Beyond the Shroud of the Universe (16 page)

“Ah, you’re awake,” Nightsong said. “Just in time, too.”

“Just in time for what?” Calvin asked. He turned his head to see Nightsong sitting at the table, with two Progenitor’s Rods in front of him. Being pinned to the bed cut down his ability to see anything further.

“You are just in time to see me take credit for the lousy job you did collecting symbols on your rod,” Nightsong replied.

“What do you mean, ‘lousy job?’”

“You only have two symbols, and I already had one of them. If you had the right two, I would be finished.”

“I’d like to say I’m sorry for not helping you more, but it wouldn’t be true.”

Nightsong shrugged. “Indeed. Well, no bother. At least I am able to get the symbol for Olympos without having to go to that godsforsaken planet. Of course, it is going to be difficult for
anyone
to get Olympos since you idiots put it into a black hole.” He paused and cocked his head, considering. “On second thought,” he added, “I guess I really should commend you Terrans for doing that. Now, I won’t have to worry about those meddling little pains in the ass.”

“What about your boss, Arges?”

“
He is not my boss!
” yelled Nightsong. “I am the rightful Thor of the Aesir,” he said in a more controlled tone. “I work for no one besides myself. Ours was nothing more than a business arrangement.”

“A business arrangement? I thought he caught you and forced you to work for him.”

“He did
not
force me to do anything! I
chose
to work
with
him, so he could supply me with the things I needed for my plans.”

“Okay, if that’s how you want to remember it,” Calvin replied with a shrug, although being bound to the bed lessened the motion somewhat.

One side of Nightsong’s lips quirked upward in a half-smile. “I see what you’re doing,” he said, nodding. “You’re trying to make me angry. Perhaps you hope I will accidentally kill you quickly. Maybe you hope I will make a mistake of some other kind, allowing you to escape. Maybe I’ll even tell you my plan.” The half-smile grew into a full smile. “It won’t happen. I have waited far too long for this. And trust me, your death will be a long time coming. You won’t die until I am completely ready for it; my nanobots will simply not allow it to be otherwise.” He chuckled. “No, you aren’t going to die quickly or easily. Prepare yourself for pain…a
lot
of pain.”

He turned back to the table and picked up one of the Progenitor’s Rods and inspected it closely. “Yes, you did a lousy job, but at least you have one of the symbols I need. That’s better than being completely worthless, I guess. Only one more, and I will get the prize.”

“What is the prize?”

“No one knows,” Nightsong admitted, “but I am going to be the first to complete the task and find out. I suspect it is access to the Progenitors’ technology…which I will use to completely wipe out the Jotunn. Whatever the prize is, it will be interesting. Too bad you won’t be around to see it.”

Nightsong picked up the other rod and brought the two of them together. Both glowed red, and Calvin could feel a hum that increased in intensity until Nightsong pushed a button on one of the rods.  He set both onto the table and stepped back. One lost its glow; the other lost its form, disintegrating into a pile of ash.

“You have done that before,” Calvin noted.

“Indeed.”

“Why did you set it down? Would it disintegrate your hand as well?”

“I do not know,” Nightsong conceded, “nor do I intend to find out.”

Nightsong picked up the remaining rod and examined it. “One more to go,” he said to himself. He set the rod down gently on the table after brushing the ash off with a sweep of his hand. Nightsong watched the dust fall to the floor, then turned with a smile. “Now, about you…”

“It’s just over dis hill,” Umar said. After sending his wife and two small children to the Terran Universe with some of their valuables where they would be safer, if not exactly “safe,” Umar had agreed to help the platoon collect the metal they were looking for. Although relatively poor, his family had almost a pound of the metal, mainly in his wife’s necklaces. After the Terrans secured the metal in a vacuum box, he agreed to lead them to the neighboring farms.

“Incoming from the east!” Gunnery Sergeant Stasik yelled.

Lieutenant O’Leary turned to see a fireball streaking across the sky in their direction. “Down!” he ordered, and the platoon threw themselves off the path. Moving over 10 times the speed of sound, the round struck several miles behind the platoon with the kinetic energy equivalent of over 120 tons of TNT, tossing the soldiers around as the ground shook.

“Dude,” Sergeant Austin ‘Good Twin’ Gordon said, watching the mushroom cloud rise over the farm they had just left “these guys are
seriously
against technology.”

Bright, flashing lights pulled Calvin from his dream of roaring down a valley in his F-18 fighter. Reality was considerably less enjoyable, and he wondered if he could fall back asleep. He decided additional rest was unlikely; his whole body ached from being strapped to the bed.

“Ah, good to see you’re awake,” Nightsong said from Calvin’s right; “it’s almost time to start.”

“Start what?” Calvin asked, rolling as far as he could in that direction. Nightsong had been busy while Calvin was unconscious; a new workbench filled most of the space between the bed and the wall, with a number of unfamiliar devices resting upon it. The flashing lights were from the machines as they fulfilled some aspect of their programming.

“The capture of your soul, of course,” Nightsong said. “Why else would I have brought you here?”

“To play a really bad practical joke on me before letting me go?” Calvin asked.

“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor yet,” Nightsong replied. “We’ll see how long that takes. Usually, it occurs somewhere during either the third or fourth day. I’ll bet you make it to the fourth. No one lasts throughout the fifth.”

“What happens on the fifth day?”

“That’s when I cut you open to see what makes you tick. That process usually leaves the prospect somewhat worse for wear…and far less jovial.”

