A STORM WAS BREWING—ONE OF THOSE VIOLENT, swirling storms that broke large trees and blasted rock. Manka Warlock spotted the figures moving through the swirling fog and rain and gestured to other warriors to approach. There was no need for caution; no Matriyehans would be wearing such packs or carrying such equipment as these. Most were Vulture’s third-rank truth-bearers, along with Vulture herself, but also along were Maria Santiago and Midi Ng, looking much stronger and better. Rather than wait the extra time before the children were born, China, working through Star Eagle, had developed supplements to replace what their own bodies did not make in proportions so close to normal that they had no chance of affecting the unborn. While both women were still having identity problems between their old and present selves, both felt so much better and more confident that they insisted on being a part of this, and Vulture needed them desperately. Both now carried far different spears than they had before—long-stock laser rifles with heavy wide-field charges.
The base camp was in a sheltered cleft partway up the mountains in back of the holy seat. The trains ran automatically according to a preset schedule and any variations of that would have triggered a computer alarm, but they had been quite useful for getting people and supplies to this point. Vulture and the planners on Thunder would have preferred to send the raiders into the temple by train but dared not risk it. They could only get a few in that way anyway, and the station was computer monitored and security codes were required. The objective was to be undetected to the last moment if possible, and, if luck really ran their way, perhaps win the whole game.
“That inversion around the holy seat makes the weather around even worse,” Vulture griped. “This isn’t going to be easy, but I doubt if they even considered this way in. Soba’s been shown the charts and diagrams and understands the idea?”
A restored Warlock nodded. “I will work at her side entirely in Matriyehan. We have worked out a series of sounds based on the hunt. We’ve done some practice with the ropes and grappling hooks. I can tell you none of them are too confident that either the ropes or the hooks will hold, but even Silent Woman is getting pretty good with them. I still wish she could have been left with Oona and the children, but in her own way she can be most insistent and it is her right as a warrior. At least she won’t yell and give us away. The children are all right?”
Vulture nodded, noting to herself that Manka Warlock, up to a few months ago, would never even have considered that question. “Oona isn’t any too confident of all this, but it wasn’t hard to talk her into that much. If we make it, they’ll be safe and we’ll owe her. If not, her tribe will adopt them. We can’t overstate the need for stealth and the equal need to follow the leaders of our team no matter what a chief takes it in her mind to do. I don’t think the traps are very elaborate but we don’t want to spring any if we can help it.”
“They respect magic, so don’t worry on that score. They also know the usual passwords, although Matriyehan is so unlike French they might not be able to manage them right. Last-resort stuff. That is, if the passwords haven’t been changed.”
“How could they be, with two-thirds of the priestesses spread all over the countryside? The other important thing is that you kill only if you have to. We need the higher-ups alive if we’re to learn anything, and we can always work on the third rank later.”
“I know, damn it,” Warlock muttered disappointedly.
“I was going to give you a laser pistol and charge belt, but that belly bulge of yours rules that out. Better take one of the rifles.”
Warlock nodded. “Who would ever think of me as a mommy? Not me, I can tell you. I’m glad I’ve got the rifle—I feel awkward as hell. Truth is, though, that part of me I keep pushed back kind of likes the idea. Both parts of me will be relieved when the little bugger’s out. I will be all right so long as Soba keeps her own head. In a pinch, I would not disobey her, Vulture, except to save her life. Not for anything.”
“I understand. Midi is going with part of the tribal group; I’m keeping Mari with me but she will be available if needed. Crazy world, this. Because they’re pregnant by other chiefs, they aren’t bound to Soba and can’t be right now. They’ll cover your backside. I suggest we all huddle—Soba, too, and her firebearer, and go over this as much as we can. I get the feeling we could wait forever for perfect weather, but if we get a good break we’re going up.”
Matriyehans were used to mountains and climbing over potentially slippery rock, but this was new territory and there were no passes here, no worn trail in the rock to show the safe way. Other than the remote geophysical survey Lightning had conducted, there was no way to know just what these cloud-shrouded mountains might hold.
The weather broke enough for them to dare a start two mornings after the arrival of the rest of the team. It was not an easy climb, and there were areas requiring the use of pitons and strong arms to toss grappling hooks more than once. Both concepts were fairly new to the natives, but there had been sufficient practice that they accepted the methods even if they didn’t completely trust them.
There wasn’t much living on these old, high mountains although this sort of terrain was a natural for lava snakes and other, smaller beasts. Either they were regularly cleaned out or the food sources just weren’t right. It suggested that this complex might well have been created artificially rather than discovered and adapted.
