I had just arrived in Portland on my way to see Sissy. I wouldn't be able to stay long. Things had been quite busy lately, and I didn't think the pace would slow down anytime soon. There was very little time.
The envelope was resting inconspicuously in the glove compartment. I examined it carefully before I picked it up. It seemed clean, though of course it was impossible to be certain.
The letter was from Jason Mallister. I had not worked for him often, and knew little enough about him. Like a number of Harbingers, he maintained an organization to assist in his work: The Vandovier Foundation.
The letter indicated that there was a situation that needed to be investigated and instructed me to send confirmation to the specified email address if I was interested. I did so, and then checked into a local hotel. The meeting with Sissy would have to wait.
A man in a grey wool suit with a slim attaché case arrived shortly thereafter. He explained that an unknown and malicious presence in the Pacific Ocean had been detected, and was growing increasingly malignant. I was to conduct a detailed analysis, determine the nature of the threat, and develop four plans to mitigate it. I was provided a device to transmit my report once the task was complete. One other Contractor would be participating, and would contact me shortly.
The call came soon enough. It was Raslow. I had mixed feelings about his involvement. He was becoming increasingly unstable, and associating with him was not safe. On the other hand, his skills were well suited to the task at hand, and in fact he was already familiar with the circumstances, as I had briefed him on it some time ago. We had actually set out to assess it, but he had been called away by events in England. Now we would return to the job and get paid for it.
We met in Singapore, where we purchased a ship and set out. I made sure the ship was one we could handle without a crew, as I mistrusted Raslow with civilians. Unlike last time, the trip was uneventful.
Raslow loaned me a rather interesting pair of sunglasses. I recognized them from the description in the Quiddium Collegium catalog. So Raslow was either a member of the organization, or knew someone within it who was willing to sell to him. Interesting. My own efforts to contact the group had been fruitless.
The island was abandoned, as expected. The facilities were badly dilapidated. The island itself was as resistant to probing as it had been before. We went ashore to begin our analysis.
We were just out of sight of the coast when we heard the crash. Returning hastily, we found our ship completely shattered, with no sign of the source of the destruction. Since there was nothing to be done about it, we resumed our work.
When we reached the hole, I realized that there was not in fact a dimensional rift, as I had first believed. Rather, an incredibly strong emotional miasma was emanating from within. We would have to get closer to assess it. We descended and found ourselves in a cavern: startlingly beautiful, but with the worst psychic stench I had ever encountered.
Softly pulsing crystalline structures covered the floor and walls. They were the source of the stench, and of an odd psychic resonance. They also seemed to be nodal points; possibly individual presences, but more likely part of a gestalt.
They were unquestionably malignant.
Raslow decided to obtain a sample. He struck at one, attempting to break off a piece. The crystal responded by lashing out with a wave of psychic violence.
After further analysis and discussion, Raslow proposed that the presences were the distilled negative emotions of advanced beings who had separated them out, stored them in the crystals, and exiled them to space. Eventually they had reached Earth, as such hostile entities so often seemed to do. How many more such creatures were floating around in space, if only a small fraction reached our planet? Or did the Harbingers draw them deliberately, to give us something to do?
No matter. Raslow's hypothesis fit the data, and I agreed that it was very likely the case. We began devising four methods of mitigating the threat: Containment, destruction, exile, and neutralization. Raslow was fascinated with the second method, and proposed implementing it immediately using certain means at his disposal. With some effort I dissuaded him, and we proceeded to detail the third and fourth plans. I favored the fourth method, which had a number of advantages, one of which was the ready availability of a source of concentrated positive energy. I would need to contact Finch immediately.
The destruction of the ship was now explained. The emanations were warping local life forms; creating monsters, as it were. It would not be advisable to enter the water. We would need to leave by air.
And with that, we had completed the Game. All that remained was to leave and transmit the report. I prepared to fly up, and Raslow prepared his methods. Then he paused and asked for my assistance, holding something out to me. I turned to look at it.
I instantly recognized the mind-bending pattern of a Mind Trap, which I had seen once before.
Too late.
Abruptly my mind was lost in the mental maze of the trap. My body collapsed, vacant … though not for long.
The crystals reached out with the eagerness of long millennia of waiting. Before it even reached the ground, my body stood up again, snarling. My clothing snapped and shredded as I grew, expanded, changed. Tentacles burst forth; flesh mutated and took on strange shapes.
Raslow snapped out a spell, seeking to dissolve me into a putrid sludge. The thousands of presences within the gestalt pushed back, snapping the strands of the spell without effort. Raslow staggered back in shock, and the creature leaped after him.
