Alien Wars Page 20

  Why can I do this now and not at other times? I don’t understand the laws governing my own mind. This is like a dream, where things are far too disjointed.

  As the spider machine neared with its sensors beeping, particles of sand began to cling together. Quickly, the particles took shape. A thing reared upward as if something huge underground used the sand like clothing. It grew fast and took on a humanoid shape.

  The sensor’s beeping turned into a ping and the laser under the saucer swiveled toward the sand creature. A red beam shot out. It fused sand so glass slags sloughed off like chunks of flesh. That chewed up part of the sand creature.

  Cyrus laughed harshly. With his TK, he gave the sand creature greater mass. It continued to grow even as the ray beamed.

  The creature lifted huge sand arms. With ponderous steps and feet that shed sand at every step, the thing approached the mechanical spider.

  The sand beast stood nine feet tall, so it was shorter than the machine. The beam smoked and glass slags tinkled as they shattered at the creature’s feet.

  The saucer rose higher on its six legs. A sand fist smashed and bent the undercarriage laser. A terrible whine sounded from within the belly of the machine. The TK creature reached and grasped the edge of the saucer. With a brutal yank and squeals of metallic strain, it forced the saucer lower, lower still. Then the creature raised a sand fist and smashed the bubble dome. With grainy fingers, it reached in.

  The Saurian hissed with fear. The sand creature plucked it from its chair and hurled the Saurian twenty feet. A final snap and orgasmic jerks and flops told of the Saurian’s death.

  A winding-down noise matched the saucer’s lowering. The bottom thumped against a dune. In seconds, the machine’s whines and hums quit forever.

  Cyrus exhaled. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. His concentration weakened. He released the TK.

  The creature lost coherence. Sand flowed until all that remained was a dry heap.

  Cyrus stumbled and sweat dripped from his face. With a grunt, he sank to the ground.

  “You destroyed the machine and killed the Saurian,” Klane said.

  “And it killed us,” Cyrus whispered. “Our camels are dead and we’re in the middle of the deepest, most haunted desert imaginable. I’d make a sand machine to carry us, but I lack the mental strength for it to go very far.”

  Klane blinked at the dead camels and blinked at Cyrus. “Let us inspect the machine before we admit defeat. Maybe we can cannibalize something from it.”

  Why not? With a grunt, Cyrus struggled to his feet. He rubbed his head, and he realized he didn’t stay tired as long as he used to. Maybe I am getting stronger. This ordeal is training me in the psi-arts. That’s something, I guess.

  First, they inspected the corpse. The Saurian could have been dead for years. At their touch, its clothes disintegrated. It had brittle skin and lacked eyeballs.

  “Why did the eyes rot so fast?” Klane asked.

  “I have no idea. I’d hoped you’d know.”

  The only substantial thing was the Saurian’s belt with a hardened leather pouch. With his knife, Cyrus sawed through it and discovered peculiar tools and keys.

  “Take those,” Klane said.

  The last item was a metal band that encircled the withered forehead.

  “It’s like a Bo Taw’s baan,” Cyrus said.

  “We should take it, too.”

  Gingerly, Cyrus worked the baan free. It was light. He turned it over several times.

  “What are you thinking?” Klane asked.

  Cyrus shoved the baan onto his head.

  “What do you feel?” Klane asked.

  Cyrus grimaced. “Wait a moment.” He closed his eyes but he felt no new sensations. He opened his eyes and stared at the machine. He willed it to rise. Nothing happened. He faced the direction the spider machine had come from. He concentrated.

  A feeling began to take shape. Then it seemed he could see far into the distance. A hazy creature fled across the sand. It feared him. Cyrus willed a better look. The haziness grew into clarity. The creature had a python body with vestigial wings and a crown on its head. Was that the singing god? It looked more like a demon.

  Come back, Cyrus told the Eich. He was sure that was the psi-parasite.

  The wings flapped as the creature slithered across the sand. It screeched as if fighting back with psi-power of its own.

  Foul beast of the field.

