"FULL MOON S_F_ - RORN (Part 1 - The Chessmen of Rorn) (Steve Worth)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Worth Steve)
FULL MOON S.F. - RORN (Part 1 - The Chessmen of Rorn) (Steve Worth)
RORN
Part 1 - The Chessmen Of Rorn
Steve Worth
Stormont sent the sim-men on ahead, while he and Shader hid in the
shadows, behind the cluster of rocks at the far side of the glittering
plain that separated the hilly lands from the Stronghold. Stormont watched
through the binoculars as the sim-men crept forward, each one a bundle of
energy mocked up to look like a human figure. He realised that they glowed
faintly in the half-light of the plain.
"The Multiple Man, within our grasp at last," Shader crowed. "If we can
get our hands on him, we may find out where Rorn is skulking."
"Skulking?" Stormont enquired mildly. "I'd hardly call it skulking when
he controls half the Galaxy - a good proportion of it wrested from
mankind."
Shader nodded, a scowl on his dark features. "True enough," he
conceded, "but he doesn't give us a chance. He hides away, letting his
pawns do all the work. Why, we don't even know what he looks like. All we
have to go on are vague rumours and a few mocking curses spat at us by
various henchmen that we've run down, before they suicided."
Stormont nodded. "Yes, it's a pity about that," he said wryly. "That's
why we must get the Multiple Man, alive."
"The sim-men are almost at the Stronghold walls," Shader muttered,
tension evident in his tone.
"Getting inside is another thing, though," Stormont pointed out, "and
capturing the Multiple Man alive yet another. He's one of the trickiest
we've come across yet. I've searched for two years to track him down here
and now I've got him run to earth I don't intend to miss the chance."
As he spoke he saw that the first of the sim-men had reached the base
of the Multiple Man's stronghold. Fearsome walls of energy now loomed
before them, glittering, pulsing walls that stretched up towards the sky.
The first of the sim-men put out a hand and touched the wall. A blue flash
seared across the glittering plain and the sim-man's image vanished.
"Too much for him," Shader cursed.
Stormont nodded. "I thought it would be," he said. "I didn't imagine
that our quarry would be imperfectly defended. Still, at least that tells
us the precise strain that those walls are capable of taking."
Shader looked interested. "And what is it?" he enquired. Stormont
scratched his chin. "We could hurl a small asteroid at them and they'd
hold," he stated. "We haven't the equipment to move anything larger. We'd
burn out Ship's power source. I'd like to send back to base for a bigger
ship, but by the time that it arrived our friend in there might have
something else cooked up."
A silence settled.
"So ...?" Shader enquired at last.
"So force is out," Stormont said. "We'll have to use cunning."
His companion looked decidedly unhappy. "Well, a surprise attack is
out," he muttered. "The Multiple Man certainly knows that we're here by
now."
"I'd be most disappointed in him if he didn't," Stormont agreed.
"Still, I'll try a feint. Set the sim-men up for an attack. Maximum
strength. Who knows, we might even get through if his defences fail at a
critical moment."
Shader spat into the dust. "If," he said ironically. "That's a little
word, but it means a helluva lot." He glanced around nervously. "Aren't we
a little near if there's going to be a fight. I'd feel safer back with
Ship."
Stormont flipped a switch on the armband of his suit.
"Ship," he called, "do you hear me?"
"Yes, ," a voice crackled back. "What do you wish?"
"There's going to be a battle over by the Stronghold," Stormont said.
"Get aloft, ready to cover us in case of trouble."
"Very well, " Ship replied. A moment later, there was a vague rumble in
the distance and a silvery shape appeared over the horizon. It leapt
towards them with astonishing swiftness and stopped directly overhead.
"All right?" it queried.
"Fine," Stormont said. "Would you care to start things off for us,
Ship?"
"Just tell me what you want done," Ship said. Stormont thought that he
detected a note of excitement in its voice that shouldn't have been there
by rights. Still, at a time like this a little enthusiasm might be
welcome. Just as long as it didn't get out of hand.
"Fire a bolt at the lower north wall," Stormont ordered, adjusting his
flare- goggles. "Maximum strength, but be careful and watch out for
retaliatory measures."
"You've got it," Ship said. It shot off towards the Stronghold. Down,
down it swooped, becoming a long silvery blur against the deep blue of the
planet's sky. Just as it seemed that it must crash into the forcewall of
the Multiple Man's stronghold it swerved, banking sharply, at a rate of Gs
that no human being could have withstood, even in an acceleration field.
The manoeuvre was over so swiftly that to Stormont's watching eyes it all
merged into one fantastic blur. He did, however, see the flaming violet
bolt of energy that Ship loosed just before it swept past the Stronghold
walls. The energy projectile splashed against the barrier of force in a
crackling, coruscating display of fire and conflicting energies. For just
a second, that portion of the Stronghold wall dulled, as if the defences
were about to give way, but then they brightened again. A strong smell of
ozone hung above the glittering plain. "Damn, we almost had him then,"
Shader cursed.
"Never mind," muttered Stormont. "Now we'll send in the sim-men, on a
mass attack. I'm hoping that the Multiple Man will take them for real
human beings."
"His instruments will tell him the truth," Shader said unhappily.
"The sim-men are supposed to be able to fool any instrument yet
devised," Stormont corrected. "Let's hope that our friend in there hasn't
devised a few more." He depressed a second button on his armband.
At the electronic signal the simulated men moved forward en masse, over
two hundred of them, fearsome creatures of energy mocked up to look like
flesh and bone, blood and sinew. Stormont watched them carefully as they
reached the shadows at the base of the Stronghold.
"If he's going to try anything it should come about now," the agent
stated, peering at the glowing Stronghold.
Even as Stormont spoke the first of the Multiple Man's defences came
into operation. But it was not directed against the cluster of sim-men,
huddled at the base of the wall. Instead, a red flame leapt from the
highest rampart of the castle and flashed upwards into the sky at the
speed of light, until it vanished across the horizon.
"He's sent one after Ship," Shader muttered.
"It is all right," Ship's voice crackled over Stormont's receiver. "He
missed me by a mile. He'll have to be quicker than that."
"Return to us," Stormont rapped. "Hover. We might have to get out
quickly if things go awry."
As the ship complied, Stormont's attention was diverted by a new
development at the Stronghold. The line of sim-men were clustering
together at the base of the walls when thin beams of white light flickered
amongst them. What happened next might have been amusing had the agents
not been in the process of hunting down a deadly enemy. As the beams
touched the energy bundles that were the sim-men a grim wrestling match
ensued. The white beams seemed to possess a life of their own as they
grappled with the energy men. Together they rolled about on the plain
before the Stronghold, a flickering, flaring mass. Occasionally a sim-man
lost out to the ravening forces opposing him and his body appeared to
implode as its energy was absorbed by the beam. In other conflicts the
sim-men were the winners and the energy beams paled to nothingness as the
forces that drove them were neutralised. On balance the sim-men seemed to
be winning more fights than they lost, but it was a costly victory.
Slowly, steadfastly, they inched their way towards the entrance to the
Multiple Man's stronghold.
Inside that colossal edifice of force there was a vast auditorium.
Three hundred feet high and a quarter of a mile in radius, it took up
nearly half the volume of the entire Stronghold. Seats, in banks and
tiers, stretched around the circumference of the huge hall, thousands of
seats, tens of thousands. Every one of the seats was filled.
Looking around the hall, at the serried ranks of gathered faces, one
might first have likened them to a waiting audience at some colossal rally
back on Earth. Then a nagging doubt would have entered the observer's mind
as he studied the faces more closely, passing quickly from one set of
features to the next, until at last he would have been unable to avoid the
incredible conclusion. Every one of those faces was the same!
These thousands of faces, thousands of bodies, were the Multiple Man.
Each of the strangely convoluted brains inside the thousands of skulls was
linked to the others telepathically to form a weird gestalt mind. Yet this
creature was but one of a Galaxy- wide network of agents, pawns of the
cosmic intelligence that mankind knew only as Rorn. The Multiple Man,
mighty as he was, was only a key to the stranger secret of the forces
opposing humanity, and now he was annoyed. Annoyed and worried!
There was a vast sucking noise as each of the Multiple Man's thousands
of bodies drew in a sharp breath simultaneously. The messenger of Rorn had
arrived! In the centre of the open space at the middle of the auditorium
hung a quivering globe of yellow light. A beam shot out from the globe and
swept the gathering.
"What news?" it asked, though it did not speak audibly, nor make any
sign. Nor did it employ telepathy. It simply communicated as though it
were plugged directly into the Multiple Man's gestalt brain.