More than once someone slipped or fell, and it was then that they learned how vital those uncomfortable ropes fitted through harnesses were. The natives in particular had balked at them from the start, fearing damage to themselves, but it hadn’t taken more than one fall to make wearing the rope and harness an unquestioned duty.
Going through the cloud bank took a full day, with visibility negligible and every step treacherous. Just above it was an almost sheer rock wall that took the better part of another day just to plan on how to climb. Still, using power grapples and careful piton work, they managed it and reached a nearly level area. The air between the two cloud layers was remarkably clear and they could actually see the summit, although it would still be several days away. The winds, however, were blowing wild and unpredictable, and it most assuredly was not always so clear up there. They had reached the snow line.
Most of the natives had never really seen snow firsthand before and were scared of it. Not even the people from Thunder had any real experience with it, but they had mindprinter programs to teach them some of its treacheries. Clayben had calculated that the Matriyehan body could tolerate a wind chill to twenty below zero without permanent damage for a couple of days, but they knew they had to move fairly rapidly in spite of their experience. Above three thousand meters, they found even ordinary tasks became harder to do and strength seemed to ebb. Pills fabricated for the problem helped, but weren’t a cure for the lack of oxygen.
They avoided as much of the snow field as they could, sticking to areas of exposed rock, heading not for the summit but for the lowest and closest visible point. By the time they got to it, they were nearly frozen and utterly exhausted, but they were ready, even eager, to go down. At least there would be no interior cloud cover to battle, as well, and the valley stretched out before them in miniature.
Still, the mere sight of it was enough to both cheer and enrage the natives. “Truth-bearers,” Soba said, her voice dripping contempt. “Lie-bearers. Live in protection in ways forbidden tribes. Soba want cut out lying tongues of whole truth-bearer tribe. Make truth-bearers live like make tribes live.”
The climb had not been without cost; four natives had been either killed or mortally injured. Still, the party was more than ample—if they could make it down into the valley undetected. The slope curved inward and in places was quite smooth, and the longest ropes they had were about forty meters, which would make the twenty-eight hundred meter descent long and dangerous.
With satellite monitors designed to detect energy surges and so much sheer terrain to cover, it was little wonder that this route was simply rejected as a way in and left as a natural defense. The power grapplers alone had been a risk, although a minor one—the burst was basically a small explosion and lasted for only fractions of a second, not nearly long or powerful enough to allow a satellite fix.
“Hawks called this plan brilliantly insane,” Mari noted, looking around and shivering. “A rag-tag bunch of primitive women, less than forty in all, nine pregnant, and only one with real mountaineering experience, tackling a rough and uncharted climb using limited equipment with the idea of overthrowing a system. It is absurd on its face—no wonder Master System never thought it could be done.” She looked around at them. “This race may be primitive and strange, but no others could have done this. If we accomplish our mission, it is because Master System has done its job too well. Making a race that could survive under the most primitive of conditions on a world like this for a thousand years, perhaps, breeding the strongest and toughest and weeding out the rest. I don’t know if these people will ever achieve a level of civilization as we understand it, but there is something truly great in them.”
They weren’t concerned with observation on the descent, but getting down was difficult and yet had to be done fairly quickly, hopefully between dawn and dusk. There just didn’t seem to be anyplace a body of them could stop and camp for the night anywhere on the way down, nor even places where more than four or five could stand at a time. Once they started, it would have to be a continuous progression.
Many were still hanging from ropes as the sun set, but Midi was first down to the outcrop atop the temple proper shortly after, and they were all about to complete the descent using the ropes and guides set by the ones who went before. At least the near-stagnant air of the valley helped; one good storm or gust of wind at any point would have undone them.
Finally, though, the thirty-five who’d made it all the way were atop the crag above the temple complex, about fifteen meters higher than the great statue over the temple entrance. Now would come a period almost as difficult as the journey had been: remaining up there all day, without making any noise or movement that could be detected by anyone below, and waiting. Sleep was necessary for all, and arrangements had to be complete before the raid could begin that night.
Vulture was busy throughout the afternoon and evening finishing her planning and preparations. At least they could risk energy tools and weapons, particularly in and around the temple area. No satellite or computer ever built could distinguish proper from improper energy use in a place where electronic sensors, booby traps, and computer and communications links were established.
They would have to take one big risk by using what Vulture had developed as a favorite trick on Janipur. The only subcarriers of the Center’s computer-to-satellite link were too old and noisy for any real communication but would still carry a simple pulse tone if the transmitter were aimed at the correct angle toward the master transmitter.
