The IX (52 page)

He was still grimacing as he swept in through the doors of the control room.

“Whoa! Are you demonstrating your war face for us, Mohammed?” Saul teased. Turning to the holographic simulacrums gathered about his computer terminal, he asked, “What do you think, guys? Impressed?”

Calen and Sariff exchanged bemused looks before resuming their studies. Sol Beren, however, a soldier born and bred, understood the jibe. “I think he needs to work some more if he intends to instill fear in his enemies. Perhaps a nice loud roar?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Mohammed replied. “The only thing you’ll be hearing from me is the sound of my hastily retreating footsteps as I make my way back to civilization.” He placed an info-crystal containing the details of the latest briefing on the desk beside Saul. Then he shivered. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Calen’s avatar looked up. “Come now, Vice Commander. This
place,
as you call it, is the last bastion of our race. Surely you can appreciate its mood was designed to reflect the solemnity and sanctity of its purpose?”

“Oh, don’t mind me, Calen,” Mohammed responded, “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just not feeling too good, that’s all.”

Ushering the Ardenese scientist to one side, Mohammed steered him toward the observation pier, a projecting finger of highly polished wood and metal that stretched out above the void below. Reaching the circular balcony at the end, he placed his hands on the railing and looked down. He couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed.

He stood at the very top of a huge shaft that had been cut down through the planet’s crust for a distance of more than two leagues. Within that borehole, safely interred within a multitude of vacuum shells, were millions upon millions of genetic samples. Human. Plant. Animal. Insect. The entire spectrum of all the flora and fauna Arden had to offer. Safely locked away and lovingly preserved behind triple-layered polycarbonate resin, waiting for a time when they could at last be released, to reseed a ruined world.

Mohammed’s gaze lingered on several chambers, as if each one contained a member of his own family.
And we’re going to let them down
. Suddenly, he felt ashamed.

What he was thinking must have reflected on his face, for next to him, Calen gently sighed. In a soft voice laced with emotion, he said, “Worry not, Mohammed Amine. This battle was never really yours to fight. In our desperation, we clutched at straws and were willing to try anything to redeem ourselves.”

“But you saved us, and—”

“Yes, we did. But we never expected you to commit suicide on our behalf. We trusted the Architect to select the best. Those who would have a fighting chance. And . . . well . . . if only the iron solution had been thought of sooner, things may have been different.”

“How on earth the Architect went about selecting us, I’ll never truly understand,” Mohammed admitted, “but I’ve never looked on our community as the best. We’ve managed. But we also seem to have screwed things up.”

“It has been my experience that our farsighted, artificially-enhanced super-friend has a different way of viewing things. What you may look on as insignificant, he may deem worthy of great honor.” Calen paused to look around the chamber. “It would have been a dream come true to see the fruition of our labors, for our own DNA lies within. But—”

“Better the nightmare ends now and you quarantine this world forever.”

Mohammed jumped, for he hadn’t heard Sariff walk up behind. Staring into the former First Magister’s eyes, he said, “So you support our decision to leave?”

“We couldn’t refuse, not when your people have given their lives so valiantly.”

They all strolled back toward the primary station.

“How long will you survive, do you think?” Mohammed asked.

“When the rest of the city is severed, the Architect will be able to divert all available resources into the Archive. Non-essential systems will be powered down. With nothing else to demand its attention, the Ark’s preservation may be extended for nearly a thousand years, give or take a century. Who knows what may occur in that time?”

You’ll still die. That’s what.
“How are you going to do it?”

Saul replied. “We’re going to seal the Ark using a DNA cipher. That’s what we were discussing when you came in.” He directed everyone’s attention to his monitor. “In the event that anyone ever returns here, be they human or stragglers from some distant Ardenese outpost, we’ve devised this.”

He stepped back to show a 3D simulation of a stunningly complex vortex.

