Quest for the Well of Souls

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 in 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 hump 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!”

Yuh’n’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.

The minotaur 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 a boy 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 horsewoman 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 that 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.

“Oh, she’s so cute!” one of the girls squealed in delight as a new Mavra materialized, looked around as best she could, and, catching sight and sound of people, scampered happily over to them, bushy horse’s tail wagging.

The girls clustered around, petting and rubbing her. One of them held a piece of fruit under Mavra’s nose. She sniffed at it, purred, and ate it as a dog might.

Yulin looked at his handiwork from the balcony. “Here, Chang! Here, Chang! Come on, girl! Come here!” he called.

Mavra was puzzled but delighted. An idiot’s smile played on her face. She sought the source of the call, locating it when Yulin clapped his hands. She raced up the stairs to him. He stooped down and took her head in his hands, rubbing it. She licked his feet.

The Bozog couldn’t risk too much secretion on the module, or the current might not reach its target.

“It’s in as firm as we dare, Ghiskind,” it said to its silent companion. “You’ll have to take me out a slightly different way than we came in so I don’t disconnect the wire again.”

The specter nodded and they were off. The new route was much longer, and the Bozog had the uncomfortable feeling that the Yugash was guessing the way, but they finally found the shaft. The Bozog was nervous at that opening; neither end was visible, and the big rod at its center faded into nothingness in either direction. The bridge looked awfully far away.

The wire, however, was a few meters above and about ten meters to the side. The Bozog headed toward it. The tendril from its sac reached out, gently took in the slack from the direction of the bridge. When it was satisfied that there was no more, it pulled—once, twice, three times. Again, once, twice, three times.

And then it scurried up the wall toward the bridge.

If Renard had gotten the message, the Bozog had just a count of thirty.

Renard had sat waiting, seemingly forever, the tension so thick he almost passed out from it. When the wire had finally stopped unreeling after an eternity, he’d relaxed, calmed himself, prepared. Several jerky motions almost caused him to begin, but the thirty count was more than just a safety margin for the Bozog. When the second signal didn’t come, he cursed silently to himself and settled back again. With nothing to do but wait, he imagined the horrors and depravities being perpetrated as he sat waiting in the corridor, but there was nothing he could do. Additionally, he often thought he heard noises, and the pistol rose, but nothing ever approached him.

Suddenly he was conscious of a change, something happening. It took a moment, then he realized that the uncoiled wire was being pulled taut. He held his breath and took gentle hold of the strand at his end. There were still quite a few meters on the coil.

There it came. One… two… three… One… two… three.

He counted slowly to thirty, silently praying that he would not be the link in the chain to fail.

All my life I’ve been waiting for this moment, he thought while counting. This is what I was born to do, this one thing. In a few seconds, I will justify my existence…

Twelve… Eleven… Ten…

“You are certain no Yugash was inside her?”

“Absolutely, Ben,” the computer assured him. “Nor is there a Yugash in this room or on the bridge or platforms.”

Yulin cursed himself for his lack of foresight. He should have questioned her under the hypno before transforming her. What the hell had she been trying to do? “Analysis of Mavra Chang’s actions in coming here?”

“To place into operation a plan to stop you,” Obie responded coyly.

“What plan?” he thundered. “What are they trying to do?”

“They are trying to destroy me,” replied the computer.

Yulin was on his feet in sudden alarm. “The others! A decoy! Damn it! I should have guessed!”

“Bad mistake, Ben. You forgot to question Mavra Chang. Usually you only get one mistake in your line of work.”

“Stop being so damned cheerful!” the minotaur stormed. “How do I stop them?”

“Well, your only chance is to—Intruder! Intruder on bridge platform!” Obie suddenly warned.

“Numbers one and three, with pistols, up here on the double!” he screamed; they scrambled to comply.

“Defense mode off, Obie. Door open!” He turned to the girls. “Shoot to kill anything you seel”

They went out the door.

As they did so, Renard dashed out with all his speed to the foot of the bridge and touched the electrified railing, feeling the voltage go into him. He was already heavily charged.

Here goes! He gave the wire all he had.

Far below, a tremendous explosion blew smoke and debris in both directions along the shaft with a deafening, echoing roar. Unprepared for a reaction of such magnitude, Renard fell backward when the concussion struck him.

A tremor shook the control room hard enough to topple equipment. The lights flickered on, off, on… then off. The door popped open, as it was designed to do in any power failure, and the dim auxiliary lighting cast a feeble glow here and there throughout the Underside.

Yulin’s night vision allowed him to see the control panel, now dark. He flipped the transmitter switch so hard that it broke.

“Obie! Obie!” he screamed. “Answer me! Damn it, answer me!”

But there was no reply. From the distance he heard what seemed to be secondary explosions. Frantically, he looked around, his dreams collapsing about him in the dark.

The two girls on the bridge suddenly stopped running and looked around, puzzled, blank expressions on their faces.

