Was Once a Hero

chapter Eighteen





Fenaday had dropped when the others let go of the rope. He was not conscious of it. His body splayed out in a rictus of pain. The laser hung from his hand by its lanyard. His eyes were open but saw nothing of the pit.

But they did see. The alien consciousness of the pit grew. It reached out to him. His body arced in torture as the mind of the Titan, far too large and complex for his mortal brain, invaded. No longer conscious of himself, he became one with the dead thing in the pit.

He saw himself as a giant, proud in his service as the highest of the warrior monks of the Prekak order. His duty was to protect his kind and the lesser races with whom they dealt. War raged with a force of darkness, inimical to all life. The Enemy was terrible and the Prekak fell before them in desperate battles. Lesser races perished entirely. Soon, the Prekak fought the forces of darkness on the surface of their own homeworld.

Finally came a time of complete desperation, as defeat and extinction threatened the Prekak. The Order of Scientists conceived a last defense, the great machine. He, as the First, claimed the honor of the risk of being wedded to the machine. The telepathic powers of the Prekak, strongest in those chosen for the Order, were all that stood between them and the darkness of the enemy.

The machine worked. He went from monk to Godhead with a mind so powerful he could raise and animate matter with his own life’s essence. He called these manifestations his soldiers of light and air. He gathered their remaining armies. With the deadly force of his mind, with the power it wielded over the very elements of the planet and with his soldiers of light and air, he descended on their enemies, driving them from the Prekak homeworld with great slaughter. There would be no escape from retribution. He was raised to love justice and to judge with mercy, but the Enemy’s nature would not countenance clemency, and their sins demanded payment. He and the forces of the Prekak pursued. Their attack was made more bitter for all the helpless dead he and the Order had failed to protect.

Finally the Enemy was driven to their own homeworld, facing a maelstrom of destruction, wrought chiefly by his mind. Continents quaked and volcanoes erupted. He wielded lightning as if it were an energy weapon. The Enemy fell, but they too had their scientists, and their final weapon was also a psionic attack. As he closed in on their last fortress, it struck his mind with mental talons. He quailed under terrible blows. Soldiers of light and air faltered and flickered. The Enemy rallied, counterattacked. The battle hung on a knife’s edge.

He reached deep inside himself, drawing on the discipline of a lifetime in the Order. He would not fail his people. He could not. Were the dead to be left unavenged? Were future helpless populations to suffer? He could not bear the thought. He drew the steel of his soul and steadied. Somehow he bore the unimaginable agonies and struck back with mighty blows. Despite terrible damage to his new mind, he hung onto the enemy, warping the very substance of the planet, destroying their evil for all time.

The agony grew unendurable. As he felt the last of the enemy die in despair, his own mind gave way. His comrades drew near to give him their love and praise, as the greatest hero of his race. He looked upon them and saw only more enemies. Death poured out from him. His mind was severely damaged, or none would have lived even for seconds. The soldiers of light and air turned on their former allies. They were now something lesser and needed to manifest themselves in physical form to do injury. As they originated in his mind and soul, their number was almost endless. The Order battled back in dismay, calling, pleading with him to return to those who loved him.

He fled into the reaches of space, pursued by his own kind. He landed on world after world and woe to the life of that world, in whom he saw only the enemy. His friends pursued, now in grief, intent on ending the terror caused by their fallen hero.

On Enshar the Order caught him. He had begun his conquest of the tiny people of that world. His soldiers of air and light had grown weaker and lacked much of their former intelligence. In truth, they were effective only when he focused the strength of his mind on them. Even then, they were the merest shadows of their former selves, as was he. For subjugating the tiny primitives of Enshar, however, they sufficed even in their near imbecilic state.

The Order, led by a new First, landed and attacked. Relentless pursuit and battles had worn on him, and the scientists had made new arms for the Order. He was taken in defeat, pinioned and brought to justice. Death was not in their judgment, for they were a just and merciful race. He had been the greatest among them and suffered unimaginably in their service. They still bore him love and honor for that. Yet, his crimes were severe. There were innocent, lifeless worlds behind him. He had to answer for all this.

They sentenced him to confinement and meditation. The machine and his powers were a part of his mind. They could find no way to remove either without causing his death. With the Order’s new technology, his powers were repressed and confined. They hoped that, sealed away in a suspended animation chamber, yet conscious, the disciplines of the Order would restore his balance. They confined him in a chamber from which his power could not emanate to disturb the pitiful Enshari, the remnant of which the Prekak now took as their charge.