  Who are you? Cyrus asked.

  Desist. Accept what is. Submit to my control.

  Cyrus concentrated. He realized this indeed was the Eich.

  The creature did something then, and the vision ceased.

  Cyrus removed the baan and secured it in his sash. He stood and dusted sand from his knees. In those seconds, he’d learned facts about the Eich. The mind contact had slipped information.

  Cyrus laughed.

  “What is wrong?” Klane asked.

  “I know what happened to the Eich,” Cyrus said. “I know why it’s been on Jassac all this time.”

  “You touched its mind?”

  “Yeah,” Cyrus said. “Only that isn’t the Eich, but its original Steed.”

  “I don’t understand,” Klane said.

  “The parasite needs a psionic-talented person to exist. It’s an energy creature, feeding off the psi-power. The snake thing with wings belonged to a very powerful psionic race. It had become a Steed and the Eich was its Rider. In some sort of psi-powered spaceship, they leaped thousands of light-years. It was an accident.”

  “You learned all that in the brief encounter?” Klane asked.

  Cyrus nodded. He found that interesting. Maybe that’s why the Eich used old memories to fight him. The parasite gave away too much of itself when they fought mind to mind. It was like two wrestlers grappling. They sweated and breathed on each other. In mind-to-mind fights down here, information sweated out.

  “Something happened,” Cyrus said. “The long jump stunned the Eich. The Steed knew mental freedom as it hadn’t possessed for a long time. It used a process I don’t understand and fled to Jassac. It hid the psi-spaceship. I think the parasite regained strength, but not in time to stop the Steed from killing itself.”

  “What?” Klane asked.

  “The Steed wanted to kill the Eich. The parasite found the tubes under the mountain. I don’t understand that part. The Eich has been surviving there, using its powers in ways that aren’t clear to me yet.”

  Klane blinked thoughtfully. “You say the parasite needs psionic people to live in?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe it had something to do with Clan Tash-Toi and others developing seekers on Jassac.”

  “That’s an interesting thought,” Cyrus said. “You could be right.”

  “What else did you learn?” Klane asked.

  Cyrus thought about it, shrugging soon. “I think that’s it.”

  Grinning, Klane said, “Now we have to survive the desert long enough to use this new knowledge.”

  Together, they approached the deadly spider machine. The articulated legs lay askew. The sun continued to shine, to heat the metal.

  “Hot,” said Klane, when he put a palm on the saucer.

  “I have an idea,” Cyrus said. “The machine quit when I plucked the Saurian from its chair. Maybe if one of us sat in it, we can control the machine and make it carry us.”

  “I’ll do it,” Klane said.

  Before Cyrus could disagree, Klane scrambled onto the saucer. He used a stone and smashed the jagged shards to make a safer passage in.

  “The glassy substance is stronger than it looks,” Klane shouted.

  “You can help me over the glass,” Cyrus said. He tried to climb onto the saucer. He snatched his hand back. Heat radiated from it. How could Klane stand it?

>   “I will assist you,” Klane said.

  With the Anointed One’s help, Cyrus scrambled onto the saucer. He felt the heat through the soles of his sandals. His heart began racing as they approached the broken glass. If he could figure out how to revive the machine, they might actually travel in it and catch the elusive Eich.

  “Careful,” Klane said.

  Gingerly, Cyrus eased over broken shards. His robe caught. Klane ripped it free.

  Before proceeding, Cyrus studied the inner workings. The chair felt brittle but had a throne’s armrests. Buttons and levers faced the open chair. On the sides, dull mirrors and colored controls were everywhere. He took a breath, eased onto the chair, and moved a lever. Nothing happened. He tried others with no result. Cyrus waited between each attempt. Then, one by one, he began to depress buttons. Sitting in the sun, in the black chair, sweat soon drenched him.

  After a time, Klane said, “We should start walking.”

  “I must be doing something wrong,” Cyrus said. Then he muttered a curse and withdrew the baan. He jammed it onto his head. “Lift,” he whispered.

