03. Masters of Flux and Anchor (30 page)

Despite the Fluxlands, most of the void had been void, unformed Flux, and thus it was not unusual that many days out they had still not met another living soul. That changed on what Mervyn guessed was the tenth day—he had not thought to count at the start. Spirit had spotted them across a rise and then ran back with her tireless stride to stop him and sign a warning. He approached on foot, and cautiously looked down on a lush river valley lined with a large variety of fruit trees. There was a sizeable population down there, and it had not been idle. Someone had found a way to cut and shape branches, and there was apparently some sort of large-leafed palm in the neighborhood which had served as walls against the branch frames, creating crude but efficient conical huts. Either through a natural lightning-caused fire from the first day or by friction, they had also gotten fires going and obviously had them con¬stantly tended to keep them from going out. Cows, horses, chickens and pigs, all obviously survivors like themselves, roamed the place. That, at least, eased Mervyn's mind somewhat—he should have remembered that almost all Fluxlands had had fairly large animal herds and the like. It was hard to tell from a distance, but the bulk of the population appeared to be Fluxgirls.

He would have loved to have gone down there and seen what sort of primitive New Eden these people had created, but not only would Spirit stick out with her spell restric¬tions and her hundred and eighty centimeter height, nearly thirty above the Fluxgirl average, but he would have a very hard time getting out of there again—and the last thing he wanted was to be there when the army found them.

They skirted the settlement and the valley, although it added a half a day to their journey. Further on they encountered a few others, always with time for Spirit to warn him and for them to conceal themselves or avoid contact. Many were small groups on the move who hadn't yet encountered a part of civilization, such as back in the valley where common sense said to remain where you were until discovered.

Finally, they encountered the army. The troops were obviously having to go very slowly in their marches, since they continually picked up numbers of people and had to detail some of their own to take them off to what had to be pre-established processing stations. Although it was a very large army for a very small civilization, they had a vast area to cover and had to map and mark it as they went.

Finally, Mervyn had to reluctantly free the horses and proceed on foot, although he could never keep up with Spirit and only held her back. It was becoming downright populated and more and more difficult to remain incon¬spicuous. They took to going by night, and without food or water for long periods when necessary. There were quite a number of close calls and many times when they simply had to freeze and wait, but since the soldiers weren't prepared for an enemy or stealth, fully expecting anyone to simply turn themselves in, it wasn't as hard as he feared it would be.

They passed near large camps where great numbers of Fluxgirls milled and waited, lit by electric floodlights from lines that stretched off into the distance on temporary poles. They had devices there that were basically the tattoo devices used by the old Church before the Empire to tattoo those chosen in the Paring Rite, branding each new Fluxgirl with a name and number and then having that information put into New Eden's files. The men, of course, would be classified, entered, given a uniform and impressed into the search for more victims.

He couldn't help but wonder what had happened to Jeff and Sondra; whether they were still out there somewhere, or had not survived: if Jeff now wore the lightning and black and Sondra was another dull-eyed beauty in one of these camps. How many of those minds, some of them excellent ones, had already cracked and crumbled inside those beautiful bodies? With a little extra conditioning they all would, in time, just as he would under similar conditions.

"It hurts to think. . . ."

What a terribly dehumanizing, damning statement that was!

Spirit, too, was able to figure out basically what was going on and she, too, felt depressed. She had not seen Sondra, but she had not liked leaving Jeff, knowing that it was a spell and not he who had struck her, but she'd seen little she could do for him there and she had decided that if Mervyn felt helpless, she certainly was. The first step in undoing this terrible wrong was to get the wizard back into Flux.

That proved difficult even when the familiar reddish fog curtain was in front of them, for the area was strung with barbed wire and patrolled on foot and horseback. It was a two days' walk skulking about in the dark and without food before there was any kind of a gap, and it wasn't much of one. This was a point, though, where there was only a token fence and for half of the time a lone sentry patrolled. Spirit, too, understood the chance and knew they couldn't walk much more in this area before either collapsing from hunger or being discovered, and she tried hard to get an idea across to him. It took him a very long time, but he finally got it.

