Charon (42 page)

 
"May we—examine those fancy new clothes of yours?" Koril asked, and all of us understood that he didn't mean literally.

 
"Go ahead. We can fool any scanner, rig any test—but look at us as we really are. Be our guest, Tulio—and the rest of you. You are powerful ones indeed to have come this far.
But no tricks."

 
Koril had a pained expression. "Would I insult your intelligence?" With that, all four of them reached out their Warden senses to the five who still floated, impossibly, in the air.

 
"You see our superiority," Korman continued, not so much bragging as being rather matter of fact about it all. "You are a good man, Tulio. You served Charon well and the Brethren before that. Don't you see that the revolution is now? Are you so old and blind and prejudiced that you can't realize that your ideals can become reality now—out there? With your
¹

 
They were very, very confident, I thought. Almost un-settlingly so, yet I also understood that this sort of overcon-fidence can kill you. I had no idea what Koril had up his sleeve at this point, but I motioned to Darva and we edged away toward a far wall, well away from the area between the two
group
of sores. Suddenly I had a thought, and leaned over and whispered to her, "See that alcove to the left of the stage? I bet that goes up to You-Know-Who."

 
She nodded.
"Seems likely.
When do you want to try for it?"

 
"Good girl.
But not until they've started doing whatever they're doing.
They'll probably ignore us—I hope. We're certainly no threat to them."

 
"I'll follow your lead," she whispered, and we turned back to watch whatever was going to happen.

 
"Well, Tulio?" Korman was saying. "It's yours. It's for all four of you, in fact. Immortal, superior bodies—free to escape this prison. Free to run an empire."

 
Koril smiled. "So it's an empire now, is it? And who would I be in this? Lord—or preprogrammed servant?"

 
Korman shrugged. "Your old position is, of course, already taken. But you would lead the Synod, as a matter of course. You never really liked being Lord anyway."

 
Koril sighed. "That's true enough. And yet I feel I cannot take your offer for two reasons. I do not trust those alien friends of yours as much as you do—though I'm sure I would once I got my new, unproved body. Without a guarantee you cannot give, that of an unmolested mind, I can hardly accept. And, as for the second reason—do you remember Jatik?"

 
Korman looked puzzled,
then
brightened for a moment "Of course. Little weasel of a man.
Sore for Diamond Rock.
As bizarre a psychopath as we've ever had here on Charon.
Killed in the desert, if I remember."

 
Koril nodded. "Killed coming to me. But he made his report, Dieter, before he died. He saw those friends of yours, those aliens. Tell me, Dieter—what would a man like that find so
terrifying
that he would brand it pure evil? It is a question that has troubled me, and driven me on, these past several years. More than anything, it's why I'm here."

 
Korman laughed.
"Evil?
The Lord of Satan, Agent of the Destroyer asks
me
about evil? What would that little psycho know about evil, anyway?
Different, yes—incredibly so.
Alien in many senses of that word.
But
evitt
The
former Lord of the Diamond, Lord of the Most Sacred Order of Brethren talks of
eviff"
And again he laughed.

 
"Now!"
Koril yelled. At that moment all laughing stopped as a wall of Warden
force
at least the equal of what I had seen below lashed out with blinding speed right at Korman. Taken aback, he had only a simple shield himself and so he burst into flame before our very eyes,
flame
so intense I could not bear to look at it.

 
The others, less intent on Koril's speech and less confident than their leader of their own powers—after all, all of them hadn't been able to kill Koril alone the last
time,
or even keep him prisoner—struck back. Ignoring the flaming Korman, who toppled to the floor and continued melting into an acrid puddle, each of
our
sores took on the four remaining head to head.

 
I wasn't sure how they had managed to melt a robot of the type that had penetrated Military Systems Command and outsmarted all the Confederacy's best security devices, but I wasn't about to stay around and ask questions. I moved slowly and cautiously towards that alcove, and Darva followed. We were, as we had hoped, totally ignored.

 
Still, I stopped when we reached the alcove and looked back. It was no longer just
wa
being traded, willpower against willpower. The Synod sores were coming straight on, but the four, under Koril's direction, began twisting, turning, forming a careful mathematical pattern. Such was its nature and intricacy that it actually began disturbing the air between the two sets of antagonists. Incredibly I saw ripples there, then crackles of real, visible energy—electrical bolts forming and shooting, at first randomly and then
laterally.

 
"Oh, by the gods!
They're creating their own tabarwind!" Darva exclaimed.

 
"Let's get the hell out of herel" I responded, and we ducked into the alcove.

 
Frankly, the place didn't match the exterior. It was dark and dank and smelly. There were all sorts of pieces of furniture and stuff as well as controls for the curtains and whatever else was in the room. Still, far in back was indeed a service corridor which ran in one direction to a lift, clearly visible.
Obviously the service entrance.
We picked the other direction, as roars and howls of thunder and the crackle of raw energy sounded behind us. What was happening in that room back there would have been the sight of a lifetime—but it would almost certainly have ended ours.

 
Sure enough, at the end of the corridor a wooden stair led upward. We both hesitated at the bottom,
then
Darva looked at me. "Where's Kira or Zala or whatever the hell she is?"

