03. Masters of Flux and Anchor (39 page)

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 an¬swered 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 con¬trol 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," Cham¬pion 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 commu¬nications 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 sec¬tors to the north and east. Champion knew that Tilghman would regroup his forces and with whatever reinforce¬ments 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."

She had no choice but to obey him, already having decided that her life was forfeit. She had no doubt that with his peculiar sense of soldier's honor he would spare the children if she caused no trouble, and kill them without losing a wink of sleep if she did not.

He led her to the edge of the Hellgate. She'd seen it, or ones just like it, many times before. She stood there on the apron while he undressed her. Now naked, she was led to the ladder and told to go down into the depression, which was shaped like a deep saucer. He followed, and they walked to the small central hole, the "tunnel" back to the true Gate itself. There was another ladder, and then a smooth floor that gently sloped down. She had never been this far before; it was well known that automatic defenses disintegrated anyone trying it, but Champion seemed unconcerned. The long, extremely thick power cable had traced their route, and continued on down.

They reached the Gate itself, and she saw the large machine with its dials and gauges to one side. Only now an access panel had been opened on its side, and the fat cable went right into it.

Beyond was a short space and then the Hellgate itself, a swirling mass of multicolored Flux denser than she had ever imagined. She could feel its massive, pent-up power. She felt too, that she could draw upon it, and reached out to take it.

Champion grabbed her, turned her around, and squeezed her bare shoulders hard, nails biting into her flesh. It hurt, and for a moment she let go of the Flux. He took the opening and drew upon it himself. As Mervyn had said, the general had very limited power, but when that power was amplified by the Gate itself and directed with emo¬tional fury at a single individual, it was powerful indeed. The shock of his turning her and digging into her flesh had distracted her, as he'd intended, and he used it to draw full on his own hatred and fury and drive it all right at her mind.