Journey - Book II of the Five Worlds Trilogy (21 page)

“Screen, begin message again,” Tabrel said, more calmly.

Instantly the image returned to the beginning.

“Tabrel Kris,” Queen Clan said, “if I speak to you now, it is because things have not gone well for either of us. Please listen to me, for your safety and the good of both our worlds may depend on it.

“The last two years have been, granted, a nightmare for you. It has been a nightmare for others, as well.”

For a moment the queen hesitated; amazing to Tabrel, who had seen this large woman as nothing but a monster, it looked as though Kamath Clan was fighting to retain her composure.

“My … son, Jamal, has not fared well with the removal of Quog’s essence. His … mind was not strong to begin with, as you know, and now, I am afraid, he has descended into something less than sanity.” She tried to straighten her frame, which was bent like a broken reed, and somehow managed to look regal. “For my actions, I take responsibility, and, as you know, in the teachings of Moral Guidance there is always a reckoning for one’s actions, good and otherwise.

“My reckoning will no doubt come to me, if it has not already.”

In further astonishment, Tabrel saw something like a
smile
come to the queen’s features.

“Along with my … physical deterioration has come, concurrently, an unclouding of my mind. And with it, I have formulated certain plans.

“We both come from great houses; it was my wish, and still is, that these houses be united. I live in hope that Jamal will regain his wits, and that you and he will be reunited. If you do not feel this way I understand, but that is still my wish.

“As you are aware, Prime Cornelian has sought … acquisition of you. This I have falsely promised him. In response, Prime Cornelian has sought to ‘liberate’ Titan from Wrath-Pei’s presence. We both know what this means.

“At the moment, Tabrel, you are Titan’s only source of hope. If Prime Cornelian believes that you are hidden on Titan, he will not dare to attack my homeland.

“In the meantime, Jamal and I have left our home-world, hoping that Wrath-Pei will be delivered into Prime Cornelian’s hands; then my son and I will return to regain our place. However, if you are watching this, I fear other intrigues have intervened—”

“Indeed!”
another, cheerful, much more real voice interrupted.

Tabrel whirled around to face Wrath-Pei, who floated in his gyro chair at the opening of a lift tube that had appeared in one of the walls; it seemed to cut a hole in the far landscape, the breeze-blown continuation of the meadow which was projected there.

Lawrence stepped lightly from the lift tube behind Wrath-Pei, his stunted hands nudging the gyro chair forward.

“It took us
forever
to get down here!” Wrath-Pei chuckled. He made a dismissive motion at the queen’s message, still playing on the far wall; Lawrence stepped forward, saying nothing, but a long line of lights and numbers flashed along the front of his visor and in a moment the Screen had blanked out.

“You really don’t need to watch that nonsense,” Wrath-Pei said. “It’s a bit out of date. In fact, the queen is quite happy again, dreaming her dreams of Earth meadows as Quog’s essence runs happily through
her bloodstream. And still it took her days to get around to telling me about this little secret hideaway.” His grin widened as his chair moved closer to Tabrel “Aren’t you even going to say hello?”

Fighting the lightened gravity, Tabrel pushed her way past Wrath-Pei’s gyro chair, thrusting Lawrence aside as she fled into the lift tube opening. Desperately, she activated the tube’s mechanism—and, to her relief, the door closed and the lift began to rise.

“Hurry
…” she whispered fiercely, willing the elevator to rise faster.

But suddenly it stopped and, with a gentle hiss, began to descend.

Even before the doors opened again she could hear Wrath-Pei chuckle, “Lawrence, you never cease to amaze me with what you can do!”

The doors opened, and Tabrel prepared herself to fight; perhaps she could pull Lawrence into the lift tube with her, disable his visor—

But before Tabrel could act, something happened within the room.

There was a blot of amorphous light that grew in the center, pushing a depression into the soil and twisting the faux grasses in a counterclockwise direction, pulling some of them from their bedded woven roots. An opaque, egg-shaped outline formed and then abruptly disappeared, leaving a man in its place. Wrath-Pei stared at the new arrival, and a word caught in his suddenly dry voice.

“Y-you!”

“It is time for our interview,” the new arrival said, with finality.

