Gildron paused before us. Now he leaned over us, one massive, hairy hand cupping Tara's head, gently pulling her to a sitting position. Tara was paralyzed with terror—she too thought it was the O. I watched in horror, totally helpless. Gildron's eyes were full of tears. His face came up against Tara's and he gathered her up in his arms, just like a baby, and lifted her off the slab.
"Gildron! It's you!" Tara called out. Gildron threw his head back and moaned.
"Zin-da," He said. "Zin-da." He gently set her on her feet, and went down on one knee, embracing her. I hardly dared move. Tara was crying, running her hands hopelessly through Gildron's hair. I slid off the slab slowly to an icy floor. I had no explanation, no idea at all what was happening.
Gildron got to his feet, a massive, powerful figure. Had I ever really looked at him before? I had always thought of him as an ape, but now he looked like a God. He put one great, hairy hand on Tara's shoulder, and one on mine. And he led us toward the doorway. Right into the light.
We walked through icy air, green lights glittering all around us. And two gigantic O's stood aside and let us pass. My heart was pounding. It was like a dream. My fingernails dug into my palms, and I could feel it just fine.
This was no dream—it was real! Gildron had just walked us past the O's!
Chapter 13
Two Billion Ghosts
"Hold still. This is a deep cut," Tara said. I held still. Tara pressed a fleshpad over a wound on my cheek. My body was slimy with medgel. I was covered with burns and cuts and bruises. I still didn't feel much because Sweety had pumped me full of mags and biotics during the assault, but it was going to hurt a lot when the mags wore off. My right leg was already tingling; it had been badly scalded.
Tara was in better shape because she had not spent as much time in the starmass as I had. But she was also covered with little cuts and bruises. As our A-suits had slowly deteriorated in the superhot temperatures, the interiors had begun to heat up.
"It's cold," Tara said with a shiver, continuing to dab at my face. She was wearing Gildron's huge elektra-violet tunic. It was so big, it was all she needed. I was still naked. We were sitting on a small ledge jutting out of the wall in a circular room. There was a round structure set in the middle of the room that looked like some kind of high-tech table, about shoulder-high, full of recessed slots and grooves, hiding unknown things. There were a couple of large vertical cushioned structures against the wall as well that might have been beds or chairs for the O's.
Tara was exhausted and stunned, but still absolutely lovely, fragile and slender, as exquisite and ethereal as a princess from the clouds. Her auburn hair was stringy and sticky with sweat, but it made no difference.
She was the same girl I had known in my other life, before the Legion.
"The bleeding's stopped," she said wearily.
"Wonderful," I replied without enthusiasm. Gildron had left the room, leaving us alone. We didn't know where he was. The O's had evidently let Gildron retain his medpak, and he had handed it to Tara before he left. We still had no idea what was happening. It was so strange and I was so tired that I did not even have the mental energy to wonder about it.
"We're not on a star run, you know," Tara said, huddled inside the tunic.
"Doesn't seem like it," I replied. I couldn't feel any of the pressure that came with being in the hole.
"Ship's grav is on, but we're not in stardrive. I wonder why."
I did not reply. It didn't matter, I thought. We were in the power of the O's—we were dead. It was just a matter of time.
"If we're not on stardrive," Tara continued, "it means we can't be too far from Uldo."
"Were you born with this optimistic streak," I asked, "or did you have to work at developing it?"
She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Pale green lights and alien devices, watching over us.
"I don't understand it," she said. "About Gildron. What does it mean?"
"You're the psycher. You tell me."
"I have no idea, Wester. No idea at all."
"They must like him," I said. "Maybe they think he's cute."
"Another thing," Tara said. "They're not psyching us. I couldn't even move when they were psyching us. Now there's nothing."
"Yes, it's strange. Of theoretical interest, perhaps. Something to puzzle out between now and whenever that door opens and the O's slither in to kill us." It was freezing, and I didn't think I'd ever be the same again. Then the door slid open and my adrenalin surged wildly.
It was Gildron, shirtless, carrying some of our gear. The door snapped shut behind him. I breathed again. He dumped the equipment on the floor before us. Fieldpaks, another medpak, ratpaks, a toolpak, one canteen, a cooler, and our own litesuits, scorched and torn. Tara reached out and touched him, overcome. He grinned at her like a big, friendly monkey. I grabbed at my litesuit pants, shivering.
"You're all right, Gildron," I said. "Next time bring us the E's and a Persist."
"Poo-sit," Gildron said. "Dak-more." He opened up a fieldpak and hauled out my tacmod. I was so stunned I couldn't say a thing. He placed it gently into my hands, looking deep into my eyes. Then he turned back to Tara.
I struggled into my smelly, half-melted liteshirt and powered the tacmod on. The faintest spark of hope had just come alive inside me. Sweety, you lovely bitch, power up and give me the word. Just give me the word, tell me you're mine once again. Together, we may just have half a chance, against the O's.
"Hello, Thinker," Sweety said. "I am fully functional, on disconnect. Awaiting your commands." It was sweet music to me, the music of the angels.
"Low power, Sweety," I said quietly. "Map the ship."
"It's done, Thinker. How would you like the output?" I closed my eyes. Salvation! I could hardly believe it.
Tara moaned. Gildron knelt before her, gently cupping her head in his massive hands. He looked into her face calmly, blinking his eyes. She was sweating and trembling, her own eyes shut tightly. Now what, I thought—what the hell. She cried out, once, and her slim arms went up and she clawed helplessly, blindly, at the air. Then she screamed, a piercing shriek of horror that froze me in place for an instant.
I was at her side immediately. She had fainted, slumped in Gildron's arms. Gildron was obviously distressed, pawing at her hair. I snatched up the canteen and wet her face as we lay her out on the ledge. I ripped the medpak open again and her eyelids blinked and she came back to us.
"Talk to me, Tara. What's the sit?" She was holding her head in apparent agony, her eyes focused on Gildron.
"Answer me, Tara. Are you all right?" She just kept staring at Gildron, almost as if she was in shock.
"Legion to Tara, respond please," I repeated. Tara stirred, forcing herself to sit up on the ledge, silent and stunned, pale and weak. Still staring at Gildron. He showed his teeth, and touched her on the cheek with his hairy fingers. She took the canteen from me and emptied it over her forehead. It dribbled all over her face. She dropped the canteen and massaged her face gently. Then she spoke.
"I've been such a fool, Wester."
"Well, don't keep me in suspense."
"It's Gildron—he's not the same as us."
"I already knew that, Tara."
"It feels like my head is splitting wide open."
"Would you like a mag?"
"I'd better not. No—better not." She did not look good at all.
"Are you going to tell me about this?"
"Gildron—what a fool I've been!"