He was secured in his life-preserving chamber and left to ponder his sins. They would return for him when they judged his penance complete.

Though he could not control or influence the Enshari, as part of his penance he was allowed to sense them. The Order hoped it would teach him remorse. Perhaps, at first, it did. Eventually, he came to see them as insects, scurrying above him, burying him in the excreta of their cities. In a few of their short lives, he was forgotten, reduced to mere legend. Eons wore on, yet there was no sign of a return of his kind. In loneliness and terror, he called to the Enshari, who could not hear him. Buried alive and forgotten, he grew to fear the Prekak were no more—that they had come to disaster out among the stars.

His hatred of the Enshari became all consuming, even exceeding what he had felt for the Enemy. He plotted their destruction, in infinite detail, over millennia. The plan became second nature.

The world moved in the greatest of the Enshar quakes. The walls of his tomb bulged, and there was damage to the system. He died and did not die. The machines and his powers did not allow him even that mercy. His body wasted, though enough remained to anchor him in space-time. The Prekak’s mind grew more strange and bitter.

After an unimaginable time, a hole opened in the ceiling of his tomb. The Enshari had found him again. So far gone was he that a substantial period went by before what was left of his consciousness reacted to the fact he was free to strike. The vermin brought power into the pit. He seized their minds and took the power from them. The machines sucked at it greedily. He allowed no outward sign of the return of a measure of his strength. To the scientists and archeologists—now concerned by the strange behavior of their co-workers—he remained merely a colossal pile of dead bone.

Then the plan, laid down for epochs, burst outward in an orgy of devastation and death. The soldiers of light and air were once more raised. Many in Barjan, near the focus of his power, died merely at his mental command. He drew from the planet’s electromagnetic forces, lightning became whips of energy and lethal radiation. He turned his mind outward to the giant stations. His soldiers attacked sensitive installations, appearing inside the most critical areas. Radiation and force whips struck the stations. There was no defense possible. Death scoured Enshar, without mercy, without distinction, in every corner. He knew of the other races, and though he did not hate them with the passion he reserved for the Enshari, no mercy was shown them either. In hours it was over.

He had nearly spent his final strength. For as Enshar died, much of his power died with it. The machines slipped back into lower modes, and his awareness faded as well. When the primitive warships arrived, his strike was feeble, barely sufficient to ward them off.

A slumber of exhaustion came over him then. Dissolute and ancient, he gnawed on the memories of his hates. Many of the soldiers of air and light faded entirely. Some continued to wander the world, unseen and unfelt, with little volition or intelligence left to them. Specters in the charnel house they had made of the world.

Tiny pinpricks impinged on his consciousness recently. They had not been enough to rouse him. Until now.

*****

Fenaday twisted in the mental grip of his tormentor, but the thing focused its attention above. The soldiers of air and light formed beyond the lights and rushed toward the spacers. Cobalt and the other robots detected the movement, opening fire instantly, as Mmok cried a warning.

These Shellycoats were different, more dangerous and cunning. They ducked and dodged and used cover. As one shattered, another formed. It took more gunfire to break up the manifestations. They reached the line of crab robots and leapt on them. Electrical arcs lit the area as the Shellycoats, sucking power from the fabric of the world, grappled with the robots. Had they been even half as powerful as they were the night of the great slaughter, the battle would have lasted seconds. Ancient and enfeebled like their master, the Shellycoats could muster only a small fraction of their previous deadliness. The robots battled back, hand to hand, as the two forms of unlife tried to disassemble each other.

Cobalt fell as a large Shellycoat seized her in an electrical embrace. The HCR stiffened in a parody of human agony and dropped. The human defenders added their gunfire as the wave of enemies crashed through the sudden gap. Lasers, tri-autos and grenades lit up the battle scene. Shasti threw flares as far and fast as she could. Parts of the ceiling started to fall, sparking fresh terror. Shellycoats absorbed the falling bits, using them for mass.

A rush of the creatures pressed in suddenly. One seized Mmok. He fell in a crackle of electricity. Duna and Telisan tried to reach him. Telisan blasted several Shellycoats before a flailing blow dropped him to his knees, blood cascading down his face. Another knocked Duna flying from off the back of a utility robot, and the Enshari slid, unseen and limp, into a small hole.

