Cluster (35 page)

“But the Kirlian aura is a function of life,” Mintaka protested. “This is the distinction between life and death.”

“Not any more,” Flint said. “So now we know the Ancients had the secret of inorganic Kirlian aura generation. I'm not surprised. I'll bet this is what Andromeda is using against us. They are able to imbue matter and energy with a Kirlian field, then transfer that field to their home galaxy. Now we'll be able to stop them. This is exactly what we have been looking for.”

“Concurrence,” Mintaka said. Something nagged at the fringe of Flint's awareness. It was the second time the creature had used that expression. But of course it was only a translation. None of these entities used human idiom or construction; its translator did that. “We must investigate this equipment thoroughly, and make report to our Spheres.”

“This has the aspect of the Tarot temple,” Nath remarked.

“Tarotism has spread to Sphere Nath?” Flint asked, surprised.

“And to Sphere Bellatrix,” Nath said. “Perhaps farther. I understand it originated in your Sphere.”

“Yes, about five hundred years ago, in the time of Sol's 'fool' colonization period. We almost bankrupted our origin planet, Earth, mattermitting the entire population to other worlds, as though that would solve the problems of increasing population and wastage of natural resources.” He was merely parroting part of the indoctrination he had received after making his report on his experience in Sphere Polaris. But it was amazing to discover how fast and far this cult had spread, more than humanity's own interstellar explosion. Would it survive mankind, as Christianity had survived the Roman Empire?

Flint continued: “One planet had a natural animation effect that a religious scholar, Brother Paul of the Holy Order of Vision, investigated and described. He had no intention of starting a pseudo-religious cult, but the notion of animation captured the popular fancy, and it went on from there.”

“This Sibling Solarian of the Arrangement of Hallucination must have been a redoubtable figure,” Nath said. “Tarotism has much pull in our Sphere, and we honor it without ridicule. Perhaps the Sibling is serving us well now, for animation is a function of the Kirlian aura. I suggest that we may profit most rapidly by drawing on the Ancients' equipment from this vantage.”

“This might in fact be a communications station,” Polaris agreed. “Perhaps we can animate the presence of an actual Ancient. This would be most circular.”

“Amen,” Flint agreed. “In fact, I would even call it 'most direct.' But we run the risk of evoking the killer who is stalking us—if it really is that Ancient ghost.”

“At risk of antagonizing,” Spica said, “I reiterate that the killer strikes by direct physical means, and this is not within the compass of the Ancient mechanism.”

“Unless the Ancient mechanism generates a Kirlian field of sufficient power to override that of a living entity,” Mintaka flashed. “It could then temporarily preempt or transform the individual consciousness, or otherwise influence it to implement physical action, even as your own transferred identity controls your Antarean host.”

“This is most perceptive,” Polaris said. “Sphere Mintaka, so new to transfer, has been remarkably quick to appreciate its intricacies.” Flint had thought the same, and recognized this as a roundabout challenge.

“Merely ordinary intelligence that would have occurred to you in a moment,” Mintaka flashed. “However, we have long been aware of transfer, and have maintained a cadre of potential hosts, hoping for the technological breakthrough. We are a large Sphere, and normal means of maintenance are cumbersome. Thus when the envoy of Mirzam came, we were very quick to implement the information provided. Though at present we know of no involuntary hosting, if this is indeed possible, it would seem to have been within the capability of the Ancients.”

The Mintakan was very well coordinated, intellectually, Flint thought. But of course all the Spheres would have sent smart representatives, as well as Kirlians. This was a most select archaeological group, well versed in everything but archeology.

“We become enmeshed in dialogue,” Nath clicked a bit impatiently. “We are naturally hesitant to pull on the main problem, but pull we must. I suggest that two of us explore the Ancients' Kirlian arena while three maintain guard. Assuming that the aura is hostile, it still does not seem to strike openly. We may be able to ascertain what we wish without further loss if we act boldly and carefully.”

