Ifa-Vodun’s first martyr.
While Ubatu was vanishing into the heap, I murmured to Festina, "Pity you can’t tell the difference between an egg and a grenade."
"Yeah," she said. "Real shame."
"You found the egg in the huts you searched?"
"Sure. One of Team Esteem’s naturalists had gathered a nice set of samples — eggs from the nests of local lizards. I’ve always liked little colored eggs; I couldn’t resist taking the prettiest. Breaks my heart Ubatu smashed it."
"Didn’t do the baby lizard much good either."
"Don’t blame me," Festina said. "I wasn’t the one who sold out to the enemy."
"You suspected Ubatu would?"
"I suspected she’d do something stupid. Back on Pistachio, I read her personnel file. She has a record of irrational behavior in pursuit of advanced aliens… and flagrantly preaching some religion called Ifa-"
The rest of Festina’s words were drowned out by more screams from the moss. They’d finished dealing with Ubatu; they’d ripped her apart because they thought she was a hypocrite, falsely offering to be their priestess just to distract them. Now they were turning to the real source of their distress: the woman who had shut down the station. "Put that wire back!" they shrieked at Festina. "Fix it, or we’ll kill you!"
"You were going to kill me anyway," Festina said. "If you try it now, I’ve got my left hand around some glass thingamajig the Bumbler tells me is fragile as hell. There’s foamy orange liquid inside the thingamajig; if I break the glass, it’ll spill all over. I haven’t a clue what the stuff does, but I’m willing to bet the orange liquid is a complex chemical you can’t replace. I’m also willing to bet the liquid is essential for running this station — my Bumbler says this pyramid is a central hub for all the wires and pipes in the building. Mess with me, and I snap the thingamajig to pieces… splatter orange goo everywhere. That’ll put this place out of commission a lot more permanently than a loose wire."
"Put the wire back, human! Reattach it now. Don’t you realize the sacrilege…
"Sacrilege? Bullshit. You aren’t gods. You’re opportunists who were in the right place at the right time to suck on a magic teat. You’ve been slurping the milk of heaven ever since, but you’re no more divine than I am."
"If we can’t touch you, what about your companion?" I felt a wave of hate from the gray moss aimed at me — a palpable flash of loathing so strong it registered on my dormant sixth sense. "Reattach the wire," the Divine told Festina, "or we’ll kill your friend."
"Honestly," Festina said, "can’t you talk about anything but killing? First you were going to kill us for lunch. Then you were going to kill me for sacrilege. Now you’re going to kill Youn Suu for extortion. The more you make death threats, the more you convince me there’s no point striking a deal. You’re lousy at negotiation."
"Perhaps it’s because the Divine have just eaten Li and Ubatu," I said. "Neither of them were good at diplomacy either."
"If they ate you, would they get all enlightened?"
"If they asked politely, they could have the bottom half of my right leg. It wouldn’t be enough to bring out their entire Buddha nature… but it might raise their IQ forty or fifty points, and it would even me up nicely."
"Bilateral symmetry is so important," Festina agreed.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" the Divine shrieked. "Shut up and tell us what you want."
Festina laughed. "What do you think we want? Get your fuzzy asses off the energy emitter. Let this station work the way it was intended."
"But we need the energy! We need it or we’ll die."
"Nonsense." Festina held up the detached wire, still in her right hand. "You’re already cut off, aren’t you? And you’re still alive. So don’t give me sob stories. Maybe if you stop overdosing on weird-shit energy, you’ll transform the way you were meant to: into real higher beings, not just psionic blowhards. Besides," she added, "I don’t care if you do die. You killed Li and Ubatu. That makes you dangerous nonsentient lifeforms. The League of Peoples will give me a gold star for ending your useless lives."
"But…"
"No buts! Get off the emitter… now. Otherwise-"
Three things happened in rapid succession.
First, Festina’s left hand was thrown back out of the pyramid. Somehow the Divine had telekinetically ripped loose her grip on the glass thingamajig without breaking the delicate mechanism. I was surprised the spores had tried such a risky maneuver — if they’d miscalculated, they might have smashed the glass and put the station permanently out of order — but deprived of their age-old addiction, the bits of moss were desperate enough to take the chance. I heard no shattering glass; the Divine’s gamble had paid off.
Second, Festina gasped… not just in surprise at having her hand torn free from the pyramid. She was under some other attack: the Divine trying to kill her. Telekinetically crushing her heart? Squeezing her throat? Bursting an artery in her brain? The spores would want her dead, to make sure she gave no more trouble and to take revenge for the trouble she’d already caused. Without a sixth sense, I couldn’t tell what the Divine was doing; but the sharpness of her gasp suggested the onslaught was fast and brutal.
Third, I felt power surge within me: the red Balrog spores finally making their move. Their strength was limited — their mass was no more than a tenth of the Divine mound’s, and their energy proportionately small — but they had the advantage of surprise. The Divine spores never expected opposition on the psychic plane, so they were totally unprepared for the Balrog’s intervention. Glowing red barriers sprang up around Festina and me, beating back the Divine’s assault. Festina’s gasp turned to relief as the Divine’s crushing grip was repelled.
But the respite was only temporary; we weren’t safe yet. The red spores in my body were massively outnumbered by the gray spore heap. My internal Balrog could only protect us a short while: I felt the Divine hammering on the red glow around me, trying to bash down the wall. My spores had no strength to spare beyond keeping the enemy at bay. Festina and I would have to neutralize the Divine on our own, before the gray overwhelmed the red and ripped us all to pieces.
At least we had one advantage: the gray spores couldn’t draw on the station’s energy. Festina still held the detached yellow wire, so no power was flowing. Even as that thought crossed my mind, however, the wire jerked in her hand. The Divine must have grabbed it telekinetically; their next step would be to reconnect it and bring the station back online. With the return of radiation to the emitters, the gray spores would gain all the strength they needed to finish us off.
As Festina fought to hold the wire back, I pulled myself toward her as fast as I could. The Divine didn’t stop me; why weaken themselves by dividing their efforts? They were already concentrating on two tasks: trying to break the red fields that protected Festina and me, and shoving the wire back into place.
Festina held the wire in both hands now, wrestling it like a thin yellow snake. Her body strained with the effort, a desperate tug-of-war. It amazed me the wire didn’t break under the tension; either it was made from high-tech material far stronger than conventional copper, or the Divine were psionically reinforcing it, holding it together by the power of their will. Millimeter by millimeter, the bare tip of conductor at the end of the wire nosed its way toward the electrical terminal where it was supposed to be attached… but before it made contact, I grabbed Festina’s arms and added my strength to hers.