Midnight Crystal (23 page)

“It’s definitely some kind of dreamlight energy,” she said. “And definitely from the ultradark end of the spectrum. But it’s unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. There’s no emotion, no dreamscape images. Just raw power.”

“Probably because the energy is being generated mechanically, not by a living creature. The maze is a machine, a generator.”

“Theoretically it’s supposed to be impossible to generate artificial dreamlight,” she reminded him.

He glanced down at the leather bag that contained the Burning Lamp.

“What about this thing?” he asked. “It’s a device that is capable of producing a hell of a lot of dreamlight.”

“Well, yes, but only if you ignite it and have someone to help you control the forces inside. And you’re the only one who can direct the energy infused in it. When you get right down to it, the power of the lamp can only be accessed and activated by human psi, specifically your genetic version.”

He studied the lake. “The aliens are long gone. There’s no one around now to focus bio-paranormal energy through that quartz, but that big generator is still sending out a huge amount of psi.”

“All indications are that it has been humming along, doing its thing, whatever that is, for centuries,” she said quietly.

He glanced at her. “You can sense the age of that mirror quartz?”

“Only in a very rough way. It’s always difficult to come up with a precise date when you’re dealing with antiquities that are so ancient, especially alien antiquities. But, yes, we’re talking centuries here, probably a couple thousand years.”

“Which is the approximate age that the para-archaeologists have come up with for the age of the ruins, the catacombs, and the jungle.”

“Yes,” she said.

Gibson mumbled in her ear. She heard some answering dust bunny chittering in the nearby brush.

“Wonder what’s up with the dust bunnies,” Adam said. “It’s like they know something serious is going on.”

“Animals have their own kind of sensitivity. Maybe they’re picking up the faint distortion underneath the dominant currents pulsing from that quartz. The other wildlife has fled the area.”

“So why are the bunnies here?”

“I’m guessing it’s because of Gibson,” she said. “They sense that he’s with us and that we’re all here to try to fix whatever has gone wrong.”

“Our own private cheering section.” Adam glanced at her, his eyes unreadable behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

She knew what he meant.

“Yes,” she said. “You’re right. There’s something just faintly off about the resonating patterns.”

“It gets worse once you’re inside. You’ll see what I mean.”

She studied the quicksilver surface of the maze. “Do you really think that weird generator is what keeps the whole underworld running?”

“Yes, and I think it’s what keeps the lights on in the ruins aboveground as well. The mirror maze was the aliens’ artificial sun, the source of the psi that powered the bioengineered world they had to create in order to survive here on Harmony. At least, that’s what my intuition tells me.”

A chill slipped down her spine. “I think you’re right. But it’s huge. How can we possibly hope to affect the currents of a massive machine like that with something as small as the Burning Lamp?”

“When I took the team in two weeks ago, I was able to determine that the destabilizing energy is emanating from only one small section of the maze. The distortion is starting to affect some of the other quartz, but I think that if we adjust the currents in that one chamber, everything else will revert to normal.” He paused. “Whatever the hell normal is for that generator.”

She adjusted her backpack. “In other words, we’re just going in to change a couple of lightbulbs?”

“Might be a little more complicated.”

“You know, I could make a joke here. Try to lighten the atmosphere.”

“How many J&J agents and Guild bosses does it take to change a lightbulb?”

“Something along those lines.” She contemplated the shimmering lake of quartz fire. “Trouble is, I don’t know the punch line.”

“What do you say we go find the answer.”

 

 

THEY MADE THEIR WAY AROUND THE RIM OF THE CANYON to the research lab that the Bureau had established. Gibson stayed put on Marlowe’s shoulder when she and Adam walked out of the jungle into the clearing, but the rest of the herd of dust bunnies that had followed them through the rain forest remained in hiding.

“This is impressive,” Marlowe said. She surveyed the array of tents and jungle gear that had been erected. “But you should have called in Arcane earlier.”

Adam looked at her. “You may be right.”

Marlowe counted at least a dozen men and women moving purposefully around the compound. Most of the staff was dressed in standard-issue Guild jungle gear, which meant there was a lot of khaki and leather. But she saw two men and two women wearing lab uniforms emblazoned with the emblem of the Arcane Society. One of them noticed Marlowe.

“Hey, Marlowe,” he called. “Good to see you. We can use you down here. We’re short on dreamlight talents.”

“Hi, Ralph,” she said. “How are things going?”

“Not good.” Ralph Tripp walked toward her. He was a portly, middle-aged man who enjoyed his work. But today he looked uncharacteristically serious. “This is not just a dreamlight problem, it’s an alien technology problem. To be honest, none of us knows what the hell we’re doing.” He eyed Adam. “You’re Winters, aren’t you? The new Guild boss.”

Marlowe stepped in quickly. “Adam, this is Dr. Tripp. He’s a crystal talent.”

Adam inclined his head politely. “Dr. Tripp. I take it there has been no improvement in the situation?”

“I’m afraid the readings are deteriorating. All we can do is watch and observe. I agree with Dr. Nyland, however, that we’ll have some sense of when things turn critical. At that point it would be prudent to issue the evacuation orders.”

The atmosphere around the encampment had the feel of a hospital trauma ward minus the blood. People appeared calm, cool, and competent but very, very focused. Marlowe did not need her talent to sense the tension and adrenaline.

Adam looked at one of the Bureau technicians. “Where’s Dr. Nyland, Liz?”

“Lab A, sir.” Liz indicated the nearest of the two large tents. “He’s charting the latest set of readings taken by the spectrum talents.”

“Thanks.” Adam indicated Marlowe. “This is Marlowe Jones, Liz. She’s a very strong dreamlight talent.”

