Dream thief

29

…

THEIR PLAN FAILED MISERABLY. Hocking reached the station first and was ready for them. A brief scuffle in the docking bay-resulting in taser darting all around for the would- be rescuers-put a swift end to the rescue attempt.

Spence came to lying facedown in a cell, groggily shaking off the effects of the taser dart and wondering what had happened. They had counted on Director Zanderson's sudden forceful appearance to throw the mutineers into panic, thereby giving them time to marshall the help they needed from Gotham's alarmed populace.

But they never had a chance to sound the alarm. Chief Ramm and his men had been waiting for them the moment they stepped from the craft. It was all masterfully calculated.

Looking at it now, Spence wondered why they had thought it could have turned out any differently. They acted foolishly and had been easily outsmarted by Hocking. How could it have been otherwise? Their every move had been foreseen.

Now he was alone in a cell in the security section, feeling as if someone had clubbed him and then used him for a pidg bird. He felt weak and mushy inside, his limbs trembled with the neurological aftereffects of the taser jolt, his mouth tasted of blood, and his nose throbbed from taking the full force of his headfirst dive into the floorplates when the dart hit him.

With a groan he rolled into a sitting position and saw a small puddle of dried blood where his face had pressed against the floor. He hesitantly touched a finger to his nose and found it painfully swollen, but probably not broken. It had bled freely all over his jumpsuit.

On his hands and knees he dragged himself to the small vestibule set in the wall. He ran water in the tiny sink and splashed it on his face, washing the blood from his cheek and neck. He rinsed out his mouth, spit, and then glanced at himself in the mirror.

The forlorn image he saw staring back at him did not greatly cheer him. Nor did his prospects for the immediate future.

What would they do with him? And the others? Then he remembered Ari. Hot black rage flowed up like molten lava within him. Where was she? What had they done to her?

His rage burned out in futile ravings and exhausted itself in hurling him against the clear plastic door to his cell. He slid once more to the floor to sit with his back against the door, panting, crying tears of anger and frustration, grinding his fists against the floor.

The wave of temper left him and he lay dejectedly against the door. It was then that he smelled something burning.

The smell of melting plastic filled the cell within seconds, throwing him into a fit of coughing. He lay down on the floor to keep from suffocating on the fumes. Smoke from a spot in the center of the floor began to rise, forming a thick black cloud on the ceiling of the cell. He watched the column of smoke, fascinated and appalled at the same time. What the devil is going on? he wondered.

He did not have long to find out.

There appeared in the center of the cell first a blackened circle, and then the area dipped and sank as if the floor at that spot was melting-which it was.

Black fumes rose from the floor trailing black, snaky wisps. Spence feared he would be suffocated very soon; the pocket of clear air diminished rapidly as the cloud pressed down from the ceiling.

He waited, holding his breath.

Even as he began choking on the fumes he heard the sound of tearing fabric and then, through the smoke-dark haze, saw a head pop through the hole which had formed in the floor.

The head, wearing goggles and a breathing apparatus, looked around the room and then saw him. A hand appeared and motioned him closer.

Tears streaming down his face, Spence wormed his way over to the edge, squirming on his stomach. The floor beneath him was hot like a griddle.

A mask was thrust into his hand and he blindly fumbled to put it on and drew the oxygen deep into his burning lungs. He was handed a pair of thick gloves and motioned down into the opening in the floor.

With the gloves on he gripped the still-smoldering sides of the aperture and lowered himself through. He felt hands on him, steadying his descent so that he would not touch the hot metal rim of the hole.

Once below the floor he cast aside the gloves, tore off the mask, and jumped from the platform that had been erected directly beneath his cell.

"Packer! What are you doing here?"

"We must apologize for not meeting you at the gate earlier." A thickly-Russian accented voice sounded behind him. "We were unavoidably detained."

"Kalnikov! You, too?"

"Are you all right, Reston?" Packer, his mask dangling from his neck, pounded him on the back. "It sure is good to see you." "I didn't expect this, I-"

"Don't thank us yet. We're not out of the woods by a long shot." "Where are the others?"

Kalnikov raised his eyes and pointed upward. "Still captive?"

"We're working on getting them out now. We've been very busy these last few hours. I'll have to tell you all about it-"

"Some other time," said Kalnikov. "Please, comrades. We must get away from here at once."

With that the Russian stooped and lifted a bulky cylindrical apparatus to which was attached hoses and a sharp nozzle. "This is our latest invention. No space station should be without one."

"I'm convinced," remarked Spence. They all hurried off along the maintenance catwalk crowded with conduits and pipes and vents of various sizes.

"What's below all this?" asked Spence. "Commissary kitchens," replied Packer. "Where are we going?" "You'll see."

They walked until they came to a ragged-edged opening that had been cut in a huge conduit. "This is our golden highway," said Packer. "It's a vent shaft that runs the whole circumference. We've had to make a few alterations in design, but it serves its purpose."

They stepped inside where a small electric maintenance cart was waiting for them. "Kalnikov will take you to command central. I'll wait here for the others. They should be coming along any time now. I want to make sure nothing goes wrong."

Spence got in the cart and they were off; the single headlight threw its beam into the darkness of the round, seamless tunnel.

