The Blood Red Game

SEVEN

Immediately they landed on the peaceful oxygen planet, tiny, polite threads of thought touched their minds, asked questions.

Responding to the delicacy of the impressions, Renark and Asquiol made it clear that they wished to contact the Ekiversh as the Shaarn had suggested. They remained in the spaceship, pleased to see the light green chlorophyll-bearing plants which were not unlike Earth's.

At last there appeared outside the ship what at first appeared to be a heaving mass of semi-transparent jelly. Disgusted, Renark was repelled by the sight and Asquiol said:

'The jelly-smellies. Remember I told you they were some sort of legend on Entropium? Metazoa - ugh!'

A voice in Asquiol's head said humbly: 'We are deeply sorry that our physical appearance should not appeal. Perhaps this will be a better form.'

Then the whole mass reared up and slowly transformed itself into the shape of a giant man - a giant man comprised of hundreds of gelatinous metazoa.

Renark could not decide which form was least unattractive, but he blocked the idea out of his mind and said instead:

'We have come to converse with you on matters of philosophy and practical importance to us and our race. May we leave our ship? It would be good to breathe real air again.'

But the metazoan giant replied regretfully: 'It would be unwise, for though we absorb oxygen as you do, the waste gases we exhale are unpleasing to your sense of smell.'

'The "jelly-smellies,"' Renark said to Asquiol. 'That explains their name.'

'We were informed that you are equipped with race-memory, that in effect you are immortal,' Renark thought tentatively at the glutinous giant.

'That is so. Our great experience, as you may know, was to have witnessed, in the early days of our race, the dance of a galaxy.'

'Forgive me, but I don't understand the implications of that,' Renark said. 'Could you perhaps explain what you mean?'

'It was believed,' said metazoa, 'that those whom we call the Doomed Folk had passed away in a distant galaxy in our original universe, and that galaxy - which had known great strife - was quiet again in readiness for the Great Turn which would be the beginning of a new cycle in its long life. We and other watchers in nearby galaxies saw it shift like a smoky monster, saw it curl and writhe and its suns and planets pour in ordered patterns around the Hub and out around the Rim, reforming their ranks in preparation.

'The Dance of the Stars was a sight to destroy all but the noblest of watchers, for the weaving patterns depicted the Two Truths Which Bear the Third, so that while the galaxy reformed itself to begin a fresh cycle through its particular Time and Space, it also cleansed its sister galaxies of petty spirits and those who thought ignoble thoughts.

'For millions of years, The Dance of the Galaxy progressed - ordered creation, a sight so pleasing to intelligent beings. It gave us much in the way of sensory experiences and also enabled us to develop our philosophy. Please do not ask us to explain it further, for the sight of a galaxy dancing can be defined in no terms possessed by either of us.

'When at last the Dance was over, the Hub began to spin, setting the pattern for the new Cycle. And slowly, from the hub outwards to the Rim, the suns and planets began to turn again in a course that would be unchanged for eons.

'So it began, and so - after time had passed - did its denizens begin to hammer out its marvellous history.

'They came, at length, to our galaxy and, because they were impatient of the philosophical conclusions we had drawn about the nature of the multiverse, set about destroying our ancient race. A few of us fled here, since we abhor violence or knowledge of violence.'

'You witnessed a galaxy re-order itself by its own volition!' Renark sensed at last that his most important question was close to being answered.

'Not, we feel, by its own volition. Our logic has led us, inescapably, to believe that there is a greater force at work - one which created the multiverse for its own purposes. This is not a metaphysical conclusion - we are materialists. But the facts are such that they point to the existence of beings who are, in the true sense, supernatural.'

'And the multiverse - what of that? Does it consist of an infinite number of layers, or…?'

'The multiverse is finite. Vast as it is, it has limitations. And beyond those limitations exist - other realities, perhaps.'

Renark was silent. All his life he had accepted the concept of infinity, but even his rapidly developing mind could not quite contain the new concept hovering at the edge of his consciousness.

'We believe,' said the metazoa gently, 'that life as we know it is in an undeveloped, crude state - that you and we represent perhaps the first stage in the creation of entities designed, at length, to transcend the limitations of the multi-verse. It has been our function, all of us, to have created some sort of order out of original chaos. There is no such thing, even now, as cause and effect - there is still only cause and coincidence; coincidence and effect. There is no such thing, and this, of course, is obvious to any intelligence. There is no such thing as free will - there is only limited choice. We are limited not only by our environment, but by our psychological condition, by our physical needs - everywhere we turn we are limited. The Ekiversh believe that, though this is true, we can conceive of a condition in which this is not so - and perhaps, in time, conceive that condition.'

'I agree, Renark nodded. 'It is possible to overcome all restrictions if the will is strong enough.'

