Undying World

CHAPTER 14

Sart tried to remember what it was that the man Blade had whispered to him before he left the power complex. Sart could think better when Blade was there to prompt him. Now, as he stood guard at the door of the bunker and watched Wilf and Sybelline whisper, Sart strained his limited mentality trying to recall Blade's words. Something about the button. The black button in the red plaque. They were not to touch it, not until the man Blade sent a message. If they tried to touch it he, Sart, was to stop them. Kill them if he must. Was that it? Did he remember rightly?

Sybelline and her son-paramour, Wilf, sat close together on the table where she had so recently simulated the love act. The white-haired woman was still sexually aroused, but she did not want Wilf. She wanted Blade.

Intuition told her that she would never have Blade, that he had no interest in her, that he had been hard put to conceal his revulsion when she offered herself. Rage began to build in her, anger at Blade and Wilf, who seemed so content to serve him. Her own son and lover had turned against her.

But it was not a time to think of pleasure. That could wait. Sybelline saw her chance to be Queen of the Morphi slipping away. What was Blade doing up there? Betraying her? Striking a bargain with Jantor? And what would the Selenes, Onta, think and do when she did not communicate with them? She had been a fool, Sybelline brooded, to allow herself to be trapped down here six miles from the scene of action. Blade had outsmarted her.

True that she had made submission to him, but that was only a formality. She had done it before, with other masters, and it never meant anything. She was Sybelline. She was meant to rule. Soon now she must act or her chance would be forever gone.

Wilf watched his mother and kept his thoughts to himself. He desired nothing but to serve the man Blade. He had never seen anyone like Blade, nor dreamed that such a being could exist. How like a god he was, and Wilf had read enough in Morphi not to believe in God. But in Blade he saw divinity incarnate. He saw nothing impossible to Blade. Blade was capable of ruling the Gnomen and the Morphi, and perhaps even of defeating the Selenes. Wilf cherished his fantasies. If Blade succeeded then he-Wilf-would sit at his right hand and share all his triumphs.

«He has been gone a long while,» said Sybelline, «and still no message down the chute.» She glanced at an indicator on the bunker wall. It would buzz and register with a sweep hand whenever something touched the plastic pads beneath the chute.

Wilf stared at her. He was getting a feeling about his mother. He had never trusted her, but now he trusted her even less. He knew her better than she suspected. He knew she had contempt for him, underrated him. He sensed that she was brooding and unhappy and this might lead to anything. Sybelline was capable of doing rash and unpleasant things, for all her intelligence.

«He had a long way to go,» said Wilf. «Six miles-and with mole rats and Gnomen to contend with. My trip down was hard enough; his journey up will be more so. He may be dead by now.»

He did not really think so, but he wanted to see her reaction.

It was mixed, half smile and half frown. «I need him,» she said, «and I wish I did not. I am a bit afraid of him. I think he wants power for himself.»

Wilf laughed. «And you want it for yourself.»

Sybelline admitted to it. «I should have it. I have waited long and endured much.» Her green eyes narrowed. «And you, Wilf, are you after power also?»

He thought a moment before saying, «Not for myself. I would not mind sharing it with the man Blade. Mostly I desire knowledge-I want to know for the sake of knowing.» He pointed to the consoles surrounding them, to the dials and gauges and toggles, to the tunnel leading to the master power cube.

«How does it all work? Why? Why are the Gnomen the lower orders, the Morphi our masters and the Selenes theirs? Why?»

Sybelline sneered at him. «You are a fool, even if you are my son. Knowledge is power, I admit that, but it is impossible to have power and use it to your own advantage without fully understanding it. That is the difference between us. You fret your meager brains about the whys of power. I want it-now-to use for myself.»

Sart spoke from the door. «The mole rats are creeping closer again. They are over their scare.»

Sybelline looked at him in contempt. She had made her decision and knew what to do. This was an opening.

«Go and kill one or two with your spear bar,» she told him. «Give the others something to eat.»

Sart came into the light of the torches. He made the sign of the fylfot on his bald head. «Me? Face the mole rats? I cannot, Sybelline. I have always been in terror of them. I cannot face them.»

Sybelline looked at Wilf. He was heavily bandaged and could barely move. He was little better than Sart, she thought.

But at least Wilf had ideas. He pointed to a corner of the bunker. On the wall hung a red plastic cylinder with a short hose attached. Blade would have compared it to a fire extinguisher in Home Dimension.

«The laughing powder,» he said. «It works on Gnomen and Morphi, why not on mole rats.»

