Undying World

CHAPTER 17

As soon as she pressed the power button, Sybelline took the lift and was whisked upward at breathtaking speed. Six miles in fifteen seconds. The lift car was stabo-energized, had its own gravity, and she felt no ill effects.

Sybelline wore a mask and carried the powder cyclinder. She was risking everything. Time was short and the line thin. She must contact Onta, Chief of Brain Secrets on the Moon, to ask for instructions. Only with the aid of the Selenes could she survive; could she realize her ambition to rule. She held one high card, though. The orbfolk wanted Blade.

She rode the lift to the vestibule of the high council room. The narthex was circular, high-domed and littered with bodies of male and female Morphi. One Morphi was just cutting her own throat with a short-bladed knife as Sybelline entered the chamber. The white-haired woman knelt and asked, «Why?»

The woman mistook Sybelline for a full-blooded Morphi and laughed blood as she died. «I have been raped by the Gnomen. What else is there? How is it that you escaped?»

The woman died and Sybelline went through a corridor into the council room. So that was it. Jantor was cunning, and his revenge ironic, except that it was misdirected. The Selenes had dropped the sweet bomb that sterilized the Gnomen-not the Morphi, Jantor, like the savage he was, was striking back at anything in his way.

Sybelline wore the mask and carried the powder gun at the ready. She entered the main council room. The Gnomen had been there and left. The male elders had been torn apart with spear bars and the only woman on the council, one Ejata, lay slumped in a corner. She had a little knife in her hand.

Sybelline approached her. She felt nothing but hatred. She bent over the woman. «Why do you still live? Have you not been raped?»

Ejata was an elder, her hair nearly as white as Sybelline's own. She smiled faintly and pointed the knife at her bloodstained thighs. «Well raped. At least fifty of the beasts had me. But now I find out a strange thing… but who are you, woman?»

Sybelline kept on the mask. «Never mind that. What is so strange?»

Ejata held up the knife. «I have no courage to kill myself.»

Sybelline took the knife. «You wish me to do it for you?»

«Please do.»

Sybelline cut her throat.

From the square came the high hooting of patrol sirens. She ran to a window. Morphi police were setting up a powder cannon near the main entrance. Cars were converging on the square from all directions. The Morphi militia would be here in a moment to see what had happened to the council. She must hide!

But where?

Fear crawled over her slim body like sweat trickling. She needed time. If she could hide, escape the first search, it was unlikely that the Morphi would waste much time in this place. They would be busy hunting down Gnomen.

There was no place to hide. The council room was spacious and barren, no closets or anterooms. She must join the dead.

Then she heard the whine of an ascending lift. Sybelline lay down beside the female Morphi she had just killed. She tugged up her gown, tore it and dipped the little knife in gore not her own. She stained her throat with the blood, inflicting faint cuts to aid the cheat, and took several deep breaths. She could pass for Morphi but for her green eyes. She must keep them shut and hope there was no member of the Morphi guard who would be puzzled by the presence of two females at the council.

They were in the room now… voices and footsteps… the curt commands of a captain.

«Nothing here. All dead.»

«We have no government, then.»

«Not your worry. The militia will form a provisional one. Half of you to the down lift at once, and the other half down the chute. We must protect the power complex at all costs. Be wary. The Gnomen are more cunning than we knew. The chute may be blocked or they may have a force in the complex. You know what to do. Go!»

«But this-the elders? Should we not-«

«Go, I said. This mess can be cleaned up later. Go.»

They were gone. Sybelline waited a few minutes, then got to her feet and went to the window again. From this vantage she had a full view of the square. Across the artificial turf women were leaping from roofs and high windows. Their high screams mingled, forming the sound of a continual shrilling. Sybelline smiled. Let them kill themselves, the more the better. She had taken many women as lovers but she did not really like them. Women always caused her more trouble than men.

She went to the head of the table. The elder of elders, grave and patrician even in death, and still beautiful as were all the Morphi, sat in his chair. He had been scarcely mutilated, but for the power stud hooked from his neck.

Sybelline pushed him out of the chair and sat down. She knew just what to do. She had waited long for this moment.

Sybelline gazed at a row of buttons set into the table. She pressed one of them. A panel slid back and a screen, smilar to the one in her apartment, slid out and up. She pressed another button. A rod with a mirror end shot out from the end of the table and at the same time a window opened. The rod pushed out into the beam of a searchlight. She twiddled an adjustment dial. The image of Onta appeared on the screen.