There were two sentries, but they came from opposite directions. It was supposed that they were to meet each other at this point, then pivot and meet another at the other, but the fact was that those chosen for this dull duty were neither the best nor the brightest of the troops, and first one would make the point, turn, and march back, then the other would come. At a point most of the way to the turn, Mervyn clutched Spirit's hand, then got up and walked boldly up to the sentry. He was filthy, still stark naked, and smelled. The sentry spotted him. stopped, but so did he. Finally the soldier broke from his line and came over to him.

"I am commanded to report in, sir." he croaked, stand¬ing as straight as possible.

"How the hell did you get all this way without . . . ?" the sentry started, but then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned quickly, rifle coming down. It was not quick enough. Spirit leaped and kicked him as hard as her powerful leg could right in the balls. He went down with a scream of horrible pain, and they wasted no time in running for the void. Spirit actually grabbing his hand and pulling him to run faster than he believed he could. There were shouts and curses behind them, a ran¬dom couple of shots were fired, but suddenly they were enveloped in the wonderful silence and monotony of the void.

Instantly, it was like having been struck blind, deaf, and dumb and having your sight, hearing, and speech come back in a rush. He was in his element once more, and he had power again. Behind him, a small company of soldiers on horseback came into Flux, obviously in pursuit. The five men were suddenly struck by a blinding beam and toppled from their horses, but the unconscious forms hit¬ting the ground were all those of naked Fluxgirls.

Spirit laughed, and hugged and kissed him. She could not be transformed, but he would not be stopped. Instantly he was a centaur with full saddle and even safety rails, and he lowered his hindquarters so she could mount and ride. She didn't like the idea, but as she had at the start, she forced herself to do it.

Inside the basket-like saddle appeared a great variety of wonderful and familiar fresh fruit, which she tried simply to settle herself. She was feeling a little dizzy and sick from the ride, though, and would wait before the feast. Mervyn no longer required such things; he drew what he required from Flux, as always, and continued onward with a speed that was even more inhuman than his form. He had a string in moments and from its color and shape and texture read exactly where he was. He was forty kilometers northeast of Anchor Logh, and less than twenty from his temporary hideaway. Spirit's navigation had been on the mark indeed.

Still, he scouted and checked when he reached the Fluxland shield to make certain that it was as he'd left it and designed it. Only certain people could make it in. and he knew that he'd have to take two of them off the list as soon as possible.

Satisfied that at least he could fight any potential enemy within, he entered. It was small and crude by Pericles' standards, but it was all he had right now—a few small stone buildings, some grass and fruit trees and a little water. It was enough—for the present—although most of his records and artwork would have to be unpacked and probably recataloged.

He let Spirit down, then changed back, not to his old man form but to the form of the younger, virile man he'd become, now neat, clean, well-groomed, and wearing the purple and gold of a master sorcerer. Spirit smiled and nodded approvingly, then looked past him, gasped, and ran behind him. Mervyn turned and saw a familiar figure now being smothered with kisses and hugs. Finally the man was able to free himself and look over at Mervyn.

"You look pretty good for an old man." said Matson. "What took you so long?"

"And so," Matson concluded. "I suddenly figured I'd be a fool to go in there looking for what used to be Pericles, without maps, landmarks, or anything except a gate compass, particularly when I couldn't be sure what anybody even looked or thought like anymore. There I was in Anchor Logh. and to the north was still Flux, so I figured I'd just find a stringer lineman, send off my report as best I could, then come and wait for you here."

"I'm very sorry about Jeff and Sondra. but, damn it, I wouldn't have made it without Spirit, and there was sim¬ply nothing else I could do at the time."

"Not your fault. I can't do much about Jeff. I'm afraid, but I think I can pull Sondra out of there given enough time. The old man likes me a lot, I think, and from now on he'll need every outsider he knows to stay friendly, if you know what I mean."

