Logos Run (32 page)

No more than two seconds elapsed before the two men sprang into action. Ubri drew a curved dagger and circled the table, intent on following the thief through the double doors, while his son jumped up to grab what remained of the pull cord. Bells rang in a distant part of the house, additional guards poured out of the servants’ quarters, and those who were on duty ran every which way.

Meanwhile Norr, who was dressed all in black, retraced the path followed earlier. An almost impossible feat for anyone other than a sensitive, who could “see” the psychic energy emitted by the Alzani family’s guards even in complete darkness should that be necessary. But thanks to the fact that one of the planet’s two moons had broken company with the horizon, there was more light than there had been before.

That worked two ways of course, as became apparent when a sharp-eyed youth spotted what looked like a swiftly moving shadow and fired his muzzle-loader. A long red flame stabbed the night, a loud
bang
reverberated between the compound’s protective walls, and the sensitive heard something
buzz
past her head as she made a mad dash toward the still-dangling rope.

That was when Rebo, who had been waiting outside the compound, could finally spring into action. It had taken Norr more than an hour to convince the runner that
she
was the right person to enter the walled complex and abscond with the gate seed. And now, as he felt her tug on the other end of the rope, his counterarguments came back to mind as
more
weapons were discharged.

Norr heard bullets smack into the wall around her as she discovered how difficult it was to climb one-handed, yelled a warning to Rebo, and threw the lamp up over the top. Then, with both hands free to grab the rope, and the runner pulling from the other side of the wall, the variant was able to “walk” up the vertical surface as a half dozen guards pounded their way across the courtyard.

Then Norr was on the top and poised to cross over, when the musket ball slammed into her back. The sensitive fell into a pool of blackness, felt her spirit exit her body, and knew she was dead.

Rebo screamed “
No!
” caught his lover as she fell, and half carried, half dragged Norr toward the waiting hearse. The stern-faced nun ran to help. Together, they lifted the sensitive up into wagon bed. Though unsure of where the object had come from, the sister saw the lamp and tossed it to Rebo. Moments later she was up on the driver’s seat with the reins in hand. She issued a shrill whistle, and the hearse jerked into motion.

In the meantime Rebo held a wad of fabric against Norr’s wound as he cradled the sensitive in his arms and whispered into her ear. “Hang on, Lonni,
please
hang on.” But there was no answer as the wagon rumbled through the streets, and tears streamed down his cheeks. Something had been gained—but the runner was afraid that something much more important had been lost.

There was a hiss, followed by a roar, as jets of hot water
mixed with a powerful disinfectant struck Tepho and his attendants from every possible angle. All of them were nude. And, since the administrator
never
allowed anyone other than his handpicked staff to see him naked, the rest of the expeditionary force, including Shaz and Phan, were scheduled to follow once the technologist was fully dressed and ready to receive them.

Once the cleansing process was complete, Tepho and his attendants padded into the circular room where the star gate was housed. Boxes of food, equipment, and ammo had been stacked against the walls. Dry clothes were waiting for the administrator, as was Logos, who had taken on the appearance of a vest.

Mindful of the fact that the first group of Tepho’s subordinates would be along shortly, the attendants hurried to towel the administrator down and help him into his clothes. Shaz and Phan arrived shortly thereafter. Neither was the least bit embarrassed by their nudity, although Tepho was staring at Phan, and the assassin wished he wouldn’t.

Then, once everyone was dressed, it was time for one last conference. Because, unlike the tiles that represented planets like Seros, Ning, and Thara, the square labeled ZEEN remained dark and therefore nonoperational. Or so it appeared. But Logos, who claimed to be able to monitor
all
of the star gates via Socket, had the power to bring it back to life. Or so he claimed. The proof, as with everything else, would be in the doing of it.

The technologist forced a smile. “Okay, then. . . . What are we waiting for? Let’s load the boxes labeled T-1 onto the platform.”

It took the better part of fifteen minutes to get the first load of equipment and people onto the relatively small service platform, but once everything was in place, it was Shaz who reached out to press the tile labeled ZEEN.

