and perfect. The lift had no controls. It was controlled from elsewhere, and he stood to attention as it rose.
He thought to review his life, but could not stop his mind from imagining torture and how he would fail in its rigors, and they would all see and know the cowardice that, in his most secret being, he felt defined him. He thought about death constantly, wondered at what it would mean no longer to be, and feared above all things the destruction of his soul.
This was why he had risen so extraordinarily high. It was his willingness—which he detested in himself—to do anything he needed to do to prove his loyalty to his betters, even if it involved lies, cruelty, and pointless killing. His journey upward was a desperate flight to safety.
The doors opened and bright light glared into his face. He tried to control his hearts, but could not. The rhythms synchronized into panic mode, and he knew that his state of fear would be flaring alarms in some nearby monitoring center.
What he thought might be a board member came and stood before the light, so that he was a black shadow to Samson, his face unrecognizable. “You have twenty hours before the gateways open. You’re not even close to being ready.”
Samson took a breath. He thought he knew that voice. He thought it was Beleth himself, the master of all the males, Echidna’s husband. In effect, the king of the world. “We’re right on schedule, Sir.”
“You’re a liar, of course.”
He thought as quickly and carefully as he could, considering that his mind was racing with fear. “They can’t defeat us, they’re only human.”
“That’s your mistake and I’m surprised at you. We knew you were arrogant and venial, but who isn’t? I had not taken you to be stupid.”
“No, Sir.”
“And neither are the earth people. The full-blooded earth human is smarter than we are, as you know. They lack only experience, this new species, to make themselves masters of the three worlds. Remember that they already have two, which we do not.”
He seemed to want to engage in conversation. Samson was compelled to respond. He cast around for something positive to say. “They are a more advanced form than us, it’s true, Sir. But they have no idea how easy it is for them to pass through gateways. They’re ignorant.”
“Thanks to the work of our forebears. Can you imagine what a human army would do here? Bringing hope, happiness even, to people who cannot be controlled except by fear?”
“That would be an extraordinary misfortune. But I don’t think it’s one we need to worry about. They are far from realizing that they can use gateways at will, at any time.”
“How about the Union intelligence agent in the one-moon universe?”
“That’s going well, Sir.”
“In what sense, General? Have you killed him?”
“I expect that to be confirmed on my return,” Samson replied.
“But it’s not confirmed now?”
“No, it’s confirmed, in the sense that we got an assassin through. So, yes, I can confirm that.”
“How did you get an assassin into a place that we can’t penetrate, General?”
“Well, we are able to, in a limited way. And remember, the closer to the moment of passage we come, the easier it is.”
“So the agent is definitely no longer a problem? You can guarantee this?”
Samson forced acid back out of his craw and into his churning stomach. This agent had been placed only a few leagues from the center of the whole operation, and not only that, had somehow been penetrated into the inaccessible one-moon universe where he lived in direct parallel to the single most dangerous human being on the two-moon earth, Martin Winters.
It was quite an achievement. And the problem was, he had no idea at all whether or not the agent was dead. But North was a brilliant achievement, too, and he had to believe that the attack had worked.
“Can you guarantee it, General Samson?”
The only acceptable answer was “yes.” Anything less could bring torture and death. “The agent is dead.”
“Then let me report the good news to my wife. She’s been very concerned about this aspect of the situation.”
Samson fought for air. He needed to sit down, but there were no chairs here. As it was supposed to, the piercing light was making him feel naked and exposed. It was forcing him to shiver his scales, lest his body temperature rise and make him slow.
There came, from behind the horrible shadow, piercing female laughter.
It could only be her.
Then the light went out. As Samson’s eyes got used to the dimness, he had a great surprise: he saw that the entire Board of Directors was present. All of them, even Mazle’s father, he noted.
Behind the assembled Board, an enormous window overlooked the Sea of Anubis, and a great longing entered Samson when he saw a ship, a pearl-white jewel tiny in the sun, its red sails rotating slowly in what must be a light breeze. How lovely their lives must be, those simple sailors, even the ones whose jobs would make their time short, the pitch makers and the rope weavers and the scrapers. At least they did not risk their souls, not like a politician or a general.
“Come,” Echidna said. She actually took his hand. Up close, she was dazzling, a shimmering complex of the smallest imaginable scales, blushed pink under her high cheekbones, delicate blue around her smiling, sparkling, delightfully pale pink eyes. Her body, easily visible beneath a floating gown of gossamer gold thread, was superbly curved, breathtakingly desirable. She was so vastly, incredibly different from the humble women on the bus with their dull scales, sagging with untended molt, that she might as well have been an entirely different species, not a seraph at all, but something from some grander and more extraordinary world than Abaddon.
He followed her past the boardroom and into the private apartments, feeling her strong, cold hand in his. He forced his neck scales as tight as he could, but the musty scent of his desire still oozed from his pulsing glands. It made her throw back her head and laugh, and made Beleth nudge him from behind, and hiss.
Children’s toys littered the legendary floor of pure gold, and kids playing darted between the feet of their elders. In the family shrine at the far end of the great room, the mistress’s women attended their business, some sewing quietly while warming her latest clutch of black eggs, others listening discreetly to the proceedings.
“He will sit,” Echidna called as they approached her ladies.
Chairs were brought by two young fashionistas, so highly bred that their scales were like white cream, almost as pale as hers.
He found himself surrounded by gorgeous women. These really high aristocrats made even a highly bred noble like Mazle seem dreary.
He strove not to appear as he felt, thunderstruck.
Some of the children gathered, interested, no doubt, to watch whatever was about to befall him. Because he had only won the first round.
He looked across the impassive faces of the board members. Nobody was readable. All eyes stared straight ahead. The ultimate power rarely acted, and when it did, all were silent. Whatever she did, there would be absolute approval. Debate would end.
She glared down at him, then leaned forward slightly and stroked his neck. “Such interesting scales,” she murmured, and he saw something in her eyes other than the contempt he had expected. It crossed his mind that the old Echidna might have died and been replaced by another clone, and perhaps also another soul, one that might use the memories stored in the brain quite differently. With the high born, there was no way to tell who actually possessed a given identity at a given time, so this might not even be the person who had favored him and promoted him in the first place. She might consider that her memories of doing those things represented a mistake on the part of a predecessor.
She looked into his face. “I’ve seen no lying from you, but I have seen impetuousness and arrogance. I see that you despise us of good blood. You do, don’t you?”
What should he say? The light was low, so any nervous flittering of his scales would not be seen.
“Of course I hate you. But I am loyal to you and to us all. I am loyal to our beloved Abaddon.”