Liz looked relieved. She smiled at Marlowe. “That’s very good news. As Dr. Tripp just told you, everyone is convinced this is a dreamlight problem, but your type of talent is hard to find, especially in the higher ranges.”

“As I keep telling Adam, the Bureau should have come to Arcane at the start,” Marlowe said.

Liz flicked an uneasy glance at Adam and then turned back to Marlowe. “This was a highly classified Bureau project.”

Marlowe smiled. “Well, now it’s a highly classified Arcane project, as well.”

Ralph Tripp looked pained. “To be precise, it is a para-physics problem.”

“You’re right, Dr. Tripp,” Adam said. He turned to Marlowe. “Let’s talk to Nyland. He’ll have the latest reports. Then we need to go into the maze.”

“Right.” Marlowe said. She made to follow him.

“Cute dust bunny,” Liz called after her. “Didn’t know they made good pets.”

“His name is Gibson,” Marlowe said over her shoulder. “He’s not a pet, he’s a pal. Works part-time as a therapy dust bunny.”

“We’ve spotted several of the little critters around here,” Liz said. “Sometimes we feed them. They seem to like energy bars. But they won’t get too close.”

Marlowe smiled. “They’re suckers for the High-Rez brand of energy bar.”

Liz chuckled. “That’s what we stock in the chow tent. Standard issue for Guild teams.”

Marlowe turned back and saw that Adam had already disappeared through the flap of the tent. She hurried after him.

Inside the lab tent she found herself looking at an array of instruments, meters, and gauges. The equipment was all of the simplest, most basic amber-rez design. The average third grader used more sophisticated technology to carry out a science project. There was no point hauling high-end computers and calculators underground, because they would not function in that environment.

Doing science in the underworld was a laborious process that consisted of gathering data with basic equipment and making observations and then taking the information back to the surface to process through computers.

Adam was at the far end of a long workbench. He stood with another, older man. They were studying a wide strip of graph paper spread out on top of the bench. When Marlowe got closer, she saw that all of the notations on the chart had been entered by hand.

Adam glanced up briefly when she approached. “Marlowe, this is Fred Nyland. Fred, Marlowe Jones. She’s with the Arcane team.”

“How do you do, Miss Jones?” Fred nodded at her. “Adam tells me that you’re going into the maze with him. You’re a dreamlight talent?”

“Doctor.” She returned his polite nod. “In answer to your question, yes. Although, as I warned Adam, I’ve never encountered any dreamlight like the kind coming out of that maze.”

“We weren’t even sure if it was dreamlight for the first few weeks, although Adam, here, insisted that it was,” Fred said. “Looks like he was right. Think you can work it?”

She glanced at the gym bag in Adam’s hand. “Maybe.”

Adam tapped a finger on the last entry on the graph. “The distortion is getting stronger.”

“You know how it is once psi starts oscillating out of rhythm,” Fred said. “The disturbance worsens more quickly as the distorted wavelengths create their own new patterns. I have to tell you both, I don’t think we’ve got a lot of time left here. At the rate this is going, the Bureau is going to have to give the order to evacuate the major cities along with the catacombs at the end of the week.” He looked at Marlowe. “Your Arcane people concur.”

Adam looked at Marlowe. “Let’s go change some lightbulbs.”

MARLOWE CONTEMPLATED THE ENTRANCE TO THE mirror maze. It was about fifteen feet wide and perhaps twenty feet high, a little narrower at the top than it was at the threshold. As with everything else the aliens had built, the proportions seemed slightly off to her human eyes, but there was an odd, ethereal grace in the architectural lines and a strange beauty in the runes etched around the edges of the entrance.

“Is this the only way in?” she asked.

“Who knows?” Adam said. “It’s just the only one we’ve found so far. Haven’t had time to look for more, but this place is huge, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there are some other entrances and exits.”

Gibson muttered and shifted a little on Marlowe’s shoulder. He was not reacting to the promise of a major thrill ride with his customary enthusiasm, she noticed. Instead, he seemed to be taking the entire business in a serious, intent manner, the same way he dealt with therapy sessions.

Worried that he might not be able to handle the heavy alien psi, she had made one attempt to leave him behind with Liz. Gibson had protested vigorously, leaped out of Liz’s arms, and dashed after Marlowe. It was clear he had made his own decision. She had accepted it because there was no alternative. She knew that he would follow her into the maze.

She studied the strange engraving that marked the entrance.

“Wonder what it says,” she mused.

Adam glanced briefly at the elegant alien inscriptions. “Probably, ‘Danger, Keep Out. Trespassers Will Be Really, Really Sorry.’”

“Probably something like that,” she agreed.

Unlike the quicksilver-bright surface of the huge construct, the interior of the maze was not illuminated with eye-dazzling light. Instead, to her wide-open senses, it glowed with the eerie hues of the ultradark end of the spectrum, the colors of dreams and midnight. Dreamlight.

She was aware of the small crowd of technicians, researchers, and security guards watching from the rim of the canyon, but she could not take her attention off the fantastic rainbow of night light that illuminated the entrance to the maze.

The power flowing out of the opening riveted all her senses. Adrenaline was fizzing through her. The energy emanating from the realm of glittering midnight was intoxicating, energizing, euphoric. Tendrils of her hair had come free of the clip that she had used to secure it and now danced around her head. A little more of this white-hot psi, and she might actually be able to fly, she thought.

Gibson chortled, catching the wave of excitement.

“This,” she announced, “is really something else, Adam. What a rush. Just like taking the bike out on Old River Road at night under a full moon. Except more so.”

“You know, the thought of you going out all alone on a motorcycle at midnight scares the hell out of me,” he said.