After a journey, which he guessed was at least a quarter of the way around the station, they halted and got out and went into another tube with a ladder inside it. They climbed down the ladder to the next level and continued their way, finally arriving at a tiny room littered with tools and materials and scattered pieces of various machines.

"What happened here? Explosion in the spare parts bin?"

"We have not, for obvious reasons, been able to call housekeeping to properly furnish our little nest. We thought you would desire freedom over pleasant surroundings."

"I'm not complaining, believe me. It looks great. Small, but great."

"We thought you'd like it."

"What happens now?"

"That we will have to see about. Our first objective was to get you prisoners free. Nothing has been decided beyond that."

"Have they taken over then?"

"No-not yet. Not officially, anyway. There has been no announcement, no overt actions. For most citizens everything continues as normal."

"Most?"

Kalnikov smiled proudly. "There is a small but efficient cadre of enlightened individuals." He favored Spence with one of his bone-rattling back slaps. "Welcome to the underground, Dr. Reston!" …

WITHIN THE HOUR THE little room under the docking bay was crowded with people talking excitedly and loudly.

Adjani had joined them first, followed by Gita and Director Zanderson. "Where's Kyr?" Spence asked. The cadets who had brought the last of the prisoners just shook their heads.

"You got someone else with you?" asked Packer.

"Yes," said Spence. "A… uh, friend."

Packer regarded Spence suspiciously, but did not press for details. "Then they've taken him somewhere else." He turned to his cadets. "All right, you shuttle jumpers, clear out. Keep your eyes open and watch your exits, and scramble your trail. We can't be too careful. Now get going; I'll be in contact as soon as we figure out what to do next."

The cadets, grinning with high spirits at the adventure they were on, left silently and swiftly. "Now then," said Kalnikov. "To business."

"Right," agreed Packer, looking at Spence and Adjani. "But first I think you two have some explaining to do."

They all sat down at a conference table that had been hastily set up in the cramped service area. Kalnikov took the head chair and Packer sat at his right hand. Spence, Adjani, Gita, and Zanderson filled in around the table. Director Zanderson, when an offer was made to allow him to resume command of the station, replied, "As long as those maniacs are in power, I have nothing to control. I'm not a guerrilla fighter, gentlemen. Please, let's not stand on false ceremony. You, Kalnikov and Packer, are in charge-we'll keep it that way."

"We accept your recommendation, Director," said Kalnikov. "Now I would like one of you to tell us exactly what we're up against. We have been working at somewhat of a disadvantage up to now."

All eyes turned toward Spence and Adjani, and they began to relate all they knew of the Dream Thief and his plans of world domination. The others sat spellbouned as the incredible tale unfolded.

"… Dream Thief is dead," Spence concluded. "We saw him die. Apparently, Hocking has usurped power from his master and is now bent on carrying out his own schemes here aboard the station."

"That makes sense," agreed Kalnikov at length. "We suspected the rebels on Gotham were receiving orders from someone on Earth. We had no idea who it was. Who is this Hocking?"

"A madman."

"And a twisted genius," added Adjani. "He will stop at nothing to achieve his aims, and he has in his possession a machine to make those aims a reality."

"What sort of machine?" asked Packer.

"It's called a tanti. Most simply described, it is a consciousness-altering device once used in psychiatric medicine," explained Spence. To Packer and Kalnikov he added, "You won't have heard of it. In fact, Adjani and I have never actually seen it, but it exists and it is somewhere here on Gotham."

"And we believe," continued Adjani, "that it has been modified into a machine capable of broadcasting to entire sections of the globe, or to the whole world through the use of satellites. That is why this station is so important to Hocking. It gives him a permanent base of operation beyond reach of the world's powers."

Packer rubbed his chin and frowned. "Granting what you say is true, preposterous as it sounds, what exactly does this machine, this tanti thing-what does it do?"

"I suspect," began Spence, choosing his words carefully, "that it interacts in some way with electrical impulses in the brain. It stimulates certain cortical bodies-those normally associated with subconscious activity, for example-and imprints its own predesignated pattern of wave impulses."

"In other words?"

"In other words it shapes thought, induces dreams, manipulates the mind itself."

"Mind control," said Kalnikov.

"Precisely," replied Adjani. "Spence here can vouch for its effectiveness. We almost lost him to it."

The others regarded Spence carefully, as if trying to detect any sudden changes in him. Spence smiled grimly. "On a purely personal basis I can say that the effects are devastating. What will happen when the tanti is loosed upon the Earth… well, consider a world where half the population is driven to end its insanity in tortured self-destruction and the survivors become mindless drones serving a warped master."

The room was silent. Director Zanderson, his voice steady but tense, spoke next. "It's up to us, gentlemen. Hocking is to be stopped at once and that machine destroyed. Every moment he is allowed to continue his schemes, we are that much closer to universal chaos."

Kalnikov put his hands flat on the table. "The pieces are fitting together, yes? We will now entertain ideas for stopping this monster and his nightmare-making machine." He looked around the table at the tight ring of intense faces. "What are your suggestions, comrades?"

Hours later, the plan that was finally hammered together lacked several key elements toward making it completely foolproof. But whatever it lacked, was more than made up in barefaced audacity.