The Season of Passage Read online

  Two days after the turn in the battle, the Asurians poured from the mountains onto the desert, running for the bridge Kratine had opened by his magic arts, trying to escape. Again and again Janier brought the fire, catching many of the enemy, yet allowing many more to pass beyond the range of her fire.

  It was at the beginning of the desert that Janier halted her troops, remembering Chaneen's warning that Kratine might come forth to lead his army. For a moment she felt uncertain. But as she scanned the horizon, she saw no sign of the Asurian King, only signs of victory. Once more she called upon the Fire Messenger, melting the few unfortunate beasts that struggled behind their comrades. The sun was bright in the sky. Her power felt unwavering. Urging her warriors forward, she resolved to allow none to escape.

  Another two days passed. Finally Janier reached the bridge that led to Asure. The sand before it was burned black from her bolts of flame. The bridge appeared to her eyes as a span of impenetrable shadow, stretching across a bottomless gorge. Her endurance and the strength of her warriors had not wavered with the great distance they had come, and now behind them lay the ashes of the bulk of the enemy. Still, she knew many Asurians had crossed over the bridge. She thought of how those that had escaped would breed once more, and form yet another army. She also thought of Tier, possibly alive on the other side of the bridge.

  Janier summoned her people and stepped boldly onto the bridge. However, there she hesitated once more, filled with sudden doubt. She was no fool. Why had Kratine left the bridge open, she asked herself? She was wary of a trick. Plus she had not forgotten what Chaneen had said about how the Fire Messenger would depart if she left her own land.

  Janier studied her warriors, trying to come to a decision. Those who had survived this long were the strongest, she knew, a brave people. They were not like Chaneen.

  Janier still could not understand how her sister, with the power to save them all, had stayed hidden in the Garden and allowed so many to die. Chaneen may have been wise, Janier thought, but she was also a coward. She was not like Rankar, or Tier, or herself. And what did it matter if Chaneen was right and the Fire Messenger did desert her when she crossed over into Asure? Janier had been a fighter long before the Fire Messenger came into her arm, and her warriors were brave, and their swords were sharp. There couldn't be much left of the Asurian army, she thought. They would fall easily, and perhaps afterward she would be able to rescue her husband.

  'See their foolishness!' Janier called, standing upon the threshold of Asure. 'They were so afraid of us that they forgot to take down their bridge. 'She stepped forward. 'Come, let us put a final end to Asure and its people.'

  Janier and her warriors crossed over the bridge.

  Sitting alone by the waters of her palace, Chaneen slumped to the ground. She felt the Fire Messenger leave, and the bond between her and Janier break.

  SEVENTEEN

  The Gorbachev looked dead.

  Mars was waning. Against the backdrop of the darkening globe, the Russian ship shimmered like a spot of mercury deposited on bloody canvas. It was two miles away and drifting without weight-bestowing spin. That meant Carl Bensk had no up or down, and that Was a bad sign.

  Lauren floated inside the Nova's main airlock with Gary. Jim was over at the Gorbachev and trying to get inside the locked front hatch. He had been there four hours; a long time in a space suit. Jim thought the lock on the Gorbachev's airlock might be broken. Bill believed the Russians had given them the wrong code. "Bill also suspected that the Gorbachev was booby-trapped. That is why the Gorbachev was two miles from the Nova and not two hundred feet.

  'I wish we could help Jim somehow,' Lauren said.

  'If Jim can't trip that lock, nobody can,' Gary said. 'I just hope the damn thing doesn't blow up.'

  'You don't think Bill's right, do you?' Lauren asked. Cooperation between the U.S. and Russia was at an all-time high. Missiles were down, visas were up - Lauren didn't see why so many people still saw Russia as an enemy. It annoyed her.

  'No, I wasn't being serious,' Gary said. 'Bill's just

  paranoid. That's what makes the military mind. Don't worry, Lori.'

  From a speaker in the corner of their airlock, Jim said, 'Now I know how Gandalf felt at the gates of Moria.'

  'Who?' Lauren said.

  'The wizard in The Lord of the Rings, I Gary said matter-of-factly.

  'Have you made any progress, Professor?' Bill asked from the Nova's control room.