The square lit up, just as Logos had predicted it would, and the usual spiel began. The combat variant listened with eyes closed, but the explosion of light was so brilliant that he could see it through his eyelids. Then, as his body was literally ripped apart for the trip through hyperspace, Shaz momentarily ceased to exist. Then, as the operative’s molecules were reassembled, he was conscious once more. He experienced a sense of relief, quickly followed by the nausea that typically accompanied a transfer and exposure to the star gate’s power core.

Judging from the grimy walls and the thick layer of dust that covered the floor, it looked as though the chamber hadn’t been utilized in a long time. Tepho was the first to speak. “Okay, Shaz, time to earn your pay. . . . Take a com set with you and let me know what you find. I’ll get things organized here.”

The administrator clearly had no intention of venturing out of the chamber until he knew it was safe to do so, but Shaz didn’t find that at all surprising, and grinned at Phan. “Ladies first.”

Given the fact that they had no idea what might await them beyond the confines of the star gate, both the combat variant and the assassin elected to keep their clothes on as they checked their weapons, approached the door, and cycled through.

And that was just as well, because when they stepped out into what should have been the decontamination chamber, most of it was missing. What remained bore a close resemblance to a cave, which judging from the bones lying scattered about, had recently been home to a large carnivore. Filthy tiles covered most of the right-hand wall, plus portions of the floor, but the rest of the facility had been damaged. Roots had pushed their way down through the ceiling, and the left-hand wall had been ruptured, allowing soil to spill out onto the floor.

In addition to a brace of semiautomatic pistols, Shaz had armed himself with a fully automatic assault weapon, which the combat variant held at the ready as he advanced toward the bright oval of daylight visible where the hatch should have been. Phan followed close behind.

Seconds later, they were standing at what had once been ground level, looking down into a broad valley through which a river wound back and forth. A herd of animals could be seen grazing next to a marshy area, skeletal-looking birds circled above, and the shadows cast by clouds caressed the land. “It looks like the ground dropped away,” Shaz observed. “There must have been a quake or something.”

“Yeah,” Phan agreed phlegmatically. “I sure hope Logos knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh, I think he knows what he’s doing,” the combat variant replied cynically. “But for whom?”

No sooner did the hearse rattle through the nunnery’s
gates, than a shout was heard, and half a dozen nuns came running. There was a
bang
as the wagon’s tailgate fell, and Rebo was brushed aside as Norr was literally snatched out of his arms before being rushed inside.

Rebo, still dazed by what had taken place, grabbed the lamp and followed the nuns into what turned out to be a spacious medical clinic. It was the only facility of its kind available to the city’s poor. The operating room was tiled, spotlessly clean, and better equipped than the runner would have expected. Sister Kartha was present, as were two capable-looking assistants. She ordered the runner into a corner while she washed her hands. In the meantime, the other nuns proceeded to strip Norr of both her weapons and clothes prior to turning the sensitive facedown on the operating table. Once that was accomplished, the two women went to work mopping up what looked like an extraordinary amount of blood, and began to prep the area immediately around the blue-edged wound. “So, she’s alive?” Rebo ventured tentatively.

“Yes,” Kartha replied irritably. “She is. No thanks to
you.
But just barely, and truth be told, I have no idea why. By all rights your wife should be dead.”

“She isn’t my wife,” Rebo said dully, his eyes fixed on Norr.

“No?” the abbess inquired caustically as she waved her hands to dry them. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” the runner confessed miserably.

“Now there’s something we can agree on,” Kartha said grimly. “Now shut up so we can get to work.”

There were advantages to being located in Pohua, where ancient medical artifacts surfaced on a fairly regular basis, and—though never cheap—could sometimes be purchased at a relatively reasonable price, especially if a certain king wanted to be treated for the venereal disease that continued to plague him.