Mervyn nodded. "I've already sent out messengers. I expect we're going to have the first true summit meeting of Flux and Anchor since the Concordat was signed years ago, and with nothing predetermined. Those fools! I warned them about New Eden, but they wouldn't listen. Now our worst fears are realized."

"Worse than you thought, I bet—and worse than you think."

"How's that'.'"

"I think Dr. Sligh's discovered wireless transmission. He's got enough potential power there just from water to give a broadcast station the capacity to blanket the whole damned planet, and enough Anchor area now to get a real firm signal that'll punch through Flux like a knife through butter. I don't know if the Seven know it yet, but there's no way of keeping it from 'em and Sligh'll build that thing simply to give instant transmission throughout his whole cluster. I'll try to talk Tilghman out of it. but the fact is he's so blinded by his visions he can't see the enemy at his throat. I think we better load up and get set, Mervyn. I think there's no way now to prevent those Gates from being triggered—by wireless remote control. Maybe not this year, or next, but you and me and a lot of other folks are gonna find out who's right about what's on the other side."

"Then it is even more imperative that New Eden, all of it, must fall."

"If it's possible. This isn't any big Fluxlord, remember— it's all Anchor now, and these boys are the world's great¬est experts at Anchor fighting and they have the weapons that took three other Anchors and secured a cluster. If you don't think Tilghman and Champion aren't ready for it, you're still underestimating them."

"And you're still going back?"

Matson sighed. "I have to. if only to try to save Sondra's neck. Also, this place has possibilities. I think it's gonna be the easiest area to defend when the Gates come open, and I think Tilghman's ready to listen on that score. Also, bet on them pretty well evacuating the An¬chors as much as possible and moving their main centers inland fast. It's their best defense. With their limited manpower, the Guild's in the best position to contract to service the new areas they're gonna build." He shrugged. "Don't look so shocked. We do business with just as bad, always have. And maybe we can dampen down that broad¬cast scheme a little. Gates open, Gates not open—somebody from the Guild's got to be there to represent our point of view and our interests."

He got up to leave, then stopped, turned, and reached into his pocket, removing a small cube which he bounced like a the on the table. Mervyn just stared at it.

"I hope you can duplicate that exactly," Matson said. "That there's your precious Toby Haller journal, and I think I can sneak it back into the old boy's library if you can."

Mervyn stood up and stared at the cube in wonder. "Toby Haller's journal . . . . You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

He picked it up and looked as it as if it were some magical jewel. "This is a service I can never repay. Perhaps it will have the answers. Perhaps it will make the difference."

"You can make a copy?"

"Easily, although by more conventional means than magic. You're leaving right away?"

"Tomorrow. No sense wasting time with a daughter at stake."

"It will be read, printed out, and duplicated tonight, I swear."

Matson nodded. "Much obliged. Make two printouts and I can read it before I leave if it's not too long. I'm kind of curious myself." He paused a moment. "Uh, Mervyn?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for saving Spirit."

The wizard shook his head and sighed. "No, that's not necessary. In more ways than one, it was Spirit who saved me."

14

TOBY HALLER'S JOURNAL

The device produced a book of several hundred very large pages. What was surprising about it was that the thing was handwritten, in very small, close script that was not very easy to read. Apparently it had been kept entirely in longhand, and then simply photographed onto the record¬ing slate to preserve it.

Much of it was illegible, and there were large gaps, and often great events took only a line or so, while he went on and on about mundane matters that were of no conse¬quence to anyone alive these past twenty-five hundred or so years. But when fitted in with what Mervyn already knew, it painted a stunning picture.

March 28, 2117: Talley ho! We're finally on our way! Four bloody years shot to hell on Titan, which once bore a strong resemblance to our little project but now is less akin than Spitsbergen is to Nassau, but now it's going to pay off. At .8 light speed it takes almost no time to get to the Borelli Point, even though it's halfway to the stars.