torg 03- The Nightmare Dream (26 page)

"But how can this be?" Tolwyn asked. "If Lady Ardinay won out, why has the land become dark and foul? Why is she joined with these invaders, taking world after world for some dark purpose?"

Gutterby shook his head sadly. "I cannot answer that, my lady," he said softly. "All I know is that something happened to the Lady of Light. She changed after that battle, but not in any way that we could point to. She is the same woman she always was. There is no corruption in her soul."

"I do not believe this," Tolwyn said. "The Pella Ardinay that I remember was against conquest and slavery. She believed in the ways of honor. What you describe is a soul twisted with corruption, no matter what you detect."

"Be that as it may," Gutterby assured her, "there is no mark of corruption upon Lady Ardinay's soul."

91

In the Soviet Union, Captain Nicolai Ondarev waited for the elevator that would take him to the secret offices far below the Kremlin. It had been long weeks since he had helped stop the invasion of his country, but he knew of the reports that continued to filter in from the United

States, Indonesia, and the Middle East. Great Britain and France were also experiencing strange happenings, and certain actions by the Japanese made him wonder about their role in all of this. But at least the Soviet Union was safe — for the time being.

The elevator car arrived and Ondarev entered its small interior. He used his key to access a stop not marked by any buttons, and the elevator started to drop. As it descended, he thought about his new role in the military. While to the general public he was still part of the armed forces, his true position was as director of a new branch of military science. He headed the Bureau of Psychic Research, now under the jurisdiction of the armed forces as opposed to the Party.

The elevator finished its descent and the doors slid open to reveal a nondescript reception area. The soldier behind the desk nodded at the captain, and Ondarev walked past him and into the complex proper.

A young boy, perhaps twelve years old, ran up to Ondarev as he entered. The boy's name was Piotr, and he was perhaps the Bureau's most promising find — aside from Nicolafs assistant director.

"Captain Ondarev, you must come quickly!" Piotr exclaimed, grabbing the soldier's hand firmly. "She has been calling for you for over three hours, and I am very worried about her."

"Take me to her, Piotr," Ondarev said gently.

The boy led him through corridors, past rooms where doctors worked with gifted individuals to test the extent of their burgeoning abilities. It was like the seeds had always been here, lying dormant beneath the soil until the sun's life-giving rays caressed them, until the rain water arrived for them to drink hungrily. Then the flowers of psychic power bloomed, and suddenly the

world was a very different place.

But the rain that started this explosion of growth was not cool, clear water that fell from pure white clouds. It was the foul water that fell from the black, bloated clouds of the storm that engulfed the Earth. And so the powers that appeared like gifts from beyond were growing under the dark pall of the storm they had named Torg, and that saddened the captain.

Piotr brought him to a closed door at the end of a long hall. The boy looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Help her," he said beseechingly.

"I will try," Ondarev answered.

The boy nodded, squeezed his hand once, then turned and ran back down the hall, leaving him alone outside the closed door. Ondarev turned to the door, wondering what was happening within that scared young Piotr so. He placed his hand upon the wood, then drew it back quickly, placing his hand in the hollow pit under his arm. The door was cold! So cold that it had burned him. Fear begin to prickle the back of his neck, raising small bumps that throbbed with sensation.

"Katrina?" he called, shouting her name through the door.

There was no answer.

Now frightened for the young woman who he had first seen in a small hospital room in Moscow, he kicked the door. She had been the culmination of Project Omen, a top secret project to determine the possibility of predicting the future. She had seen the future all too well, predicting the coming invasion of Earth.

"The storm has a name, Captain Nicolai Ondarev," the young woman named Katrina Tovarish had told him, looking at him with her sightless eyes. "It calls itself Torg."

Even the memory made his sweat run cold, and Ondarev blocked it out so that he could concentrate on the job at hand. He kicked the door a second time and was rewarded with the sound of splintering wood. It swung open, and a burst of cold air emerged from the darkened room.

"Katrina?" Ondarev called again, stepping carefully into the room.

His breath puffed out before him in billowing clouds, reminding him of the drastic drop of temperature in this part of the complex. How could it be so cold? He fumbled for the light switch, finding it against the ice-covered wall. He flipped it up, and a dull light filled the room. He did not like what he saw.

Katrina floated in the middle of the room, a sun around which tables, chairs, and books orbited. She was the center of the swirling objects, her head bent low as though in sleep, her long blonde hair spread upon the air like a hallo around her. He tried to move closer, but the circling objects prevented him. They were moving very fast, and if he were to be hit with a speeding table, he could suffer a concussion — or worse.

"Katrina!" he called again, suddenly wishing he had a warmer jacket. "Katrina, can you hear me? It is me, Nicolai!"

At the sound of his voice, one of the objects circling the young woman stopped, spun around, and flew directly at him. It was a tape recorder, the one on which Katrina made notes and listening to recorded books. He barely managed to duck as it came screaming toward him, smashing into a dozen pieces as it shattered against the far wall.

Katrina slowly raised her head, looking dazed, tired. She tilted it slightly, in the gesture he now recognized as her way of seeing what she could not see, of using senses other than sight to find out what was around her.

"Be careful, Nicolai," Katrina said, her voice even more haunting in this strange setting. "You cannot help me.

"Help you?" Ondarev said in disbelief. "What is happening here, Katrina?"

"They have found me, Nicolai."

"Who? Who has found you?"

"The alien things. The thing with wings and claws that I killed in the field when we searched for the stelae," Katrina explained. "There are still a few of them here, and they are going to try to open the sky again, but they want to destroy me first."

