Stephen Berry - The Battle for Terra Two

John shook his head. "I could use the air."

He was crossing Fourteenth Street and the sleaze strip when the young blonde in the bimbo suit fell into step beside him. "Something soft and warm for lunch, sir?" she asked.

"No." John quickened his pace.

She kept up with him as he moved past a row of strip joints. "It must be lonely, with Zahava away."

Stopping, he turned, seeing her for the first time. "You."

"Indeed," said Guan-Sharick. "The reports of my death…"

"I heard."

The S'Cotar appeared to slip an arm through his. "Let's stroll a bit-John and hooker."

"Funny," he said, walking reluctantly beside the transmute. "What do you want?"

"Everyone asks that," sighed the blonde. Her china-blue eyes met his. "You know what I want.

"Harrison, Shalan-Actal's transmutes are gunning for me, so I'll make it short. I know Sutherland just briefed you-laid a moral imperative on you. Will you go?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"Harrison," said the S'Cotar urgently, "if those machines establish a bridgehead in this universe, it's all over-for you, for us, for all intelligent life. They'll wipe Shalan the second he's no longer needed. One of their battle units is five times the size of the K'Ronarin fleet. Harrison, they have over ten thousand battle units! Maybe the Imperial Fleet could have stood against them-nothing of this time can."

"How do you know all this?"

"Some few of us can receive their internal communications-cold, alien thoughts, dedicated to the death of all sapient life. The dead hand that programmed them created an undying malevolence. We either stop them now, one reality away, or we're all dead meat."

"We?" John shook his head. "I don't trust you, bug."

"Trust this then," said the blonde coldly. "Your wife's visiting in Israel. She's now seated in the Cafe Hertzel, on Jerusalem's Dizendorf Street, sipping Turkish coffee from a white, chipped demitasse cup. Her girlfriend tells an anecdote-your wife laughs, her brown eyes sparkling.

I've but to signal and she's dead. And I will, unless you help us."

Harrison laughed bitterly. "Kill her if you want. We're getting divorced. Zahava's gone home to stay."

"Fine," shrugged the blonde.

"No!" John grabbed the S'Cotar by the shoulders, ashen-cheeked.

The transmute smiled quizzically. "Bluffing?"

"Yes." He dropped his hands.

"I wasn't."

"She's not…"

"No. Your tough little hellcat's safe, Harrison. For now."

They resumed their slow walk, the lunchtime crowd flowing around them.

"I'm glad that's resolved," said the transmute. "I'll be taking you through the portal to Terra Two, tomorrow at noon."

"Why then?" asked John, wanting very much to kill Guan-Sharick.

"It's the only time for the next seven months that my loyalists will have charge of both sides of the portal. I could get you through now, but not without some commotion."

"Then what?"

"Then we slip you into Major Harrison's new posting- Boston. There you'll contact the resistance, and lead them against Shalan-Actal's outpost in Vermont, escaping just before they blow up the portal device."

"Either you're crazy," said John, "or you've set this all up very carefully."

They stopped at the corner of Fourteenth and H streets, waiting for the light.

"Major Harrison was a resistance sympathizer," said the transmute. "His assignment to Boston was arranged by certain elements of the CIA for the very purpose we want-disposal of Shalan's covert outpost on Terra Two."

"You had nothing to do with that, I suppose?"

"Me?" said the blonde, wide-eyed.

"Why aren't those killer machines trundling down the street, slaughtering away?" asked John as the traffic rolled past. "The portal works, the machines are on Terra Two."

"Not in great strength. And there's a problem with the linkage between Terra Two and the machines' universe. You have to close the portal from Terra Two to here before machine reinforcements reach Terra Two."

They didn't notice the light flashing. Pedestrians streamed around them. "Take an army through, seize the portal," said John.

"Shalan would disengage the portal device before even a platoon got through. My loyalists hold only a few key points on both sides-not enough to mask the hosts of humanity."

"We're going to miss the light." They hurried across as the warning blinked.

"Read the briefing book," said Guan-Sharick as they continued down H Street. "Know it. I'll be at your town house tomorrow morning, at eleven. Then we'll flick through the portal to Terra Two." The S'Cotar stopped in front of a junk electronics store, back to a doorway full of kids and the blare of punk rock. "Make sure you…"

Movement caught John's eye. From across the entrance's "Odds amp; Ends" table, a tall black kid with a Mohawk was aiming a shotgun mike at Guan-Sharick.

"Down!" shouted John. He tumbled the blonde to the pavement as an azure-blue blaster bolt snapped over their heads, exploding a flower delivery van in a greatWhurnp! of pillaring flame.

Screaming. People scattering. Burning bits of roses, mums and driver rained down. Across the street, a car alarm hooted.

The gunman stepped around the table. John tried to untangle himself from Guan-Sharick, tugging at the pistol inside his parka. The transmute held him, pinioned, as the blank-faced killer aimed from five feet away.

The street was gone. John saw a room flash by: S'Cotar warriors, raising their rifles, more blue blaster bolts. A dark pool closed over him, cotton-soft and cold.

Another, bigger area: harsh, blinding light, blaster fire. Gone.

Guan-Sharick let him go. They were in a hotel room, all burnt umber and teak-twin beds, a desk, two chairs, double dresser, TV, curtained window. The transmute held Sutherland's attache case.

Dropping the attache case, Guan-Sharick sank onto a bed, hand to shoulder, crimson blood oozing through the fingers. John's parka was splotched the same red. "Shalan's killers?" asked Harrison.

"Shalan's killers," said the S'Cotar. "Seen with me, Harrison, you wouldn't have lived till morning. You're the only John Harrison I have left. So we went through the portal, hard and fast."

"Where are we?"

"The Toronto Hilton."

"And why are you bleeding red?"

"One projects either a whole illusion or none," said the transmute. A S'Cotar sat on the bed, a tentacle clamped over a torn thorax, green oozing through the exoskel-eton.

John looked at his parka. It was daubed with green blood.

The blonde and the red blood reappeared. "This isn't clotting fast enough," said Guan-Sharick. "Cold compress, please."

Going into the small bathroom, John ran a white hand towel under the sink faucet. Returning to the bedroom, he tossed it to the S'Cotar.

"You're too kind," said the blonde, catching it.

"For you, anything. Now what?"

"Now you take off your jacket and do your homework," said the S'Cotar, applying the compress. "Terra Two, modern history. U.S., Western Europe and the Soviet Union, current history and relationship. Boston, demographics and current history. CIA, order of battle. CIA combat brigade, mission, current deployment and order of battle. Urban Command, Boston, table of organization. Biographies-Major Harrison, Colonel Aldridge, Captain MacKenzie, his sister, Dr. Heather MacKenzie, and WehrmachtHauptmann Erich zur Linde." The blonde lay back on the bed, eyes on the white-stippled ceiling. "There's also a precis of Major Harrison's doctoral dissertation in there. You might skim it-it's rather good.

"Wake me when you're ready for interrogation." Guan-Sharick's eyes closed.

"Hold it," said John. The blonde's eyes opened. "How long do I have?"

"Major Harrison's booked on tomorrow's eight p.m. flight to Boston-he's being met. There's a four-hour uptime difference between Terra One and Two. You have about twenty-two hours.