Chapter 24

“S
am-Sei is
where?”
the High Leader asked, his anger tempered with incredulity.

“Gone, High Leader,” Visid Sneaden replied.

The High Leader swiveled his head from one end of the Machine Master’s dungeon laboratory to the other, as if expecting Sam-Sei to pop out at any moment. Then his gaze settled on the young girl. “And explain to me again: he has done what?”

The girl, the High Leader noted, had lost little of the composure he had noted in her before.

As if reciting from memory, Visid said, “The Machine Master concluded, after analyzation, that present circumstances would not lead him to his desired interview with Wrath-Pei. Therefore, he took matters into his own hands.”

“Into his own hands…” The High Leader swiveled his head in wonder, then focused his head again on the girl. “And so he did what?”

“He has made use of the device we have been working on. A biofrequency homing device was integrated into the mechanism, which has allowed him to find Wrath.-Pei and…”

“Yes?”

“In his words: ‘interview’ him.”

“Simply amazing,” the High Leader said, and without warning a chortle escaped from him. “And your part in all this?” he asked the girl.

“I helped him as needed, High Leader.”

“Specifically?”

“There was much equipment to pack into a small space; I helped slim the device down to usable proportions. Also …”

“Yes?”

Stifling what was obviously pride in her own achievements, the girl answered, “I helped however I could, High Leader.”

“Which means that without you, he would not have succeeded as quickly.”

Despite the fact that the High Leader’s voice promised possible rage, the girl replied, “Perhaps, High Leader.”

“Remarkable.” Turning the possibilities over in his mind, sudden realization of the wonderfulness of the moment blossoming in his thoughts, Cornelian asked, “And he will return here with Wrath-Pei?”

“He has no intention of returning here with Wrath-Pei, High Leader.”

I
n the bowels of Titan, Wrath-Pei’s voice was still dry. “Sam-Sei?” he croaked. “In the flesh?”

“Finally,” the Machine Master said. “I have thought about this moment for a long time.”

“I’m sure you have…”

As Wrath-Pei made a motion to Lawrence, the Machine Master activated a second device, slimmer and smaller than the first, which he also held in his hand; the visor on Lawrence’s helmet glowed a cherry-red color and the boy stood immobilized in place. Sam-Sei turned the device on the girl who stood staring wide-eyed by the room’s lift tube opening; she collapsed gently to the ground as if asleep.

Wrath-Pei turned in horror from Lawrence.

“I have not harmed him, or the girl,” Sam-Sei said. “But now we will be alone.”

Attempting to rise from his chair, Wrath-Pei sat back down. On his face was a war of emotions; for the moment, he settled on cunning.

“Take the girl,” he said. “She is Tabrel Kris. You know how badly Cornelian wants her. You’ll be a
hero,
Sam-Sei!”

The Machine Master’s horrid features showed no hint of comprehension; goggling eyes stared at Wrath-Pei’s lionine face as if no one else in the universe existed.

Finally, Sam-Sei’s lipless mouth spoke. “How many years has it been?”

“Not enough!” Wrath-Pei sought to smile, but failed. Desperately, he said, “I told you: take the girl and leave!”

“Until recently, I was not ready to see you, because I knew what would happen when we met again.”

“Go back to Mars, damn you!”

“When I am finished—brother.”

Sam-Sei advanced, and now Wrath-Pei, in a panic, pushed himself from the gyro chair, which floated harmlessly away from him; in the weakened gravity Wrath-Pei seemed to float to the ground, his black-shod feet touching daintily.

“You were always so beautiful,” Sam-Sei said. “So was I…”

“Yes! You were beautiful. You’re still beautiful!
I
made you beautiful!”

“You made me horrible,” the Machine Master said. “From the earliest time, you could not stand my beauty. Only your own. You wanted to destroy any beauty but your own.”

“You’re right! Of course you’re right! But there’s nothing to be done about it now!”

Sam-Sei continued to advance on Wrath-Pei. “We were both so beautiful and bright. The twins. Gemini. Mirror images. Even mother called us mirror images…”

“Yes, of course!”

Sam-Sei reached the gyro chair, still floating in space; as he passed it, he reached deftly into the chair’s side holster and removed Wrath-Pei’s shears.