Ondarev could not believe what he was hearing, what he was seeing. "How can they do this? There is no one here but you!"

"You are wrong, Nicolai," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper over the wind of the swirling objects. "Do you not feel the cold of their presence? Do you not see the force of their will in these items they have turned into weapons? I can hold them off for a time, but there are many more of them than there is of me. I am growing weaker, and they have lost none of their strength."

Ondarev moved forward, looking for an opening through which he could pass. He dodged another object, a book that hurtled toward his head, then decided to charge directly into the center of the room. He only took three steps when a chair smashed into his back and knocked him to the floor. He tried to rise, but another object caromed off his forehead, cutting a gash in his flesh. Blood dripped into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to clear them. More objects battered him, hitting him with terrible force. Ondarev slipped, went down on one knee, tried to lift himself up, and another large object hit him squarely in the back. He fell, and the knowledge that by falling he was lost caught in his mind like bile. It was a bitter realization, for it meant that he had failed Katrina when she needed him most.

The swirling objects smashed into him, pressing him down into the floor. They were going to crush him! Panic started to rise within him, and he struggled to relieve the terrible pressure that the objects exerted. It was no use though, he was not strong enough to free himself. He tried to breath, but the force constricted his chest. He felt suffocation coming; he would die from lack of air before the objects could crush him, and he thought that that was a better way to die.

Then, as suddenly as it started, the pressure eased. The objects fell away with a clatter, and Ondarev pushed himself off of the ground. He wiped blood from his eyes and looked around. All ready the room was warming up, and the objects that had been circling the room or attacking him were scattered across the floor. Standing by the doorway were the six members of Ondarev's initial class of psychically-gifted people. They were holding hands, their faces twisted in concentration. In the middle, apparently directing their activity, was young Piotr.

"Nicolai?" Katrina asked, a tinge of fear in her voice.

"Here, Katrina," Ondarev said, taking hold of the young woman. She threw her arms around him and hugged. This was a good pressure, he decided. He liked this much better than the other.

Katrina, still holding onto Ondarev, raised her head. "Thank you, Piotr," she said sincerely.

Piotr opened his eyes. When he saw that both Ondarev and Katrina appeared to be all right, he smiled. "I'm

glad we were able to help."

"What did they do, Katrina?" Ondarev asked.

"They blocked the invaders, cut off the path that their energy was using. They will be back, but not for a little while, I think."

Ondarev held her tightly, suddenly afraid that his beloved country wasn't as safe as he had thought.*

92

The tra moved across the rocky ledge like a mountain goat. It was a sure-footed, agile lizard that was also very stabile. From the high vantage point, Julie was able to look down upon the valley they had climbed out of. There was a rare break in the mist, and she was able to see for a long distance. It was really a beautifully lush world, full of all kinds of exotic plants. Only the mist obscured the picturesque view, and the humidity.

"It's not the heat, it's the humidity," Julie said, and she gave a small laugh.

Decker looked at her strangely, but she did not explain herself. It's good to keep them guessing, she thought. As she remembered their brief time together in the clump of trees, she smiled. He was a tender, passionate lover, and she found that she wanted to feel his touch again. There would be time enough later, she decided. They would survive this trip and then they would leave the battle to others and go somewhere to be by themselves. They had done their share, especially Ace, and they deserved whatever happiness they could find in this dangerous world.

"I love you, Ace Decker," she said spontaneously, turning slightly to kiss him.

He returned her kiss and smiled. "I love you, too, Julie Boot."

"Let's forget all this saving the world stuff and run away together," she said half-jokingly. But a part of her was very serious.

He gave her a stern look. "Julie Boot, what would Kurst say if we got off this tra and went into the jungle to set up a cave together?"

"He would say to beware of roprajes, for they like to lair in caves," Kurst called from his place at the front of the lizard.

"Well thank you very much, Mr. Kurst," Julie scolded. "And I was going to suggest that you be Ace's best man."

"Julie?" Decker asked. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not sure exactly," she admitted, "but I know I don't want to live without you, Ace."

He smiled. "Let's wait until this is over before we make any promises."

She turned back to look at the valley, and a dark bank of clouds caught her eye. It was a towering formation that sparkled with flashing lightning. It was far off, but she could tell that it was moving very fast. And it seemed to be on a direct line for them.

"Kurst, what is that?" she asked, pointing at the horizon.

Kurst stared at it for a full minute, then he slapped the lizard, making it pick up speed.

"Kurst, what's the matter?" Julie asked again.

The hunter did not face her as he spoke, instead keeping his eyes on the path ahead. "That is the Wild Hunt, Julie," he explained. "That is the thing Paragon warned us of."

"But what's it doing here?" she asked frantically.

"It's hunting us," Decker said, realizing that that was the only possible answer.

93

Dr. Hachi Mara-Two worked through the long trip, busily connecting the data plate with her memories of Kadandra to the modified jaz pack. She double-checked all of the circuits and pins, adding a minute adjustment here, a slight realignment there. Then she held it before her and concentrated her left eye upon it. Built-in scanners and image enhancers magnified the circuits and checked for flaws while she held her breath. In a few seconds, her diagnostic computer gave her the answer she waited for: the circuits were flawless. She let out a deep sigh.

Mara had done it! The jaz pack could be attached to anyone, even someone without any cyber enhancements at all, and that person would be able to experience the sensover images of Kadandra. Excitement raced through her blood at the accomplishment, and she felt like shouting. It was the same feeling that coursed through her system when she discovered the cosmverse, when she looked upon her first alien cosm, when she built the transference cylinder.