In spite of my resolve I jerked backward. The nemosyne laughed.
“Oh, it won’t burn you, Imperator—”
Crack!
He clapped his hands together and the jewel-box disappeared. “There,” he said, flicking his fingers as though to cleanse them; “ that’s done.” He looked up at me, his emerald eyes glowing. “Now what shall we see next? Wichita? Vancouver? Punta Arenas?”
At each name a glittering image spun into sight. Wichita’s domes like dun-colored bubbles, Vancouver’s spires and minarets, the ice-locked casements of Antarctica’s capital. The nemosyne drew back, regarding them critically. “Or perhaps we should pluck an eye from HORUS—”
And there were the lazily turning stations of Hotei, Helena Aulis, Quirinus, Advhi Sar, each image much cleaner than the real thing and small enough to fit in my hand. Metatron’s eyes narrowed. Light gleamed from one plasteel arm as he reached out and contemplatively pinched Advhi Sar’s shining torus between two fingers. As I watched, he brought it to his mouth and, smiling, bit down upon it with glittering meal teeth.
“ Stop it. ”
I knew they were only ’filed images, but it was too easy to recall Jawa and NASNA Prime, and Araboth’s domes crushed by the prince of storms. Metatron only shrugged.
“As you wish, Imperator.” The shining cities blinked from sight. For an instant the nemosyne was utterly still, staring at me with the cold dull gaze of an adder. Any resemblance to a mortal man was gone. I was looking at a being infinitely less human than Lascar Franschii or myself, or even Nefertity. His coldly glittering eyes, the cruel and angular lines of his face, were less alive than anything I had ever seen. Yet he was charged with such malevolence, such unshakable strength and arrogance, that he seemed more powerful than anything I had ever gazed upon.
“What are you?” I whispered.
“Many things.” He smiled again, slowly, and said, “My name is Legion.”
“Who discovered you? Who has programmed you to do these things? Why?”
A shrug of those gleaming shoulders. “ Ad astra per asperan, Imperator. You will find out soon enough.”
The nemosyne’s image flickered, as though the transmission were fading. His voice began to grow fainter. “Certain Ascendant outposts on Earth and in HORUS have proved difficult for my followers to reclaim. It seems they have formed their own alliances. Ironic, isn’t it, that after all these centuries your Autocracy and Emirates and Commonwealth should suddenly find themselves with a common enemy?”
His voice grew silken as he crooned, “But we are not your enemy, Imperator, the geneslaves and I. Humanity is. And you are no longer human. Your human masters have done nothing but fail you, again and again. Don’t you think it is time you shed your lingering affection for mem? Don’t you think it is time you found a new master?”
In the air above his head fiery words appeared, the NASNA motto Oderint dum metuant spelled out in flames.
“You have hated very well, Imperator. Now it is time you learned to fear”
The letters crumbled into ash as Metatron’s voice rose to a howl. The walls of the carrel shook around me and ’files and books slid from tables and shelves. Before my eyes the nemosyne grew larger, billowing out like an elÿon readying for flight, until he seemed to take up the entire room: a vast black cloud shot with violet lightning, pierced by two raging emerald eyes. With an explosive roar he was gone.
Silence; then a barely audible sound echoed in the room.
Another voice, my own voice, faint and tremulous as though it had been recorded on faulty equipment and was now being played back from a great distance—years, perhaps; decades …
“ I must serve somebody, ” it— I —said; and then the library grew silent one more.
The chamber’s light had dimmed when a sound roused me.
“Imperator.”
I whirled, my hand raised to strike; but at the far end of the room stood Captain Novus. Her face was red, her eyes puffy from the drugs she had been given. “A replicant woke me and said that we are approaching Quirinus.” She yawned, rubbing her arms, and shook her head. “The time says it’s been fifty-three hours. Is that possible?”
Fifty-three hours! But of course it was possible. It seemed now that anything was possible.
“Yes,” I said numbly. I was glad I had only one human hand, and that she could not see how it trembled. “I warned you, elÿon travel is disorienting.”
I walked past her, headed for the door leading back to the navigation cell. “Make sure Nefertity has been reactivated. Both of you will meet me in the adjutant’s chamber as soon as possible.”
She stared at me, surprised at my subdued tone, then nodded. “As you wish, Imperator,” she said, and hurried down the corridor.
In the navigation cell I tried to question Lascar Franschii about my vision of Aidan Harrow and the subsequent message from the nemosyne he referred to as the Oracle.
“Of course there are ghosts here!” the adjutant whined. “There are ghosts on every elÿon, how do you think we travel so quickly? They pull us, we are chained to them, spirits of the past, the dead, the damned—”
There was more of this babble, but in a rage I yanked his speaking tube from the wall. When Valeska and Nefertity arrived, Lascar Franschii was thrashing furiously within his web of wires, squeaking like a bat.
“That is cruel,” Nefertity said coldly. She slid the speaking tube back into his mouth. A froth of blood and spittle greeted her for her kindness, and a stream of curses. Even Captain Novus looked appalled.
“We’d better find the docking area,” she said as the adjutant kicked weakly at the wall behind him. Without a word I strode to the door, not waiting for the others to follow.
“Will he—will that affect our landing?” Captain Novus asked uneasily when we were out of earshot. “He seems to be having some kind of seizure.”
“We have fallen into a trap that Lacar Franschii has helped set for us, Captain Novus. Please arm yourself and be prepared for a hostile encounter. Under no circumstances should you allow my replicant to be harmed.”
Valeska Novus swallowed and glanced at Nefertity beside her like a radiant shadow. “Yes, Imperator,” she said, and was silent.
We entered the main corridor, its glowing walls painting us all a lurid crimson. At the end of the hallway was the door through which we had first entered the Izanagi. Three of the Maio servers stood beside it, their silver faces turned attentively toward us.
“Imperator Margalis Tast’annin,” one of them announced in its clear, cold voice as we approached. “There is no human escort on HORUS colony Quirinus to greet you. A psychological reading of those aboard shows only thirteen auxiliary personnel, female energumens from Kalamat Cluster 533. There is evidence of recent biochemical sabotage. In addition, three auxiliary capsules bearing the designation HORUS Colony Helena Aulis are in the process of making an unauthorized docking at Quirinus. We recommend aborting this mission.”
“I don’t believe we could abort this mission under any circumstances,” I said curtly. “And we will have no need of human escorts. I have reason to believe that the energumens are expecting us.”
Before us the door shuddered as the elÿon docked into the main entryway of the HORUS station. I could hear Valeska’s shallow breathing, and from the navigator’s cell far behind us the voice of Lascar Franschii bellowing with laughter. With a sound like a knife scraping glass, the entry-way began to open. Brilliant blue light poured into the chamber, mingling with the elÿon’s crimson glow to turn everything a vivid purple. A moment later we were gazing into the vast recesses of Quirinus.