A rumbling arose from the Multiple Man. "None that is good," he
conceded. "My latest estimate is that the agents will break through in
less than an hour."
"Then?" queried the globe.
"Then I shall have to try and fight a guerrilla battle in the halls of
my Stronghold. My chances of success are only forty per cent."
"So that the likely result will be your disorganisation?"
(Did a shudder run through the Multiple Man's ten thousand bodies?)
"Yes," he replied.
"I will tell Rorn," the globe communicated. The discussion was at an
end. There was no question of the Multiple Man requesting aid in his
fight. Each of Rorn's agents fought their own battles and won or lost by
their own endeavours. There was no other way that it could be.
The yellow globe departed. It seemed to implode, although its departure
did not take place in the space-time continuum as we know it. In fact the
implosion took place in a space six dimensions higher than those which we
know. Nevertheless, it left, and the Multiple Man was in sole control of
his Stronghold once more. If he was victorious in his fight then he would
notify Rorn's messenger of the fact. If he lost, then Rorn would still
know. Rorn knew everything that went on in the Galaxy. Naturally!
Stormont nibbled uneasily at his lower lip as the sim-men blasted away
at the walls of the Stronghold. One sim-man at a time wasn't able to
penetrate the energy barrier - that much had been proven earlier.
Therefore, the agent was utilising a new technique. Fifteen sim-men flowed
into one another and the energy contained in the body that was thus formed
mounted to a tremendous level. The 'supersim' radiated energy like a
glowing sun. The very heat of it caused Shader to cry out and duck back
into the shadow of the rocks. It lit up the plains like an arc light. This
dreadful apparition moved towards the Stronghold.
As it neared the walls, flickering swathes of energy tore themselves
free from the base of the Stronghold and licked towards the sim-being.
Stormont sucked in his breath sharply in surprise. This was unexpected.
For some reason the Multiple Man had reversed the polarity of his energy
barrier. It was now negatively charged, as opposed to the positive charge
of his energy being. Unlike poles attract! No wonder the energy walls were
tearing themselves apart in their efforts to get to his sim-man. But of
what help could that be to the Multiple Man? He was merely destroying his
own defences. Unless ...
Then everything seemed to happen at once. From above the hovering
ship's voice came down uneasily. "I ..." it began. There was no time for
more.
When two powerful energy sources meet there can be only one result.
Each tries to neutralise the other. If they are powerful enough they will
both fail in this objective. Then their energy has to be liberated in some
other way. Some exceedingly violent way.
Stormont covered his eyes in an agonised reflex as lashing streamers of
violet flame arced between his creation and the energy barriers of the
Stronghold. Where they met, the sort of conditions prevailed that exist in
the heart of supernovae. Energies, heat, gravitational forces powerful
enough to stress the fabric of space itself. As Stormont cowered in awe,
unable to comprehend the terrible event, unaware of the sleeting energies
that were boiling the flesh from his very bones, he felt a wrenching
through his entire frame. Everything abruptly went black. But, in the
moment before he lost consciousness entirely he saw/sensed something
uncanny. As if the Universe and all its physical laws had ceased to exist
on the Multiple Man's world and ... that was all.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Stormont sat up in bed, wincing as he did so. Bandages swathed his
limbs and healing compresses were forcestrapped to his cheeks and hands.
The salve took away most of the pain, but when one had been through an
experience of the sort that Stormont had barely survived, the mere memory
of it was sufficient to activate the body's pain centres. The agent stared
up at the grave face of his superior.
"How do you feel?" the older, moustached, man enquired.
Stormont winced. "I'll survive," he muttered. "How's Shader?"
"He came out of it better than you," the other said. "He was protected
to a greater degree by the outcrop of rock. He'll be up and about in a few
days."
"And Ship?" queried Stormont.
The old man chuckled. "Oh, that's okay. The hull was blistered a bit,
but it had its mechanical wits about it. It got the hell out of there,
taking you two with it, and only just in time."
Stormont blinked. "Yes, that's been puzzling me," he admitted. "Just
how did Ship get us away? What happened on the Multiple Man's planet?
Before I blanked out I had the feeling that something very strange was
going on."
"It was," his chief agreed. "You had the dubious privilege of
witnessing an event that no man has seen at first-hand before. Let me
explain. We've pieced together what happened from Ship's log. When you
merged the sim-men the Multiple Man realised that it was only a matter of
time before his wails went down before the power of the 'supersim'. Rather
than be captured alive he decided that if he was going to be destroyed,
he'd at least take you with him. So he reversed the polarity of his force
walls, making them opposite in charge to your simulated being. The two
energies attracted each other, naturally, and where they met in the
middle, with nowhere else to go, they generated forces sufficient to
stress the fabric of space-time itself. It was that stressing that you
must have sensed just before Ship dragged you out of danger. A fraction of
a second after you'd gone the Multiple Man's sun, together with its entire
system, collapsed into a neutron star. It's still there, emitting neutrons
like goddamit, just twelve miles in diameter but with the mass of twenty
suns."
Stormont whistled soundlessly. "It almost had my mass added to it as
well," he muttered. "But you still haven't told me just how Ship did get
us out."
"It was a chance in a million," the other man replied. "It computed
what was going to happen when the energies met. From its memory banks it
had the complete theoretical information on how to make a stressed space
jump. You may recall the theory; it was worked out centuries ago. It
postulates that, in the vicinity of a supernova a violently stressed area
of space is formed, from which it should be possible to 'short-circuit'
the normal Universe, via a higher dimension of space and make an
instantaneous transition to another part of the Galaxy. The theory was
well established, but no-one had ever had an energy source powerful enough
to try it out for real. Luckily for all of you it worked, but Ship was
only just in time."
"So Ship jumped, taking us along?"
"Yes. He hooked onto the two of you with a force beam and made the jump
to a point just about a mile above this base. It was a bit of a shock,
when he turned up out of the blue, dangling you two like puppets on a
string. You were in pretty bad shape, too. We rushed you to this hospital,
and Ship to the yards and now all three of you are well on the way to
recovery."
Stormont nodded. "Yes, but we lost the chance of another link in the
chain leading to Rorn."
"Well, if that's true at least you've done no worse than all the others
who've gone before you. You have stopped the activities of one of Rorn's
agents and we're not sure that the link has been entirely broken."
Stormont scowled. "But the Multiple Man is dead, compressed into the
heart of a billion degree neutron star."
"True, but just before the collapse Ship detected the passage of -
something - we're not quite sure exactly what. It left the Multiple Man's
Stronghold and - travelled - in some way that we're not quite sure of, to
a point hundreds of light years away. Ship was only able to detect it by
the ripples its passage set up in the fabric of space. Its destination was
the Splintered Suns cluster."
"The Splintered Suns, eh?" Stormont echoed. "That might explain quite a
few things."
"Such as why the last dozen ships sent out to explore that region have
failed to return. Yes, it might well explain that. And that's why, when
all three of you are returned to one hundred per cent fitness I want you
to proceed at full speed to the Splintered Suns and investigate any
peculiarities that you might find there."
"Putting our heads into a noose, eh?" Stormont muttered. "Still, I can
see that it's the only thing to do in the circumstances.''
The other man nodded. "Yes, and at least you are forewarned. You know
that you'll have Rorn, or his minions, to deal with. Still, you'll have
Ship for company."
"After the way that he saved us from the Multiple Man's trap, that's
more than a comfort, Stormont agreed. "It's a necessity. He's a real part
of the team from now on." He hardly realised that he had stopped referring
to Ship as 'it'.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Rorn brooded. He/she/it had nothing else to do. It was Rorn's whole
existence. To say that he/she/it was perturbed by the demise of the
Multiple Man would be an exaggeration. That being had, after all, been
just one of an entire Galactic network of agents. Taken by itself, the
loss was infinitesimal. But it couldn't be taken by itself. It was part of
a long and painful cycle of losses. Rorn was growing - not impatient, not
anxious - but something in between. If only he/she/it could take a more
personal role in the battle; but that was impossible - inconceivable. No,
he/she/it would have to continue to rely on the agents that worked for
him/her/it throughout the Galaxy. Nevertheless they must be strengthened
in some way so that the losses were minimised. It required thought.
Rorn continued to brood.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The Splintered Suns grew in the visiplate. A wide cluster of
multi-coloured stars they spread across a span of thirty-five light years.
Stormont watched as the image swelled in the screen. Shader stood at his
side, eyes slitted, alert for trouble.
"How did they get the name of The Splintered Suns?" he enquired
casually.
