Quest for the Well of Souls

“What?” they shouted at once. Both Renard and Mavra tumbled through sentences, and Obie let them run down.

Finally, when they had calmed, Obie explained.

“I spent most of my time trying to probe the Well,” he told them. “I discovered early that if I asked a specific and very limited question, the Well computer would answer it. By that time Trelig, Yulin, and Dr. Zinder—who I was really after—had already passed through. I sensed them, trying to get data on Dr. Zinder, but I was too late. All I could do was suggest that he be placed in a high-tech hex. It was a simple enough idea; I could handle it. So, when Renard and Nikki came through several days later, I was ready. Renard I made an Agitar, mostly because I knew Trelig was a Makiem and the two were situated next to each other. I thought you would act as a check on him, Renard.”

The Agitar nodded. That explained a lot, and eliminated the wild coincidence he’d had to accept.

“Nikki wasn’t ready, though,” Obie continued. “On her own she would be lost almost anywhere on the Well World, and I had no way of making her an Oolakash, like her father. The Well follows rather complex rules, and she just didn’t fit the Oolakash requirements. So, I decided there was only one thing to do. I seized her, practically in transit, so to speak. She went from the Well Gate to a mathematical limbo; then I brought her to me through the big dish Underside and produced her in the control center through the little dish. I cured her of sponge and most of the excess weight. She’s really rather cute. About the only thing that surprised me was that she was pregnant.”

Again there was a chorus of “What?”

“Your child, Renard,” Obie answered. “In Teliagin, when the two of you were sinking from sponge and thought you were going to die. Remember?”

Renard had totally forgotten it. Even with Obie’s prompting he could barely remember it now.

“I needed hands, and I needed people,” Obie told them. “So I allowed her to have the child. A girl, which she named Mavra, after you, Mavra Chang. You made quite an impression on her.”

Mavra felt slightly pleased. “She’s been living in there for twenty-two years with you?” she asked, unbelieving. “And the daughter is almost that?”

“Oh, no,” Obie replied. “Not exactly. Several years, yes. The child is about fifteen, and very attractive—I did remake her slightly,” the computer boasted. “Nikki is about twenty-five. There was no purpose to their living a strictly linear existence in there. I could provide the growth-match and some of the upbringing in the same way I put plans in your head, Mavra. They’ve lived off and on inside me.”

“I thought you were the god machine,” Renard pointed out, a little upset at all this. “Why’d you need people?”

“I could make extensions of myself, yes,” Obie admitted, “but not new life. The mathematics isn’t right for that. Even the Markovians had to become their own new creatures. And, of course, there was the matter of loneliness. I needed companionship. They have provided it. And they’ve been even more helpful ever since Dr. Zinder managed to build his transmitter and contact me many years ago.”

The surprised “What”s were getting monotonous.

“It’s been almost like old times,” the computer admitted. “Dr. Zinder was safe and well and happy—and could work with me. We coordinated with Ortega so that we’d know as much as possible what was going on with you all down there. It’s worked out nicely, and we’ve been able to help Ortega and several others with problems. The major task was the study of the Well, which is an endless project, and quite beyond me—and, of course, how to free myself of the Well’s hold. That proved to be relatively simple.”

“You mean you’re independent of it?” Mavra asked.

“Oh, no. I mean I know how to do it. The trouble is that only half of me is controlled by voluntary circuits— much like the human brain. The way to free the other half is to get into the shaft and short out a series of circuits. Harmless, but without them the Well and I cannot conduct proper communication.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Renard asked. “Involuntary circuit?”

“In a way,” Obie replied. “You see, they had me in ‘defense’ mode and that’s involuntary. In that regime, which I am still in, by the way, I can not open the door. I could make Nikki and Mavra into what I needed and give them the skills, or I could create a robot analog and do it myself—but I can’t get out there to do it.”

Mavra’s brain was racing, questions shooting through her mind with blinding speed.

“Obie?” she asked. “Why did you pick me to give those plans to?”

“I didn’t. I told the same thing to everybody I felt capable of doing the job,” the computer responded. “You were just the one who made it.”

That wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, and it clouded her thinking for a moment. She recovered with difficulty.

“Obie—Ben Yulin’s going to find this out sooner or later,” Renard pointed out. “And when he does, he’ll free you of the Well’s hold but still be in control. What happens then?”

“As soon as contact is broken, he can reverse the field,” the computer replied. “New Pompeii would be back in normal, familiar space again—and the big dish would be operational. With my knowledge of the Well, and the big dish, he’d have the power to transform an entire planet into anything he wanted.”

“And how long do you think that will take?” Mavra asked.

“Not long,” Obie answered apprehensively. “He has Nikki and Mavra Zinder, and he has learned from them that Gil Zinder can be contacted by radio. Dr. Zinder built me into New Pompeii because of Trelig’s threats to harm Nikki Zinder. Do you think he’ll do less to save his daughter and grand-daughter? You know better. In a matter of hours Yulin will know it all. He’ll break contact with the Well not long after—and he’s very cautious and extraordinarily tricky. I calculate that Yulin will discover that I’m talking to you over the ship’s radio within that period, too, and put a halt to it.”

Plans and schematics continued to flash through Mavra’s head. Something, the key to it all, was there, she knew. But what? I’ve got too much data, she thought in frustration. Can’t get a handle.

“Then time’s running out on all of us,” Renard breathed helplessly.

“Except for Ben Yulin,” agreed Obie.

Underside

Ben Yulin was singularly unequipped to be a world conqueror. He had to order Obie to swing the dish to him, then create some tough rope in an energy-to-matter conversion before he could even tie up the two women. They presented very little threat; the Dasheen bull was extremely powerful, and they had no weapon to use on him. There had been a lot of chasing and yelling, but the result was inevitable.

Satisfied that all was well, he climbed the stairs once again and checked the control panel. For the first time, he allowed himself to relax and think about the past and the future.

True, he told himself, he’d planned everything each step of the way, knowing that he and he alone had to be the one to enter and to control the powerhouse. But he’d been like a prisoner in jail who dreams of escape: so much effort went into planning how to do it that little thought had been given to what was to happen after.

There were ghosts in this chamber all right, not the least of which was the living ghost of Nikki Zinder, whom he’d assumed many years dead. Now here she was—if not pretty, at least cute, and fairly trim.

Obie was a slippery character; you could force him to follow your orders, but if you left him a loophole he’d plunge through every time. That brought up one thought immediately.

“Obie?”

“Yes, Ben?”

“I don’t want you telling anyone else by any means what I’m doing in here, or anything I might do in the future. Understand?”

“Yes, Ben.”

That settled at least one big worry. Next was—

Suddenly Yulin was very dizzy and somewhat nauseous, and he grabbed onto the panel for support, steadying himself until it subsided.