Norr felt a strange sense of detachment as she “stood” next to her physical body and looked down on it. The scene was murky, which meant the details were hard to discern, but there was no mistaking the urgency with which the nuns were preparing to operate on her. And judging from the size of the hole under her right shoulder blade, the team was wasting its time. That was why Norr was tempted to turn away and seek higher planes, where physical pain was unknown.

But a tendril of energy still connected the sensitive to her physical body. It was rather weak, however, and Norr knew she could sever it if she chose to, but something held her back. But what?

“The answer is simple,” Lysander, said as his thoughts began to flow into the variant’s mind. “Look at the thought forms around Rebo. . . . That’s why you’re tempted to stay.”

The sensitive looked, “saw” how miserable the runner was, and felt what he felt. A vast longing combined with an impending sense of doom.

Lysander glowed with internal light as he came to “stand” at her side. “And there’s one more thing,” the spirit entity added. “Rebo is here because of
you.
Should you choose to terminate this incarnation, he will be lost in grief—and Logos will take control of Socket. And not just Logos, but the Techno Society under the leadership of Tepho, who wants to control the star gates for the same corrupt reasons that I did.

“So I beg you to stay, not just for the sake of the man who loves you and came back to the physical world in order to protect you, but for the sake of humanity as well. Because the long slide into darkness has begun—and the gates represent the only hope for something better than barbarism.”

Norr was about to respond, about to say something, when Sister Kartha pushed a probe down into the open wound, and the resulting pain sent the sensitive reeling. “There it is,” the abbess announced, as the metal stylus made contact with the lead ball. “Now to get it out.”

Rebo had seen medicos extract bullets before, which was why the runner expected Kartha to pick up a scalpel and
cut
the projectile out.

But the abbess had another tool in mind, something that had been common once, and would be again if craftspeople were able to successfully duplicate the artifact. Metal
scraped
on metal as the solar powered surgical scarab was removed from a basin filled with disinfectant and placed on the sensitive’s bare back.

Rebo watched in fascination as the tiny insectlike robot scurried up to the wound, circled the hole as if to determine its exact diameter, and dived inside. “First the machine will cauterize all of the bleeders,” the abbess explained. “Then it will make its way down to the musket ball and remove it.”

The runner had seen something similar on a previous occasion, and was about to say as much, when a novice burst into the surgery. “Sister Kartha! Come quick! The police are at the door. They claim the sensitive is a thief!”

The abbess looked at Rebo, uttered one of the many swear words she had learned during a childhood spent in the slums of Pokua, and turned back again. “Tell them I’m busy. . . . Show them into my study and bring them some tea. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The aspirant nodded, turned, and hurried into the hall.

Under normal circumstances, the fact that the authorities were practically standing outside the door waiting to arrest him would have sent Rebo into the fight-or-flight mode. But now, with Norr’s life on the line, the only thing the runner cared about was the scarab. A lot of time had passed since the robot had descended into the wound, or so it seemed to Rebo, and he was just about to comment on that when the slightly deformed musket ball popped up out of the hole.

Sister Kartha made use of a pair of forceps to pluck the projectile off Norr’s skin and hold it up for inspection. It was flattened on one side. “Here it is . . .” the abbess said. “It looks like the bullet slanted upward and came to rest against her scapula. Now, as soon as the scarab finishes repairing the damage to her tissues, it will back its way out and close the wound. At that point I will allow the police to enter.”

“But you can’t!” Rebo objected. “They’ll throw her in jail, and she’ll die there.”

“You should have thought about that possibility earlier,” the abbess responded sternly. “You may have a relationship with Nom Maa . . . But that doesn’t entitle you to steal other people’s property! The sisters and I have a spiritual obligation to heal the sick—but we aren’t required to harbor criminals. Oh, and surrender your weapons. . . . We’ll have no killing here.”

The runner was tempted to argue his case, to try and explain
why
the theft had been justified, but could see that it wouldn’t make any difference. “All right,” he said humbly. “I’m not ready to surrender my weapons, not yet, but I’ll bring our things in here. Maybe they’ll let us keep some of our clothes.”