'That may be so. You have certainly come through more than any other entity - and it has been your spirit which has been the only thing to keep your mind and body co-ordinated for so long. But, if you wish to continue your quest for as far as you can go in a finite universe, you have the worst experience to come.'

'What do you mean?'

'You must go to the lattice planet. There you will meet the dwellers in the Abyss of Reality. Perhaps you have heard of the place as the Hole.'

Yes, Renark had heard the name. He remembered where. Mary had told him about it.

'What exactly is this planet?'

'It does not move through the multiverse in the same way as the rest of the planets in this system, yet in a sense it exists in all of them. Pieces of it move in different dimensions, all shifting independently. Sometimes the planet may be fairly complete on random occasions. At other times the planet is full of… gaps… where parts of it have ceased to exist according to the dimensional laws operating in whichever continua the Shifter is in. It is believed that there exists somewhere in this planet a gateway through to a mythical race called The Originators.

'Since you have nowhere else to go, we would suggest that you risk a visit to this planet and attempt to find the gateway, if it exists.'

'Yes, we shall try,' said Renark softly. Then another thought came to him. 'Why isn't this planet, Ekiversh, subject to the same chaotic conditions existing elsewhere?' he asked.

'That is because, before we fled our home universe, we prepared for the conditions which we expected to meet, and we used our skill and knowledge to create a very special organism.'

The glutinous giant seemed to heave its shining body before the next thought came.

'We call it a Conservator. The conservator is simply an object, but an object of a peculiar kind which can only exist under a certain set of laws. In order to maintain its own existence, it conserves these laws for a distance around it. These laws, of course, are those under which we exist and under which you, for the most part, exist also. with a conservator in your ship, you will not experience your earlier difficulties in traversing interplanetary space and, also, you will be less likely to lose your way on the lattice planet which, incidentally, you know of as Roth, or Ragged Ruth.'

'I am grateful,' Renark said. 'The conservator will be of great assistance.' Then another thought occurred to him. 'You are aware of my reason for coming here - because the universe where I belong is contracting. Could not a number of these conservators be built in order to stop the course which my universe is taking?'

'Impossible. Your universe is not contravening any natural laws. The laws which apply to it are bringing about this change. You must discover why this is happening - for everything has a purpose - and discover what part your race is to play in this reorganisation.'

'Very well,' said Renark humbly.

Several of the metazoa detached themselves from the main body and disappeared in the direction of a line of hills, travelling rapidly. 'We go to fetch a conservator,' the pseudo-giant told him. '

Renark used the wait to explore his own state of mind. Strangely, without any great strain, he could now accept the enormity of the realisation which had been dawning in him ever since he first came to the Shifter. And he knew now, unquestioningly, that his whole journey, his trials and endeavours, had had, from the beginning, a definite purpose - there was logic in the multiverse. The Ekiversh had convinced him. And that purpose, he thought with dawning clarity, transcended his original one - transcended it and yet was part of it!

But there was much more, he felt, to undergo before this new need in him would be consummated. For now he was to undergo the worst part of the journey - to the planet that had sent Mary the Maze insane. Ruth - Ragged Ruth - the Lattice Planet.

The metazoa returned bearing a small globe of a dull ochre colouring. This they placed on the ground, near the airlock of the spaceship.

'We shall leave you now,' the metazoa telepathed, 'but let us wish you knowledge. You Renark and Asquiol are the messengers for the multiverse - you must represent us all if you succeed in reaching the Originators - presuming they exist. You go further towards reality than any other intelligent beings, apart from the dwellers of The Hole, have done before Asquiol got into a suit and went outside to collect the conservator. Renark watched him, his gaze unblinking, his thoughts distant, as he returned and placed the globe on the chart desk beside Renark.

Automatically, Renark prepared himself for take-off, thanked the metazoa and pressed the drive control.

Then they were plunging upwards, cutting a pathway of law through the tumbling insanity of interplanetary space.

But this time there was no need to fight it. The conservator acted just as the Ekiversh had predicted, setting up a field all about itself where its own laws operated. Relieved, they had time to talk.

Asquiol had been taken aback by all the events and information he had received. He said: 'Renark, I'm still bewildered. Why exactly are we going to Roth?'

Renark's mood was detached, his voice sounding far away even to his own ears.

'To save the human race. I am realising now that the means of salvation are of a subtler kind than I previously suspected. That is all.'

'But surely we have lost sight of the original purpose for this mission? More - we are living in a fantasy world. This talk of reality is nonsense!'

Renark was not prepared to argue, only to explain.

'The time has come for the dismantling of fantasies. That is already happening to our universe. Now that we have this one chance of survival we must finally rid ourselves of fantasies and seize that chance!