"They formed part of what used to be a highly compact star cluster,"
Ship broke in before Stormont could reply. "However, some external
influence disturbed the fine gravitational balance of the cluster and its
members began to fly apart. Their proper motion is one of the largest
recorded in the known Galaxy."
"Now I wonder why a nicely balanced star cluster should suddenly go
haywire?" Shader wondered aloud. "Rorn, maybe?"
Stormont shrugged. "I doubt that even Rorn has the ability to shift
entire star clusters," he stated.
Ship broke in: "I would not be so sure of that. If their gravitational
balance was very critical it may have required only a relatively small
expenditure of energy to start them retreating from each other. Until we
know otherwise it might be as well to assume that Rorn has the power to do
many things that we would consider impossible."
Stormont looked sombre. "Yes. It would be better to overestimate the
opposition rather than underestimate it. Maybe that's the mistake that the
previous expeditions made."
Silence fell in the control room as Ship lunged on through space
towards the Splintered Suns.
As the image of the star cluster grew its components became
recognisable as separate star systems. Ship's voice came over the
intercom: "Where do you wish to set down?"
Stormont surveyed his charts on the screen. "How about that greenish
star towards the centre of the cluster?" he suggested. "What information
do we have regarding its planetary system?"
Ship's reply was instant. "Six planets, the second of which is
habitable by human standards. There is no reported indigenous life,
although, as no previous expedition has ever returned from this region
that fact is unconfirmed."
"We've got to take some risks," Stormont decided. "Set down on that
second planet in a reasonably open area; a large plain will do if you can
find one. Keep all your sensors fully activated and withdraw at once if
there is any sign of resistance. This is a situation where discretion is
definitely going to be the better part of valour. We're here primarily to
investigate and our report must make it back to base at all costs. Mind
you, if we can strike a blow for humanity at the same time we won't miss
the chance."
"Good," Shader grunted.
The green sun continued to swell in the visiplate until at last it
swept by to the right of the ship. The two human agents sensed that their
craft was decelerating violently, although in the contra-acceleration
fields there was no hint of the tremendous forces that were acting upon
them. A yellow-green planet began to grow ahead of them, first no more
than a coloured speck on the forward screens, then a tiny dot of light and
finally a mighty, glowing crescent swelling visibly with each passing
moment.
"I detect two large open areas on the planet's surface," Ship reported.
"There is what appears to be a desert in the northern hemisphere, situated
at the heart of the largest continent. Then there is a large flat area of
scrubland in the south, on that large island that you can see on the
cloud-free portion of the planet's face."
"Take us down into the scrub area," Stormont decided. "If there is any
life on this planet it's not likely to be in a desert area."
Shader scowled. "I thought that this planet was supposed to be
deserted."
Stormont shook his head. "We can't be sure. I think that it's highly
probable that Rorn has agents on this world somewhere. Let's face it -
it's the obvious place. The only habitable planet of the central sun in
this cluster."
Shader looked doubtful. "If Rorn's agents are here might it not be
better if we kept out of their way and landed in the desert?"
"Uh-huh. We're on a reconnaissance mission, don't forget. We're not
likely to find out what's going on if we're skulking away and missing all
the action."
"Just as long as the action doesn't turn out to be something that we
can't handle," Shader grunted.
Ship lunged into the green world's atmosphere.
Stormont's first thoughts upon gazing out across the wilderness of
scrub was that the whole planet had an indefinable aura of alienness about
it. There were thorn scrub areas on Earth, but none that had the look of
this place. The green sky helped to give an effect of strangeness, but it
wasn't just that. Little things were wrong; things which, whilst
insignificant on their own, added up to a total that made him distinctly
uneasy. Shader walked across to join him.
"Spooky place," the agent commented laconically. Stormont found himself
amused at the other's calm. Obviously Shader was not as sensitive to the
planet's alien aura as he himself was.
He nodded. "That's putting it mildly."
"Well, what do we do now?" Shader wanted to know. "Sit and wait for
Rorn to strike first?"
"I don't see any point in doing that," Stormont said. "For one thing we
don't know for sure that Rorn has agents on this planet and, even if he
does, it'd be bad tactics to let him get the first blow in. I suggest that
we undertake a little reconnaissance."
Shader nodded. "Fine idea, but where do we start? It looks pretty
barren and equally so in all directions."
"Let's-take pot luck,"' Stormont suggested. He pulled a coin from his
pocket and flipped it into the air. "Heads we go north, tails we go
south."
"And if it lands on its edge I suppose we go east and west at the same
time," Shader commented. He leant over and stared at the coin as it
tinkled to the floor. "Heads," he grunted.
"Then it's northward, ho," Stormont stated. "We'll go in the ground
car. We can see more from that than we would from the ship. Not that I
think there'll be a lot to see but at least it will break the monotony."
He stared towards the ceiling. "Ship."
"Yes," the reply came at once.
"Track us all the time. We'll report in every thirty minutes. If you
don't get a call, or you see anything that you think might present a
danger to us, come in on the double."
"Understood," Ship replied.
Stormont smiled slowly, pleased at the prospect of action after the
long journey. "Let's eat," he suggested to Shader, "and set out on a full
stomach."
"Great idea," his fellow agent agreed. They waited for Ship to serve up
the meal.
Appetites satisfied, the two agents were rolling across the scrubland
in the hovacar an hour later. Shader peered through a pair of binoculars
towards the far horizon. He shook his head in disgust.
"Nothing!"
Stormont smiled at his companion's impatience. "That may be no bad
thing," he said. "Rorn's a dangerous adversary."
Shader snorted. "Huh! Then our trip out to the Splintered Suns will
have been for nothing."'
"You're too impatient," Stormont rebuked him. "We've only covered a
fraction of this one area as yet. Even if Rorn has no agents here they may
be elsewhere, either on this world or another. At any rate I doubt that
Rorn would have a base right out in the open - it's more likely to be
underground."
"Then these binoculars will be no good," Shader cursed.
"Keep looking anyway," Stormont advised. "You can never be sure. If the
base is underground the detectors will sniff it out. I've had them on ever
since we left Ship."
Shader subsided somewhat. He glanced at his watch. "Isn't it about time
we gave Ship a call?"
Stormont nodded towards the instrument panel. "The timer's set for an
alarm each thirty minutes." As he spoke, a dull ringing chimed through the
cabin. "You weren't far wrong at that," he congratulated his companion.
"That's our half-hour up." He flicked the switch of his communicator.
"Ship?"
"Yes?"
"All okay so far. No signs as yet. We'll keep in touch."
"Very well. Good hunting."
Stormont grinned as he broke the connection. Sometimes that ship was
almost human. Further thought was denied him as Shader clutched at his
arm, peering intently at the horizon.
"Look!" he hissed. "What's that?"
Stormont peered through the windshield. A dark speck on the horizon
caught his eye. It looked vaguely unnatural. "Use high power on the
binoculars," he instructed Shader.
The other agent raised the glasses to his eyes. "Yes," he muttered. "I
see it better now. It's definitely an artificial structure of some kind.
It looks almost like one of those old Sun-God temples from Earth's ancient
eras."
"Maybe this planet has got an auchtocthonous culture after all,"
Stormont mused. "Our surveys were inconclusive, remember, for none of our
expeditions returned."
"I doubt that a culture that was advanced enough to wipe out our
expeditions would be building temples," Shader pointed out grimly. "This
smacks of Rorn to me. Remember, something or other was tracked back to
this cluster from the Multiple Man's Stronghold."
Stormont nodded. "If this is Rorn's work we'd better proceed with
caution," he stated. "It would be a great help if we knew who or what Rorn
really is."
"That is something that we may never know," Shader said
pessimistically.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Rorn considered. Events were moving fast. He/she/it was not used to
such speed. He/she/it preferred the leisurely pace of his/her/its own
life. Nevertheless, the action to be taken must be appropriate and in this
instance the pattern of the conflict was not being laid down by Rorn
him/her/itself. That was what perturbed him/her/it most of all; it was a
galling sensation to realise that you were responding like a puppet to the
stimuli of others. However, in this conflict there was no other way; the
end result could be his/her/its death, or continued life.
Rorn considered further.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The building was impressive. From a distance of a hundred yards it
stood alone in the thorn scrub. No roads led to its doors; nothing in the
way of transport stood at its portals.
It stood alone in its immensity, alone and enigmatic.
Shader fingered his blaster. "It looks deserted."
"Looks can deceive," Stormont muttered. "But there's only one way to
find out." He flipped on his communicator. "Ship?"
"Yes? It is trouble? It is only twenty-two minutes since your last
call."
"We're not sure. We're outside some kind of temple out here in the
scrub. The co- ordinates are -" and he rapped off a string of figures.
