His eyes hurt, his legs hurt. His arm...it all hurt. The distance hadn’t seemed all that long on the way, but he’d had a vehicle then, and his core hadn’t been exhausted from battle. Now...now the true scale of the Great Basin was made real to him. Kio on torturous kio. Even his farthest psionic senses couldn’t yet detect the minds of the workers that labored on the rim above.
Another step. His bad leg dragged, and he tottered, thrusting his good arm out for balance. His other arm poked uselessly at the air: a stump above the elbow. It didn’t help, and another pulse of telekinetic energy was needed to steady himself. He would’ve fallen headlong otherwise. That’s what it had come to.
The bad arm itched, and he was obliged to go back inside, back to the psionic corner where pain impulses filtered in from his limbs, deactivate the alarms again. Just an empty numbness now. That was better.
He continued on. He was at least halfway by now, and was that a whisper of a thought he heard? One of the dry responses of the automaton-workers, perhaps? They were always talking to the System in their heads: “Confirm this” and “Acknowledge that”. Regular, predictable. Easily tweaked.
Unlike Their minds. Down there, behind him. Theirs had been...unexpected, but he had tried, in spite of it.... Tried to do his duty.
The infestation grows, his masters had said. Down in the pits, between the foundation-ribs. Our scrying shows more hole-boring and tunnels. Toa Orde, it is time for something to be done.
He had tried to do what his masters asked, but it had not been what he’d anticipated. A thousand eyes had looked upon him from the pockmarked cliffsides, where the creatures had gnawed away the bones of the world. A thousand minds had turned their attention to his approach, as his sky-sled dropped out of the pale light above and landed in their dim realm. He’d extended his mind to them confidently, establishing the required connections, in order to start his work.
<<Great Beings…?>>
The first thoughts came through. Questions, even curiosity. About him, about his masters. That was to be expected. He widened the link further, calculating population numbers. So many...a vast number of minds...but it shouldn’t be a problem.
<<Great Beings know...>>
<<They...remember...>>
<<Remember...us?>>
He focused on the nearest of the creatures, a pair of eyes in an opening several bio above: the strongest link. He called up the mental schematic that had been provided to him, reviewed the changes required.
<<They...have not...forgotten...?>>
<<They...remember us>>
Simple enough: just a matter of finding the right mental threads to pull, the right pathways to re-wire. And then...Even these aberrants shall be brought into the grand design, as his masters had said. Even these.
All set. He made the first change.
<<What...?>>
Confirmed. The threads yielded to his will, with only a little resistance. It was going well.
He made the second change.
<<But...>>
Confirmed again. Pathways reshaped at his command, a little harder this time, but no problem.
He held the threads taut for a moment to suspend the target’s behavior, re-checked the schematic. Right, all correct.
<<Why…>>
Now he made the third change. This was the most difficult, bringing the final components into conformity. More resistance, but he was almost done. Afterward, the alterations would be propagated throughout their network. Simple enough, if his calculations were—
Shock. The mental link snapped off, like a limb breaking. It stunned him, disoriented him, but only for a second. Then he was back in his own throbbing head, feeling sick.
There was a noise in the dark space above, and something smashed heavily into the ground before him: A body, all spines and serrated claws. Now broken.
It was the creature he had linked with.
It was dead.
Confusion. What had happened? He had followed the schematic, all the proper directives. The task had almost been complete, but then.... The creature.... Had it…? No, surely....
Eyes were moving, up in the darkness. Crawling and scuttling.
He took a step back toward the sled, tried to reestablish his connection. He’d simply try again and then—
<<Rage>>
<<Resentment>>
He felt his breathing stop. He clutched his head, clenched his jaw involuntarily.
<<Wrath>>
<<Betrayal>>
A wall of chugging, pulsing malice struck him, and he reeled.
Thousands of minds bent on him in unison, overwhelmed his weakened defenses. And each one felt the same thing—the same feeling of fury, of violation—all feeding each other and consuming each other in an endless psychic loop.
He’d made a mistake, somehow. These were not like the automaton-minds of the workers above. These were—
<<RAGE>>
<<RESENTMENT>>
Not simply a web of threads and commands to be altered at his whim. They were...They were like him. How?
A barbed spear hurtled out of the dark, skewering his sky-sled and showering him with a cascade of sparks, and in the brief flare, he saw Them with his real eyes.
<<WE REMEMBER>>
He raised his hands. Closer.
<<WE WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER>>
* * * * * *
The basin-rim stood another few degrees higher now, and he was certain that he could catch a few strands of thought on the psy-fields. Almost within range, and then he could summon another sled to carry him the rest of the way. His arm throbbed. He’d not been able to keep the pain down for the last stretch.
Teeth gnawing, claws raking at his armor, a shriek shattering the air as his telekinesis tore another of Them limb from limb. And still more piled on. More bodies.
More wrath.
More betrayal.
Maybe he deserved to feel the pain.
On a whim, he looked back over his shoulder, saw the vast wasteland sloping downward behind him. His feet left faint tracks in the fine protodermic dust that covered every sio of the Great Basin. The trail led for many kio, showing the haphazard route he had taken after emerging from the deep defile, still pursued by the creatures. He had killed more of them on the plain. He’d had to.... They wouldn’t stop.... He wouldn’t stop.
Turning back toward the distant rim, he considered for a moment simply reporting success to his masters. They trusted him. Maybe they wouldn’t truth-test the message. And then...then the last complication would be resolved. Everything in order. The valve-gates would be opened, and silver water would pour into the Great Basin.
All part of the grand design.
And down there, in the pits, down between the foundation-ribs...the flood would sweep in. And maybe that would be the end of it.
No bodies. No traces left.
<<Rage>>
<<Resentment>
<<They know>>
Except with him. In his own memory. He would remember.