“I agree,” Flint said. “If the Ancient force can take over an individual life form and use it to kill, there are still certain limitations. Spica cannot readily make the kind of puncture we have noted, unless it carries a weapon we have not perceived, and I think similar attack would be difficult for Nath, and not easy for Polaris. That leaves Mintaka and me.”

“And me,” Canopus said from the translator. “I am compelled to advise you that if I should be taken over, I possess enough weaponry in my craft, including pain-generating units and explosive devices, to eliminate all of you and destroy the site. I would not voluntarily employ it, but faced with this potential, I can only recommend that you treat me as a potential enemy of most serious nature.”

Friendly advice, or a threat? “We are
all
potential enemies,” Mintaka pointed out. “We may be forced to destroy the Ancient site in order to escape it. But first we must understand it, or our mission is pointless.”

Flint was paying lip-service to the Ancient-malevolence theory, but he was skeptical. What hadn't Canopus already been taken over, if that was possible? And why should the ancients set such a booby trap? All he really knew of them was their star-dome, but that indicated that they had been artistic, philosophical, peaceful entities, not warriors. Spica had said the equipment could not act violently, and Flint had the impression that included taking over the mind of another entity by force. It was safer to assume that one of the creatures here was an Andromedan spy. By elimination, he had a strong notion of whom that was. Except that it had an alibi.

“Pursuing my prior line of reasoning,” Flint said, “I suggest that those of us most able to kill in the fashion shown should be most suspect, and should therefore be treated with utmost caution. So Mintaka and I should enter the animation arena—if that is what it is—and try to make contact with the Ancients. The others should maintain close perception, and if only one of us emerges, that one should be immediately incapacitated, or killed if necessary.” That put it in the line. If the Mintakan balked...

“An excellent suggestion,” Mintaka flashed. And rolled toward the great central plate below the suspended cage.

So much for that ploy. Flint suddenly realized that if Mintaka were the spy, it could try to kill him in the guise of self-defense, claiming that he, Flint, had attacked it, so Flint must have been the spy. Or that one of them had been taken over by the Ancient aura. Who would be able to prove otherwise? By a similar token, if Mintaka were the spy, and attacked him, and he killed it,
he
would be suspect as the survivor. He had fashioned a trap for himself. But he was committed now, and hurried after. Together they entered what they presumed to be the animation arena.

Nothing happened. But why should it? It was necessary to imagine something. So he thought of Honeybloom, as he had known her:, vibrant, lovely, her green body moving in that distracting way it had.

And she formed, ghostly at first, then more firmly, as if the mind's artist were strengthening the key lines. Except that her eyes were like lenses, and they flashed laser beams. An imperfect rendition, but definitely animation. He even saw the emblem of her Tarot card, the Queen of Liquid, with a brimming cup.

“It strikes!” a voice cried in his translator. Flint charged out of the arena. The girl-figure faded.

Polaris and Nath stood facing each other. Between them Spica lay puddled. Its suit had been holed, and though chamber pressure kept it from decompressing, the creature was obviously dead.

Flint hefted his spear. “Which of you did it?” he demanded. And realized that this approach was futile; each would accuse the other, preventing him from ascertaining the truth. Impasse, again. Unless he could bluff: “I'll spear you
both
, if I have to.”

“No, friend Sol,” Polaris said. “I am innocent, and I know Nath would not do this thing.”

“And I know Polaris would not,” Nath clicked. “Our Spheres have know each other long. We trust each other.”

“And we trust you,” Polaris said. “A laser beam emerged from the swirl of the arena. Neither of us perceive specific light well, so could not ascertain its precise orientation, but there was no question.”

His vision of the flashing lenses! “It could not have been real!” Flint exclaimed. “An imaginary creature, a mere image, could not project a real–” Or
could
it? An image might clothe the shaping of existent forces. Had
he
inadvertently killed Spica?

Then he realized: “Mirzam was the only one who could directly identify a true Mintakan—and it was the first one killed. Antares and Spica could have detected any additional transfer activity, such as an Andromedan transfer message—and they died. Our Mintakan must be a fake.”