A very slight breeze had been detected almost at the start, and Vulture relaxed. It was always a small breeze, always toward them, and always once an hour, just when one of the continually traveling cars of the internal magnetic railroad would come in to the temple station, stop for one minute, then pull out again. Timing here was vital; at least basic communications had to be risked. One tone up for thirty seconds, then another tone back down from the fighter hidden in orbit—not to them but to one of the mindprinted truth-bearers well away from the valley. This would be the second-rank field supervisor Vulture had managed to control through the generic program Star Eagle had created.
It was near midnight when they were rested, awake, and ready to act. Vulture aimed at the spirelike peak that was in fact the master transmitter and held down the button on her tiny transceiver for thirty anxious seconds, then released it and flipped a small switch. If there was any sort of answering tone they would have to wait, but after ten minutes they had none. If all was going well, their second-rank priestess was now either aboard a transport car or waiting for the next one.
Then, as the tribe watched in wonderment, the four from Thunder used small laser drills to bore into the rock with beams of dull, magical light. The rock was thicker than they had anticipated; they had to pierce perhaps a full meter before the first beam broke through and automatically cut off, more for the others.
Now the packs and equipment they had carried with great difficulty up the mountain and down again were transformed. Hoses were unreeled and pushed through the open slots. Vulture and her truth-bearers took rectangular canisters and made ready to descend to the temple entrance. They put on dark breathing masks after reminding the others, “Breathe through nose only. No mouth. Talk little.” Although all had been injected with a chemical antidote before starting the climb, it was going to be very smoky inside, and the gas would still irritate their throats and lungs.
Vulture went straight down to the second-rank headquarters. No one was about in the main temple at this hour, but there was always a duty officer. She walked in, pistol in hand, and fired on stun. The duty officer stiffened but never saw what hit her, then slumped forward. Quietly now, the Vulture team fanned out, placing their packages in strategic locations and then pressing their activators. A second signal from Vulture’s small hand-held transmitter would set them all off at once.
Satisfied, the team now waited near the entrance as most of Soba tribe descended to the temple opening and took up guard positions. Above, Maria Santiago waited as well, sitting on the remaining canisters.
There was no way to be absolutely positive that the next train car would be the one Vulture’s mindprinted priestess had rigged, as nearly as she could figure it would arrive forty minutes from the time it had been loaded up by the agent in the field.
Although none of them could hear it, the car came in and stopped at the station far beneath the statue of the Great God. There was a significant airflow from the entrance through the temple complex. They waited one more minute; if there was a second breeze they would have to work quickly, in an hour or less. If more than a minute passed without it, then they knew that the car was the right one and had done its work.
The unoccupied car came in and stopped. The door opened, and as it did it drew back a triggering mechanism. There was a sharp report, and the converter in the car was exposed and began to spark. The car was unable to draw further power from the system and was effectively stalled. The same action also released the valves on an entire canister assembly. Above, the computer sensed the power outage and sent a signal by alternate routes to the automated repair faculty in the station. Power outages were common, but the schedule had to be kept. Service robots popped out of walls, glided to the tracks, lifted the whole-egg-shaped car out, determined it was not immediately repairable, and went to get a spare. By the time they did, the canisters were empty.
By three minutes by Vulture’s timer, and those of Mari and Midi, there had been no second rush of air. At that exact moment, Mari and Vulture detonated their canisters.
The gas was slightly lighter than air at that altitude; it would rise, slowly, upward and permeate the structure whose system would now be fairly well sealed. Some might leak out the entrance but that didn’t matter; what mattered was that the much cooler, heavier air inside the temple wasn’t about to flow out very far into the warmer, lighter valley air. It would sit.
With gas entering all the levels from both above and below, everyone would get a good lungful of the stuff. It wouldn’t kill, but, tailored as it was to the Matriyehan constitution, it would induce deep coma. The gas had been concocted after analysis of the biochemistry of Midi and Mari on Thunder, and the antidote tested on them. Without the antidote, the victims would continue to sleep until they starved to death. But there was the possibility that not everyone would be exposed enough in the forty minutes the gas had before it began to break down into harmless compounds; there might well be a few people in the temple who would still be awake—and dangerous.
And there was no chance that the Earth-daughter or the computer would even notice. They were prepared for the few who might not get the full dosage; that was one reason for all the people in the assault team. Vulture felt certain that the computer would know only what it was told; it might notice the lack of activity toward morning, but by then their work should be completed, and she doubted that the computer would be a problem. The real worry was its guardian, the goddess with the built-in hypnocaster, who could alert the computer and compromise the mission.
