Midnight at the Well of Souls

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the creature responded sadly. “That means my people are dead. Who was the mold? Brassario?”

“Brassario,” Brazil confirmed. “But all this explains nothing!”

“Oh, but it does,” the snakeman replied. “Because I am Serge Ortega, Nate. This world changed me into what you see.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with factory worlds,” Vardia interjected. They ignored her.

Brazil looked bard at the creature. The voice, the eyes—they were dimly familiar, somehow. It did remind him of Ortega, sort of. The same crazy glint to the eyes, the same quick, sharp way of talking, the underlying attitude of amused arrogance that had gotten Ortega into more bar fights than any other man alive.

But it had been so long ago.

“Look here!” Hain put in. “Enough of old home week, Ortega or not Ortega. Sir, or whatever, I should very much like to know where we are, and why we are here, and when we shall be able to return to our own ship.”

Ortega gave that evil smile. “Well, as to where you are—you’re on the Well World. There’s no other name for it, since that’s exactly what it is. As to where it is—well, damned if I know. Nobody here has ever been able to leave it. I only know that the night sky is like nothing you ever saw before. I spaced almost two hundred years, and none of the extremely prominent features look familiar. At the very least we’re on the other side of the galaxy, or maybe even in another galaxy. As to why you’re here, well, you somehow bumbled into a Markovian Gate like me and maybe thousands of others did. And here you are, stuck just like the rest of us. You’re here for good, mister. Better get used to it.”

“See here!” Hain huffed. “I have power, influence—”

“Means nothing here,” Ortega responded coldly.

“My mission!” Vardia protested. “I must perform my duties!”

“No duties, nothin’ anymore but you and here,” the snakeman said. “Understand this: you are on a world built by the Markovians—yes, I said built. The whole thing: lock, stock, and core. As far as we know, the whole damned thing is a Markovian brain in perfect working order, and preprogrammed.”

“I figured we were inside Dalgonia,” Brazil said. “It felt as if we fell down into something.”

“No,” replied Ortega, “that was no fall. The Markovians really had godlike powers. Matter transmission was a simple thing for them. Don’t ask me how it works, but it does, because we got a local version here. I wouldn’t understand it if somebody did explain it, anyway.”

“But such a thing is impossible!” Hain objected. “It is against the laws of physics!”

Ortega’s six limbs shrugged. “Who knows? At one time flying was impossible. Then it was impossible to leave a planet, then impossible to leave a solar system, then impossible for anything to go faster than light. The only thing that makes something impossible is ignorance. Here on the Well World the impossible’s a fact of life.”

At that moment the food arrived, brought in on a small cart that was obviously some sort of robot. It went up to each in turn, and offered a tray of hot food, which, when removed, revealed an identical tray beneath. Brazil removed the cover and just stared for a minute. Finally, he said, in a tone of absolute awe and reverence: “A real steak!” He hesitated a moment and looked over at Ortega. “It is real, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” the snakeman assured him. “It’s real enough. The potato and beans, too. Oh, not quite a cow, not quite a potato, and so forth, but so close you’ll never be able to tell the difference. Go ahead, try it!”

Hain was already greedily tearing into his, while Vardia looked at the food, bewildered.

“What’s the trouble?” Brazil managed between swallows. “Problems?”

“It’s quite safe to eat,” Ortega assured her. “There are no microorganisms that will give you any real problems here—not until you go out, anyway. The stuff’s biologically compatible.”

“No, no—it’s—” she stammered. “Well, I have never seen food like it before. How do you…?”

“Just watch me and follow my example,” Brazil laughingly replied. “See? You cut it with a knife and fork like this, then—”

They dug into the meal, Vardia getting the hang of it, although she protested several times that she thought the food tasted terrible. But they were all too hungry to protest.

Ortega’s eyes fell on Wu Julee, who just sat there staring at the food, not eating at all. “The girl—she is ill?” he asked them.

Brazil suddenly stopped eating and looked at Hain, who had already finished and was just letting out an extremely noisy belch. The captain’s face had a grave expression on it, and the fine food suddenly felt like lead in his stomach.

“She’s a spongie,” Brazil said softly. Hain’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.

Ortega’s face, too, turned serious. “How far gone?” he asked.

“Fairly bad, I’d say,” Brazil replied. “Deep mental maybe five years old, voluntary action basically emotive only.” Suddenly he whirled in his chair and faced Hain, cold fury in his eyes. “How about it, Hain?” he snarled. “Would you agree?”

Hain’s piggish face remained impassive, his tone of voice seemed almost one of relief. “So you found out. I thought perhaps I was overdoing the routine at that dinner.”

“If we hadn’t been trapped on Dalgonia, I’d have had you and her down on Arkadrian before you realized what was what,” Brazil told him.

Hain’s face showed both shock and surprise. Brazil’s remarks had gotten to him. Then, suddenly, a thought occurred to him and the old, smug self-confidence returned.

“It would seem, then, that I have fallen not into a terrible situation, but into a most fortunate one by this— er, circumstance,” he said calmly. “A pity for the lady, though,” he added in mock sympathy.

“Why you son of a bitch!” Brazil snarled and leaped at the fat man’s throat, spilling food everywhere. The big man was a head taller and twice the weight of the attacker, but Brazil’s quickness and the sheer hatred in his soul flowed into his arms and hands as they tightened around the other’s neck.

Hain thrashed and tried to push the smaller attacker away, but all he managed was to cause both of them to roll onto the floor, the small man still squeezing. Hain’s mouth was open, face red, as he gasped for breath. The expression on Brazil’s face was almost demonic; nothing would keep him from his goal.

Vardia watched openmouthed, understanding the situation only in the vaguest way and finding Brazil’s actions, both recounted and current, incomprehensible. In her private universe, there were no people, only cells composing a whole body. A diseased cell was simply eliminated. So there was no place in her mind for one who caused such a disease.

Wu Julee watched the two grapple impassively, her meal still on her lap.

Suddenly Ortega bounded over his desk and grabbed Brazil with massive arms. The giant creature moved almost too fast for the eye to follow; Vardia was stunned at the speed and surety with which the creature acted.

Brazil fought to get free of the grip, and Ortega’s middle arm suddenly came from nowhere and punched the small man hard in the jaw. He went slack, still held aloft in the creature’s strong grip.

Freed of his attacker, Hain gasped and choked for air, finally rolling flat on his back and lying there, his huge stomach rising and falling. He felt his neck, where the imprint of Brazil’s murderous hands could still be seen.

Ortega began examining the unconscious man. Satisfied that no bones were broken, nor permanent damage done, he grunted and put the man down on the floor. Brazil collapsed in a heap, and the snakeman turned his attention to Hain.

“I thank you, sir,” Hain gasped, his hand going involuntarily to his throat. “You have surely saved my life.”

“I didn’t want to do it, nor would I have done so in normal times,” Ortega snapped back acidly. “And if Nate ever catches up to you on the outside, I won’t be there to save you—and, if I am, I’ll cheerfully join him in tearing you limb from limb. But I will not allow such a thing here!” He turned his attention back to Brazil, who was just coming around.

Hain seemed taken aback by the creature’s comments, then saw that his pulse pistol had fallen when they