"We're going to investigate. You'd better keep a look out for us in case
of trouble, but from a safe distance."
"Yes," Ship agreed. "You are going in?"
"Yes. In full armour. But even that won't protect us against anything
really advanced and if this building is Rorn's work, I can't imagine that
it will be defended with peashooters."
"I will keep my sensors fully activated," Ship promised.
"Good," said Stormont. He broke the connection and turned to his fellow
agent. "Armour on. I've a feeling that we may need it."
Fully kitted out in the bulky space armour that would protect them
against anything less lethal than a fusion blast, the two agents drove
their vehicle up to the gates of the temple. It stretched high above them,
its mighty towers and pinnacles seeming to scratch the sky.
"No primitive culture built this," Shader hissed.
"Well, we can't take the 'car any further," Stormont said, unhappily.
"It's a case of legging it from here on in and on foot we're twice as
vulnerable."
Lumbering along, hampered by their bulky outfits the two agents made
their way into the colossal structure. They found themselves in a vast
anteroom from which corridors branched off in all directions.
Shader gazed around. "Which way?"
Stormont gestured across the huge hall. "Let's keep straight on,
towards the interior. If this place is inhabited it would seem logical
that whoever lives here would be towards the centre, in the most easily
defended part of the building."
"Hmm. True enough," Shader agreed. "In which case it might be prudent
for us to go in the opposite direction."
Stormont grinned. "Chicken?"
Shader grunted contemptuously. "I just like to have some idea of what
it is that I'm up against. Nevertheless, lead on - I'm right behind you."
They passed across the impressive chamber, alert all the while for a
sneak attack from the flank or the rear, but none came. Stormont led the
way down a long, dimly lit corridor. It seemed to stretch for mile after
mile, although reason dictated that since the temple was only half a mile
wide the corridor could not possibly be longer. It seemed, however, that
ten miles at least were behind them when the passage at last curved
slightly to reveal a heavy door a few yards before them.
"Oho," Shader muttered. "I think that whatever we're after must be
behind that door."
"Always assuming, of course, that we took the correct corridor,"
Stormont observed.
"Optimist!"
"Well, I'm not taking any chances," Stormont decided. He lifted his
blaster and sent a jet of fire streaming along the corridor. It hit the
door fair and square, dissolving it into acrid smoke that drifted back
past them, filling the corridor.
"Let's get in there quick," Stormont muttered, lumbering forward at the
resultant opening, Shader hard at his heels.
The agents plunged through the still smouldering gap that Stormont's
blaster had left. They entered another vast chamber, the smoke from the
dissolved door still swirling around their helmets. Suddenly, Stormont
felt his feet fly out from under him and a coarse cry from behind told him
that Shader had suffered a similar fate. He hung, suspended. Gradually,
the smoke drifted away.
"A zero-gee field," Shader cursed, "and we ran right into it like rats
in a trap."
"Yes," a sibilant voice hissed from below them. "Like rats in a trap."
Stormont writhed around so that he could see beneath him. He caught his
breath as he saw the figures below. There were six of them, huddled in a
tight cluster. But that was not what had startled him - it was their
faces. All six were exactly the same!
"The Multiple Man!" he cursed.
The multiple personality nodded its heads. "Yes," it stated, "or, at
least, what is left of me." A tinge of regret entered its voice.
Shader blinked. "But you were destroyed. You're nothing but a mass of
compressed atoms in the heart of a neutron star."
"The rest of me, yes," the Multiple Man confirmed. "But these six units
of my personality remained here in the Splintered Suns as liaison between
my home planet and Rorn and hence we survived. We guessed that you would
have tracked the message capsule to this cluster. At first we thought that
you, too, had perished in the collapse but when Rorn reported otherwise it
was an easy matter to track your ship here and, by means of subconscious
telepathic suggestion, steer you towards our little welcome. Now you will
be eradicated.''
"Why?" Stormont hissed. "Why this unceasing conflict? Why does Rorn
hate humanity so? Who is Rorn, anyway?"
"Since your destruction is so near it will do no harm to tell you these
things," the Multiple Man decided smugly. "You are wrong, you know. Rorn
does not hate humanity. Do you hate the germs that give you a cold? You
try to destroy them, yes, but you cannot hate the individual viruses. That
would be pointless."
"What is this nonsense?" Shader grunted.
"Wait, and you will see," the Multiple Man promised. "Now watch." The
centre of the vast room became misty, cloudy. Gradually, a picture formed
in that milky fog.
A fantastic cluster of gigantic suns hung in that cloud. Green suns,
red and searing blue. Then the viewpoint changed and the tremendous
cluster receded. Stars and planets shot past, vanishing into the dim
distance, until there were no more suns, only the terrible empty gulfs of
intergalactic space. The haze of suns receded still further, until they
merged into a vast lens-shaped blur, hanging, swollen and tremendous in
the black abyss surrounding it.
"The Galaxy," Stormont muttered. "The whole Galaxy." Something was
happening in that vast conglomeration of suns and planets. It pulsed with
an unearthly rhythm, a strange glow of ... life, Stormont decided, as a
shiver ran down his spine.
"That is Rorn, your arch-enemy," the Multiple Man said mockingly,
enjoying his triumph. "That is what you are up against."
"But ... You mean, the Galaxy is a living being?"
"Precisely. Think, what is it that enables your mind to function?
Nothing but the billions of connections between the cells of your brain.
Every sun of the Galaxy is a cell of Rorn's vast brain and all are linked
by impulses travelling on a higher level than any that your puny science
has yet to penetrate."
"So all of Rorn is one vast brain. But why is he fighting us? Why?"
"Fools. Are you so blind that you still cannot see? Your race -
humanity - is the only dangerous intelligent form of life in the Galaxy.
Just how the infection began it is impossible for Rorn to decide. It may
have been seeded by another Galaxy - one of Rorn's enemies. Be that as it
may, Rorn was unaware of it whilst it remained confined to one cell of his
brain - your own solar system. But then you began to spread outwards -
just as infection spreads through your own bodies; like a virulent cancer,
eating its way through the Galaxy. To Rorn that's just what you are. A
cancer. To fight you he must utilise creatures on your own level. After
all, you would not fight a disease virus with your fists. So Rorn fights
you with others like you - we are his vaccine. He has altered us from our
original human state and we fight for him. When our victory is complete we
will have a free run of his body - the Galaxy. But first, the infection
must be wiped from the stars. Your deaths will be one step in that
process."
But, as the Multiple Man spoke, a tremendous crash echoed through the
vast temple that was his link with Rorn; whose pinnacles and spires were
the telepathic antennae via which this strange, altered being communicated
with his Galactic master. Chunks of masonry tumbled down, falling past
Stormont and Shader as the zerogee field broke away. The agents began to
fall with the masonry but invisible fingers of force grabbed at them and
drew them upwards. As Stormont flew up he caught a last glimpse of the
Multiple Man, screaming curses at them and struggling to bring some vast
weapon to bear. Then both he and the weapon were gone, buried in a hail of
crashing rock. Soon, the Temple of Rorn was mere rubble.
"Ship?" muttered Stormont, as he caught a glimpse of the metallic shape
above them. "You've saved us again."
"At your service," the happy reply came.
Back aboard Ship, Stormont and Shader clambered out of their bulky
armour whilst the robot spacecraft explained how it had saved them.
"The bulk of the Temple's interior was underground," Ship stated. "The
tunnel that you followed sloped downwards slightly, so that the Multiple
Man's sanctum was several miles from the temple itself. I tracked you the
whole way and was about to move in and rescue you when you were trapped in
the zerogee field. Then that creature started spilling the beans about
Rorn so I decided to wait until he was finished. When it looked as if he
was going to kill you I blasted the roof in and grabbed you with a couple
of tractor beams."
"Good work," Stormont congratulated. "At least now we know what it is
we're up against."
"The entire Galaxy," Shader said quietly. "How can we hope to win a
battle against that?"
Stormont shook his head. "We can't. We must try and find some method of
communication - try and convince Rorn that we're not the threat he thinks
we are. In the meantime we'll have to try and fight a holding campaign.
Perhaps the powers that be back on Earth will have some better answers.
The chess game goes on. Let's get back to Earth and report."
Ship sped onwards, through the stars. The stars that somehow seemed now
to be alive with menacing purpose.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Rorn brooded. His/her/its latest protection had failed. The infection
was not stemmed. Still it spread. He/she/it considered the situation. What
could be done next? Further measures must be taken, that much was certain.
There must be a way ...
A new vaccine, maybe.
