Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) (42 page)

The view switched to another eyemote. It was cruising along over a smoking wilderness. A river of golden molten lava passed underneath, then the mining complex came into view, the huge habmods barely visible through clouds of swirling debris-laden ash. Off in the distance, a volcano was lazily erupting, lighting up the dark sky.

"The surface temperature is almost three hundred degrees at the mining site," the Prof said grimly.

A line of worker-slaves came into view, wearing bulky orange biosuits, trudging along hopelessly, bound for who knew where? A giant, tracked earthmover ground along past them, raising ash. A dusty aircar passed overhead at low speed. A glance showed that it had been specially modified to cut through those hostile skies. The high temperature and the grit-packed air made everything appear hazy and blurry.

"The habmods are, of course, pressurized," Prof said, "but you can't survive outside without a biosuit."

The eyemote shot through the complex at low altitude, passing scores of giant habmods and gigantic ore processing buildings. Piles of smoking gravel dotted the complex, huge cranes were outlined against the dark sky and columns of workers in orange biosuits wearily trudged the lanes between buildings.

The eyemote darted into a large industrial building that was full of biosuited workers clustered around huge, dirty open elevators that awaited them as they filed past the open chainlink doors until the elevator was packed. Then the doors screeched shut and the massive platform started dropping, straight down. Our eyemote hovered just above the workers' helmets. The daylight faded away and the elevator was falling into the dark, filthy oily metal walls flashing past, the biosuit spotlights switching on, hot white lights and deep black shadows. Down, down, down – into the bowels of the earth.

At the bottom, the workers filed out and lined up before an endless line of dirty little open wheeled minecars that sat four. The eyemote followed one group as they piled into their car and took off on a prearranged route to their destination. The intersecting tunnels seemed to lead everywhere, but the workers knew where they were going. They drove hard along spooky dark tunnels that were dotted with little glowing lights. The tunnels were cut right out of the rock, black filthy rock, and water leaked and sometimes poured out of the gritty walls. A dull explosion sounded and the tunnel vibrated. The car cruised past files of biosuited workers hauling tools and equipment, spraying them with icy water, and past another group that was clustered around a little hole in the wall that seemed to concern them. One worker was about to climb in there – it was just barely wide enough to permit the passage of a man in a biosuit. I saw the man had a metal wire secured around one ankle. My heart was pounding. Good Lord, man, don’t go in there! Then they were gone.

"We're seven hundred, sixty mikes under," the Prof said. "This is the mine. Now we’re going deeper. View 3488 please." The scene abruptly changed. It was very dark and no movement showed.

"Now we're at thirteen hundred mikes. This is where it starts getting interesting." As we watched in silence I slowly realized the new eyemote was focused on a giant slab of dark metal that appeared to grow out of the mine floor and pierce the overhead. A blast door, I thought. A blast door! It was gigantic. What the hell was on the other side?

Two men in dark green biosuits approached the blast door. They paused at a little personnel door that was set into the blast door. The personnel door snapped open. They entered and the eyemote shot into the opening with them. We were in a large airlock with pale lights set into the walls. The entry door slammed shut. Air hissed into the chamber. Then the far door slid open and the eyemote followed the two men. They proceeded down a steep staircase but the eyemote stayed there, floating, to give us the view.

It was a gigantic cavern, full of so much activity, noise and motion that it was initially hard to grasp. Off to the left, flames were shooting up to the rocky ceiling, then fading. A gigantic assembly line was glowing with newly heated metal parts, and shirtless workers were clustered around it like ants. Sparks filled the air. Little flying probes were flitting back and forth. A great, guttural roar sounded. Further to the right, a conveyer belt was dropping endless numbers of brand new battle rifles into shiny dropboxes. As the boxes filled, they were automatically sealed and moved away with new dropboxes sliding into place. Shirtless workers swarmed everywhere as grey-clad soldiers stood guard with comtops and battle rifles. It was hot – huge aircons lined the ceiling and blew cold air everywhere but they did not appear to be very effective. The air was hazy, charged with industrial filth. The cavern seemed to have no end. Further off, I saw what appeared to be the horizontal stabilizer portion of a fighter starcraft. I squinted hard, and thought I could see more stabilizers behind that one. A whole damned squadron of new starcraft. Damn! What else were they cranking out here? Giant piles of dropboxes were stacked everywhere. Off to the left I saw what looked like a mountain of supplies. Damn! What a target! But how would we ever get in here?