A Shellycoat leapt on the back of the cargo robot at the pit’s edge. Shasti shot it to pieces. It fell into the pit, disintegrating into its components of rock, dirt, metal and bone.

Shasti handed her heavier weapon to Connery. “Keep shooting.” She turned toward the pit, seizing Fenaday’s safety line.

“Did he set the timer?” Connery yelled.

“I don’t know.” Shasti bent her wide shoulders to pulling Fenaday out of the hole. She could see him by the light of his torch, lying on the floor. His arms were rigid and his head thrown back. He might be dead, she thought.

Even with her genetically engineered strength, pulling the 180-pound Fenaday out of the pit was difficult. He swung at the end of the cord, making the weight worse. Screams, gunfire and the snapping of electrical bolts sounded in her ears. A thrown piece of something struck her in the back. Shrapnel stung her legs and arms. She ignored it all and pulled with quick, powerful tugs. Fenaday came out of the hole. She seized him and pulled him to her. His heart pounded madly; his eyes were open but unseeing. She untangled him from the rope and threw him up on her shoulders. Now she had hands free to fight. She grabbed Connery’s carbine from where he laid it.

She turned to see Verdigris and three of the crab robots fall under a wave of Shellycoats. A bolt of electricity ripped from a Shellycoat and struck Connery. He flew backward past her and struck the ground, smoking, clearly dead. She could not see Duna. Telisan, his face a bloody mask, struggled to his feet. Li fired frantically, trying to cover Telisan.

Vermilion appeared next to her, blasting the Shellycoat that killed Connery.

“Situation desperate,” the robot stated in cool mechanical tones. “HCR controller is down. Unit being overrun.”

“I know,” Shasti snarled, cutting loose with the carbine. “Fight.”

Vermilion analyzed the situation. Her CPU determined their reduced firepower could accomplish nothing. They would be overrun and destroyed in eleven seconds. Mmok’s last directions to the slender robot indicated the pit was the center of the attack.

“Auto destruct engaged,” Vermilion said. Before Shasti could say a word, Vermilion leaped into the pit. She had no specific target and settled on an airburst, exploding in a deafening blast, high in the chamber.

A titanic moan filled their minds. Shellycoats faltered, some disassembled, but many remained, seemingly stunned. The sense of the alien consciousness receded greatly, but did not disappear.

Shasti looked over at the others. Telisan regained his feet, leaning on Li as they dragged Mmok, unconscious or dead, along with them. She couldn’t see Duna anywhere. The others were too far away, on the other side of a mass of milling Shellycoats for her to reach them. “Out,” she ordered at the top of the lungs. “Get out as best you can. Run. I’ll see you on the surface if I make it.”

“Belwin!” Telisan called, “Belwin!”

A Shellycoat took a step toward Telisan. Li fired into it.

As if roused by the firing, about half the Shellycoats moved toward them. More began to form, though slowly.

“We’ve got to go,” Li screamed. The last two crab robots screened them, but there was no question of holding their ground. They were forced away, heading back the route they came, firing. Telisan lifted Mmok off the floor as he retreated, still calling Duna’s name.

Shasti took advantage of the distraction to make her own escape, backing away with Fenaday still balanced on her shoulders. She was cut off from the others, and now Shellycoats stood between her and the pit. Her night sight was almost as good as an Enshari’s, and the bio-panels provided enough light for her to see by. She fled in the opposite direction, hoping to find another exit.

A small access roadway led back to the area of new homes. She climbed up whenever she could, heading for the surface levels. Fenaday’s weight began to tax even her endurance. Just like the Morok colony, she thought, only now it’s a mile upwards. Well, at least he isn’t bleeding this time.

Shasti rounded the corner and slammed into a Shellycoat. The monster, made of brick and other debris, fell backward from their combined weight. Shasti fell forward, losing Fenaday, who tumbled bonelessly to the ground. She hit the ground in a shoulder roll and blazed away with the carbine at point blank range. For once, the Shellycoat was brightly lit directly under a large bio-panel. She saw fragments of pale, almost translucent material shredding as the weapon tore apart the stuff of its body. Ectoplasm or such, she wondered, remembering Fenaday’s description of the sensation of struggling with a Shellycoat in Duna’s darkened library.