The Chief of Brain Secrets looked the same-massive head and thick neck, the neat graying hair and beard-but his words were sarcastic and his smile ironic. He plucked at his beard with well-kempt fingers.

«Reverse,» he ordered.

She pressed the button.

Onta said, «I see you have realized one ambition. You are in the chair of power, if not the seat.»

She dared as she had not dared before. «This is no time for subtlety, Onta. Action is needed, at once. You are aware of what is happening down here?»

Onta actually smiled. «Of course I know. I approve. Let them destroy each other.»

Sybelline scowled into the machine. «If they do that, whom do I rule?»

«You still cherish that dream?»

«I do. And you promised me, Onta.»

Onta hooded his eyes. His smile was not pleasant. «So I did, Sybelline. And you promised me Blade-unharmed. Instead you have turned on the Morphi power and started a massacre. The man Blade is sure to be slain. He is no good to us dead. All promises are void.»

«I could not wait, Onta. I dared not. And Blade may not be dead. He is cunning and a great warrior. But you must know all this. You Selenes know everything.»

«Not quite,» confessed Onta. «Even we cannot see into basements. Your man Blade has gone underground. I think not the sewers, but somewhere.»

A thought struck her. «He may come here, Onta. He knows of this place. I may keep my word yet. Can you help me?»

His face was cruel. «Why should I? You are nothing to me.»

«For the man Blade, then? If I can save him for you?»

Onta nodded. «To that I agree. Produce Blade for me, unharmed and fit to be examined by our scientists, and the deal is on again. The moment I am sure of Blade, I will stop the fighting and make you Queen.»

«You promise to enforce this?»

Onta smiled into his beard. «I promise. The more easily because I do not think you can do it, Sybelline. I think you have lost. You might be wise to destroy yourself as the Morphi women are doing. I know that rape holds no terrors for you, but there are other things worse.»

From the square outside there came a sudden clamor. Shouts and the brutal clash of arms, bellowing and screaming, the sibilant hiss of the powder cannon as it fired-shutt-shuttt-shutt

«There is fighting in the square,» said Sybelline.

Onta nodded on the screen. «I see it.» It was the sound of Blade's voice, raised above the din, that sent Sybelline scurrying to the window again. Behind her Onta's voice said, «He risks everything. Save him. Get him atop the building and I will send a car. The moment he is safe you are Queen.»

Sybelline gazed at the battle in the square. Blade and some fifty Gnomen, all wearing masks, were fighting their way toward the powder cannon. The big man's voice, magnified by the speaker in the mask, roared metallically over the melee.

«Jantor-take twenty men and fight into the building. I will take the cannon. Seize the council chamber and look for Sybelline.»

Sybelline gazed, both enraptured and aghast, as Blade fought with the spear bar. Morphi bodies went down and were trampled. Blade had formed his small contingent into a moving square and they slashed through the disorganized Morphi like mole rats through flesh. With the masks they were more than a match for the beautiful people.

She spoke without looking at the screen. «Blade is winning. Soon he will have the powder cannon and command the square.»

Onta said, «I know. I also know what is in his mind. He will try to make peace. Between the Gnomen and the Morphi, between you and Jantor. But did you hear? If Jantor gets to you first he will kill you. He will not share the rule with you.»

She turned back to the screen. Onta was watching her with a cruel smile. «What can I do, Onta? Jantor is on his way up here.»

Onta smiled again. «You really need me, don't you? Do you swear absolute obedience? no more treachery?»

Sybelline fell to her knees, just as she had before Blade. «I do, I do.»

Onta nodded. «Very well. I will trust you this last time. Make the polyphone ready.»

She pressed one of the buttons. A microphone with a thimble size head rose from the table.

«Move it to the screen.»

Sybelline pressed another button. The mike swept around in a semicircular groove until it faced Onta's image. Sybelline heard lifts whining upward-who had shown Jantor how to use them? — and screamed at Onta, «Hurry! Jantor will be here in seconds.»

Onta nodded and smiled. His voice was sinister. «You have a powder cyclinder. Defend yourself. Keep your mask on. I will impose my will on the Morphi, but you must handle the Gnomen and Jantor and Blade. Ready? Close to the polyphone, then.»