“No,” Polaris said. “The Mintakan is a genuine, physical representative of its species. But that species is not–”

Suddenly he launched himself at Flint, his wheel screeching against the floor in the sheer velocity of takeoff.

Flint dodged aside, bringing his spear about, but he was not quick enough. Polaris struck him, bowling him over. Simultaneously there was a flash.

Flint flipped to his feet, raising his spear as the creature's wheel spun again. “Push-hook!” Nath clicked. “Polaris protects Sol!”

About to spear Polaris, Flint realized it was true. The creature had not been attacking him, but knocking him out of the way of the laser. He shifted his weight and hurled his spear at the creature emerging from the arena.

They had all assumed that if a creature were a genuine Milky Way resident, it would be on their side. But if a creature were brainwashed or corrupted–

His shaft bounced harmlessly off the metallic disks. Another beam shot out, creasing the fingers of his left hand. The material of his suit melted and his air leaked out.

Flint clenched his fist tightly, closing off the leak. In a vacuum this would have been a useless expedient, but the chamber was pressurized by helium. “Polaris! Nath!” he cried. “We know our enemy now. You investigate the Ancient equipment. Get yourselves out of laser range. I'll tackle the spy.” And he leaped toward the Mintakan. He had been face to face with his enemy all the time, and not known him. But now the battle had been joined.

“What is the situation?” the voice of Canopus asked.

But a laser caught Nath. The creature convulsed, its hooks firing out randomly, then lay flat. Apparently its central nervous complex had been burned out. Another down. Those beams were deadly.

Mintaka was already rolling after Polaris, who fled across the room and through a far doorway. “
I
will distract,
you
search!” it cried to Flint.

Not much choice, now. Polaris could move faster than any human being could. Flint stepped onto the animation plate and made a wish for an Ancient. There was a swirl of mist, but no form developed.

“Mintaka is our Andromedan spy,” Flint explained to Canopus while he concentrated on the animation.

“But Mintaka had an alibi.”

“So it seemed. But those lasers are devastating. I'd say he can beam any potency from conversation to killing. He must have stunned Nath before, gone and killed Antares, used some device—maybe a specialized laser—to erase his trail, and returned before Nath recovered. Nath only
thought
Mintaka was with him all the time; Nath had been unconscious or in a trance. This is another resourceful, unscrupulous agent, and we're in trouble.”

“Sphere Mintaka cannot support Andromeda,” Canopus protested. “Our entire galaxy will disintegrate! It must be a renegade, not representative of the government of Sphere Mintaka.”

“A traitor to its species,” Flint agreed. “Maybe a condemned criminal, with nothing to lose, desiring vengeance. If any of us survive this, the authorities of Sphere Mintaka will have to be informed. Now let me concentrate.”

The Master was silent. Flint worked on the animation image, but it remained formless. The problem was he had no idea what the ancients had looked like, so could not re-create them.

But their
appearance
was irrelevant! He had a notion of their spirit, for they had loved the stars of their home region as he did. It was the Ancient
science
he wanted, and he had a fair notion of that. It was similar to contemporary transfer science, only more advanced, and this field was an example. “Define yourself!” Flint whispered to that field.

“Explain, please.”

Flint jumped. But it was not an Ancient voice answering him, but H:::4, who had overheard his remark.

“I'm talking to the Kirlian field, trying to get its secret,” Flint explained.

“Try visualizing the equations.”

“Good idea!” Flint animated the complex formulas he had memorized eidetically for spreading transfer technology. They took form in midair, the symbols of mathematical, engineering, and symbolic logic chains. He spread out the whole thing, then willed the complex calculus forward in thrust, beyond what he had in his mind.

Suddenly the equations spread. Perhaps through some kind of animation-enhanced telepathy he was drawing the answers from the ancient equipment, reducing the field itself to its conceptual expression. Perhaps the equipment was geared to provide this sort of information. Maybe the Ancients had
wanted
this technology to spread! At any rate, here it was.

And Mintaka sliced into the room. Polaris was not in evidence; he had been lost or killed. There was ichor on one of the disks: Polarian blood?