Beren took up the explanation. “Basically, we’re going to remove the reactive element from the rip-space tear. You know? The point where we installed the entrance into the Archive itself? Once this has been achieved, the only way future access can be guaranteed is if the caller possesses the appropriate biological signature. Human or Ardenese.”

“But there are no Ardenese,” Mohammed protested. “So how . . . Oh!”

The penny dropped. He turned to the simulacrums. “One of
you
is going to volunteer.”

“That’s right,” Beren replied, “our DNA also lies within the Ark. As the last protectors of our race, it is fitting that one of us has the honor of making the final sacrifice.”

Mohammed didn’t know what to say.

The awkwardness of the moment was thwarted by a vibration against his ear, alerting him to the fact that he had a growing list of queries backing up in his message buffer. He activated his com-set and listened in for a moment.

Damn. I’d better get back.
“Sorry, gentlemen, I’ll have to leave you to your deliberations. There’s a city that needs relocating, and it looks like they can’t do it without me.”

Saul picked up the crystal Mohammed had brought. “I’ll read this as soon as I’m finished, and hopefully catch up with you within the hour.”

The avatars bade Mohammed goodbye, and he made his way back along the corridors. As he walked, he ruminated on the unfairness of the situation.

My God! As if they haven’t been asked to sacrifice enough as it is. From what I remember of their history, they had to agree to lay down their lives to mesh the gateway and Ark together in the first place. Something about their dying essences providing the wormhole with a mortality key. And now, one of them is going to be asked to volunteer his mortal remains to the cause, effectively destroying any hope he’ll have of further involvement with his race. Fantastic.

Stalking out of the Archive, Mohammed began the long trek back toward the stairs.

It’s just so unfair. I mean . . . I know they’re dead already. But to ask them to do such a thing? It’s like fighting to bring a person back to life, just so you can kill him all over again.

Bile rose abruptly in Mohammed’s throat. Staggering to one side, he braced himself against the wall and fought down the urge to vomit.
Bloody hell! I’m getting myself all worked up.
He looked around the passage and the nearby sentry guns.
Not a good idea, especially here.

A chill gripped the air, and a fresh wave of nausea rolled toward him. His gaze fell on the teleport pad.
Hellfire! It’ll be worth the pain just to get out of this place.

Stomping forward before he had a chance to change his mind, Mohammed crossed the threshold and activated the transporter.

*

A choral resonance swelled in the ether about them, glorious in its vibrancy, and yet as tenuous as a wraith. The tonal characteristic of the base notes gradually changed. Ramping in amplitude and frequency, they went beyond the threshold of most living things’ endurance.

And yet, the soloist’s audience endured, enraptured by the precision with which the canticle was confined.

You have achieved congruence,
Angule advised.
Regulate the cadence of the stream against the fermionic barrier
.
Sense its configuration. Taste the rhythm of the super-dense particles that pack its matrix so tightly. Do you see?

Maintaining precision, Raum splintered her astral vision into different viewpoints so that part of her consciousness could step back and observe her efforts. Comprehension flared within the outer vestibule of her mind.
Yes, Great One. The molecules still dance, albeit grudgingly.

Correct. It matters not how impeachable the structure is, all matter must obey the strictures of nucleic law. Do you sense the vast energy encapsulated within its form?

Yes. Yes, I do.

Excellent! Refine your observations, for you must find a way to exploit its capacity. Relax, and the tessellation you seek will manifest.

Rumbling closer to his charge, he softened the tone of his mood.
Now, focus your probe. Do not attempt to force your way through. Instead . . . ?

Blend my way through
, Raum recited, having listened attentively to the instruction given earlier to the assembled Lega’trexii:
Become the barricade and make it part of me.

Angule radiated approval. Behind him, Saffir, Buer, and Caym
exuded an air of barely restrained concern.

Do not be afraid of becoming trapped within the confinement,
Angule continued.
Remember. The horror of isolation only snares that which tries to negate its nature. By seeing harmonic coherence and working in union with it, you will evade oblivion and emerge restored on the other side.