Umar looked at the two small bracelets and shrugged. “We’re poor farmers,” he said. “Most of us ain’t got but just a little. If’n you really want to get a whole bunch of it, you should go into town and rob the bank. Our money is based on this metal, and every bank has gotta keep some in their vaults in case someone wants it.”

“Why are you only telling us about this now?” Lieutenant O’Leary asked.

“Well, shit,” Umar replied. “If’n you go an’ steal all of it from the bank, what’s our money going to be worth? If’n the bank ain’t got the metal, our money ain’t got the value either, you know?”

“Won’t the Efreet or someone from your government bring in more to replace it?”

“‘Dem bastards? They’d as soon as let us rot as help us out. If’n we want our money to have value again, all of us have got to contribute some of what we got. In my case, I ain’t got none of it no more; I’ve done given it all to you.”

“What do your taxes go for, if not to provide services when needed?” Lieutenant Contreras asked.

“Our taxes?” Umar spat. “Our taxes go toward not waking up with one of ‘dem ‘mushroom cloud’ things rising from the remains of your farm,” Umar replied. “Ya’ know? Like the one ‘dat destroyed my farm after you bastards came?”

“We are sorry about your farm,” Lieutenant Contreras replied, “and about any inconvenience we have caused you. We will make it up to you as soon as we are able. It is the only honorable thing to do.”

“In the meantime,” Lieutenant O’Leary interjected, “this bank of yours seems like the fastest way for us to accomplish our task and get you reunited with your family. If you lead us to the bank, I will do everything in my power to restore whatever we take from the bank, once we have the ability to do so.”

“Ya’ give me your word on ‘dat?”

“My word as an officer of the Terran Space Marines,” Lieutenant O’Leary replied.

The man spat on the ground again. “Ain’t got no reason to trust no damn soldiers,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d take your word as a man, though.”

O’Leary looked him in the eyes. “I will do everything I am able to bring back your money.”

“Fair ‘nuff,” Umar replied. “Least ways, it’s as good as I’m likely to get.”

Nightsong attached the wire lead to Calvin. It joined nine others leading back to the machinery on the table.

“What are the wires for?” Calvin asked.

“Monitoring.”

“Monitoring what?”

“Most are for monitoring your vital signs,” Nightsong replied. “Can’t have you dying too soon.” He looked up. “You know, you ask a lot of questions.”

“Well, I’d kind of like to know what you plan to do to me.”

Nightsong smiled, but there was no humor in the expression. “Are you
really
sure you want to know what I’m going to do to you?” he asked. “I would bet money you do not. Still…if you want to know, I will tell you.”

“Yeah, I want to know,” Calvin replied.

“Well, it’s your funeral,” Nightsong said with a shrug. “Literally. Just remember, I warned you.” He pointed to one of the wire leads. “Most of the wires are for monitoring your vital signs. This one is different.” He pointed to a second wire. “So is this one.”

Nightsong turned back to the equipment on the workbench, humming to himself.

After a long pause, Calvin couldn’t take it any longer. “So what do those two wires do?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Nightsong replied. “They complete the electrical circuit to this machine right here.” He patted one of the boxes, then looked at his watch. “Well look at that,” he said; “it’s time to begin.” He threw a switch and electricity coursed through Calvin’s body.

Calvin screamed until he passed out.

Lieutenant O'Leary eased over the crest of the hill so he could see into the small town on the plain below. Calling it a town was an overstatement; it was no more than four blocks in any direction.  Despite its size, the town was busy, with foot traffic and animal-drawn carts crowding its narrow passages. All the traffic was going to complicate things. “Which one is it?”

“Ya’ see the second street from the left?” Umar asked.

“Yeah.”

“Follow it up past two roads. It’s the blue building on the right.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Good, you see it, ‘den. ‘Dat is the other reason I didn't suggest it before. It is somewhat heavily guarded.”

“Somewhat?” Lieutenant O’Leary asked. “Security looks to be as tight as my first girlfriend’s...never mind.”

“See the cluster of buildings north of town?” Umar asked.

“Yeah,” O’Leary said. “They important?”

“Only if’n you are worried about more Efreet showin’ up. ‘Dat’s where ‘dey live.”

“That compound is almost half the size of the town,” Lieutenant Contreras said from the other side of Umar; “there’s got to be a bunch of the Efreet there.”

“Still think you want to try going ‘dere?” Umar asked.

“Not anymore,” O’Leary said. He could see guards at the door as well as roving patrols. “But we need the metal so we’re still going to have to try.”

“What do you think?” Lieutenant Contreras asked. “Overwhelming force or stealth?”

Lieutenant O’Leary paused, considering, while he looked at the vista below. Finally, he turned to Umar and asked, “Do you think the Efreet would blow up an entire town, including their own people, to stop us?”

Umar made a face. It didn’t take a Sila expert to guess that he considered O’Leary’s question the height of stupidity. “Would da’ lizards blow up a town to stop technology? Yeah. Faster than a hinn can run.”

“What’s a hinn?” Lieutenant Contreras asked.

“See ‘dose things ‘dat some of the patrolling lizards have on leashes?” asked Umar. “‘Dose are hinn.”

“They look like dogs,” Lieutenant Contreras said.

“Well, I don’t know what a ‘dog’ is,” said Umar, “but I know a hinn when I see it. ’Dey ain’t very smart, but ‘dey are
fast
and can smell you a long way off.”

“We need to get in there without the alarm being raised,” Lieutenant O’Leary said, “and then get back out again. We can all jump back to our universe, but I’d rather not have the Efreet destroy the town.”

“‘Dere’s gonna be punishment for anything you do to the lizards,” Umar warned.

“But what will they do if their soldiers just vanish?”