The Shellycoat fell apart as another lurched out of a darkened doorway. Shasti blasted it. Her carbine clicked on empty. Even the particle beam power-pack was exhausted. Shasti clawed at her ammo pouch. Empty and no time to switch batteries. She reversed her grip on the carbine, preparing to club with it as a third Shellycoat appeared.

Laser light winked into the Shellycoat, caressing it up and down its middle. It fell. She turned to see Fenaday, dazed but awake, up on one knee, the laser still tied to his wrist by the lanyard.

She ran over and helped him to his feet.

“What happened?” he asked hoarsely. “Where is everyone?”

“We’ve got to go, come on.”

Fenaday followed still shaky and uncertain. “Li and Telisan went back the way we came, dragging Mmok. I don’t know if he’s alive. We lost Connery and maybe Belwin. I didn’t see him fall. All the HCRs are gone, and there are just two of the crab robots. The robots are with them, but so are hordes of Shellycoats.

“Did you set the timer?” she asked as they scrambled up the roadway.

“No,” he replied. “I only opened the first interlock before the thing moved. Then it had me in its control. Its mind linked to mine. I know who he is.”

“Can that help us?” she asked eagerly.

“No,” Fenaday said, a great sadness in his voice and eyes. “He was once a hero of his kind, the greatest of them, a decorated veteran of a holy war. But he was sick and insane before our ancestors drew on cave walls. There is no way to reach through that, not even his own people could when they imprisoned him here.

“Shasti, I’ve got to go back to that chamber and try to set the bomb off.”

She shook her head. “It’s impossible, at least for now. It’s alive with Shellycoats. Maybe later; this thing seems erratic.”

“He’s almost gone, senile, distracted and weak,” Fenaday said. “At his full strength, he could rip up the crust of a world.”

“He’s still too much for us,” she countered ruefully. The road became a steep spiral. They rushed up it, exiting onto one of the broader plazas, which usually meant a shopping district.

A dull boom sounded over them. Walls shook. The storefront alongside them bowed outward, then gave.

“Look out—” Fenaday shouted. The weakened sections of storefront and walls collapsed in with a spray of froth. A broken water main must have undermined it. The blast’s harmonic finished the job.

Shasti moved, but for once, not fast enough. Falling debris caught her legs. She went down, and he lost sight of her as the passageway filled with dust. Fenaday scrambled back toward her, choking on dust, searching with his hands in the low light. “Shasti,” he called in sudden terror.

“Here.”

She lay pinned under the deadfall. A metal beam pressed down on her leg.

“Is it broken?” he demanded.

“Doesn’t feel that way,” she gasped, struggling, “but I’m pinned.”

She had little room to push at the beam, but lent her strength to his, as he struggled to shift it. It wouldn’t budge. Fenaday searched around for a tool. He grabbed a piece of metal shelving and began digging under the beam. Careful as he was, an occasional indrawn breath by Shasti let him know when he was too close to her leg.

“Try and contact the others,” he gasped. “My com unit is fried. Maybe they can find a way to us.”

Before Shasti could say a word, a dragging, thumping sound came from behind them. Something was coming up the spiral way behind them.

“Shellycoats,” she hissed.

He redoubled his efforts, knowing there wasn’t time.

Shasti grabbed his shoulder. “Run,” she demanded, “run, now.”

“No,” he snapped, shaking her off and digging.

“God damn you,” she said, “I’m dead already. You’ll never find her if you die here. Go. Please, go.”

The sound grew louder, metallic and dragging. They must be at the last turn, he thought.

“Go,” she screamed.

Fenaday stopped digging and drew his laser. There might be enough power for one or two shots, maybe three. He felt oddly calm. “I have a grenade left,” he said, as if to reassure her, “we won’t suffer. I just want to get a few shots off first.”

Shasti looked back at him furiously, then her eyes softened and dropped. She touched a hand to his arm. “Robert,” she said gently, “you were the only friend I ever had.”

He smiled back, touching her hand, then passed the grenade. His laser came up aimed in the approved Weaver grip. Shasti closed her fingers on the grenade tab.

A shape came up the curved path in a disjointed rush. The bioluminescent panels illuminated the man-shaped target for him. Just as his finger tightened, he recognized the scorched and battered shape.

“Cobalt,” he breathed. Reaction struck him. He sank against Shasti, eyes dimming for a moment. Shasti put the grenade into her breast pocket. Her hand might even have shaken a little.