  Nothing.

  Cyrus tried other words. Then he began to move levers again and depress switches. Every attempt proved a failure.

  “Why doesn’t it work?” he asked.

  “We’re not Saurians,” Klane said. “It could be as simple as that.”

  “You try sitting in the chair,” Cyrus said.

  Klane did. He even wore the baan. None of it made any difference.

  Finally, the two climbed off the hot machine and jumped down onto the sand.

  “It killed us,” Cyrus said. The sting of defeat ate at him.

  “We should start walking,” Klane said.

  Cyrus stared hopelessly at the machine. What had he forgotten? He couldn’t think of anything.

  “We could follow its tracks,” Klane said. “Maybe that will lead us to something.”

  With astonishment, Cyrus turned to Klane. “Yes. We must hurry before the wind blows out the tracks. We have to find the Eich’s tracks.”

  “We must travel,” Klane said, “but we must not rush. In the desert, rushing anywhere kills.”

  28

  Deep in his subconscious mind, Cyrus sank to his knees as the sun blazed heat.

  It had been days since the spider machine had slain their camels. The landscape had changed from shifting sand to rocks, hardpan, rattling grit, and fused shards of metal and glass. Eerie pools of multicolored water had mocked them. One lick had proven the water’s vile taste. Depending on the angle he looked at the pool, the water was red, green, or purple. A harsh metallic odor drifted on the wind. On his tongue, it tasted like copper or nickel.

  From on his knees, Cyrus panted. His lips had cracked. Yesterday, they’d emptied the final dregs of the waterskins. Even knowing it was an illusion, he hadn’t been able to make water.

  Now merciless strength wrapped around his arm. Cruel power hauled him to his feet.

  “Just a little farther,” Klane said.

  Cyrus mumbled words whose meaning he forgot the moment he spoke them. Why hadn’t the spider machine heeded his efforts? What had he done wrong? How could the Eich stay ahead of them? Why couldn’t he reach it with psi-power anymore?

  They shuffled across the face of the desert, two insignificant motes. Time was agony. Life hurt. It was desolation, just wretched wasteland as far as he could glare.

  “Down,” Klane whispered.

  Cyrus found himself lying on the hot ground. “What was that for?” he whispered.

  “Another giant spider,” Klane said.

  Cyrus wiped grit from his eyes. He peered across the hazy desolation. Heat radiated there. “Where is it?”

  Klane pointed into the distance.

  Cyrus saw nothing. He glanced at the Anointed One, wondering if Klane saw mirages. The once pale face had darkened in the sun. The blue eyes watched as if Klane actually saw something. It was too bad the man had died on the Battle Fang.

  “Up,” Klane said, and he hauled Cyrus to his feet.

  “The machine is gone?” Cyrus muttered.

  “We can use its tracks.”

  Cyrus laughed. It came out a whisper. In this land, the sun sucked out water and vitality. He marveled at Klane’s endurance. As Cyrus reeled, he began to feel that Klane had more in common with the spider machine than with him.

  “Look,” Klane said.

  Cyrus raised his head. He hoped to see a cool lake. Instead, beside a cobalt-colored pool lay rusted armor, a rusted helmet, old shoes, and bones inside the armor. Other, larger bones lay scattered nearby.

  They walked to the bones.

  “Camel,” Klane said as he squatted. He held up a bone.

  Cyrus swayed. He eyed the cobalt-colored pool. He needed a drink.

  Klane moved to the armored skeleton. “It has a sword. I could use that.” Klane sawed through the ancient belt and lifted a jeweled scabbard. He tugged harder than he needed. The sword easily slid free. “No rust,” Klane noticed.

  The back of Cyrus’s neck tingled. He rubbed it, and frowned. There was a memory . . .

  With a hoarse sound, he dropped to his knees and pushed the armored skeleton. He rolled it over to reveal a pack.

  With a slash, Cyrus parted the pack. Various contents spilled out. Among them was a flask adorned with odd symbols.