“I remember these well, brother; I remember how you used them on me, after the Puppet Death you injected into me didn’t do a good enough job for you. I remember what you did to me from the cradle onward. I remember the first toy you stole from me.”

“I loved you!” Wrath-Pei pleaded, his slim, chair-atrophied frame backed against the room’s wall, blocking the distant meadowed hill projected there; from far away came a slight, angry electrical hiss as Wrath-Pei interfered with the projection’s normal operation.

“You loved no one,” Sam-Sei said. “Not even yourself.”

“
Yes!
”

Sam-Sei advanced, took his brother in a firm grip, and even as Wrath-Pei tensed for the thrust from the shears to come he said in wonder, staring at his brother’s head, “There is a … spot on your ear that I missed clipping—”

The Machine Master dropped the shears, removed the first of his devices from his tunic, and activated it once.

Then again.

S
till bearing the first device, Sam-Sei went to the girl and lifted her sleeping form, then activated the device once more. There was the same hum of light, the opaque egg-shaped shell surrounded them, turning now in a clockwise direction.

As they disappeared, Sam-Sei used the other device to awaken Lawrence; as they were gone from that place, the boy stood over Wrath-Pei, unmoving, data flowing across his visor madly as he looked uncomprehendingly down.

W
ith Tabrel Kris in his arms, the Machine Master returned to his dungeon shop.

“Splendid!” the High Leader cried as the two figures materialized, and he clapped his two foremost hands together with delight. “More than splendid—you really have outdone yourself this time, Sam-Sei!”

The Machine Master gave the girl to Visid, who lay her down on the floor.

For a moment, doubt clouded the High Leader’s voice: “She’s not … dead, is she, Sam-Sei?”

“No,” the Machine Master said evenly. “She can be awakened when needed.”

“Again: splendid! I must … make arrangements immediately!”

“Yes,”
Sam-Sei said.

“And what of … Wrath-Pei?” the High Leader said hopefully.

“My interview with him has been completed,” the Machine Master replied.

Pure delight filled the High Leader; for a moment he was in danger of embracing the Machine Master. “You will receive a medal for this, Sam-Sei! A new medal, the highest of honors—with my likeness on it!”

The Machine Master said nothing; already he had retreated to the nearest workbench and stood examining an open piece of machinery; only Visid, who stood nearby in attendance, noted the tremble in the Machine Master’s fingers.

The High Leader, oblivious to everything but his plans, said, “And there will be a grand ceremony, Sam-Sei, at which you will be honored at my side.” He nearly cackled with giddy happiness. “Because now nothing can stop us! Nothing!
This day we make war on Titan!”

Chapter 25

I
t was left to General Pron-Kel to make a defense.

He was not even a native of Titan; had fled Mars after Prime Cornelian’s coup d’état, knowing that a purge of the Martian Marines was imminent and wishing to continue to live. He was also a Martian patriot, as well as a patrician, had lost two brothers in the bloody Martian Senate massacre, and lived for the day when Cornelian’s metal carcass was hung like scrap iron at the front of the Senate chamber.

In his heart, he knew that this would not be that day; but still, he would put up a valiant fight with the Titanians, who were, by history and temperament, vicious opponents when attacked.

If the shields held, they had a chance …

“Where is Wrath-Pei?” he shouted, not for the first time. If there was any hope at all of victory this day, Wrath-Pei, and especially his huge ship, which hovered at the moment uselessly over Huygens City, would be needed.

“Nowhere to be found, sir,” Pron-Kel’s adjutant, who he had appointed an hour before and whose name he could remember, reported. “But his protégé, Lawrence, has been found.”

“Bring him to me immediately!” Pron-Kel growled, his mind already on ten other problems: the reports of activation of light soldier generators, so far repulsed by Titan’s global shield; the possible breach of shield defenses to the north, which meant that plasma soldiers could be beamed down there at any time (thankfully, this turned out to be false); reports of panic in Huygens City itself, and in other, smaller towns—

“Here he is, sir!” the adjutant said, thrusting the repulsive, tiny form of the black-clad boy named Lawrence forward toward the general.

At any other time, Pron-Kel, out of a continued wish to live, would treat this boy with kid gloves; but now things were different.