous evening she had seen him going over a whole new batch of aerial photographs, and she was determined to have a look at them. The house was pretty well deserted today. She’d sent the older kids to a sitter’s and the youngest was asleep in his crib. Lev had been awakened in the wee hours of the morning and had rushed out without an explanation. She didn’t know when he’d be back, but she suspected it might not be for days.
She turned the key and slid open the drawer, then removed the photos. They were worse then she’d dreamed. The tower was nearly completed, and lacked only a preassembled top section that was clearly on the ground nearby. Judging from the tiny size of the people, buildings, and equipment below it was obvious that the height of the thing was enormous, taller than anything ever seen before on World. She’d been a stringer and she’d had the full range of Signal Corps training. There was no question in her mind as to what the tower was for, and it was obvious that the thing could be topped off in a day or two. That would leave only the power and electrical connections and some guidewire support to go. If these pictures were recent, it was a matter of days. If older, it could be any moment.
“I knew it was you,” said a man’s voice behind her. “It had to be.”
She whirled and found herself facing Gunderson Champion himself. She mustered up all her courage. “What are you doing in my house?” she asked him, giving up all pretense at servility.
“Catching a spy. I don’t know for who—Mervyn, your father, or old man Tilghman—but I don’t really care. I just led a high-level group to Tilghman’s house to place him under protective arrest, and you know what I found? Nothing! But I suspect you already do know that, don’t you? No Judge, no wives, no brats. I suspected something about you from the moment the old man married you off to Lev, but he was so certain and you were so good you even convinced me—for a while.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Not very long. I didn’t really expect to catch you in the act.” He reached out for her, and she resisted, pounding on him, but all he did was laugh and tighten his grip. “You want to see the project? Come on—I’ll take you to the project.”
She stopped fighting, realizing it was no use. Even if she got by him, somehow, there’d be others. “The baby—my children. . . .”
“They’ll be well taken care of, as long as you behave yourself and don’t try anything funny. Anything, even the slightest resistance or disagreement, and your daughter dies. Anything beyond that, and we’ll start work on the others.”
“Lev would kill you if you did that!”
“Lev isn’t in any position to do that. Right now he’s out chasing down our missing ex-leader. If he succeeds, he may be lucky enough to be only a sergeant bossing a mining detail somewhere when this is over. If he fails, he’ll die.”
“You seem to have it all figured out, except for one thing. Your precious project is really to open the Hellgates. Once they’re open, nothing after will mean a thing.”
They went outside and she allowed herself to be assisted onto a horse. They rode along in a procession of troopers. Champion at her side. He had her, and she knew it. Her usefulness was over now in any event, and the only thing left of importance was saving the children.
“You know, you and your group may be wrong about this Gate business,” Champion said to her. “They might not be enemies at all. Or there might be nothing there after all these years. Sligh doesn’t think there will be. He just thinks we’ll have them open, so our relatives can visit and give him all the power he needs to do things no wizard ever dreamed of doing. Me, I don’t care. If they’re there and friends, I win. If they’re not there, then we will have such power as none have dreamed of. If they’re there and the Enemy, whatever they are, it’ll be an interesting challenge to see if your papa’s right. If we can beat ’em, we’ll have the means to go back along those big strings ourselves.”
“And if you can’t?”
“It is a soldier’s duty to fight and die if necessary,” he responded calmly, and she felt a chill as she realized he meant absolutely every word of it.
Matson and the twins were gone, much to Spirit’s dismay. She felt, rather than having to have the Soul Rider tell her, that her father was saying farewell to her, and perhaps to life. She wished she understood exactly what was going on.
Mervyn, too, had gone, with that same feeling in his eyes and manner. She felt alone, helpless, frightened, and confused.
Spirit—it is time.
“Huh? What? Time for what?”
I have received key elements of the master defense program. It is now more than certain that the Hellgates will open. The probability is better than eighty percent, which triggers a sequence of moves.
She knew she should have felt great fear, but instead the news calmed her, yet excited her as well. It had been her mother’s time, and her father’s time, and Suzl’s time, and Mervyn’s time.
Now it was her time.
“What do you want me to do?”
First, call Jeff.
“Jeff! But—”
Call him. Call him with all your will and all your might. Call him with your mind. Summon him to you, through Flux. Do it, and he will come.
She wanted to see him, no matter what he’d turned into. She very much did, and now she gathered up all her will, all her concentration, and called to him.
“JEFF! COME TO ME! COME TO ME IN FLUX!”