 
I shook my head. "I don't know. I didn't really notice. Back there, I suppose. Hell, forget her—now." I took the lead and walked slowly and carefully up the stairs, laser pistol drawn.

 
I reached the top, stopped, and waited for Darva. I don't know quite who or what I expected up there, but it sure as hell wasn't Yatek Morah.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Twists and Turns

Darva tired before I could stop her, but Morah merely shrugged off the shots and dissipated the energy harmlessly. He was still dressed as I remembered him—in his black trooper uniform, although he had added a red-lined cape of the same material. His eyes were still bizarre and almost impossible to look at.

 
"Put away those things," he told us, gesturing at the pistols. "They are of no use here—and there is no need for them."

 
I sighed and bolstered mine. Darva, uncertain, did the same. I looked at him, then at Darva, and sized up the situation. "Does 'Darkquest' mean anything to you?"

 
Darva looked blank, but Morah actually chuckled. "Now where'd you learn
that
little phrase?"

 
"I'm it.
Park Lacoch.
The same boy Korman threw to the wolves a year ago."

 
Morah sounded genuinely amused. "And of what use is that information to me now? I already know the true nature of Embuay, and I also know the location of Koril's base."

 
"That may be true, but it's not my problem," I responded casually. "I was given a job to do, and the first chance I got I did it."

 
That comment, and my calm manner, seemed to give him pause. "You may be right at that."

 
"Look—I could've taken the safe way out at Bourget, but I didn't. I deliberately got myself caught and wound up a changeling.
Whether or not "you no longer need the information, it says something about me, I think.
IVe paid a pretty high price to be just a redundancy."

 
Darva looked at me strangely. "What the hell are you talking about?"

 
"Sorry, honey. I'm a bottom-line pragmatist.
Ill
explain
it all to you later. Let's just say Morah and I
aren't
necessarily the opponents we might seem to be."

 
She looked at Morah with obvious distaste. "Your girl Zala sure wasn't any help to you, you know."

 
Morah nodded, and I felt a little relieved that she was at least going along with me for now.

 
"It is true that the girl's been something of a disappointment so far," the Chief of Security admitted. "Is she with you?"

 
"Back there—someplace," I told him. "We didn't exactly want to stick around for the fireworks."

 
"Yes, well, I can understand that," he responded, sounding a little nervous and preoccupied. "How many are down there?"

 
"Koril and three others, all damned good," I told him truthfully. "Plus your girl, of course, if she survived all that"

 
"Hmmm . . . Yes. I see ..."

 
He looked and sounded worried, and it gave me no end of satisfaction to see such emotions in him. His appearance, manner, and those damnable eyes all carried such an air of overwhelming power that I would have sworn he was above such things.

 
"How come you aren't down helping out your fellow— whatevers?" Darva asked, sensing the same thing.

 
'1
am
not required to," he said simply. "I am not on the Synod."

 
"What!
But Koril said—" I began, but he cut me short.

 
"I told you before I was Chief of Security. I just did not tell you
whose
security."

 
"Oh, gods!"
Darva breathed. "He's working directly for
themr

 
Morah cocked his head. "The battle is over downstairs," he told us matter-of-factly. "We are about to have visitors.

 
I suggest we three all go into that room over there and remain
very
silent."

 
I hesitated a moment. "Who won?"

 
"If the Synod had won, we wouldn't have to get into this room, now would we?"

 
That was good enough for me. I followed him. Darva, shrugging, did the same. I knew she was still trying to figure out which side we were on now. As for me, I was trying to figure out Morah's motives-in all this. Clearly, as chief representative of the aliens on Charon, it was in his best interest to keep Matuze on her throne. Yet, here we were, about to let Koril have her.

 
There wasn't time for questions, though; we barely got the door closed when we heard somebody slowly mounting that final stairway. The newcomer sounded tired, perhaps weak and wounded, but he came steadily on.
One man.
One only.
I knew who it had to be.

 
We heard him pause at the top of the stairs, and I could visualize him looking around cautiously. Finally, he walked past our door and away from us, his footsteps receding.

 
I turned to Morah. "You're letting him have her."

 
"Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
But—waitl"

 
A second, quieter tread could be heard on the stairs. Whoever it was was far lighter and more cautious than the first. We held our breaths a moment, then Morah let out a small sigh and beckoned us back in the room. On the far side was a rather pretty landscape of some world I'd never
seen.
He pressed a neatly hidden stud on it and the painting moved down silently revealing a one-way mirror.

 
It was a huge, comfortable living room, beautifully furnished and with good use of open space. Sculpture and paintings were around as well, and I clearly recognized some as lost art treasures of man's past. Originals, too, I knew instinctively.

 
Sitting on a divan, dressed casually in slacks, sandals, and a purple sleeveless shirt, was Aeolia Matuze.
Unmistakably Matuze, looking every bit as good as her pictures.
Very casually relaxed, legs crossed, she was smoking a cigarette in a long holder. She looked neither worried nor apprehensive.

 
"I
assume this is soundproof?" I said in a low tone to Month.