A stronger antiseptic.
GO TO THE
UPDATE INFORMATION PAGE
GO TO THE
STORY INDEX
|
FULL MOON S.F. - RORN (Part 1 - The Chessmen of Rorn) (Steve Worth)
RORN
Part 1 - The Chessmen Of Rorn
Steve Worth
Stormont sent the sim-men on ahead, while he and Shader hid in the
shadows, behind the cluster of rocks at the far side of the glittering
plain that separated the hilly lands from the Stronghold. Stormont watched
through the binoculars as the sim-men crept forward, each one a bundle of
energy mocked up to look like a human figure. He realised that they glowed
faintly in the half-light of the plain.
"The Multiple Man, within our grasp at last," Shader crowed. "If we can
get our hands on him, we may find out where Rorn is skulking."
"Skulking?" Stormont enquired mildly. "I'd hardly call it skulking when
he controls half the Galaxy - a good proportion of it wrested from
mankind."
Shader nodded, a scowl on his dark features. "True enough," he
conceded, "but he doesn't give us a chance. He hides away, letting his
pawns do all the work. Why, we don't even know what he looks like. All we
have to go on are vague rumours and a few mocking curses spat at us by
various henchmen that we've run down, before they suicided."
Stormont nodded. "Yes, it's a pity about that," he said wryly. "That's
why we must get the Multiple Man, alive."
"The sim-men are almost at the Stronghold walls," Shader muttered,
tension evident in his tone.
"Getting inside is another thing, though," Stormont pointed out, "and
capturing the Multiple Man alive yet another. He's one of the trickiest
we've come across yet. I've searched for two years to track him down here
and now I've got him run to earth I don't intend to miss the chance."
As he spoke he saw that the first of the sim-men had reached the base
of the Multiple Man's stronghold. Fearsome walls of energy now loomed
before them, glittering, pulsing walls that stretched up towards the sky.
The first of the sim-men put out a hand and touched the wall. A blue flash
seared across the glittering plain and the sim-man's image vanished.
"Too much for him," Shader cursed.
Stormont nodded. "I thought it would be," he said. "I didn't imagine
that our quarry would be imperfectly defended. Still, at least that tells
us the precise strain that those walls are capable of taking."
Shader looked interested. "And what is it?" he enquired. Stormont
scratched his chin. "We could hurl a small asteroid at them and they'd
hold," he stated. "We haven't the equipment to move anything larger. We'd
burn out Ship's power source. I'd like to send back to base for a bigger
ship, but by the time that it arrived our friend in there might have
something else cooked up."
A silence settled.
"So ...?" Shader enquired at last.
"So force is out," Stormont said. "We'll have to use cunning."
His companion looked decidedly unhappy. "Well, a surprise attack is
out," he muttered. "The Multiple Man certainly knows that we're here by
now."
"I'd be most disappointed in him if he didn't," Stormont agreed.
"Still, I'll try a feint. Set the sim-men up for an attack. Maximum
strength. Who knows, we might even get through if his defences fail at a
critical moment."
Shader spat into the dust. "If," he said ironically. "That's a little
word, but it means a helluva lot." He glanced around nervously. "Aren't we
a little near if there's going to be a fight. I'd feel safer back with
Ship."
Stormont flipped a switch on the armband of his suit.
"Ship," he called, "do you hear me?"
"Yes, ," a voice crackled back. "What do you wish?"
"There's going to be a battle over by the Stronghold," Stormont said.
"Get aloft, ready to cover us in case of trouble."
"Very well, " Ship replied. A moment later, there was a vague rumble in
the distance and a silvery shape appeared over the horizon. It leapt
towards them with astonishing swiftness and stopped directly overhead.
"All right?" it queried.
"Fine," Stormont said. "Would you care to start things off for us,
Ship?"
"Just tell me what you want done," Ship said. Stormont thought that he
detected a note of excitement in its voice that shouldn't have been there
by rights. Still, at a time like this a little enthusiasm might be
welcome. Just as long as it didn't get out of hand.
"Fire a bolt at the lower north wall," Stormont ordered, adjusting his
flare- goggles. "Maximum strength, but be careful and watch out for
retaliatory measures."
"You've got it," Ship said. It shot off towards the Stronghold. Down,
down it swooped, becoming a long silvery blur against the deep blue of the
planet's sky. Just as it seemed that it must crash into the forcewall of
the Multiple Man's stronghold it swerved, banking sharply, at a rate of Gs
that no human being could have withstood, even in an acceleration field.
The manoeuvre was over so swiftly that to Stormont's watching eyes it all
merged into one fantastic blur. He did, however, see the flaming violet
bolt of energy that Ship loosed just before it swept past the Stronghold
walls. The energy projectile splashed against the barrier of force in a
crackling, coruscating display of fire and conflicting energies. For just
a second, that portion of the Stronghold wall dulled, as if the defences
were about to give way, but then they brightened again. A strong smell of
ozone hung above the glittering plain. "Damn, we almost had him then,"
Shader cursed.
"Never mind," muttered Stormont. "Now we'll send in the sim-men, on a
mass attack. I'm hoping that the Multiple Man will take them for real
human beings."
"His instruments will tell him the truth," Shader said unhappily.
"The sim-men are supposed to be able to fool any instrument yet
devised," Stormont corrected. "Let's hope that our friend in there hasn't
devised a few more." He depressed a second button on his armband.
At the electronic signal the simulated men moved forward en masse, over
two hundred of them, fearsome creatures of energy mocked up to look like
flesh and bone, blood and sinew. Stormont watched them carefully as they
reached the shadows at the base of the Stronghold.
"If he's going to try anything it should come about now," the agent
stated, peering at the glowing Stronghold.
Even as Stormont spoke the first of the Multiple Man's defences came
into operation. But it was not directed against the cluster of sim-men,
huddled at the base of the wall. Instead, a red flame leapt from the
highest rampart of the castle and flashed upwards into the sky at the
speed of light, until it vanished across the horizon.
"He's sent one after Ship," Shader muttered.
"It is all right," Ship's voice crackled over Stormont's receiver. "He
missed me by a mile. He'll have to be quicker than that."
"Return to us," Stormont rapped. "Hover. We might have to get out
quickly if things go awry."
As the ship complied, Stormont's attention was diverted by a new
development at the Stronghold. The line of sim-men were clustering
together at the base of the walls when thin beams of white light flickered
amongst them. What happened next might have been amusing had the agents
not been in the process of hunting down a deadly enemy. As the beams
touched the energy bundles that were the sim-men a grim wrestling match
ensued. The white beams seemed to possess a life of their own as they
grappled with the energy men. Together they rolled about on the plain
before the Stronghold, a flickering, flaring mass. Occasionally a sim-man
lost out to the ravening forces opposing him and his body appeared to
implode as its energy was absorbed by the beam. In other conflicts the
sim-men were the winners and the energy beams paled to nothingness as the
forces that drove them were neutralised. On balance the sim-men seemed to
be winning more fights than they lost, but it was a costly victory.
Slowly, steadfastly, they inched their way towards the entrance to the
Multiple Man's stronghold.
Inside that colossal edifice of force there was a vast auditorium.
Three hundred feet high and a quarter of a mile in radius, it took up
nearly half the volume of the entire Stronghold. Seats, in banks and
tiers, stretched around the circumference of the huge hall, thousands of
seats, tens of thousands. Every one of the seats was filled.
Looking around the hall, at the serried ranks of gathered faces, one
might first have likened them to a waiting audience at some colossal rally
back on Earth. Then a nagging doubt would have entered the observer's mind
as he studied the faces more closely, passing quickly from one set of
features to the next, until at last he would have been unable to avoid the
incredible conclusion. Every one of those faces was the same!
These thousands of faces, thousands of bodies, were the Multiple Man.
Each of the strangely convoluted brains inside the thousands of skulls was
linked to the others telepathically to form a weird gestalt mind. Yet this
creature was but one of a Galaxy- wide network of agents, pawns of the
cosmic intelligence that mankind knew only as Rorn. The Multiple Man,
mighty as he was, was only a key to the stranger secret of the forces
opposing humanity, and now he was annoyed. Annoyed and worried!
There was a vast sucking noise as each of the Multiple Man's thousands
of bodies drew in a sharp breath simultaneously. The messenger of Rorn had
arrived! In the centre of the open space at the middle of the auditorium
hung a quivering globe of yellow light. A beam shot out from the globe and
swept the gathering.
"What news?" it asked, though it did not speak audibly, nor make any
sign. Nor did it employ telepathy. It simply communicated as though it
were plugged directly into the Multiple Man's gestalt brain.