“Affirmative,” Cobalt replied. “I am damaged to level A-7 and out of communication with HCR controller. Request extraction and repair.”

“Me too,” Shasti said.

“Don’t tell me that wasn’t a joke,” Fenaday said, gathering himself together. “Cobalt, get over here. Analyze this beam and lift it with minimum risk of bringing down the rest of it on Shasti. I will pull her directly away.”

The robot’s CPU analyzed the requests, and Cobalt bent over the beam. It began to lift. Shasti hissed in pain as more debris started to fall and shift. Fenaday seized her under her shoulders, pulling as soon as he could see clearance. She came free. He had to drag her backwards as more of the wall came down, threatening to catch them again. Cobalt warded off the biggest pieces as they retreated. Fenaday got his shoulder under the tall woman’s arm. They made the next crossway before stopping.

“Cobalt,” Shasti asked, pain twisting her face, “do you have X-ray capability?”

“Affirmative. Left ocular only. The right is disabled.”

“Scan my right leg. Don’t exceed rads safe for a standard human. Is there a fracture?”

“Negative on fracture,” Cobalt returned.

“Good,” Shasti said. “Robert, help me up.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a splint?” he asked anxiously. He looked around for something to use as a crutch, but there was nothing nearby.

“Won’t be necessary,” she said, strain still present in her voice. “We Engineered have two settings: on and dead.” She climbed to her feet with Fenaday’s help. They started off with the robot trailing. Her height made it easy to lean on him, but she weighed more than he did, so they made progress slowly.

“No more chocolate for you, young lady,” he said wryly. She rewarded him with a trademark Shasti glare. “Well, perhaps less pasta.”

“Better,” she replied. “I can lean on the HCR if you prefer.”

“No,” he said. “Cobalt, take my laser. Provide security.”

Cobalt took the weapon from him, examining it. “Permission to direct feed to the laser.”

“Huh?” he said, as they started forward again.

“The gun is nearly empty,” Shasti reminded him, grunting a little as she put more weight on the leg. “The HCR can run a power cable into it and power the weapon off its own reactor. You have got to learn to pay more attention to these details.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” he said. “Okay, Cobalt, permission granted.”

They made their way through a cross-corridor. By the time they’d gone a mile, Shasti, to Fenaday’s amazement, could walk on her own, though with a limp.

“My body is better designed than yours,” she modestly reminded him. “I hardly have a shock mechanism. My metabolism generates its own anti-inflammatory agents, painkiller and antibiotics.”

“And you’re pretty too.”

“Nice of you to notice,” she replied.

Aided by Cobalt, they continued upward. Shasti found a long pole for a combination of staff and cane. The robot’s sensors made their path sure, saving them many a blind alley. No more Shellycoats attacked. The roaring sound of the monster’s mind faded to where they were no longer sure if they hadn’t imagined it. It seemed the Prekak had slipped into inactivity. For now Fenaday refused to plan farther ahead than reaching the surface, sunlight and air. They would somehow have to reattempt the chamber, when they were rearmed, healed and rested. Yet, Fenaday doubted they would have the time or strength for a second attempt. He began to hope only to die in the open.

As they neared the surface, Shasti pointed ahead of them. “Look,” she demanded, “Telisan and Li.”

“Hey,” Fenaday yelled. “Over here.”

Telisan gave a cry of joy at seeing his friends. The two stopped dragging Mmok on a travois they’d improvised from their jackets. Gently, they laid Mmok down as Fenaday and Shasti hobbled up to them. The survivors all embraced.

“We feared thee both were dead,” Telisan said.

“Hey, top soldier,” Li grinned, slapping Shasti on the arm. She smiled back and thumped the man on the chest with a playful fist, almost knocking him down.

“How is Mmok?” Fenaday asked, kneeling to look at the unconscious cyborg. He seemed as burnt and battered as Cobalt.

“Still unconscious,” said a clearly exhausted Telisan. “We fought our way back, pursued almost every step of the way. When the robots ran out of ammunition, we ordered them to self-destruct, collapsing the tunnels behind us. We ran into a few more Shellycoats, but we were able to destroy them. They’re not as tough as the ones in the chamber, or we would never have made it.”

“Let’s get to the surface,” Fenaday said. “We’ll regroup up there.”