Vulture’s immediate search was for the quarters of the council. They were not quite where she’d guessed they were, but they were not hard to find in the end. For Matriyeh, the rooms were about as comfortable as any she had seen, but the chief administrator, unfortunately, didn’t seem to have a bigger or grander room than the others. It took a few minutes of checking still forms in comfortable-looking beds—with silken sheets and pillows—before the right one was found. The ring was not on the C.A.’s finger, and it took more precious minutes to search through the drawers and compartments of jewelry and ornaments, an impatient Vulture praying that it was not locked away in some safe.
It wasn’t, but only a wild afterthought revealed its location. There was no reason to lock away anything in the inner sanctum of the temple but even these top-echelon leaders really believed in the religion, and the ring was the ultimate symbol of authority.
She kept it under her pillow.
Now, at last, Vulture twisted the necklace charm she’d carried from the start and removed the copy of the ring, then compared it to the original. It wasn’t at all bad. Subjected to analysis it might have been revealed as a fake, but without that kind of precise inspection, no one would know. She quickly made the switch, then discovered that there was a slight but important difference in the two: the real ring didn’t fit properly back in the charm. On impulse, Vulture tried the ring on her own finger and found that it fit—a bit too tight, but she left it there anyway.
They had been inside a full forty-six minutes by Vulture’s timer, and so far they had not encountered a conscious enemy, let alone the Earth-daughter. Vulture was beginning to worry about the ease of it. She checked the computer access room and found Manka Warlock, Midi, and Maria Santiago pretty well set up. Silent Woman, looking proud of herself and them all, stood guard. Soba tribe was checking every room, nook, and cranny of the temple, while the team’s truth-bearers guarded the entrance and the stairs to the train to head off any unexpected surprises.
The failure of the Earth-daughter to appear stood to foul up their plans. They couldn’t really leave until she was dealt with. “Maybe she’s more of a tool than the independent operator we thought,” Maria suggested. “Maybe she only comes when she’s summoned.”
They felt a sudden rush of air. The transport system was operating again, and by this point most if not all of the gas had converted to harmless elements. They removed their breathing masks. Only a trace of the musty-smelling odor remained. Those knocked out would stay out, but anyone new coming in would be no more affected than they.
“Well, we can’t wait for her,” Vulture replied. “I’m gonna pull four of my priestesses and start work off the main entrance. If our gorgeous goddess shows up, holler if you can.”
The most they dared carry with them due to the weight had been two portable mindprinters; processing the temple priestesses with the generic reorientation program to fit the new order would take some time. There were between sixty and eighty people other than themselves in this place, and the process took at least ten minutes per person. Figuring the extra time for the setup and move, it would take about ten to fifteen hours nonstop to cover everybody. They could only try to get the ones who would be expected to be public and active right off; those could best maintain the fiction of a normally functioning temple.
Unfortunately, it would take years to recondition the entire third rank in the field, and there was no way they could edit the memory module information that the third rank would turn in to the holy places for pickup and insertion into the master computer for analysis. So far, Star Eagle had been unable to find any way to change the existing system without alerting the master computer. The team might escape, but the people of the northern continent could not and would not. So a temporary solution was settled on, until the dogs of Master System could be called off entirely. The second rank, treated here, would keep the portable mindprinters and go into the field to treat the third rank in the holy places. Then a simple code phrase uttered upon greeting a truth-bearer of any rank would erase from the mind of that priestess any memories of that tribe’s existence. She would go on her way and even in her official reports, knowledge of that particular tribe would be omitted. The computer, then, would get no information on those tribes, and since tribes and chiefs changed all the time in this fluid society, the omission would not be noticed.
And these tribes would be free. Satuuka moaba. Warriors of the storm.
At the entrance to the computer room, Midi, Warlock, and Maria Santiago were feeling very good indeed, although still on watch for this mysterious creature only Vulture had seen. The Soba tribe was picking up morning entries into the temple and hauling them off for treatment, and it seemed that the worst was over. They were going to make it, and if they weren’t going to revolutionize the world, at least the Soba and Oona tribes would be able to develop a freer and easier life, which would also establish a good base when and if Master System was ever vanquished.