  'I've figured out what kind of lock this is.' Jim chuckled. 'A Timetrex - they're made in the U.S. Imagine that. Give me another few minutes, Bill. I think I'm onto something.'

  'How much air do you have left?' Commander Brent asked.

  'An hour.'

  There was a pause. Lauren could imagine Bill closing his eyes as he often did when considering. Finally she heard him say, 'If you have not penetrated the lock within twenty minutes, retreat into space a few yards, set your laser on low power, and melt the lock away.'

  'Drastic measures,' Lauren muttered.

  Gary nodded. 'The military mind.'

  Jim mastered the forbidden gates ten minutes later. When the president had scribbled down the secret code, Jim said, he had made one of his two's look like a three. Jim thought it was funny.

  Lauren and Gary put on their helmets and bled the air from the Nova's airlock. The door in front of them rifled open. Following Gary's lead, and an aura of ice crystals that twinkled about both their heads, Lauren pulled herself outside and gently shoved off the side of the Nova. Once clear of the ship and pointed in the direction of the Gorbachev, they fired the miniature jets of their jetpacks, which attached to them like a fold-out chair roped around

  their ribs. The acceleration was brief and when it was complete, Lauren had no sensation of motion. Yet quickly the Nova shrank as the Gorbachev grew. Lauren felt a sudden rush of power. She was like an angel who could move from star to star, she thought. Why, she could blot out the entire planet below just by raising her hand.

  But then Lauren remembered yesterday, when they had been forced to leave Mars before their time. They had in fact almost died at lift-off. Her illusion of grandeur crumbled. Perhaps another power commanded this red world, and perhaps its reach stretched as far as the Gorbachev. It was an unusual idea for Lauren to have. Then again, it was unusual for her to be falling through black space with no ship around her. Fear, faint but very real, touched her mind.

  The Gorbachev drifted into the shadow of Mars, almost vanishing. She and Gary began to brake. They had to circumvent the massive Russian cylinder to find Jim. He stood in a black and silent airlock on the far side. A faint blue light shone inside his helmet. He was grinning.

  'I always enjoy breaking into places,' Jim said.

  'How did you think to try a two instead?' Lauren asked.

  'Never forget the obvious. When Gandalf was trying to get into Moria, the eleven runes on the gate said, 'Say friend and enter.' Now Gandalf was learned in much ancient lore...'

  'Oh, no!' Lauren said. 'You're beginning to sound like Gary.'

  'Report!' Bill snapped from two miles away.

  We lost Lauren, but otherwise we're in good shape,' Gary said.

  'How is your air, Professor?' Bill asked.

  'Good for forty minutes,' Jim said.

  'Gary?' Bill said.

  'Yes?' Gary said.

  'Stay in the airlock,' Bill said.

  'What?' Gary said.

  'Give your laser to Lauren and remain in the airlock,' Bill said. 'I am making a slight change in the program to minimize your personal risks.'

  'For Christ's sake,' Gary said. 'I travel halfway across the goddamn solar system to see what's inside this ship, and now you tell me I can't go inside?'

  'Enough, Major,' Bill said. 'Time is short. Do as I say. Begin your exploration, Professor.'

  Jim pushed a series of buttons. The Gorbabev airlock door closed. The stars disappeared. Air flooded the compartment. Lauren consulted her instruments. The
temperature was just a tad below freezing, the air pressure normal. The Gorbachev's life support system seemed intact. Hope kindled in Lauren's chest. Perhaps Carl Bensk was still alive, after all.

  'Take this, Lori,' Gary said. He handed her his laser.

  'If Carl's alive,' Jim said, 'he'll need a doctor, not a hole in his chest.'

  'Take the laser, Lauren,' Bill ordered.

  'Yes, sir,' Lauren said.

  'Goodbye, Gary,' Jim said. 'We should be back soon. We'll keep in constant communication.'

  'See that you do,' Bill said.

  Gary squeezed Lauren's arm. 'Take care of yourself, Doc'

  'Yes,' she said, uneasy. She would have preferred to have Gary by her side.