Onta took over her mind and voice. She spoke and it was his voice, not hers that went over the polyphone and into the power surge and into every Morphi brain. Brains conditioned to obey. Onta's voice, through Sybelline, was transcoded into thought and all Morphi in the endless city received it simultaneously.

Cease fighting. Keep to your homes. The police and militia will disband. You have nothing to fear from the Gnomen. Act on these orders at once. There will be instant and terrible punishment for all who disobey.

Sybelline ran to the window. Blade had taken the powder cannon and was fumbling with the mechanism. Heaps of mutilated Morphi lay about the gun. Blade was training the cannon on a battalion of Morphi police about to charge in an effort to retake the gun. They had no masks and would be slaughtered.

She screamed from the high window. «No, Blade, no! It is over. Come to me, quickly. Do you hear me, man Blade, do you hear?»

Blade heard. In the sudden silence he could not help but hear. He glanced up at her and then, puzzled, at the Morphi who were vanishing from the square. They were quitting.

He waved to Sybelline. She waved back and called, «To me quickly. Before Jantor-«

Nearby a clot of Gnomen were tearing the power studs out of wounded Morphi. Blade bellowed at them. «Leave off that. No more killing. There is a truce.»

One of Jantor's subchiefs raised his mask and growled at Blade. «I heard nothing of any truce.»

Blade grinned at the man. «Nor I. But follow my orders nonetheless. No more killing. So be it.»

Blade ran for the great foyer of the Government Building.

Sybelline was seated at the head of the long council table when Jantor burst into the chamber. There was no mistaking his hairy bulk, even in the mask, though she did not recognize any of the other Gnomen crowding in behind him. Sybelline wore her mask and kept the powder cylinder at the ready. Not that it was very helpful to her. The laughing death powder was ineffective against masks and the Gnomen all carried spear bars. All but one, a slight figure she could not identify.

Jantor stopped and raised his bar. His escort waited behind him. Sybelline raised her hand in greeting, then pushed the powder cylinder away from her to show good will.

Before she spoke, Sybelline glanced at the screen. It was dark, empty, as gray and dreary as a cataract. She was on her own. Where in the name of all fylfots was Blade? She was, for one of the few times in her life, filled with terror.

Jantor was in no hurry. He held up a hand for silence and leaned on his bar. Sybelline repressed a shudder of revulsion. He was the toad king. He thought he had won.

As Jantor opened his mouth, she cut him off. «The fight is over, Jantor. You have won-we have won. The Morphi are not fighting. I arranged this. I have been in touch with the Selenes and they have ordered the Morphi to cease fighting. They also agree that we should rule together in the city as we did in the sewers. We are to be the equals of the Morphi from this time on.»

Jantor smiled and rubbed a bloody hand over his bald head. «As I recall, Sybelline, that was not such a good arrangement. Why should I share anything with you, or with the Morphi, now that I have won?»

She gazed at the screen in desperation. Why did not Onta reappear to help her? But she knew the answer without seeking far. Onta had his own plans, his own games to play.

Sybelline continued to bluff, forced herself to appear calm. «You could have done nothing without the man Blade. He is coming now. You had best not do anything without his knowledge and consent.»

Jantor took a step toward her and raised his bar. «I know how much I owe to Blade and I disclaim it. Now that the Morphi have stopped fighting, I can kill Blade as easily as I am going to kill you. I am not going to share anything with you, Sybelline, even life.»

Jantor raised the spear bar, the pointed end toward her, and flexed his great muscles to hurl it. Blade, flinging Gnomen aside like dolls, wrenched the bar from Jantor's grasp. «You are a fool and so am I, but I am not so easy to kill. I say-enough. We are going to talk, not kill, and there will be agreement among us and also with the Morphi-even with the Selenes. I give you my word-«

They were all watching Blade, listening. None saw the slender figure steal behind Sybelline and thrust with the short-bladed knife. Sybelline screamed. Blood gushed from her mouth.

Norn hacked at the woman three more times, viciously, carving out gouts of flesh near the desiccated power stud that had never functioned, before Blade got to her and pulled her away, struggling and screaming invective.

She clawed at Blade. «I love you, man Blade, but you are a fool. She must die-die!»

Jantor smiled and, relaxing on his retrieved spear bar, said, «For a female, she has good sense.»

Sybelline toppled from the chair. Blade flung Norn from him and knelt beside her. She was dying. She spoke through blood and he thought she laughed. «All for nothing, Blade. I would have had a child by you. You sired so many-and none for me.»