As the four pirates waited in the computer room there was a click behind them and then the sound of a panel sliding back. They all turned as one, at the ready, and she stepped out of an opening in the wall opposite the computer. She was everything Vulture had said and more, the epitome of everything the word goddess implied. She glowed, and the glow filled the room and seemed warm when it enveloped them. She showed no fear and gave a slight smile as her huge, dark eyes looked at each of them in turn and seemed to be looking right through them. The quartet was ready, two with laser rifles, one with a laser pistol, and another with a spear, but they were frozen as if living statues.
Like a laser blast, there was no way to shield against a directed hypnocaster. One could only hope not to be in its path and thus able to avoid it. The Earth-daughter’s power was not great—in the great hall it would be so dissipated it would be useless—but in a small room it was overwhelming. Matched specifically to Matriyehan psychochemistry, it worked on the most basic, empathic levels. They had known this and been expecting her, but they had been surprised by her entrance from behind. The radiation had an almost instantaneous effect in such a situation, blocking action and slowing thought, buying time for the subtle, almost orchestral play of waveform commands to induce the desired effect in the brains of the onlookers. Awe, love, devotion, an absence of fear or concern, an absence of thought, an urge to obedience.
“Come,” she said in Matriyehan, in a voice so musical and supernatural that it sent shivers through them, and she gestured with her hand. “Sit at feet of Earth-daughter and guard.” They obeyed instantly, even eagerly. Even Silent Woman seemed to understand her command. Then she switched, rather suddenly, to English, without once losing that musical quality.
“We will talk, and you will tell me all that I wish to know,” she said softly, and they knew they would.
Vulture decided to check the computer room. It was getting about time for her to leave, and it was important that she know who might or might not be leaving with her. The work would go on here, perhaps for days, perhaps for weeks, but it was practically automatic now and did not require her or any other normative presence. Eventually Soba and the others would make their getaway, far easier than the entry, and runners would be sent to Oona tribe to fetch the children and spread the word. But not now; much of the future of this small band would have to be determined the way they preferred it—by themselves.
When no guard was apparent at the entrance to the computer room, Vulture became suspicious. She doused one of the torches close to her, and even though there was still plenty of light, what she feared she would see became visible. That glow, that golden glow from inside the computer room . . .
Their brains are not in their heads, Nagy had said. Aim just above the crotch, from the back if possible . . .
Sound advice that had worked once, but this wasn’t the same sort of creature, not really. Where was her brain, her vulnerable spot? Not the usual place, certainly. Her waist was far too thin. The head, the chest, or the buttocks were the only possibilities, and Master System tended toward uniformity. But did she have other defenses, perhaps weapons, other man the hypnocaster? There was only the one entrance to the room, and the only people that really mattered to Vulture were already in there, obviously under her control. Had she already sent the warning out? Were squadrons of Master System’s automated fighters and ships of SPF even now heading here?
Vulture was not immune to the hypnocaster if taken as they had been, by surprise, but now that she was able to feel it, measure it, she was able to adjust, controlling her body from those places that were remote from the mind. The hypno would still cause the usual chemical reactions in the brain, but they would be irrelevant. Still, she’d be walking right in, a sitting duck. The door was too small to have a real chance at surprise.
What could be done? Explosives? None around, and even if there were it would also kill the hostages. Gas? Obviously not. And her allies would be no help at all in that small a space.
“Is that you out there—Vulture, is that not what you are called?” the Earth-daughter called somewhat playfully. “Come in. It was a brilliant effort but it is done. Before you could flee, I could have all the entrances and exits sealed by simple command from here. And, even if you managed to escape, I could call in more force than you could deal with to insure you rotted here. Come—or must I have one of your friends here become a blood sacrifice to me at the hands of the others, as you hear her screams?”
Could have all the entrances and exits sealed. Could call in more force . . . The situation was bleak, but it wasn’t over yet.
“They’re overconfident to the point of arrogance . . . ”
Vulture eased to the doorway and peered cautiously inside. She was standing a bit out from the back wall, and the four warriors knelt in front of her, making a shield, the expressions on their faces showing that they were no longer in command of their minds.
Vulture drew her laser pistol, checked its charge, and stepped into the room. The laser weapons held by the trio all centered on her. If they were on narrow beam, the Earth-daughter might have a rude surprise, but if they were set on wide-field stun, it would knock Vulture helpless.
“Your tricks won’t work with me,” Vulture said dryly.
“Just put down the gun and give me the ring,” the Earth-daughter responded.
“You cannot ask for the ring,” Vulture said. “The ring must go to a human in authority. Whatever you are, you are not human and have no right to it.”
