Quest for the Well of Souls

“So that’s it, then,” Mavra said conversationally, in a normal conversational tone. “We’re stuck here. Our only chance is to make a deal with Yulin.”

He nodded. “If he’ll make deals. He’s got to come out of there sooner or later, you know. He’ll have to deal with us or trap himself.”

All sounds had stopped. Renard nodded slightly in the direction of the base, where an unconscious human form could be seen. It was naked, dirty, and scarred, and its hair was a long, twisted mess. It lay face up—a young boy, apparently.

Renard looked into the elevator and couldn’t suppress an exclamation. “My God!” he breathed.

Inside were stacked six or seven bodies, all out cold, all as filthy as the boy. All had horse’s tails.

When he turned to yell to the others, something struck him, hard, sending him sprawling. He was up in an instant and rushed back.

Another unseen thing hit Mavra broadside with such strength that it toppled her onto her side.

Renard saw something large and indistinct near her, and reached out to touch it. Voltage flowed.

Apparently it had no effect, for something landed hard on his head, bringing unconsciousness.

Though nearly helpless, Mavra struggled to rise as she saw two eerie forms, like women but green and grassy, step into the elevator and pull the boy in after them. As they started to change to match the elevator ulterior, the wall solidified.

Renard regained consciousness quickly and got unsteadily to his feet. Mavra managed finally to pull herself to her feet.

“Who the hell was that?” he gasped.

“The savages—Belden’s people,” she replied. “Probably all of them, I’d say. Snatched right in front of us.”

“But why?” he asked, still holding his head. “And who was it? Yulin? There were definitely at least two.”

She nodded. “Two, and both female. I saw them, briefly. They have a way of fading into the background, like two creatures I once knew—but far different. I don’t know who they are—but Yulin’s obviously being creative with Obie. We’ve been suckered under our very noses.”

“I still don’t get it,” Renard persisted. “Why the savages?”

“Here!” she said. “Get up on me. Ride me in. You’re still groggy.”

He was too woozy to resist her suggestion, and mounted her with difficulty. It was the first time a human being had been on her back, of whatever race. It was uncomfortable, but the Agitar was experienced and clung to her professionally. She slowly walked back, taking care not to throw him off.

“Well, Yulin needs or wants people, that’s for sure,” she said. “We know from Obie that he can’t materialize thinking beings out of thin air. The savages were the easiest to get—just hypno them and carry them down. If he runs them through, he has at least nine slaves that we know of, with whatever powers he wants to give them.”

“Whatever they were, one took a full jolt with no effect,” Renard noted glumly. “But why so many?”

“Us,” she replied. “Remember, he is trapped down there until he deals with us. He’s a very clever and devious man. He knows there’s nothing he can offer us, and certainly nothing he can do whereby we would trust him or he would trust us. Would you step under Obie’s dish with Yulin at the controls?”

“Hell, no!”

“So, what does he do? I’m sure he doesn’t want to risk feedback on Topside. The last time that was tried, Obie transported New Pompeii to its present place. So, he has to capture or kill us. For that he needs others—he can’t do it himself and risk leaving the controls. See?”

Renard whistled. “So our time’s even shorter than we thought,” he said nervously. “It’s nine to six now.”

“And you can bet that if he’s got them immune to your electric personality he’s got them guarded against the rest of us,” she pointed out. “I’d say we have to blow that charge quickly or it’s all over.”

“I think—” Renard started, but he was suddenly cut off.

The whole world was cut off.

There was only blackness and the sensation of falling. No sight, no sound or other impressions, nothing. It was as if all but their minds had simply ceased to exist.

It lasted for a long time, then, suddenly, they were back to normalcy again.

Renard had fallen off Mavra’s back and she’d stumbled herself. Now, for the second time they picked themselves up.

“Now what?” Renard groaned.

Mavra got shakily back to her feet and looked up.

“Events are quickly overtaking us,” she said quietly. “Look up. No Well World. Just a distant sun up there, and a more reasonable amount of stars.

“He’s done it, Renard! We’re back! Back in the human sector of space! Back in New Pompeii’s original orbit!”

“Oh, boy!” Renard said sourly. “And I told the breeding farm I was taking a short vacation…”

Underside

Ben Yulin was pleased with himself as he looked over his troops. He had changed all of them into his dream women, even the two boys. Each had a distinct hair and skin tone; but nine new names were a bit much to remember, and aside from the first two, Nikki and Mavra, he just decided to settle on numbers for a while.

The savages were really that, too, not very smart and at about an ape’s level of experience. Each retained the horse’s tail, as Ben Yulin thought they were kind of sexy, and they served to further distinguish the first two from the rest.

Obie did not give them a past, of course, but he provided language ability, demeanor, and all the other things necessary. Effectively, they were amnesiacs with needed skills, but that was fine. They too were love-slaves of Ben Yulin. All lay prostrate before him at his feet.

“You are my herd, my hareem,” he told them. “You are a part of me and I of you. You are the most honored of women, and will sit at my feet as I sweep away the old order and establish the new.”

“Yes, My Lord Yulin,” they responded sincerely in unison.

He looked at them in extreme self-satisfaction. In truth, a new order, he decided. Long ago, in lands lost in time and space but alive in the tradition of Yulin’s people, his ancestors had lived amid desert wastes in tent cities that followed the water and the blowing sand. Then great lords had grandiose hareems. Some of this would be restored, he told himself.

He would create human beings in all ways so close to perfection that clothing would be a sin except when needed for protection. Powerful Lords would rule not desert wastes but bountiful planets, holding sway over their own herds of beautiful, powerful, and adoring woman. Yet all would be subservient to him, the Supreme Caliph from whom all blessing and curses would flow, and for all time. A land of artisans, scientists, and engineers pushing back the ultimate frontiers.

A race to fulfill the Markovian dream of Utopian perfectionism, a race to become gods.

All this was within his grasp, right now, here, today!

“Arise and go about your duties,” he commanded, and they did so. Thanks to Obie, their living quarters were already quite comfortable, with great soft beds covered in silk and satin. Obie had also provided exotic fruits, vegetables, and meats indistinguishable from the originals. Though it was true that Yulin and his harem could now eat anything organic, even grass, there was no reason to.

Yulin returned to Obie and sat at a control console, flipping the transmitter switch.

“Obie? Have you plotted our position exactly?” he asked.

“Yes, Ben. We are back in the original New Pompeii orbit, along with the robot sentries. No sign of anything