With Cobalt’s help, they picked up the travois and made their way to the surface. They came up not far from where they entered, though by another subsurface roadway that opened onto a hillside. Relief and joy at seeing the sun and sky temporarily removed the bitter taste of their defeat.

Telisan’s com came to life with a crackle. “This is Duna. Is there anyone left? This is Duna.”

The Denlenn’s leathery face convulsed. “Belwin, where are you?”

“My son, my son, you live,” came the whispered voice. “Oh, I am so glad.”

“Where are you?” Telisan demanded. “We will come for you.”

“No. No, do not move. I fell into a small pit, next to the main dig. I do not know how long I have been unconscious. I am out of the hole now. I can see the tripod over the pit. There are no Shellycoats in sight. Did poor Fenaday manage to set the bomb’s timer?”

“I’m alive, Belwin,” Fenaday said. “Shasti, Li, Cobalt and Mmok made it, though Mmok is unconscious.”

“Then I have even greater joy,” replied the little Enshari, almost a mile below and away from them.

“I didn’t get the timer set before the thing did something to me. I got the first interlock off. There are two to go, if the thing hasn’t destroyed or removed the weapon.”

“The blue button takes out the second interlock,” Duna said, “the two yellows take out the third, then the red sets it off. Correct?”

“Yes,” Fenaday said faintly, realizing the little scholar’s intentions, “just as we showed you last night.”

“No,” Telisan said. “No, Belwin. Stay where you are. I am coming for you.”

“I’m with you,” Fenaday said. “Shasti, you and Li stay here. Cobalt, come with us.”

“The hell you say,” Shasti said. “I’m coming.”

“Cease, cease, my brave, wonderful, young friends,” Duna called. “The thing strengthens again, I can feel it in my mind. You will never make it to me. And we dare not risk a timer now that it is roused. We have only this one chance left.”

“Telisan, my son, did you remember I told you I was once of the warrior class, like yourself?”

“Yes,” Telisan answered, holding himself in check with visible effort.

“Time to be a warrior again, even if an ancient one,” Duna said. “I shall descend into the chamber and revenge myself, my family, my kind and our worlds.”

“Duna,” said Shasti into Telisan’s mike, “you didn’t even want to ride on my shoulder. It’s twenty-five meters to the ground.” Her voice strained, and Fenaday felt proud of her for it.

“I am past all that, my dear girl. I am a warrior on a mission. I will not fail.”

Fenaday could stand it no longer, “Belwin, don’t do it. We’re coming.” Before he could move, Telisan put a hand on his arm and shook his head once. Shasti looked down at the ground.

“No, my soft-hearted pirate. I attack… now.”

They heard the sound of running feet and the huffing of Duna’s breath as he charged the pit.

“No Shellycoats yet,” Duna huffed. “I think they all went after you. Ah, a D-ring, good.”

*****

A mile below, the Enshari hooked himself to Fenaday’s safety line and passed it through the D-ring. Duna’s clear memory retained every detail of his training as a soldier, hundreds of years ago. He slid to the chamber floor, reaching it in seconds. The drop would have pleased his instructors. He lunged for the bomb, not stopping to detach the rope. To his utter relief, it was still intact. Vermilion’s explosion had knocked over the weapon, but the body of the warhead protected the trigger. It had been affixed on the opposite side from the blast. Duna could hear the waterfall sound of the thing’s mind very faintly, but the blast of mental violence he feared did not occur.

He slipped the interlocks in frantic moves, placing his hand over the red button. “Farewell my young friends. My blessings on you all and on you, Telisan, my son, most of all.”

“Fare thee well, Belwin Duna, my honored friend,” Telisan said. The Denlenn did not shed tears, but agony marked every inch of his leathery face.

“Go with God,” Fenaday managed.

In the darkness of the giant vault, came a creaking sound. It carried over the radio and froze Fenaday's blood. The giant skull was once more in motion.

“So, you are aware of me,” Duna cried. “I am Belwin Duna, warrior of the Enshari. We have survived you. Terrible crimes have you committed on my kind and others.”

In the chamber, the tiny Enshari seemed to grow in stature. His voice echoed like thunder. “You will not escape punishment. It ends now—” Duna’s hand snapped down.

In the millisecond before the blast, the roar of mind-noise strengthened, a last clear thought rolled from the crypt into their minds.

“Good.”