The moment power was lost it was as if a veil had lifted from the women below. They’d barely had time to scream in terror when suddenly they were changed, became disoriented. But not for long.

“Vistaru!” Wooley screamed. “Get a pistol! We’ve got the bastard now!”

“Behind you!” came another woman’s voice, and two figures headed for the stairs, joined by two others.

Vistaru looked back nervously. “Who the hell are you?” she challenged.

“Nikki Zinder!” the other yelled. “Stand clear! Ben Yulin’s mine!” she snarled so viciously that the other two let her pass.

Yulin heard them coming, and instantly realized what had happened.

Physical changes were accomplished by biological redesign; they were permanent unless changed by Obie, the Well, or a similar agency. But mental—attitudinal—controls and changes were impositions by the computer, held in place by the computer’s, continued operation.

Yulin no longer had slaves, he had old enemies.

He threw his chair down the stairs with great force, and the women jumped out of the way to avoid it. Yulin took advantage of their momentary confusion to run out the door.

The two women on the bridge had not previously had strong personalities, having been but animalistic savages, yet they retained the language and skills Obie had programmed into them in the same way that Mavra had retained the plans for New Pompeii. But for a few fleeting memories, the two felt as if they had just been born. They were totally confused.

Realizing their probable state, Yulin raced in their direction. One seemed to be puzzled by her energy pistol and he lunged toward her. Almost upon them, Yulin encountered the Agitar form of Renard running toward him. The minotaur was going to be beaten to the girl and the gun.

He stopped, frantic now, and looked back. Four of his former love-slaves were heading toward him, all armed, all grimly determined. From the opposite direction, Renard rushed past the women, pistol drawn.

Yulin opted for Renard. With a snarl he turned and ran into him; both went sprawling.

Yulin rolled, jumped to his feet, and grabbed Renard’s pistol. Smiling now, he passed the two women, grabbing another pistol, and backed along the side of the bridge.

The lights in the main shaft were flickering, and there were more rumblings and bangings from below.

“Standoff!” Yulin yelled at them over the din. “Let’s everybody stay calm!”

“Give it up, Yulin!” Nikki Zinder screamed, almost drowned out by the din from the shaft. The scene was eerily unreal in the dun and flickering light.

The minotaur laughed. “Just stay away” He continued to back along the shaft, and they continued to match him, coming warily forward.

Renard ran into the control room.

“We’ve got to get him,” Wooley called from in back. “If he gets to the ship we’re trapped—and he can build another Obie.”

But they were bunched a little too close. A single shot from him could take them, but not, perhaps, before one of them also fried him.

As Yulin said, it was a draw, and he was backing along the side of the bridge.

He risked a quick glance back. Almost across now. Once in the corridor, he could outrun them to the car. Just a little farther…

Suddenly an orange tentacle lashed over the side of the bridge behind him, wrapped itself around his neck, and pulled him with a jerk up and over, then let go. Yulin felt himself lifted, turned over, then dropped down into the shaft.

He screamed in horror for some time. But thanks to Coriolis effect, he was smashed to death against the shaft long before he struck bottom.

The Bozog climbed up and over the bridge and down onto it, the pale-red cloak of the Ghiskind following.

Wooley saw what happened and applauded. There was more rumbling, booming, and flickering, and she grew suddenly businesslike.

“Vistaru, Zinder, go with the Bozog and the Ghiskind! Get both elevator cars open and ready! Com’on, Star! Let’s help Renard get the others!” They ran back to the open, dark doorway.

“Renard!” Wooley screamed.

“Here!” he yelled. “Damn it! Come and help! I can’t see a blasted thing!”

They could, and Vistaru gently herded the confused and blank other women up the stairs and out the door.

“Come on!” she yelled.

“Mavra! We’ve got to find Mavra!” Renard screamed.

Wooley looked around with her exceptional night vision. “I don’t see her! Mavra!” she screamed. “Mavra!”

Suddenly the whole control room shook with a thunderous wrenching, and part of the far balcony collapsed.

Wooley grabbed Renard. “Come on! Get out of here!” she yelled at him. “We need you to get the others out!”

He looked desperate, tragic. “But—Mavra!” he screamed back.

“She’s got to be dead, or unconscious, or something!” Wooley snapped back. Another spasm shook them and the shaft lights stayed out. “Come on! We’ve got to get out of here or we’ll all die!”

With her deceptive strength she picked him up and raced up the stairs. At the top, she looked back, and there seemed to be tears in her eyes.

“Forgive me once more, dear Mavra,” she whispered, more to herself than to Renard, although he heard.

Then she was off across the bridge.

Both cars were packed with bodies, and they stopped and started several times and moved jerkily. Despite moments when they seemed stuck, doomed to die of asphyxiation, both made it to the surface.

Renard, though still in shock, realized it was now his show. “To the ship!” he yelled. Time for mourning later.