A rumbling arose from the Multiple Man. "None that is good," he
conceded. "My latest estimate is that the agents will break through in
less than an hour."
"Then?" queried the globe.
"Then I shall have to try and fight a guerrilla battle in the halls of
my Stronghold. My chances of success are only forty per cent."
"So that the likely result will be your disorganisation?"
(Did a shudder run through the Multiple Man's ten thousand bodies?)
"Yes," he replied.
"I will tell Rorn," the globe communicated. The discussion was at an
end. There was no question of the Multiple Man requesting aid in his
fight. Each of Rorn's agents fought their own battles and won or lost by
their own endeavours. There was no other way that it could be.
The yellow globe departed. It seemed to implode, although its departure
did not take place in the space-time continuum as we know it. In fact the
implosion took place in a space six dimensions higher than those which we
know. Nevertheless, it left, and the Multiple Man was in sole control of
his Stronghold once more. If he was victorious in his fight then he would
notify Rorn's messenger of the fact. If he lost, then Rorn would still
know. Rorn knew everything that went on in the Galaxy. Naturally!
Stormont nibbled uneasily at his lower lip as the sim-men blasted away
at the walls of the Stronghold. One sim-man at a time wasn't able to
penetrate the energy barrier - that much had been proven earlier.
Therefore, the agent was utilising a new technique. Fifteen sim-men flowed
into one another and the energy contained in the body that was thus formed
mounted to a tremendous level. The 'supersim' radiated energy like a
glowing sun. The very heat of it caused Shader to cry out and duck back
into the shadow of the rocks. It lit up the plains like an arc light. This
dreadful apparition moved towards the Stronghold.
As it neared the walls, flickering swathes of energy tore themselves
free from the base of the Stronghold and licked towards the sim-being.
Stormont sucked in his breath sharply in surprise. This was unexpected.
For some reason the Multiple Man had reversed the polarity of his energy
barrier. It was now negatively charged, as opposed to the positive charge
of his energy being. Unlike poles attract! No wonder the energy walls were
tearing themselves apart in their efforts to get to his sim-man. But of
what help could that be to the Multiple Man? He was merely destroying his
own defences. Unless ...
Then everything seemed to happen at once. From above the hovering
ship's voice came down uneasily. "I ..." it began. There was no time for
more.
When two powerful energy sources meet there can be only one result.
Each tries to neutralise the other. If they are powerful enough they will
both fail in this objective. Then their energy has to be liberated in some
other way. Some exceedingly violent way.
Stormont covered his eyes in an agonised reflex as lashing streamers of
violet flame arced between his creation and the energy barriers of the
Stronghold. Where they met, the sort of conditions prevailed that exist in
the heart of supernovae. Energies, heat, gravitational forces powerful
enough to stress the fabric of space itself. As Stormont cowered in awe,
unable to comprehend the terrible event, unaware of the sleeting energies
that were boiling the flesh from his very bones, he felt a wrenching
through his entire frame. Everything abruptly went black. But, in the
moment before he lost consciousness entirely he saw/sensed something
uncanny. As if the Universe and all its physical laws had ceased to exist
on the Multiple Man's world and ... that was all.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Stormont sat up in bed, wincing as he did so. Bandages swathed his
limbs and healing compresses were forcestrapped to his cheeks and hands.
The salve took away most of the pain, but when one had been through an
experience of the sort that Stormont had barely survived, the mere memory
of it was sufficient to activate the body's pain centres. The agent stared
up at the grave face of his superior.
"How do you feel?" the older, moustached, man enquired.
Stormont winced. "I'll survive," he muttered. "How's Shader?"
"He came out of it better than you," the other said. "He was protected
to a greater degree by the outcrop of rock. He'll be up and about in a few
days."
"And Ship?" queried Stormont.
The old man chuckled. "Oh, that's okay. The hull was blistered a bit,
but it had its mechanical wits about it. It got the hell out of there,
taking you two with it, and only just in time."
Stormont blinked. "Yes, that's been puzzling me," he admitted. "Just
how did Ship get us away? What happened on the Multiple Man's planet?
Before I blanked out I had the feeling that something very strange was
going on."
"It was," his chief agreed. "You had the dubious privilege of
witnessing an event that no man has seen at first-hand before. Let me
explain. We've pieced together what happened from Ship's log. When you
merged the sim-men the Multiple Man realised that it was only a matter of
time before his wails went down before the power of the 'supersim'. Rather
than be captured alive he decided that if he was going to be destroyed,
he'd at least take you with him. So he reversed the polarity of his force
walls, making them opposite in charge to your simulated being. The two
energies attracted each other, naturally, and where they met in the
middle, with nowhere else to go, they generated forces sufficient to
stress the fabric of space-time itself. It was that stressing that you
must have sensed just before Ship dragged you out of danger. A fraction of
a second after you'd gone the Multiple Man's sun, together with its entire
system, collapsed into a neutron star. It's still there, emitting neutrons
like goddamit, just twelve miles in diameter but with the mass of twenty
suns."
Stormont whistled soundlessly. "It almost had my mass added to it as
well," he muttered. "But you still haven't told me just how Ship did get
us out."
"It was a chance in a million," the other man replied. "It computed
what was going to happen when the energies met. From its memory banks it
had the complete theoretical information on how to make a stressed space
jump. You may recall the theory; it was worked out centuries ago. It
postulates that, in the vicinity of a supernova a violently stressed area
of space is formed, from which it should be possible to 'short-circuit'
the normal Universe, via a higher dimension of space and make an
instantaneous transition to another part of the Galaxy. The theory was
well established, but no-one had ever had an energy source powerful enough
to try it out for real. Luckily for all of you it worked, but Ship was
only just in time."
"So Ship jumped, taking us along?"
"Yes. He hooked onto the two of you with a force beam and made the jump
to a point just about a mile above this base. It was a bit of a shock,
when he turned up out of the blue, dangling you two like puppets on a
string. You were in pretty bad shape, too. We rushed you to this hospital,
and Ship to the yards and now all three of you are well on the way to
recovery."
Stormont nodded. "Yes, but we lost the chance of another link in the
chain leading to Rorn."
"Well, if that's true at least you've done no worse than all the others
who've gone before you. You have stopped the activities of one of Rorn's
agents and we're not sure that the link has been entirely broken."
Stormont scowled. "But the Multiple Man is dead, compressed into the
heart of a billion degree neutron star."
"True, but just before the collapse Ship detected the passage of -
something - we're not quite sure exactly what. It left the Multiple Man's
Stronghold and - travelled - in some way that we're not quite sure of, to
a point hundreds of light years away. Ship was only able to detect it by
the ripples its passage set up in the fabric of space. Its destination was
the Splintered Suns cluster."
"The Splintered Suns, eh?" Stormont echoed. "That might explain quite a
few things."
"Such as why the last dozen ships sent out to explore that region have
failed to return. Yes, it might well explain that. And that's why, when
all three of you are returned to one hundred per cent fitness I want you
to proceed at full speed to the Splintered Suns and investigate any
peculiarities that you might find there."
"Putting our heads into a noose, eh?" Stormont muttered. "Still, I can
see that it's the only thing to do in the circumstances.''
The other man nodded. "Yes, and at least you are forewarned. You know
that you'll have Rorn, or his minions, to deal with. Still, you'll have
Ship for company."
"After the way that he saved us from the Multiple Man's trap, that's
more than a comfort, Stormont agreed. "It's a necessity. He's a real part
of the team from now on." He hardly realised that he had stopped referring
to Ship as 'it'.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Rorn brooded. He/she/it had nothing else to do. It was Rorn's whole
existence. To say that he/she/it was perturbed by the demise of the
Multiple Man would be an exaggeration. That being had, after all, been
just one of an entire Galactic network of agents. Taken by itself, the
loss was infinitesimal. But it couldn't be taken by itself. It was part of
a long and painful cycle of losses. Rorn was growing - not impatient, not
anxious - but something in between. If only he/she/it could take a more
personal role in the battle; but that was impossible - inconceivable. No,
he/she/it would have to continue to rely on the agents that worked for
him/her/it throughout the Galaxy. Nevertheless they must be strengthened
in some way so that the losses were minimised. It required thought.
Rorn continued to brood.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The Splintered Suns grew in the visiplate. A wide cluster of
multi-coloured stars they spread across a span of thirty-five light years.
Stormont watched as the image swelled in the screen. Shader stood at his
side, eyes slitted, alert for trouble.
"How did they get the name of The Splintered Suns?" he enquired
casually.