She could visibly see a string shoot from her, so quickly that no eye could follow it, going out and curving off to the southeast.
“Now what?”
We wait. It will not be long. One of my own kind has arranged to keep him very near Flux. He will come almost at the speed of light once he reaches Flux.
“But—why? Why now?”
For six years he has been in the New Eden army. He has become a weapons and ordinance specialist. It was thought this would be—useful.
With forty minutes he was there. She felt him come before he arrived, and watched as the great string reversed itself, and burst in front of her, reforming into the shape of a man.
He had changed, even from the last time they’d seen each other. He had a full, thick beard, which partially masked an ugly facial scar. His skin was hard, rough, and weather-beaten, and his hair was actually going gray. He looked, for the moment, totally confused. Then he spotted her, frowned, then brightened for a moment, and that insane look came into his eyes and expression once more. He advanced towards her confidently, menacingly.
She was pissed off. When he got close enough, she threw the meanest and most powerful uppercut she’d ever managed and connected with his jaw. It snapped shut and he fell backwards onto the ground, face up. He picked himself up slowly, and felt his jaw in wonder, but before he could get up again the Soul Rider had taken control of her.
She leaped upon him, her unnaturally powerful body pinning him down and holding him. He was confused and frightened by this turn, but found he couldn’t struggle, couldn’t, in fact, move a muscle. She reached into him through her mind and contacted his Flux power.
They were suddenly bathed in an eerie glow and for a moment their physical forms seemed to fade into a great single burning mass. Then it died out, and they were solid once more. She got off him, bounded to her feet, and looked down at him, then smiled and offered him her hand.
“My God, Mom! What have I done?” He took her hand, and got shakily to his feet. “If only I could talk to you,” he said sorrowfully. “If only I could tell you. . . .”
“Cut the bullshit and pity, Jeff,” said Spirit, in perfectly clear speech. “We haven’t time. You and I have work to do. First I’m going to conjure up some clothes. After all these years I hate the idea, but I’ll be damned if I’ll give New Eden the satisfaction!”
Matson had crossed from Flux back into Anchor just west of Anchor Logh, with the intent of reversing his route on the train and getting back to New Caanan. The army had pretty well guessed his probable route, and had been waiting for him.
They were very polite, even apologetic. They didn’t really know what was going on, but they had received clear and confirmed orders to intersect and detain him and his wives.
They were taken into Anchor Logh by the familiar old west Gate, but they were not to take the usual time riding to the old capital. Sligh had taken advantage of the ability to experiment, and had constructed a scale model of the steam line down the main road all the way in to the capitol itself. Flanked by a stern-looking and uncommunicative security patrol who refused to take his word as an officer that he would give them no trouble, all three of them were stripped to nothing. Conditioning collars were snapped around their necks, and were demonstrated. Now they were unceremoniously shoved into the tiny car behind the engine and, with security men sitting all around, any one of whom could trigger the collars, they were off.
Matson understood the futility of resistance at this point. His only hope was that he would eventually be taken before some higher ranking officer or authority whom he might have a slim chance of convincing that the thing was not a coup but the first step to opening the Hellgates.
The twins had never felt so helpless in their lives, and they were clearly frightened to death. The implications of all this also started to sink in, and they wondered if their parents were dead or alive. No communication of any sort was tolerated, although Matson was permitted at the start of the trip to tell them to relax and take it easy and not do anything foolish. His one plea, for his cigars, was answered with stony silence.
The train stopped for nothing but water, and used some sort of floodlight with a wick and mirror system mounted forward of the boiler to keep on through the night. They were fed basic soldier’s field rations, which tasted like centuries-old library paste, given one cup of water to wash it down with, and were allowed bathroom privileges only at water stops and only one at a time.
Matson knew he should have expected it, but he’d hoped they wouldn’t have moved quite so fast. He wasn’t really worried for himself or even the girls, since when that Hellgate opened he knew his status would change fast. What frustrated him was to be kept nearly a thousand kilometers from where the action was until it was too late for him to participate.
With a change of security and train crews, they reached the old capital in ten and a half hours and chugged right down to Temple Square. He didn’t approve of what they’d done to the nice old park—it was now all dug up and changed into a turntable and service center for the train. They were met by an officious security lieutenant who had his orders and was all arrogance.
“To restore stability and reason to New Eden and foil a plot to kill several senior officers and seize complete control of the nation, it was necessary for the army to take charge,” he told them, offering no introductions. “Our orders were that if any of you crossed our boundaries again you were to be held and interned. When the crisis has been resolved and order has been restored, you will be brought before a military commission at which time you may make any pleas or statements you wish and at which your ultimate disposition will be determined. Until that time you are to be interned here. Follow me.”