Then we saw them. Six of them, marching in file, fully armored dark grey A-suits, camfaxed cloaks flapping behind them, wearing helmets with dark green faceplates. All six were carrying what looked like clones of the Bright's Battlestorm lightning guns. Darks! These had to be the Darks! I was thrilled to see them; I couldn't take my eyes off them. My heart was pounding. Darks! We couldn't even see their faces but this was them all right. They were tall – like us, like the Brights. Satan's soldiers! And I knew we were going to meet them in person, sooner than we wanted.

"Darks," Arie said quietly. The people in their path stepped aside quickly.

"They're going to be hard to kill," Scout said.

"We can do it," Doggie said.

"We
will
do it!" Ice exclaimed.

"With God's help," Bees said.

"With help from the Brights," Prof said.

"And from Hot Dolly," Smiley said. "She's going to make them eat antimat for breakfast." Hot Dolly was Smiley's manlink. She'd never failed us.

"Saka the Invincible is going to be right by our sides, gang," Saka said. "Lan Hwa is going to burn prayer silks for us. It's powerful magic. Right out of the past. It got us back from Kratar!"

I didn't say anything. What was I going to do when my comrades started to fall? I didn’t even want to think about it. Maybe Scout was right. You had to accept your own death, in advance, and do all you could for your comrades, never thinking about yourself. Bees said you had to put yourself in the hands of God, and the Prof said you had to do the right thing. They were all right.

Damn! I'm only watching an eyemote, from Delta Hqs, safe and sound, and my heart is pounding and there's icy sweat on my brow and my eyes are stinging. Slow down, Prophet. Damn it!

"These gigantic, blastproof caverns are everywhere," the Prof said. "This is only one of them. The Darks have been busy. This is their base – invisible from above. Anyone incautious enough to approach sees only the mining complex before they are intercepted and detained. But there are bases within bases down there, far out of reach of our deepest antimat bunker busters. Underground starports, fighter bases, supply bases, the supreme Hqs for the entire war, barracks for millions of warrior slaves, everything that a cosmic army needs to reach out and touch someone. Fleets of starships, fleets of strike fighters, fleets of armored assault craft full of Demons and Darks and all their allies. The B's don't want this lot getting loose in our galaxy. They plan to attack this world, as soon as poss, blast these bases to atoms and wade through the radioactive debris, shooting anything that moves. And they want humanity to be standing by their side."

"We'll have to fight our way all the way down there first – right?" I asked.

"No," the Prof said. "Not that way. Not on foot."

"But how do we get down there?" Arie asked.

"The B's will deliver us. We're going with them."

"I thought we were going to be with their supreme command, with all the White Knight Martials, back in the rear, so we can interpret if there are commo problems with the rest of our forces." Arie sounded hopeful.

"Oh, we will do that. Delta will be right by Martial Breakblade's side, the whole time."

"And where will he be?"

"Martial Breakblade is one of their leaders. And all their leaders will be in the same place. When I asked him where that will be, he smiled. He told me that leaders have to lead. He said he would be on point, right at the tip of the spear. And he expects us to be there, too. He proudly told me that his grandfather died in the last great battle with Satan, and he expects to emulate him. He said that Martials lead the way, and they are all prepared to die."

Δ

"All right, Bees," the Prof said. "Summarize. This is certainly the most stunning, realistic, and – well, moving vision Delta has yet produced. I've briefed Ambassador Wester and we'll be sending this one flash critic to the DG. This confirms a lot. It's as if it is focusing us right on the problem, which is certainly inescapable, but it is also deeply disturbing. I'd like your comments. Your personal comments. You've told us what you saw, but what did you feel? What does it all mean?"

Bees was alone with the Prof in his office. They were both clad in formal blacks. Bees' face was expressionless, but the Prof could tell there was a lot more there under the surface.