"They formed part of what used to be a highly compact star cluster,"
Ship broke in before Stormont could reply. "However, some external
influence disturbed the fine gravitational balance of the cluster and its
members began to fly apart. Their proper motion is one of the largest
recorded in the known Galaxy."
"Now I wonder why a nicely balanced star cluster should suddenly go
haywire?" Shader wondered aloud. "Rorn, maybe?"
Stormont shrugged. "I doubt that even Rorn has the ability to shift
entire star clusters," he stated.
Ship broke in: "I would not be so sure of that. If their gravitational
balance was very critical it may have required only a relatively small
expenditure of energy to start them retreating from each other. Until we
know otherwise it might be as well to assume that Rorn has the power to do
many things that we would consider impossible."
Stormont looked sombre. "Yes. It would be better to overestimate the
opposition rather than underestimate it. Maybe that's the mistake that the
previous expeditions made."
Silence fell in the control room as Ship lunged on through space
towards the Splintered Suns.
As the image of the star cluster grew its components became
recognisable as separate star systems. Ship's voice came over the
intercom: "Where do you wish to set down?"
Stormont surveyed his charts on the screen. "How about that greenish
star towards the centre of the cluster?" he suggested. "What information
do we have regarding its planetary system?"
Ship's reply was instant. "Six planets, the second of which is
habitable by human standards. There is no reported indigenous life,
although, as no previous expedition has ever returned from this region
that fact is unconfirmed."
"We've got to take some risks," Stormont decided. "Set down on that
second planet in a reasonably open area; a large plain will do if you can
find one. Keep all your sensors fully activated and withdraw at once if
there is any sign of resistance. This is a situation where discretion is
definitely going to be the better part of valour. We're here primarily to
investigate and our report must make it back to base at all costs. Mind
you, if we can strike a blow for humanity at the same time we won't miss
the chance."
"Good," Shader grunted.
The green sun continued to swell in the visiplate until at last it
swept by to the right of the ship. The two human agents sensed that their
craft was decelerating violently, although in the contra-acceleration
fields there was no hint of the tremendous forces that were acting upon
them. A yellow-green planet began to grow ahead of them, first no more
than a coloured speck on the forward screens, then a tiny dot of light and
finally a mighty, glowing crescent swelling visibly with each passing
moment.
"I detect two large open areas on the planet's surface," Ship reported.
"There is what appears to be a desert in the northern hemisphere, situated
at the heart of the largest continent. Then there is a large flat area of
scrubland in the south, on that large island that you can see on the
cloud-free portion of the planet's face."
"Take us down into the scrub area," Stormont decided. "If there is any
life on this planet it's not likely to be in a desert area."
Shader scowled. "I thought that this planet was supposed to be
deserted."
Stormont shook his head. "We can't be sure. I think that it's highly
probable that Rorn has agents on this world somewhere. Let's face it -
it's the obvious place. The only habitable planet of the central sun in
this cluster."
Shader looked doubtful. "If Rorn's agents are here might it not be
better if we kept out of their way and landed in the desert?"
"Uh-huh. We're on a reconnaissance mission, don't forget. We're not
likely to find out what's going on if we're skulking away and missing all
the action."
"Just as long as the action doesn't turn out to be something that we
can't handle," Shader grunted.
Ship lunged into the green world's atmosphere.
Stormont's first thoughts upon gazing out across the wilderness of
scrub was that the whole planet had an indefinable aura of alienness about
it. There were thorn scrub areas on Earth, but none that had the look of
this place. The green sky helped to give an effect of strangeness, but it
wasn't just that. Little things were wrong; things which, whilst
insignificant on their own, added up to a total that made him distinctly
uneasy. Shader walked across to join him.
"Spooky place," the agent commented laconically. Stormont found himself
amused at the other's calm. Obviously Shader was not as sensitive to the
planet's alien aura as he himself was.
He nodded. "That's putting it mildly."
"Well, what do we do now?" Shader wanted to know. "Sit and wait for
Rorn to strike first?"
"I don't see any point in doing that," Stormont said. "For one thing we
don't know for sure that Rorn has agents on this planet and, even if he
does, it'd be bad tactics to let him get the first blow in. I suggest that
we undertake a little reconnaissance."
Shader nodded. "Fine idea, but where do we start? It looks pretty
barren and equally so in all directions."
"Let's-take pot luck,"' Stormont suggested. He pulled a coin from his
pocket and flipped it into the air. "Heads we go north, tails we go
south."
"And if it lands on its edge I suppose we go east and west at the same
time," Shader commented. He leant over and stared at the coin as it
tinkled to the floor. "Heads," he grunted.
"Then it's northward, ho," Stormont stated. "We'll go in the ground
car. We can see more from that than we would from the ship. Not that I
think there'll be a lot to see but at least it will break the monotony."
He stared towards the ceiling. "Ship."
"Yes," the reply came at once.
"Track us all the time. We'll report in every thirty minutes. If you
don't get a call, or you see anything that you think might present a
danger to us, come in on the double."
"Understood," Ship replied.
Stormont smiled slowly, pleased at the prospect of action after the
long journey. "Let's eat," he suggested to Shader, "and set out on a full
stomach."
"Great idea," his fellow agent agreed. They waited for Ship to serve up
the meal.
Appetites satisfied, the two agents were rolling across the scrubland
in the hovacar an hour later. Shader peered through a pair of binoculars
towards the far horizon. He shook his head in disgust.
"Nothing!"
Stormont smiled at his companion's impatience. "That may be no bad
thing," he said. "Rorn's a dangerous adversary."
Shader snorted. "Huh! Then our trip out to the Splintered Suns will
have been for nothing."'
"You're too impatient," Stormont rebuked him. "We've only covered a
fraction of this one area as yet. Even if Rorn has no agents here they may
be elsewhere, either on this world or another. At any rate I doubt that
Rorn would have a base right out in the open - it's more likely to be
underground."
"Then these binoculars will be no good," Shader cursed.
"Keep looking anyway," Stormont advised. "You can never be sure. If the
base is underground the detectors will sniff it out. I've had them on ever
since we left Ship."
Shader subsided somewhat. He glanced at his watch. "Isn't it about time
we gave Ship a call?"
Stormont nodded towards the instrument panel. "The timer's set for an
alarm each thirty minutes." As he spoke, a dull ringing chimed through the
cabin. "You weren't far wrong at that," he congratulated his companion.
"That's our half-hour up." He flicked the switch of his communicator.
"Ship?"
"Yes?"
"All okay so far. No signs as yet. We'll keep in touch."
"Very well. Good hunting."
Stormont grinned as he broke the connection. Sometimes that ship was
almost human. Further thought was denied him as Shader clutched at his
arm, peering intently at the horizon.
"Look!" he hissed. "What's that?"
Stormont peered through the windshield. A dark speck on the horizon
caught his eye. It looked vaguely unnatural. "Use high power on the
binoculars," he instructed Shader.
The other agent raised the glasses to his eyes. "Yes," he muttered. "I
see it better now. It's definitely an artificial structure of some kind.
It looks almost like one of those old Sun-God temples from Earth's ancient
eras."
"Maybe this planet has got an auchtocthonous culture after all,"
Stormont mused. "Our surveys were inconclusive, remember, for none of our
expeditions returned."
"I doubt that a culture that was advanced enough to wipe out our
expeditions would be building temples," Shader pointed out grimly. "This
smacks of Rorn to me. Remember, something or other was tracked back to
this cluster from the Multiple Man's Stronghold."
Stormont nodded. "If this is Rorn's work we'd better proceed with
caution," he stated. "It would be a great help if we knew who or what Rorn
really is."
"That is something that we may never know," Shader said
pessimistically.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Rorn considered. Events were moving fast. He/she/it was not used to
such speed. He/she/it preferred the leisurely pace of his/her/its own
life. Nevertheless, the action to be taken must be appropriate and in this
instance the pattern of the conflict was not being laid down by Rorn
him/her/itself. That was what perturbed him/her/it most of all; it was a
galling sensation to realise that you were responding like a puppet to the
stimuli of others. However, in this conflict there was no other way; the
end result could be his/her/its death, or continued life.
Rorn considered further.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The building was impressive. From a distance of a hundred yards it
stood alone in the thorn scrub. No roads led to its doors; nothing in the
way of transport stood at its portals.
It stood alone in its immensity, alone and enigmatic.
Shader fingered his blaster. "It looks deserted."
"Looks can deceive," Stormont muttered. "But there's only one way to
find out." He flipped on his communicator. "Ship?"
"Yes? It is trouble? It is only twenty-two minutes since your last
call."
"We're not sure. We're outside some kind of temple out here in the
scrub. The co- ordinates are -" and he rapped off a string of figures.