A voice came into the chamber like low thunder. «She is dead, as you will all be in one hundred counts if you do not listen and obey. You, called Blade, look into the screen.»

Blade gently released the body and stared at the TV-like machine on the table. An image formed. A thick-necked man with a graying beard and a huge head. His voice was like restrained thunder.

The Gnomen — even Jantor-were on their knees, groveling. Blade sneered at them and at the image on the screen. «Who are you and what do you want of me?»

The image smiled. «I want you, Blade. But that later. Press the last button on the right.»

Blade saw the row of buttons on the table and did so. The dome of the chamber rolled back and they all stared at the huge malignant hanging Moon. Something was falling toward the city.

With his unaided eye Blade could make it out distinctly. It was a bomb, the largest bomb he had ever seen. Falling, spinning counter-clockwise, controlled by vanes, growing larger and larger with the passing of each count.

«I am Onta,» said the image on the screen. «I speak only to you, Blade. A thirty count has passed. I can stop the bomb any time before a hundred. Speak. I can hear you.»

Blade felt himself losing his cool. He was frightened. «What do you want of me?»

«Only you,» said Onta. «We Selenes want to talk to you, examine you. You will not be harmed. We ask only that you submit to various tests.»

«If I agree you will stop the bomb?»

«I will. There is a fifty count now. This is not a honey bomb. That was a mistake. This is an acid fire bomb. It will destroy everything and everyone, now and forever into infinity and eternity.»

«Stop it!» yelled Blade. «I will do just as you wish.»

Jantor was groveling at Blade's feet, his hairy arms about Blade's knees, slobbering something in such terror that Blade could not make out the words. He kicked the Gnomen king away from him and yelled at the image. «I said I agree. I promise. Stop the bomb!»

«A forty count,» said Onta relentlessly. He was deliberately prolonging the anguish. «I hope it is a good bargain, Blade. I hope you are worth it. We Selenes are weary of the Morphi and the Gnomen and I, for one, would just as well let the bomb fall. But I have superiors who think otherwise. A twenty-five count now, I think.»

Blade began to feel ashamed of his panic. His nerves were going, almost gone, but he must hold on. His head was full of pain. The computer was reaching, but it was not yet time. The pain was not severe enough. The computer could not save him.

Blade shook his fist at the face on the screen. He let flow a string of profanity that would have made Lord Leighton, himself skilled in the art of foul-mouthing, turn a deep red.

Blade got angry. «I have agreed. I have no more to say.»

Onta was laughing and near choked as he said, «A fifteen count and I stop the bomb.»

Blade looked up. The great breast-shaped bomb, with elongated nipple and vanes, lingered in the milk sky, hovering. Blade felt that he could have reached out and touched it. Roughly speaking, he thought, it was about the size of Big Ben. It was absurd, fantastic. But it had stopped.

He was bone weary now. He looked at the screen. «What must I do?»

«Go to the roof and wait. You will find a pad there near the chute. A magnacar will come for you. It will arrive in a count of five. You will enter it and lie prone. Do nothing else.»

«I agree.»

«Go now.»

Norn cried out and clutched at him. Blade told Jantor to seize her. The Gnomen watched in silence as he climbed a short ladder through the open dome and went to the pad near the chute. He gazed up and around him. There was nothing but the enormous bomb now partially blocking the view of that thing he had always feared and distrusted since landing in this Dimension X-the Moon.

The magnacar was there. It was the size of a large coffin with a transparent bottom. The top whined open and a mechanical voice said, «Enter and lie prone. Touch nothing.»

Blade obeyed, thinking that the Selenes must have mastered the secret of magnetic fields. The car had no motor or engine of any sort. If the car moved he was not aware of it. There was no sense of motion. All the same he was aware of passing the bomb.

He was prone and staring down through the transparent bottom when he saw it. The bomb struck the city. Onta had lied to him. Onta had intended all along to destroy the city. The Selenes were weary of the Morphi and the Gnomen. Blade was more than a little weary himself, of everything.

Below him was a fire such as he had never dreamed could exist. The air itself was aflame. The flame resolved itself into lava that flowed thick and sluggish and destroying, covering and obliterating the city as a hundred gallons of paint would cover and obscure a child's desk globe in HD.

It was over-forever over for the Gnomen and the Morphi… or was it? The thought ticked in his brain and he clung to it. If the women pregnant by him had gone deep enough…