The Earth-daughter smiled. “We have been having quite a discussion while waiting for you,” she told Vulture. “You are quite right—I am not human, and I am bound by the core commands, but neither are you human, Vulture. You have no more right to it than I, and so it is my obligation to reassign the ring properly.”
“And then what?”
“You, naturally, will have to be held somewhere until you can be picked up and taken for study and analysis. I’m sure you understand. As for the others—I will collect them, slowly and in good time. That which you do with your small mindprinters, we can undo with our fuller model. The local tribe will be allowed to drink the waters of forgetfulness in my presence, and these—at least the three that are useful to me—are special cases. After we have recorded all they know, we might well send them back to your friends up there, to set them up for the kill.”
“You don’t know exactly what I am or precisely how to deal with me,” Vulture noted coolly. “You are as ignorant of me as I am of you.” She hasn’t yet shown a weapon. She’s using the warriors for protection. If I can just ease my thumb on to the right stud without her noticing . . .
“You are mortal as I am not,” the Earth-daughter responded just as coolly and confidently. “You may be difficult to kill, but we will keep firing until you are nothing but a burning pile of goo. Now—drop the gun.”
She can’t actually do that or she’d have done it from the start! It’s the ring! She’s afraid of damaging it! “No. I prefer the present standoff, for a while.”
She smiled sweetly. “Maka, you must prove your love to me. Turn and shoot Silent Woman. Narrow beam, in the stomach, half power, so it is slow. Midi, Mari, if Vulture tries to interfere, burn her.”
Silent Woman did not understand the words although she recognized her own name and Manka’s, and turned, puzzled, to see Warlock grin evilly and bring the laser rifle around until it was pointing directly at Silent Woman’s belly. At Silent Woman’s child . . .
Silent Woman screamed the most terrible, anguished scream that any throat could utter, a scream so horrible that it rang and reverberated through the computer room and down the hall. At the same moment she moved her spear to knock Warlock’s rifle up and out of the way. So horrible and penetrating was that scream that Maria and Midi turned toward it . . .
The goddess was taken completely by surprise. Vulture had suspected some action, but not this, but was in immediate control of the body. The finger flicked the stud, and even as Silent Woman leaped on Warlock Vulture fired—wide beam, maximum stun.
The four warriors collapsed into a tangled heap. The terrible scream stopped abruptly and brought on a dramatic, sudden silence. The Earth-daughter, unaffected by such a blast, now stood alone, looking first at the collapse of her defense and then at Vulture, who had dropped, rolled, and now rose again, pistol reset for full power. “I never dreamed you’d actually do that,” Vulture said calmly, “although if you had to pick an example, she was the logical choice, being the most useless of the group.”
“Do you think you can kill me with that?” the goddess responded, arrogantly.
Vulture shrugged slightly. “Gee, I don’t know. Let’s find out.” She fired a steady stream, up to the head and back down again.
The Earth-daughter was flung back against the wall by the force, but dropped and then recovered. Her glow was fading, and her flesh was blistered and gaping, but she was far from dead.
The Earth-daughter rose and launched herself at Vulture, who quickly stepped back and opened fire once more. If she could have kept a continuous stream on the creature, it would have had no chance, but the Earth-daughter, like Vulture, knew the laser could fire for only ten seconds before it automatically cut off for a precious second or two to allow the weapon to cool down.
Vulture was not quick enough. The Earth-daughter was on her at the first opening, steely hands around Vulture’s throat, squeezing with enormous pressure, until the eyes bulged from Vulture’s head. The humanoid heard and felt the neck snap, saw the life drain out, and let Vulture’s limp form fall to the floor. The Earth-daughter reached out, removed the ring from Vulture’s limp finger.
The humanoid was no longer willing to play games and no longer supremely confident. The laser had severed vital connections; she had no glow, her body was severely charred, and, worse, she had no hypnocaster. She made her way uneasily to a wall panel near the slots for the information modules, entered a code, and waited as a small panel opened. She was about to press the activator when laser fire again raked her body, throwing her back and away from the panel. The fire was well concentrated now, back and forth along the hips, and she screamed an inhuman, electronic scream and tried to get up. Her blackened, burnt face looked up . . . and saw Vulture, still bloody, her head dangling crazily to one side, with a laser pistol in each hand now, firing, firing, coming on . . .
In a deep, strained voice that sounded about to break, the Earth-daughter said, “What are you?”
