Quest for the Well of Souls - Jack L. Chalker [115]
He would create human beings in all ways so close to perfection that clothing would be a sin except when needed for protection. Powerful Lords would rule not desert wastes but bountiful planets, holding sway over their own herds of beautiful, powerful, and adoring women. Yet all would be subservient to him, the Supreme Caliph from whom all blessing and curses would flow, and for all time. A land of artisans, scientists, and engineers pushing back the ultimate frontiers.
A race to fulfill the Markovian dream of utopian perfectionism, a race to become gods.
All this was within his grasp, right now, here, today!
"Arise and go about your duties," he commanded, and they did so. Thanks to Obie, their living quarters were already quite comfortable, with great soft beds covered in silk and satin. Obie had also provided exotic fruits, vegetables, and meats indistinguishable from the originals. Though it was true that Yulin and his harem could now eat anything organic, even grass, there was no reason to.
Yulin returned to Obie and sat at a control console, flipping the transmitter switch.
"Obie? Have you plotted our position exactly?" he asked.
"Yes, Ben. We are back in the original New Pompeii orbit, along with the robot sentries. No sign of anything within a one-light-year scan. I suppose any curious investigators would have given up by now anyway. It's been over twenty-two years."
Ben Yulin nodded. "What about our movement capability, Obie? Can you move us to a different point, even a different sector of space?"
"Any area whose coordinates are precisely specified in my memory. That includes, of course, all Comworlds and frontiers as of the time we were last here."
Ben Yulin nodded in satisfaction, then shifted his thoughts. Only a few things now stood in his way. Six things.
"Obie, is there any way you can change the atmospheric content Topside?" he asked. "Alter the balance, drain it, or introduce a toxic substance?"
"Those areas are controlled by totally involuntary circuits," the computer reminded him. "I can't do anything about them at all. You should know that. Antor Trelig didn't want you or Zinder or anyone else to have that kind of power—and particularly not me. For some reason he never really trusted me." There was a hurt tone in that last.
Yulin chuckled. He trusted Obie himself about as far as he could throw the thing.
"All right, then," he sighed. "I'll have to deal with the Northerners as best I can. Right now I need good knockout substances that will affect Agitar, Yaxa, and Lata."
Obie had the necessary information.
Topside
An armed guard was posted near the elevator, and the camp was moved to the center of the grassy park. They didn't want to be surprised again.
"Why not take the ship and scram for help?" Renard suggested. "We sure as hell are living physical proof of what we say, and the Council could then move to blast this place."
"That's just what Yulin would want us to try," Mavra retorted. "Once out in the ship, he could swing the big dish on us and bag us all in one sweep. That's why he hasn't bothered to disable it."
Renard looked toward the elevator, perhaps a hundred meters away, now guarded by Wooley and Vistaru. "They're going to come for us sometime," he said flatly. "Soon."
She nodded. "Well, we have the wire from the technicians' repair center. Three hundred meters—that's more than enough. If we can only get close enough to use it."
"They have to relax the defense mode to get their people in and out," the Bozog pointed out. "That would be the logical time."
"Yeah, maybe we should wait by the bridge," Renard interjected. "Ready to go, so to speak."
"I don't think so," she replied. "No, the plans indicate that Obie can see the entire area from the end of the entrance corridor all the way across to his door. And if we stay