  Lauren and Jim left Gary in the airlock and floated down a long dark tunnel towards the silent heart of the Gorbachev. Her hope that Carl was still alive began to fade quickly. All the lights were out. She gripped her flashlight

  and adjusted the lamp on her helmet. She felt the way she had when, as a little girl, she had explored a giant sewer beneath the city. She had been afraid then, and she began to feel afraid now. Jim spoke in whispers, and so did she, as if they were walking past a graveyard in the middle of night. Careful, Lori, don't wake the dead.

  They came to the end of the tunnel, where it split into four different shafts that led to the rim of the stationary wheel. The cosmonauts had once lived in the rim. Surrounding the black shafts were silent computer banks. They were debating which shaft to take, when Bill came in over their headsets. Concerned about Jim's diminishing air supply, he wanted to hasten their preliminary investigation. He told them to divide. Jim was to study the computer banks and try to locate Carl's last log entries, while she was to proceed down one of the shafts and explore the living quarters. Bill told her to stay alert and not be afraid to use her weapon if anyone jumped at her. She could worry about the consequences later, he said. He must have been joking.

  Alone, Lauren moved toward the rim. The Gorbachev was massive, it had four times the tonnage of the Nova. Lauren had studied its diagrams, but nothing had prepared her for the real thing. Floating down the shaft, she felt as if she were descending through a secret passageway into a pharaoh's tomb. She just hoped she didn't find any mummies.

  The shaft took Lauren into what appeared to be the sleeping quarters. There were a number of beds all unmade, but no one was resting under the sheets. The floor curved away in both directions. Whichever way she chose would take her back to where she began. Or so she hoped. She decided to go to the right, and slipped through a narrow doorway. The lamp atop her helmet bobbed slowly

  up and down, making her slightly dizzy. She asked Jim a question just to hear his voice. Her heartbeat was louder than his answer. But it wasn't as if she felt in any danger. There was just Jim and her inside this ship and that was it. Sure, Lori.

  Lauren moved into the combination gym and sick bay. An exercise machine stood on her left. Needle packs floated in the air on her right. Using the walls, she pulled herself gently forward. The silence seemed to echo wherever she touched. Yet it wasn't as if she heard anything. That was just the point. The silence was so oppressive it seemed to speak to her. We are here, Lori. You just can't see us.

  A recreation room followed. Someone had been enjoying a game of cards. They floated past her faceplate; the queen of hearts and the jack of clubs winking in the beam of her light. A sense of horrible loss tightened her throat. Original paintings hung on the walls, of places green and bright. She remembered that Commander Dmitri Maximov had been an artist. She picked up a painting of an elegant lady - his wife. Mrs Maximov would probably be sitting in front of the TV this very second waiting to hear what the brave American astronauts discovered aboard her husband's ghost ship. I'm sorry, they would have to say. There is nothing here. Nothing.

  Lauren launched herself toward the next door, but her attention was still with Dmitri's work, and she pushed too hard. She hit the ceiling straight on. The shock of the collision reverberated through her whole body. The room went black. She had shattered her head lamp and dropped her flashlight. Only she didn't know that right away. All she knew was that it was black, black as a place under the ground that had been covered with cold mud. She tried to call for help and her cry gagged in her throat. She felt as if she were being smothered, and no, she wasn't afraid. Not at all. She was terrified.

  Yes, Lori.

  Taking slow deep breaths, Lauren tried to calm herself. By chance her hand stumbled across the flashlight, and she flipped it back on. She didn't know why it had gone off in the first place, yet she wasn't about to fight with it. The returning light was reassuring. She was reminded of a campfire Jennifer had once built when they had gone camping in the woods, in the days before they knew Terry. It was a windy night, and the trees were swaying like huge beasts. But the moment the flames burst to life under Jennifer's special care, the forest seemed friendly. Jennifer always loved a good fire.

  Lauren noticed that Carl had closed all the portholes. She wondered why. The only thing outside was Mars. The sight of it must have got to him, she thought.

  Lauren moved cautiously through the next door. Immediately her vision blurred. Something akin to baking flour or powdered soap had splashed onto her faceplate. She wiped it away and found that her hands were trembling. A bathroom lay open on her left. She stuck her head in and then jumped back in fright. Instantly she felt silly. She had jumped at her own reflection. Like most bathrooms, this one contained a mirror. Only this mirror was cracked, which was OK, as long as there were no Martians inside it. Yeah, right, that made sense.