But the raking fire continued with no reply. There was a sudden crackling and then the Earth-daughter started moving, randomly, jerkily, hitting the two walls, then slowly grinding to a halt. There was a sound of someone at the door, but the horrible corpselike figure that had been Vulture ignored it, and the terrified scream and rapid sounds of panicky feet vanishing down the hall.
The Earth-daughter’s chest twitched, then moved on its own, cuing the waiting creature. There was a sudden burst of heat, and the module, shining and shimmering, emerged and floated out. It did not get far; Vulture bore in on it with both laser pistols, medium field, maximum intensity. The beams caught the module and held it, suspended in the air, but it vibrated rapidly and seemed to be trying to escape, to muster enough strength against the beams to dart past and out the door.
It exploded with a concussion that knocked Vulture flat; the heat seared not only her broken and bloodied body but also those of the four unconscious warriors. There was a smell of burnt flesh and singed hair, but it was over.
Vulture rose again, ignoring the mess, and made her way to the still form of the Earth-daughter. She knelt down, reached behind the smoldering ruin of beauty, and picked up the ring, then put it back on her own finger. She then made her way back to the wall opposite the computer interface, sat, and tried to rebuild as much of her body as possible before the others came to. It was quickly clear that while the Earth-daughter had not inflicted fatal damage, the scope of repairs was not worth the time and effort. Better, with the tribe in control of the temple, to find another. That, she reflected, would not be hard.
Still, it had been the Earth-daughter’s last words that continued to echo in Vulture’s mind. What are you? A collection of past minds? A new form of artificial life? What? She didn’t know, not really. For the first time, she began to wonder if even her creator knew, either.
All that time, all the years of Vulture’s existence, she had hated Clayben, but could Clayben really explain Vulture? Could the scientist even duplicate her, given all the means? That was now in doubt.
Arnold Nagy had worked for Master System’s enemy, and Nagy had spent ten years on Melchior with access to almost everything. In fact, Nagy had spent just slightly longer there than Vulture had been alive. Coincidence? Raven had become convinced that Nagy was not human; now, seeing the Earth-daughter, that theory took on a lot more credence.
Vulture struggled to her feet. Enough was enough; a new body was mandated, and quickly. There was much to do. Still, she felt a bit better about it all now, somehow. She owed the Earth-daughter a debt, in spite of the problems the humanoid had caused.
Perhaps I am not the monster of a mad scientist after all. Perhaps, just perhaps, I am the weapon forged by the enemy for this very purpose and kept, preserved, until the time was right to act. Perhaps I am the deliberately created key player in this master plan.
And that feeling, for now, was enough.
Matriyehan skin was thick and tough; all four of them would show the burn marks of the explosion for some time to come, perhaps permanently, but the hair that was singed would grow back and there would be no lasting effects that would cripple their lives and performance.
Silent Woman seemed to have no memory of the attack; at least she didn’t act any different around Warlock than before. Still, Vulture didn’t think it a good idea to keep them close together. They could never be sure about Silent Woman.
Warlock looked at Maria and Midi. “You are going back—up?”
They nodded. “There is no medicine available here,” Maria noted. “We would quickly lapse back into dishonor. It had gone too far for us; the physical changes are permanent, although China believes she might one day determine a psychochemistry program that will retrain the body and brain to release the proper chemicals naturally. As it stands, we have a chance at a ship again, particularly considering the losses each of these operations has caused so far. There will always be a lingering loneliness, I think. This world has changed us far more than merely physically. I will always be Matriyehan from now on, neither fully of the old way or the new, but our destinies lie elsewhere, and we can do more for this world, our world, our people, there than here.”
Midi nodded. “I have never had a world or a people of my own before. Neither of us has. Each of us has a child and another on the way and those children are Matriyehan. Somebody has to make sure that we are not forgotten. When we face down Master System, Matriyeh must be there.”
Warlock sighed and nodded. “I understand, but I cannot leave. Someone also must remain here, to help and protect these people. The raid has restored my honor and my confidence. I know I will never again be a chief, but I will remain a warrior, and being the chief’s advisor and confidant is not a bad thing. Just as you must go, someone must stay.”
Vulture couldn’t help but wonder if part of Warlock’s change was her added softness and her pregnancy; it would have been damned hard for her to face Raven and the others like this. She would be invaluable in helping connect the chosen tribes, the Warriors of the Storm who would know the secrets, and in protecting and guiding them. She would not be alone; Soba had proven the potential of Matriyehans to change if they could be freed from the grip of the system, and Oona had the same potential. The real trick would be keeping their lives remote and secret from the master computer as well as keeping the circle of tribes large enough to function. It was a risk, but, as Soba had noted, all life on Matriyeh was constant risk, so you might as well risk things for a positive end.