"Summarize," Bees repeated. "Yes sir. I saw Vulcan, bleeding in the vac. I was approaching it in space – just like a meteor. I looked over my shoulder and I saw a great fleet of starships exiting stardrive, tearing their way out of vac run red. A great silver fleet. It was Fleetcom. And there were so many ships it was like the stars in the sky. And I had never seen anything so beautiful. I knew every ship was full of Legion soldiers, all set to die for the cause. And this cosmic music was roaring. It wasn't really music, it was the stars. The music of the stars. I could hear yellow primes crackling and burning, and star nurseries, sizzling and screeching, birthing new stars, and black holes howling as they ripped entire stars to shreds, and the haunting melody of lovely nebulae, and black dwarves moaning, billions of years of longing and regrets, and brilliant comets, hissing along soundlessly for all eternity."

Bees took a deep breath, and continued. "Then I took a good look at Vulcan – over the horizon. There were a lot of new stars over there too – starships. Fleets of starships. Uncountable. Also approaching Vulcan. Bright battlestars. Constellations of giant white delta starships, filling up the vac. They were so lovely my heart just ached for them. I knew they were pretty much invulnerable. They had come a long way, from another universe. And every ship was full of young Bright knights, pledged to die for God.

"Then I saw more ships, off to another side – dropping fast towards Vulcan. Little red specks, at that distance. I knew they were Demon saucers, giant transports and speedy little fighters. Thousands and thousands of them, dropping into the at, glowing red. Last chance, for the Demons. I knew the ships were packed with armored soldiers, Demon soldiers. Pledged to fight and die. Were they volunteers? Were they slaves? I did not know. Would they die for the cause? I knew they would. And beyond that wave of saucers there appeared another great wave of alien ships – eerie dark silver ships, looking like great silver birds. The Darks! I knew it in a flash. These were the Dark ships, full of fanatic alien soldiers from Satan's shadowy empire, young soldiers, immortal soldiers. Endless ships and endless soldiers. And I knew the only way to stop them was to kill them.

"Now I was approaching Vulcan, dropping into the poisonous atmosphere and cruising over belching volcanoes and lava rivers. The skies were full of speedy little saucers, Commune fighters, hundreds of them, cruising low, looking for prey, cruising high, waiting for the enemy to approach. And suddenly the prey was there – Legion fighters, dropping in from the vac, glowing red, trailing shock waves. But they were brand new, a model I had never seen before. So beautiful! An overwhelming force. And then the Bright Delta fighters appeared, in the hundreds and thousands. And then Demon saucers flooded the skies, seemingly unstoppable. And then endless squadrons of Dark starfighters, surely invulnerable. The fighters came together in a mad intricate, cosmic dance, swirling in great circles faster than the eyes could see. And by this time the stellar orchestra was building to a great crescendo. Down below, a brutal wave of armored Commune soldiers was tramping along a little dirt road. Their column stretched to the horizon and beyond. It looked like a hundred thousand soldiers, rushing to their deaths. Somehow I could hear them cheering: 'Hail the Commune!' Some of the Legion fighters dropped from the sky and began strafing the columns with tactsars. It was so horrible I had to look away."

Bees paused, to compose herself. She dried her eyes and continued. "Then I was suddenly in a Legion triage trauma center. It was a madhouse, overflowing with serious casualties. The patients and doctors and nurses were all covered with blood, the decks slick with blood and covered with shattered armor, the physicians shouting frantically at each other as the patients screamed in pain. New patients were being carried in one door as the dead were being carried out another door. All those young soldiers! It was madness, Professor, just madness. They should make the politicians fight these wars themselves instead of making our kids do it. Give the bastards knives, pit them against each other and broadcast it. I'd love to see that."

"Yes," the Prof said. "Yes, I agree. But that's most unlikely."

"My vision doesn't tell us a damned thing, does it, Prof?"

"Well, it kind of confirms everything we suspected – and alerts us to the insanity upon which we are about to embark."

"But there's no way to stop it, is there?"

"I'm afraid not. We must ally with God or Satan. There is no middle way."

"But this is insanity!"

"Yes, it is. But we must do the right thing, Bees. No matter how hard it is. No matter how crazy it is. No matter how many young soldiers are to die. We must do the right thing."