  Love me, Lori.

  Lauren whirled, bringing her laser to bear. Someone had spoken at her back, she could have sworn they had. But her beam of light said there was no one there. She was getting spooked, she thought. She had to relax. She tried taking deep breaths, but they just made her feel lightheaded. Shaking, she moved to enter the control room. However,

  as she turned, a second glob of gook splashed her faceplate, almost cutting off her vision. Again she wiped with her hands. But this stuff did not come off easily. It was wet and sticky.

  It was sticky and dark.

  At the back of her mind, a warning bell went off.

  'Jim!' Lauren cried in horror.

  Her helmet was covered with blood.

  Lauren pushed instinctively back, trying to escape. Of course the blood followed her; it was stuck to her helmet. She lost her balance and went into a spin. Her leg smacked a second floating puddle, a much larger one, and suddenly the room was filled with bloody spray. The strength went out of her. She dropped her laser, her flashlight. Voices screamed in her head. They screamed for her love.

  'Help,' she moaned weakly. 'Please help me.'

  She toppled in mad circles, going from no place to nowhere. Nausea swelled in her stomach as her last meal pushed up her throat. Quickly she clamped down on her guts. She knew if she vomited, she would have to pull off her helmet, and then she would have to breathe Carl's air, and drink his blood.

  Finally her hand latched onto something solid, and she was able to stop her mad spin. She caught sight of her flashlight; it circled above her head like a broken siren, warning of an emergency that was two years over with. Moments later she had the light in hand. She had almost caught her breath, and was on the verge of responding to the frantic calls of her companions, when things went bad again, so bad it almost cracked her mind in two pieces.

  No, no, no, Jesus. Take it away!

  Hanging in space, only inches from her face, was a disembodied eye. A single eye that had been gouged from its socket. It trailed wisps of red muscle and nerves. It sported a pupil that was so dilated it could have been an open window into a hell of despair. Naturally, it was staring at her. It liked her. It floated a little closer to have a better look at her. Such a pretty girl, with such warm blood in her veins.

  Lauren tried to move away, but her body was like a rubber band that had snapped, and no longer worked. She w
as in a dream, running from the unseen monster that was getting closer and closer. She was in the nightmare of all nightmares, where the Martians partied on goblets of red wine. A toast to Lori, they said. May her veins fill our glasses soon.

  Soon, Lori.

  In what was left of her mind, Lauren realized her doom was certain. The eye had seen her; it knew where to find her. Voices screamed in her headset. They spoke in Russian. They spoke of love. But she was not through for the night, oh no. There was one more ride to go on. It was sure to please.

  Bad things always came from bad things. It made sense that the eye had come from somewhere. Lauren bumped into something soft and giving.

  Carl Bensk was strapped tightly in his chair, his pale hands locked in a painful clench, his hollow eye sockets holes into madness. Someone had sliced open his neck with a broken piece of mirror, revealing his carotid artery and a mess of gross tissue. The someone had undoubtedly been Carl himself. The piece of cracked mirror was still jammed in his flesh, as if death had come too swiftly for him to remove it. Yet Lauren didn't really believe that. She knew Carl's end had not come quickly, or easily. Engraved in his face were hard lines of insanity. It was as if he had witnessed a horror so unimaginable and overwhelming that even death had been unable to erase the memory.

  Yes, Lori, it was bad. It was so bad it got to be good.

  Carl was happy now, though. He was very happy. His obscene grin was ample testament to the secret knowledge that had come to him at the expense of his wonderful experience. But what a small expense it was. A scratched throat, a little lost blood. It was nothing to cry about, not when you didn't have any eyes. Carl wanted her to know all about it. He was willing to explain. Yes, Lori, come into my arms, and I will nibble on your ear, and whisper to you stories of love and hate. Of a sweetness so fine that your blood will boil with lust. Come Lori. Touch me. Lick me. Suck my wound. Make me come alive.

  Lauren vomited, and barely caught the vomit in her mouth. She closed her eyes and tried to swallow, and block out what she was seeing. But Carl continued to watch her, with eyes that pierced through all of space and time, and left her no place to hide.