Sybelline knew of the powder in the little tank. She had seen it in use. Wilf had only read of it. Sart had done neither, but had heard the stories. One squirt of powder from the tank and you began to laugh. You could not stop. You grew weak with laughter, your head ached, your bones turned to slop, you fell and could not move. All this from one light whiff of the powder. A heavier dosage and you died laughing. It was all the weapon the Morphi had ever needed to control the Gnomen. They had others, more powerful weapons, but neither Wilf nor Sybelline understood them.

Sart stared at the cylinder in awe. He shook his head. «I dare not use it. I might harm myself. I do not understand it.

Sybelline made a sound of contempt. «Why Blade spared your miserable life, I will never comprehend.»

Sart scratched his head and admitted that he did not understand it either. Sybelline snatched his spear bar from him before he knew what was happening. «Come with me,» she commanded. «We do not need the laughing powder for mole rats. I will show you how it is done. Fetch one of the torches,» she ordered Sart.

Wilf watched them go with a lack of concern. He hoped the mole rats would eat them both. If so, they would serve a double purpose. Their deaths would leave him a clear field with the man Blade and provide food to keep the mole rats at bay. Wilf stretched out full length on the table and began to fantasy again. What would it be like to kiss the feet of the man Blade?

Sart was right about the mole rats. They had greatly increased in numbers and formed a gobbling, sinister-eyed circle around the bunker. Sart, near to panic, held the torch high and waved it. The creatures held their ground.

Sybelline readied the spear bar. «Go just in front of me,» she ordered. «There to the right, that big one. If I can kill him they will be satisfied for a time.»

Sart gibbered in fear. He clutched at his heavily bandaged torso. «My wound,» he complained. «It pains me greatly. I may fall and be eaten. I cannot do this thing. I-«

«Turn around,» said the woman. «Let me see. Perhaps the bandage and the shield have come loose.»

She knew the exact location of Sart's grievous wound. She readied the sharp end of the bar. As he turned, she thrust hard at the shield protecting his heart. The keen point went deep, easily piercing the plastic shield, the heart behind it and grating on bone in his spine.

Sart was a Gnoman and brave. He glared at her, reached for her with his bare hands, tried to walk along the bar impaling him to get at her. Sybelline retreated, still holding to the bar, seeking to retrieve it and strike again. Sart grabbed the bar with blood-slippery hand and sought to pull it out of his body. Failing that he tried to pull himself along it, to push it behind him, out of his flesh, so he could reach her. At last, beginning to panic, Sybelline released the bar. But it was too late for Sart. He went to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth. The mole rats picked up the scent and went into a frenzy.

Sart stopped twitching. The mole rats began to close in. Sybelline tugged the bar out of Sart's body and ran for the safety of the bunker. The horde of mole rats was already ripping and tearing at the body.

Sybelline was gasping for breath when she entered the bunker, still carrying the blood-stained spear bar.

Wilf sat up. «What happened?»

Sybelline was shaking, her voice trembled. «The mole rats got Sart. We killed one and he slipped in the blood. They were on him before he could get up. I could do nothing. I had to flee to save my own life.» She found a towel and wiped blood from the bar. Her gown was badly spattered.

Wilf stared at her. He rested on an elbow and listened to the terrible sounds out there in the dark. He did not believe her. Sart was stupid, but not that stupid. And while he was brave enough in other matters he was a coward where mole rats were concerned. Sart would never have gotten close enough to the creatures to slip and be eaten by them.

Wilf smiled at his mother. «You lie to me. You killed him and fed him to the mole rats.»

Sybelline smiled back at him. «Yes, I did. So what matter? Now move over and perform for your mother, Wilf. All that blood has excited me.»

She got on the table with him, pulled up her bloody gown and opened her thighs. She cradled his head on her breasts.

«I command,» she whispered. «You are my son and you must obey.»

Wilf did not have to be urged. He did not really want to but he was young in Gnomen years and he was ready instantly. Sybelline, as usual, spoke no words and did not moan or even move very much. She simply engulfed him. She was quite capable of taking her pleasure and thinking at the same time. She did both now.

When it was over she patted his head and said, «Sleep now for a time. I will watch for Blade's message. It cannot be long and we must be ready. I will waken you the moment it comes.»

Wilf, sleepy and dazed; realized that she had used her body and his to make a fool of him. He sought to struggle up, off the table. He looked at her. Something was wrong. Something in her smile was-

Sybelline had the cylinder in her hands and was pointing the hose nozzle at him. A fine spray of powder, under great pressure, hit him in the face. Wilf began to laugh.

She gave him another squirt, and another, and left him in laughter, too weak to move. She picked up the spear bar and began to gouge the power studs out of the necks of the four sleeper technicians. It was bloody work but no matter, she was already covered with blood.