"We're going to investigate. You'd better keep a look out for us in case
of trouble, but from a safe distance."
"Yes," Ship agreed. "You are going in?"
"Yes. In full armour. But even that won't protect us against anything
really advanced and if this building is Rorn's work, I can't imagine that
it will be defended with peashooters."
"I will keep my sensors fully activated," Ship promised.
"Good," said Stormont. He broke the connection and turned to his fellow
agent. "Armour on. I've a feeling that we may need it."
Fully kitted out in the bulky space armour that would protect them
against anything less lethal than a fusion blast, the two agents drove
their vehicle up to the gates of the temple. It stretched high above them,
its mighty towers and pinnacles seeming to scratch the sky.
"No primitive culture built this," Shader hissed.
"Well, we can't take the 'car any further," Stormont said, unhappily.
"It's a case of legging it from here on in and on foot we're twice as
vulnerable."
Lumbering along, hampered by their bulky outfits the two agents made
their way into the colossal structure. They found themselves in a vast
anteroom from which corridors branched off in all directions.
Shader gazed around. "Which way?"
Stormont gestured across the huge hall. "Let's keep straight on,
towards the interior. If this place is inhabited it would seem logical
that whoever lives here would be towards the centre, in the most easily
defended part of the building."
"Hmm. True enough," Shader agreed. "In which case it might be prudent
for us to go in the opposite direction."
Stormont grinned. "Chicken?"
Shader grunted contemptuously. "I just like to have some idea of what
it is that I'm up against. Nevertheless, lead on - I'm right behind you."
They passed across the impressive chamber, alert all the while for a
sneak attack from the flank or the rear, but none came. Stormont led the
way down a long, dimly lit corridor. It seemed to stretch for mile after
mile, although reason dictated that since the temple was only half a mile
wide the corridor could not possibly be longer. It seemed, however, that
ten miles at least were behind them when the passage at last curved
slightly to reveal a heavy door a few yards before them.
"Oho," Shader muttered. "I think that whatever we're after must be
behind that door."
"Always assuming, of course, that we took the correct corridor,"
Stormont observed.
"Optimist!"
"Well, I'm not taking any chances," Stormont decided. He lifted his
blaster and sent a jet of fire streaming along the corridor. It hit the
door fair and square, dissolving it into acrid smoke that drifted back
past them, filling the corridor.
"Let's get in there quick," Stormont muttered, lumbering forward at the
resultant opening, Shader hard at his heels.
The agents plunged through the still smouldering gap that Stormont's
blaster had left. They entered another vast chamber, the smoke from the
dissolved door still swirling around their helmets. Suddenly, Stormont
felt his feet fly out from under him and a coarse cry from behind told him
that Shader had suffered a similar fate. He hung, suspended. Gradually,
the smoke drifted away.
"A zero-gee field," Shader cursed, "and we ran right into it like rats
in a trap."
"Yes," a sibilant voice hissed from below them. "Like rats in a trap."
Stormont writhed around so that he could see beneath him. He caught his
breath as he saw the figures below. There were six of them, huddled in a
tight cluster. But that was not what had startled him - it was their
faces. All six were exactly the same!
"The Multiple Man!" he cursed.
The multiple personality nodded its heads. "Yes," it stated, "or, at
least, what is left of me." A tinge of regret entered its voice.
Shader blinked. "But you were destroyed. You're nothing but a mass of
compressed atoms in the heart of a neutron star."
"The rest of me, yes," the Multiple Man confirmed. "But these six units
of my personality remained here in the Splintered Suns as liaison between
my home planet and Rorn and hence we survived. We guessed that you would
have tracked the message capsule to this cluster. At first we thought that
you, too, had perished in the collapse but when Rorn reported otherwise it
was an easy matter to track your ship here and, by means of subconscious
telepathic suggestion, steer you towards our little welcome. Now you will
be eradicated.''
"Why?" Stormont hissed. "Why this unceasing conflict? Why does Rorn
hate humanity so? Who is Rorn, anyway?"
"Since your destruction is so near it will do no harm to tell you these
things," the Multiple Man decided smugly. "You are wrong, you know. Rorn
does not hate humanity. Do you hate the germs that give you a cold? You
try to destroy them, yes, but you cannot hate the individual viruses. That
would be pointless."
"What is this nonsense?" Shader grunted.
"Wait, and you will see," the Multiple Man promised. "Now watch." The
centre of the vast room became misty, cloudy. Gradually, a picture formed
in that milky fog.
A fantastic cluster of gigantic suns hung in that cloud. Green suns,
red and searing blue. Then the viewpoint changed and the tremendous
cluster receded. Stars and planets shot past, vanishing into the dim
distance, until there were no more suns, only the terrible empty gulfs of
intergalactic space. The haze of suns receded still further, until they
merged into a vast lens-shaped blur, hanging, swollen and tremendous in
the black abyss surrounding it.
"The Galaxy," Stormont muttered. "The whole Galaxy." Something was
happening in that vast conglomeration of suns and planets. It pulsed with
an unearthly rhythm, a strange glow of ... life, Stormont decided, as a
shiver ran down his spine.
"That is Rorn, your arch-enemy," the Multiple Man said mockingly,
enjoying his triumph. "That is what you are up against."
"But ... You mean, the Galaxy is a living being?"
"Precisely. Think, what is it that enables your mind to function?
Nothing but the billions of connections between the cells of your brain.
Every sun of the Galaxy is a cell of Rorn's vast brain and all are linked
by impulses travelling on a higher level than any that your puny science
has yet to penetrate."
"So all of Rorn is one vast brain. But why is he fighting us? Why?"
"Fools. Are you so blind that you still cannot see? Your race -
humanity - is the only dangerous intelligent form of life in the Galaxy.
Just how the infection began it is impossible for Rorn to decide. It may
have been seeded by another Galaxy - one of Rorn's enemies. Be that as it
may, Rorn was unaware of it whilst it remained confined to one cell of his
brain - your own solar system. But then you began to spread outwards -
just as infection spreads through your own bodies; like a virulent cancer,
eating its way through the Galaxy. To Rorn that's just what you are. A
cancer. To fight you he must utilise creatures on your own level. After
all, you would not fight a disease virus with your fists. So Rorn fights
you with others like you - we are his vaccine. He has altered us from our
original human state and we fight for him. When our victory is complete we
will have a free run of his body - the Galaxy. But first, the infection
must be wiped from the stars. Your deaths will be one step in that
process."
But, as the Multiple Man spoke, a tremendous crash echoed through the
vast temple that was his link with Rorn; whose pinnacles and spires were
the telepathic antennae via which this strange, altered being communicated
with his Galactic master. Chunks of masonry tumbled down, falling past
Stormont and Shader as the zerogee field broke away. The agents began to
fall with the masonry but invisible fingers of force grabbed at them and
drew them upwards. As Stormont flew up he caught a last glimpse of the
Multiple Man, screaming curses at them and struggling to bring some vast
weapon to bear. Then both he and the weapon were gone, buried in a hail of
crashing rock. Soon, the Temple of Rorn was mere rubble.
"Ship?" muttered Stormont, as he caught a glimpse of the metallic shape
above them. "You've saved us again."
"At your service," the happy reply came.
Back aboard Ship, Stormont and Shader clambered out of their bulky
armour whilst the robot spacecraft explained how it had saved them.
"The bulk of the Temple's interior was underground," Ship stated. "The
tunnel that you followed sloped downwards slightly, so that the Multiple
Man's sanctum was several miles from the temple itself. I tracked you the
whole way and was about to move in and rescue you when you were trapped in
the zerogee field. Then that creature started spilling the beans about
Rorn so I decided to wait until he was finished. When it looked as if he
was going to kill you I blasted the roof in and grabbed you with a couple
of tractor beams."
"Good work," Stormont congratulated. "At least now we know what it is
we're up against."
"The entire Galaxy," Shader said quietly. "How can we hope to win a
battle against that?"
Stormont shook his head. "We can't. We must try and find some method of
communication - try and convince Rorn that we're not the threat he thinks
we are. In the meantime we'll have to try and fight a holding campaign.
Perhaps the powers that be back on Earth will have some better answers.
The chess game goes on. Let's get back to Earth and report."
Ship sped onwards, through the stars. The stars that somehow seemed now
to be alive with menacing purpose.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Rorn brooded. His/her/its latest protection had failed. The infection
was not stemmed. Still it spread. He/she/it considered the situation. What
could be done next? Further measures must be taken, that much was certain.
There must be a way ...
A new vaccine, maybe.
A stronger antiseptic.
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