Matson shrugged, giving up any hope of an early chance to plead his case, and they followed the lieutenant and his squad. To their very great surprise, he led them to the old Tilghman house and up the steps. Armed guards were stationed front and rear, and there was a heavy lock on the door and all the windows, first and second floor, had been barred.
The place still looked nice from the outside, but inside it was completed barren of furniture, the paint and wallpaper were peeling, and the now-exposed wooden floor had splinters. The lieutenant’s voice echoed ghost-like through the place.
“All electricity to the house has been cut. Sufficient food for cold meals has been provided, and will be restocked as necessary. The plumbing still works, but all doors have been removed throughout the interior. The upper floor is off limits, and a small transmitter is positioned there which will activate your collars if you get halfway up. You have the run of the first floor during the day, but after nightfall you will be confined to the front room. A number of army mattresses have been placed there so arranged that they cover the floor. You will sleep there. No conversation with the guards is permitted, and you must obey any order they give without question. Any infraction by anyone in the house will result in all of you getting a jolt. If you cause trouble, the guards will condition you out of it. That is all.” And, with that, the security men turned and left, and slammed the door behind them. They heard the lock turn.
Matson sighed. “Well, it’s not much, but I guess it’s home.”
“Uh—do you think they . . . killed. . . .”
He put on a false smile and kissed them. “I wouldn’t count your old man out yet. He’s pretty—listen! Did you hear something?”
They went down the hall and peered into the old library, then went through the former dining room to the living room and stopped.
“Candy? Crystal? Matson? So they got you. too. . . .” said Suzl sadly.
18
THE WORMS TURN
It was well past daylight when Sondra, Champion, and the security party reached the Hellgate. Although she’d seen the pictures, she still gasped at its sheer height and the massive size of its base and foundation. Above, far into the sky, she saw two huge balloons tethered with what seemed to be a kilometer or more of strong cable. They didn’t seem to be of the hot air type, but she now at least understood where the photos had come from. What was far more sobering was that the tower had been topped off, guy ropes were in place and a horde of tiny figures far up were working and welding.
“Not a word about the Gate opening to anyone,” Champion warned her. “You may not care about your own life, but you hold the life of your children in your hands.”
The general kept her waiting while he went inside a small administration building and checked with his communications people. The news was not good. Communication lines to the west had been cut, a vital bridge had been blown on the rail line, making it useless. Several messengers sent through the Hellgate passage to West Borough had not returned, indicating either that General Borodin, the west’s military commander, had been taken out, or that he had lost his nerve and double-crossed the plotters. That meant that Tilghman’s loyal forces could be reinforced by train from the west, stopping just short of the blown bridge. They, however, controlled the capital and all sectors to the north and east. Champion knew that Tilghman would regroup his forces and with whatever reinforcements he got would move on their position as soon as he felt able.
He had established defensive perimeters in concentric rings around the position and the Hellgate, with his major force concentrated just out of heat ray and rocket range of the tower. He had almost twenty thousand men in the field, but it was a large area to cover, and Tilghman could pick the direction of attack. He had concentrated his main strength where it was the most mobile. More, he didn’t really need to win; all he needed was to buy enough time. He called Sligh on the local wire system. The science chief was at the base of the tower, personally supervising the work.
“How long until the big broadcast?” the general asked.
“We can’t work up high at night, but we’ll finish by midday tomorrow for certain. After that I have to run some checks in the tunnel to make sure we don’t just fry ourselves, and then it’s any time we want.”
“Call it thirty hours, then. I can hold anything for thirty hours with this force. Are you sure, though, that that thing will withstand suicide attacks by gliders?”
“Who can be certain? I know that our ray defense can blow them up before they reach the tower, at least. About the only other holdup could be the weather. A major line of thunderstorms is moving in ahead of a cold wave. I wouldn’t want to work around this kind of juice, let alone broadcast, in that. But I wouldn’t want to have to attack this place in it, either.”
“Very well. Get back to work. I have to attend to a little personal business here, then I’ll be in the situation shack.”
They broke communications, and he went back outside to Sondra. “Get down!” he ordered, and she obeyed. “What do you think of our little project?”
“I think you’re all insane,” she told him.
He laughed. “Insane is the label they pin on great men with big ambitions who gamble big and lose. The winners are called great and genius and they build monuments to them. Follow me.”