Meanwhile, I raced about the confines of my prison, seeking a way out. I knew there was no fast escape from such a trap. Fortunately, I had accelerated my thoughts before I was imprisoned, and I searched many times faster than normal. This could be catastrophic if I made a mistake, but there was no choice; my body was likely dying, and if I didn't escape while it was still alive, I would be permanently dead; there would be no coming back.
Suddenly I was out, and back in my body. With a massive effort of will, I expelled the gestalt, making full use of my greater knowledge of my own body – even in this twisted, mutated form. With a grimace of agony, I reversed the changes the crystalline entities had begun, restoring my genes to their true configuration.
Outside, Raslow apologized profusely. He claimed he had thought the Mind Trap would not affect me, that I would have ways of dealing with it; and that the prop on which it was inscribed had a different purpose altogether, which he had intended to ask my assistance in implementing.
I changed the subject. I did not want to resume the combat, as there was no predicting the victor; but I could not credibly claim to believe his explanation, which was absurd on its face. His trap had been specifically designed for me.
What had he intended, if the crystalline entities had not interfered? If he had destroyed my body and then released my mind, I would simply have died. No doubt his plans were more complicated than that, as they always seemed to be. If he had transported my body to his laboratory, he would have had all sorts of options. They all came down to the same thing: I would have been his slave … or so he believed.
Was he even still sane? He seemed worse every time I saw him. I reached out with my senses to evaluate the state of his mind, and recoiled in shock.
He was completely insane.
Well. That opened up another set of possibilities.
But we still had to complete the mission. Raslow activated the communication device and began transmitting our report. The representative asked surprisingly detailed questions, wanting to know far more than was typical for the Games. Time passed. Ten minutes, fifteen … I began to get nervous, and I could see that Raslow was even more twitchy than I.
Then the representative asked if a nuclear detonation inside the cavern would be inadvisable. Raslow argued strongly against it, pointing out that such an event would dissolve the crystals and release the negative emotions within, very likely dispersing them throughout the world. The agent coolly thanked him for the information. Speaking very clearly, he informed us that we had completed our objectives and were no longer under Contract. He repeated himself: The Contract was terminated.
Raslow and I looked at each other, frowning.
The transmission ended, and the device shut down abruptly.
Light and heat flared all around us. Raslow concentrated, and it was deflected from his immediate vicinity.
I was standing next to him, leaning over the device.
Not quite close enough.
My right arm vanished so quickly there was almost no pain. My right ear and the right side of my skull were seared to the bone. It was an orbital laser strike. Twenty-five meters in all directions was nothing but intense light and incredible heat.
The Harbinger was trying to kill us.
Abruptly it was over. The island itself was almost untouched. My first thought, that the Harbinger was actually trying to free the gestalt, was wrong; this had been nothing more than an assassination attempt.
The implications were profound. We discussed them as we vacated the area. Later I discussed them with Finch as well.
Mallister had just blatantly violated the strictures. There were three possibilities: First, that he had not actually been trying to kill us, but had simply been issuing a warning whose receipt we were expected to survive. Second, that Mallister was now dead. Third, that the strictures were no longer being enforced.
Raslow was certain that the third explanation was the correct one. He hypothesized that The Powers That Be had departed this reality, leaving the Harbingers to their own devices. Finch reached the same conclusion independently, something I found profoundly disturbing. If the strictures no longer held …
Raslow also related the recent murder of the Harbinger known as The Third Party. This was distressing on several levels. Though I had not worked for him often, he had sponsored one of my early jobs, of which I had fond memories. Moreover, he was one of the few Harbingers who seemed even moderately trustworthy. He was not one I would have wanted to see dead.
Doubtless this was not without precedent. Many Harbingers were former High Rollers; they weren't going to stop killing each other just because they were promoted. Still, fatalities among Harbingers must be even rarer than fatalities among Vets. I had never heard of one.
And a war between Harbingers … well, it must have happened before. And that fight among elephants must have been just as devastating to the High Rollers of the time as this one was likely to be to us.
I returned my attention to matters I could affect. Mallister had probably tried to kill us to keep the crystalline entities secret until he could free them. The best way to eliminate any motive for him to try again was to tell others what I knew. I proceeded to do so. It would be necessary to neutralize them before Mallister took action. I began preparations.
Jason Mallister. The Vandovier Foundation. What did I know about them?
Very little. Vandovier was a private R & D firm involved in Super Soldier technology, and sometimes provided Augmentation to High Rollers. I had also heard that they were associated with the K-Series Clones, about which I knew next to nothing. Mallister would make a bad enemy, without question; and I had enough on my plate already. I would deal with the gestalt and then return my attention to Pentex.