A tinge of doubt dared to manifest within her cerebrum. Crushing it, Raum dismissed the very concept of distraction and intensified the eldritch concordance of her intent. To those listening in, it sounded as if the extract of her music now contained a promise of conflicts resolved and oaths fulfilled. Of unanimity and synchronicity.

That’s it
, Angule coaxed.
Explore those possibilities of unity. Embrace them. Augment your fabrication to the modulations now being revealed to your scrutiny.

Raum concentrated, and in moments a singularity of thought and purpose hung suspended within the orchestrated ebb and flow of her construct. With the utmost care, she sent it tinkling and chiming toward the muted void of nothingness barring its way. The two mediums met. The pulse appeared to hesitate, as if studying the edifice before it, and then it began to darken. An unseen force closed in, compressing them in a growing nucleus of potency. Undeterred, Raum adapted the tempo of her refrain, attempting to keep pace with the fluctuating circumstances presented to her.

Slowly but surely, the tones emitted by the spark became more obscure. Longer. Deeper. Languorous.

The probe vanished, only to peal forth moments later from within an invisible core. The echoing resonance had been enriched, and now incorporated sonorous hints of a far superior quality. The eclectic sphere in which they had concealed themselves began to freeze, and an abrupt release of pressure through the quantum paradox seared their very souls.

Angule blended with Raum’s thoughts.
What do you see, child?
As a courtesy, he opened his mind so that those gathered with them could witness the results of her first attempt to pierce the veil.

Eagerly, Raum extended her sight and phased toward the void.

Careful!
Angule warned.
You do not wish to relocate. Yet!

She tried again, more tentatively, and was shocked by what she saw.

As was Angule. Seizing his protégé in a coercive grip of stunning magnitude, he yanked her psyche back through the portal with such force that they were sent sprawling across the floor.

The enclave surged to its feet. Jolted into action, they manifested their surprise with bursts of arcane puissance and barely suppressed rage that trembled on the verge of aggressive expression.

Releasing a wave of electrified pheromones, Angule quelled the backlash with a spectacular display of power that reestablished his dominance within an instant.

Hold!
he bellowed.

His hands slammed together. The resultant shockwave not only threatened to rupture the matrix of their encompassing sphere, but also ensnared each Kresh within a skein of agonizing bliss.

They staggered.

Control your passions
, Angule cried.
We are in no danger. On the contrary, Raum has discovered a wonder I never thought to actually see.

A wonder?
Saffir countered. Struggling to quench the flames of his own emotions, he spat:
Brother. If what you saw is no danger, why react as you did? We did not have sufficient time to focus on the object of Raum’s consternation to be able to agree with your rectitude.

The minds of the other Lega’trexii and Tribuni present prickled indignantly with similar sentiments.

Bathing the raw tincture of their nerves in a soothing cocoon of comfort, Angule lowered his shield and allowed them to observe what he and Raum had glimpsed.

The Cryptogen!
Saffir exclaimed.
It . . . it actually exists? Here? Now?

Of course, brother. How could you doubt me after all this time? With it, the re-genesis is assured.
He gestured to Raum:
And now that our tribuni are acquiring the discipline and strength of will required to breach the barrier and undertake the transference, our plans can be accelerated. And just in time.

That revelation brought them back to their senses.

Now gather round. Before I expand the lesson to include our Praefactors, I wish to demonstrate a technique that will hopefully reduce the thermal variance encountered every time we initiate the rift.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Breach

Defying the chill wind that scoured the top of the battlements, Flavius Velerianus wrapped his cloak tightly about himself and peered down at the seething mass below. No matter how hard he studied his enemy, he couldn’t define a purposeful strategy in their criminal waste of energy and resources. That they continued to send wave after wave of screaming ogres against a barrier that had defied them for decades was baffling. That they did so at exactly the same spot left him speechless.