'For centuries our race has built on false assumptions. If you build a fantasy based on a false assumption and continue to build on such a fantasy, your whole existence becomes a lie which you implant in others who are too lazy or too busy to question its truth.

'In this manner you threaten the very existence of reality, because, by refusing to obey its laws, those laws engulf and destroy you. The human race has for too long been manufacturing convenient fantasies and calling them laws. For ages this was so. Take war, for instance, Politicians assume that something is true, assume that strife is inevitable, and by building on such false assumptions, lo and behold, they create further wars which they have, ostensibly, sought to prevent.

'We have, until now, accepted too many fantasies as being truths, too many truths as fantasies. And we have one last chance to discover the real nature of our existence. I am prepared to take it!'

'And I.' Asquiol spoke softly, but with conviction. He paused and then added with a faint half-smile: 'Though you must forgive me if I still do not fully comprehend your, argument.'

'You'll understand it soon enough if things go right.' Renark smiled broadly. Roth now loomed huge on the laser screens.

With a deliberate lack of reverence, Asquiol commented: 'It looks like a great maggoty cheese, doesn't it?'

In the places seeming like glowing sores, they could see right through the planet. In other places there were gaps which jarred the eyes, numbed the mind.

Although they could see vaguely the circular outline, the planet was gashed as though some monstrous worm had chewed at it like a caterpillar on a leaf.

Refusing to let the sight overawe him - though it threatened to - Renark brought his skill as a Guide Senser to bear. Deliberately, yet warily, he probed the mass of the weird planet. Where the gaps were, he sensed occasionally the existence of parts of the planet which should, by all the laws he knew, be in the same space-time. But they were not - they existed outside in many other levels of the multiverse.

He continued to probe and at last found what he was searching for - sentient life. A warmth filled him momentarily.

Had he found the dwellers? These beings appeared not wholly solid, seemed to exist on all layers of the multiverse!

Could it be possible? He wondered. Did these beings exist on all planes and thus experience the full knowledge of reality, unlike the denizens who only saw their own particular universe and only experienced a fraction of the multi-verse?

Though he could conceive the possibility, his mind could not imagine what these beings might be like, or what they saw. Perhaps he would find out?

He understood now why Mary the Maze played insanely with her lifeless keyboard in a tavern on Entropium.

Another thought came to him and he felt about with his mind and learned, with a sinking regret, that the Shaarn had succeeded in beating back the Thron. He could not tell definitely, but it seemed that the Shifter's motion through the multiversal levels was slowing down.

Hastily he re-located the dwellers. There Were not many and they were on a part of the planet he felt he could find - a part not having its whole existence in the area now occupied by the Shifter, but probably visible to the human eye. With the aid of the conservator he felt fairly certain of finding the mysterious Hole.

Speed was important, but so was caution. He did not wish to suffer an ironical end - perishing now that he was so close to his goal.

He brought the ship down over a gap in order to test the conservator's powers.

They were extremely strong. As he came closer, the planet seemed to form itself under him as the missing piece shifted into place like a section of a jigsaw puzzle. It worked.

Now Renark lifted the ship away again and saw the piece fade back, wrenched into its previous continuum. He could not afford to land his ship on such a dangerous location. So he moved on and came down slowly on a surface which, he hoped, would remain in this continuum until he was ready to return.

If he did return, he told himself. The ominous activity near the binary was increasing, perhaps, already, the Shifter had stopped!

Asquiol was silent. He clutched the conservator to him as he followed Renark put of the ship's airlock.

The planet seemed a formless mass of swirling gases and they received a distinct sense of weightlessness for a moment as they placed their feet on its unnatural surface.

Dominated by the dreamlike insecurity of the planet, striking, first, patches of weightlessness, and later patches where their feet seemed entrenched in dragging mud, they moved warily on, Renark in the lead.

Though it was dark, the planet seemed to possess its own luminous aura, so that they could see a fair distance around them. But there were places where, somehow, their vision could not penetrate - yet they could see beyond these places! Even when they walked on rocky ground, it seemed impermanent.

As they moved, the area immediately around them would sometimes alter as the conservator exerted its strange power.

But, as if to compensate for this, new gaps continued to form elsewhere.

Straggling to keep his objective clear, Renark felt ahead with his mind, awed by the remarkable fluxions taking place constantly.

The planet was perpetually shifting. It was impossible to tell which part of it would be in existence even for a few moments at a time. Sundered matter, as chaotic as the unformed stuff of the multiverse at the dawn of creation, wrenched, spread and flung itself about as if in agony.

But, remorselessly, Renark pushed onward, filled with a sense of purpose which dominated his whole being.

Stumbling on, drunk by their visions of chaos, they did not lose their objective for a moment.

Sometimes near, sometimes distant, the Hole became their lodestar, beckoning them with a promise of truth - or destruction!