His enemy was on the move again. Siddhārtha knew that if he were attacked now, both he and Orionae would be killed. He had to stall for time. With Orionae in his arms, he moved as quietly as possible along the corridor, following its sand-strewn slope downward. Fortunately, it seemed that his enemy had not reacquired their position.
“Yellow 17 in the New Galactic Age, the Planetary Development Committee on Astarta 50 received a directive from Shi to attempt a helio-ses-beta development on the third planet in the Ai System . . .”
The words left a strange echo in Siddhārtha’s ears.
“What does ‘Shi’ mean, I wonder?” he asked out loud.
In his arms, Orionae suddenly whispered, “Shi is the absolute being. Shi exists outside this universe, causing this universe to be. All things and people in this universe, and the way and direction of all things, are according to Shi’s will.”
Siddhārtha listened with part of his mind while another part thought furiously.
“Siddhārtha. If it is Shi’s will that the energy in our universe fade, what will you do?”
“Orionae. Might I assume that this absolute being of which you speak is what the ancients called ‘God’?”
Orionae raised his eyebrows. “I was placed here merely with the purpose of transmitting what I had seen with my own eyes to future generations. That is all.”
For a long while, Siddhārtha carried his burden in silence. At last he reached the long hall that led to the city gates. Through the dark arch of the gates he could see the vast desert beyond. The air was as cold as ice and bore the faint metallic smell of ions.
Just a little farther and we’ll be free.
At that moment, Siddhārtha spotted a single figure standing as still as a statue in the darkness beneath the arch of the gates. The dirty white cloth in which the figure was wrapped made an audible sound as it slapped against his bare legs in the wind.
✦ ✦ ✦
Siddhārtha’s enemy had known he would have to pass through the gateway. Already the man was taking aim.
In an instant Siddhārtha thought of a plan—but it had one drawback. He could do little holding Orionae, and abandoning him here would be tantamount to murder. Quickly he shuffled backward, burying his heels in the sand. He was left with no choice. Placing Orionae in the shade of the wall, he prepared to make a decisive counterattack.
“Siddhārtha,” Orionae whispered. “Be careful. Your enemy is a very dangerous man. He has already waited here five hundred years for your arrival. He is the very hand of Shi.”
“Wait, Orionae. Don’t tell me that he is what you saw—was he the destruction of the city?”
“Siddhārtha. What I saw was a great host of angelic beings—but now I wonder if they were not merely a phantasm.”
“A phantasm?”
His enemy slid forward across the sand.
With sudden clarity, Siddhārtha understood that his foe was not merely trying to kill him, but Orionae as well. Of course—clearly the man had known well ahead of time that Siddhārtha would attempt to escape with Orionae. He had left Orionae alive so that he might catch them together.
My enemy is not this man before me.
“My enemy is Shi!”
Siddhārtha looked around in desperation. It seemed that the world around him had grown dim, and within that gloom a certain death was waiting. He had no time! No time to remove the electrodes from Orionae’s head and switch his supplementary processors to full battle mode. Nonetheless he began to do what he could, slowly removing the electrodes, adjusting the circuits connecting his processors.
His enemy was taking his time, observing Siddhārtha’s every movement, waiting for the right opportunity to let that crimson flame burst from the maser in his hand. He grinned as he drew nearer, revealing yellowed, rotting teeth; Siddhārtha heard him muttering, but all he could make out was the sound “. . . zareth.”
At exactly the same moment, Siddhārtha and his enemy sprang into action, each taking a sudden leap to reach a better position. An instant later Siddhārtha noticed a girl with clear eyes standing directly between them. Her body was lean and supple, like a young boy’s, and a glow like that of the evening sun suffused her face and form.
His enemy shouted something. A crimson beam of fire from his right hand pierced the girl’s body. She laughed soundlessly.
“You have heard the name of Asura?” the girl asked. “She stands before you. Now tell me: where is Shi?”
Again, the beam of fire sliced toward the girl. She extended her hand, and the beam veered off sharply, vaporizing a section of wall behind her.
Siddhārtha’s enemy shouted something and retreated several paces as swiftly as a shadow retreats before the sun. All expression faded from his chiseled, bearded face. His eyes, blue as shallow water, gazed without emotion at Siddhārtha, then shifted back to rest upon the girl.
“So it is true after all,” the man said, nodding. His dirty rags slapped noisily against the bare skin of his thighs.
A gust of wind rose and the girl leaned into it, letting it support her. “What do you mean?” she asked as the wind dropped again.
The question seemed to shift the balance of their enemy’s mind back toward aggression, and he began sliding to one side, moving into position for another attack.
“I recently received word that in addition to my primary target, I might find two other enemy elements waiting for me. Until this moment, I had no idea who those two might be. But now I see it is you and the cyborg.”
Hatred darkened the man’s sunken eyes. His toes flexed, and he moved forward. Then he stopped, raising one finger to point at the girl.
“A-A-Asura. Why have you come here?”
She fixed him with a glare. “Jesus of Nazareth,” she addressed him, ignoring his question. “How long have you been waiting for us?”
“Ah . . .” He nodded slightly, considering. “Since I began my vigil for you in this barren desert already eight hundred years have passed. Yet I have been waiting for my moment since three thousand years before that. It has been a very long time.”
His words rang with expectation—clearly he foresaw a swift end to his long, arduous duty. There was confidence in his look even as the dark shadows deepened over the man’s small eyes.
“You—” Jesus jerked his jaw toward Siddhārtha. “Siddhārtha, you called yourself? It seems that you’ve unconsciously chosen your old name again. Fascinating, that.”
“My old name? What are you talking about?” Siddhārtha asked, rashly turning to face his foe full on.
“Look out!”
The air split in two, and a deep red luminance painted ground and sky. Dust burst up in lines across the sand. Then the sand itself became steam, and the ground began to shimmer like a mirage. Asura flitted into the air like a feather, but the crimson beam followed her in a boiling column of fire that pierced the sky. A blast wave erupted, striking the desert like a giant hammer.
Several of the lofty spires above them broke and fell down into the city below. Where they landed, new plumes of sand rose in mushroom clouds. The faded red sky shifted to lurid orange, clogged with numberless whipping particles carrying death and destruction. The chances of escape from that apocalypse dwindled rapidly to almost nil. Their enemy’s assault was as perfect as it was complete.