  With a trembling hand, Cyrus picked the flask off the ground. It was surprisingly heavy. He used his teeth and pried at the stopper. It refused to budge.

  “I’m not thinking,” he muttered.

  Cyrus stared at the flask and used TK to twist it. He tried with his fingers again. It easily came off. He put his lips to the edge and slowly tilted it. Cool water gushed into his mouth. He wanted to gulp. Instead, Cyrus swished the water in his parched mouth and let it trickle down his throat. He took two more swallows and passed the flask to Klane.

  “How did you know about the flask?” Klane asked.

  Cyrus realized it was a thought he’d pulled out of the Eich. That was interesting. He told Klane how he’d known.

  Klane took several slow swallows from the flask before passing it back.

  Cyrus pushed the stopper into place. With his thirst quenched, he fingered the pack’s contents, packets of dried food. He sat down and ate one. Klane devoured the other.

  Afterward, Cyrus scanned the hazy distance. He adjusted his headgear. Then the two set out to follow the Eich’s python-like track.

  Twice Cyrus spied a spider machine. Maybe it was the same one making rounds.

  The two men lay flat or crouched behind twisted girders or chunks of fused glass. They passed metallic pools and spotted rusted girders that jutted out of the ground. They also came upon more bones.

  The bones lay in a row: six strange skeletons. Each was a giant snake with vestigial wing bones. The wings had claws like a mutated bat. Each skeletal claw-hand clutched a staff of polished black wood. Neither grit, dirt, nor sand had piled on or around the staffs. Each pair of finger bones that gripped a stick contained a ring of jade. Each jade ring bore a skeletal tree stamped on its signet.

  Cyrus squatted by one.

  “Do you recognize them?” Klane asked.

  “They are Steed skeletons. I remember now that most beings of their star empire called them Eich, even though the real Eich was the parasite inside them. The staffs and rings must have significance. I just don’t know what that is.”

  Klane studied the skeletons. He pointed at neat little holes that had sliced through Eich bone. “The red beam,” he said. “The spider machines killed them.”

  Cyrus pointed at a rusted girder. “These are part of a ruin. Klane, do you remember the ruins where we crossed the barrier?”

  “Of course,” Klane said.

  “Is there a connection?”


  Klane shrugged.

  Cyrus rose thoughtfully. Some great disaster had destroyed the first city. Maybe in Eich history a terrible calamity had fallen upon the parasites or the host race. Did the Steeds war against Saurians? He had no idea. Did his journey do anything to the areas he went through? He’d never retraced his routes. What would he find if he did?

  Scratching his cheek, Cyrus asked, “Do you remember the machine you first showed me? It moved on treads and used a scoop to toss bodies into the lake of fire.”

  “Yes,” Klane said. “It marched in rounds.”

  “Just like the spider machines march in rounds here.”

  “I do not understand the significance.”

  “Neither do I,” said Cyrus, “at least, not yet. But I plan on finding out. Keep an eye out for the machine.” He laughed grimly. “We don’t want to add our skeletons to the ranks of those who failed.”

  Amid girders and fused glass, Cyrus created a second TK creature to destroy another spider machine.

  I’m getting much better at this.

  It was several hours since dawn, and the sun already heated the ground. By following the Eich’s tracks, they came upon another set of bones, these two entwined in love. Klane spotted beam wounds. Cyrus walked around the skeletons in a widening circle. Behind a lump of fused glass, he found packs. They were filled with dust—and inside one was a vibrio-knife.

  Hello.

  Cyrus stepped to a nearby girder, flicked on the knife, and set the vibrating edge against it. As a hum rose in volume, the knife began to cut into the girder until it smoldered.

  Cyrus yanked out the blade and flicked it off. “I like,” he said.

  Klane inspected the girder. “You did not hack. You only pressed the blade against the iron.”

  “Yep,” Cyrus said. He wondered if the Earth blade meant he was changing these things to his way of thinking. Maybe his very presence down here defeated the psi-parasite. He didn’t know that, but it was a thought.