“We shipped the remains of the Earth-daughter up with the ring, and they did an analysis,” Vulture told them. “It’s an amazing construct, half human and half robot. The hypnocaster survived mostly intact and it’s of unfamiliar design, small and integrated into the bone structure. The glow was more than for effect—it was also a carrier mechanism designed to induce incredible subjectivity in anyone within the field. We can duplicate the mechanism quite well, although we can’t duplicate the Earth-daughter. That level of technology is beyond us, and unless we were able to capture intact and analyze one of those master Val modules, we cannot even guess what her core was like. She had no other defenses, no other weapons, but against anyone but me, it still would have been more than enough—and even I wasn’t sure until the last moment. If she had not given me the diversion I needed, or if, after strangling me, she’d turned one of those laser rifles on me—I would have lost. It’s a sobering thought.”
“But—so much of what might be done here depends on keeping the master computer ignorant,” Warlock noted. “We can’t replace her, and we can’t explain her absence.”
“We thought of that, almost from the start, but we had to see the remains to be sure. The Earth-goddess was a later addition to the system, a fail-safe backup in recognition of the limits of the master computer here. There was no direct interface, and, needless to say, a mindprinter is useless on any kind of robot. It served as a second, independent observer, not subordinate of the computer. It appears that what little contact she had with the computer was through a small control room off the computer center where she had direct access to the data banks. Any communication, however, appears to have been by voice or keyboard. The computer was the manager, she was chief of security. They were very confident, too. The computer access is a standard setup without even rudimentary security protection. After all, no one else could even get down there, let alone operate the machinery. The appeal of having our own goddess, with computer access and hypnotic abilities, at the center of power here is nearly irresistible.”
Maria gasped. “But you’re talking about someone transmuted into a creature who would be the only one of its kind and under constant risk of exposure. There could never be another.”
“That is true,” Vulture admitted, thinking of Nagy’s comment about willingness to pay the ultimate price, “but there would be compensations. Using a duplicate of the intricate nervous system and exterior skin from the original, the wearer of the body would feel quite human but have much more control over it than humans could. The organic parts would be inside, extremely well protected and monitored. While not immortal, she would never age externally, be impervious to the elements and most things humans are prey to, and she would be in charge. She would be a living goddess incarnate without the limits or programming of her predecessor. She’d run the whole damn show. She would almost certainly be an activist goddess, unlike her predecessor.”
“Could they make such a creature?” Midi asked. “And, if so, could they get anybody to actually take the job?”
“Isaac Clayben has a knack for building creatures,” Vulture noted dryly. “As for appearance and behavior, in addition to the remains, they have our mindprints of how she looked, acted, and sounded. As for volunteers—it might be very difficult for certain types to turn down. We will see.”
“Yes,” Warlock said thoughtfully. “Raven, for one, would love the power of it. It would be quite amusing to see him lock into the role of a stunningly beautiful goddess.”
“Damn me if I ain’t tempted,” Raven said, puffing on his cigar. “Can’t you just see me with that body, walkin’ around like some naked virgin?” He chuckled. “But, with that power and that hypno and all, damn wouldn’t it be fun!”
“I certainly hope so,” Ikira Sukotae responded. “You can forget it, though, Raven. The job’s been filled and it starts in a few hours.”
His eyebrows went up. “Huh? Not you?” He stared at her, so tiny and yet so beautiful. “You don’t have the mass for it.”
“For most of our purposes, no, but I have more than enough to provide the organic portions. It’s been checked out. I’m the logical one. All this time I’ve been a tiny person in a land of giants, and I’ve lived as one of a kind. And I have no problems looking or acting like that. I was born to do it. I understand the computers and technical material, and I’m as used to the politics of command. You have to play the games very well to get to a position of authority and respect in a universe of giants. And the challenge . . . Overseeing the development of a whole new society and culture, uniquely female yet tough and self-reliant. I was born to be a goddess. I just never thought I’d get the chance. I don’t have to wait for Master System to be destroyed to get what I want. I never really knew what I wanted, Raven, but when this came up, and I found that I could have it, I knew this was my chance. What do you want out of this, Raven—really? Do you know?”
He sighed. “No. But I’m gonna miss you, kid.”
“I’ll miss you, too, Raven. All of you. Drop down and worship me sometime.”
“We’re gonna get the rest of the rings.”
She smiled. “I know. Maybe by then you’ll know what you want to do with them.”