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No Summary
Mantra is the creation of comic book writer Mike W. Barr. Mantra and other characters originally introduced in Malibu Comics are the copyrighted properties of Marvel Comics, Inc.
WHOM THE GODS WOULD DESTROY A Story of Mantra
By C.D. Lee
Chapter 1
"THE MAN ON THE DOORSTEP"
But suddenly my anger grows,
A mighty spirit fills my nose.
My inward feelings all revolt.
A creature such as thou! A dolt!
Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
The sight of the stranger made my blood run cold. I'd just had one of the most harrowing experiences of my life, an experience that was probably caused by this man. Now, unexpectedly, he was back.
It had only been hours before that I'd been waiting in line with the kids at a children's restaurant. This small man had nudged up behind me and all of a sudden I felt a needle prick. A moment later I had found myself propelled five days into the future. That would have been bad enough, but that particular future wasn't my own. It belonged to a Mantra who existed in what had to be a parallel universe. My personality and memories had been transplanted into my counterpart's mind, but the new world had been slightly out of sync with what I knew.
My comrade-in-arms Warstrike was called 'Strike and wore a different costume, while Earth's most famous ultra, Hardcase, was no longer part of the UltraForce, having left it in anger. The newspapers talked about heroes who were completely unknown to me, while some famous ultras, such as the heroine Contrary, had never existed at all.
Terrible battles had been forced upon me and I'd witnessed gut-wrenching tragedies involving my family and friends. My bitterest foe, Necromantra, whom I had believed dead in my universe, was still alive there and posing a danger to my daughter Evie. I confronted and slew her, but the death of my former best friend at my own hands had left me sick at heart.
Soon after that encounter, I'd been spontaneously hurtled through the dimensional barrier again and returned to the reality that I knew. Unfortunately, almost before I could draw a breath of relief, I once more found myself confronted by this little redheaded man.
If the person had looked threatening I would have known what to do. But he was just standing there, grinning like a shy salesman, totally unremarkable in appearance. Shorter than me, he was broad faced with pale blue, importuning eyes. What bothered me most was that I didn't know the guy from Adam and he shouldn't have had any reason to follow me home. If the stranger had returned to give me an encore of what had gone before -- well, I wasn't going to let that happen.
"I saw you at the mall," I said through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?"
His brave attempt to smile produced a tight, nervous rictus. "I had t-to come," he declared with a stumble. "Something happened to you and you don't know what it was. I'm that sure you'd like an explanation." His accent sounded foreign, but I couldn't place it, even though I'm conversant in scores of languages, some of them now dead.
My arms impatiently crossed, I kept my mystical shield up and waited for the stranger to better explain himself. I hoped that he acted quickly, because I was in no patient mood.
Despite, or because of, my forbidding attitude and silence, the little man continued to jabber. "I don't normally involve myself in -- uh, operations as sensitive as this one. It's not my field of expertise. To get right to the point, I need to recruit a hero of your capability."
Hero? No one in his right mind should have supposed that a mild-mannered working mother and housewife such as Eden Blake was any kind of a hero. I didn't like where this was going. "Recruit me for what?"
"The world is in danger. No, danger is too weak a word for what is about to happen. World is too weak a word!"
I sighed. "Listen, fella, you must be mistaking me for somebody else. It sounds like you need an ultra."
"Oh, but I'm well aware that you are an ultra, Mrs. Blake, and one of the most accomplished."
This comment hit me like a sledgehammer, but I tried not to show it. "Sir, would you please go away before you drive a perfectly ordinary person to violence?" Though outwardly unmovable, my mind reeled. To preserve my Mantra identity I'd be willing to slay an enemy, but was this nondescript little man an enemy or just a pest?
"Of course you must deny it," he said with an awkward grin, "but I know that you are Mantra. I know everything about you. You have the self-aware soul of Sir Lukasz, a man born in the year 430 A.D. You served the wizard Archimage for more than 1500 years. Please, madam -- sir -- we need to speak confidentially." He glanced over his shoulder, as if haunted by furies.
I was dumfounded. No common spy or private investigator could possibly have learned that I hosted the transmigrated spirit of the warrior Lukasz inside my borrowed body. That knowledge was kept locked in my private-most thoughts. Only a tiny cadre of friends knew about my unorthodox origin. The enemies who'd been privy to the knowledge were all dead -- or so I thought.
"I'm afraid I'm not expressing myself well," the little man slogged on. "It is imperative that I win your trust. Time is of the essence."
When this man used the word "Time" it sounded like he was capitalizing it. My first instinct was to deny everything and order him away in no uncertain terms, but something warned me that denial would be futile. I thought it best to have him put his cards on the table, but I couldn't speak freely. He might have a hidden listening device and be carrying water for an enemy of mine. Before saying anything incriminating, I surreptitiously used my mystical powers to scan him for hidden technology, but what I got didn't reassure me. The stranger registered a myriad of odd power-traces, the likes of which I had never come across before. Whoever or whatever this person was, he couldn't have been the garden-variety nut case.
"Did you come here to fight with me?" I asked acidly.
"No indeed!" the little man blurted in agitation. "It's just that I have a daunting task to perform and I need your help."
"A daunting task?" I echoed. "Everybody has daunting tasks. Why should I help you with yours?"
He sighed heavily. "I would gladly explain everything --" He dropped his voice to a whisper, "Mantra, if only you would permit me the leisure to do so."
"What if I don't?" I demanded sharply.
"Then I must find another ally -- one whom, I fear, will be less able than yourself. Should that be the case, the odds of failure shall be markedly increased. Failure is unthinkable. The Multiverse would end and its uncountable trillions of inhabitants would die."
I looked at him incredulously. This was a paranoid crisis mentality carried to the nth degree! "What's a Mulitverse?" I asked with annoyance.
The man brightened, eager to initiate a discussion. "It's the sum total of all universes, and all the timelines originating from them, referred to collectively," he replied.
I continued to stare sternly at my visitor, but inwardly I was taken aback. Some people believe that there is only one universe, but I know better. What was this person getting at?
"If it is not convenient for us to confer inside," the little man suggested politely, "we might select another place."
"Where do you come from?" I asked bluntly.
The corners of his mouth briefly tightened into an uncertain smile. "From a location that you already know -- the Godwheel."
A visitor from the Godwheel? This was serious! My every contact with that infamous artificial mega-world in space has meant trouble. If the stranger hadn't come to destroy me, I needed to know what was on his mind. It simply wasn't safe to be left in the dark about anything so important. I glanced rearward, down the corridor where the bedrooms were. "It's not a good time. I've got children at home."
"I know you do, Mrs.... ah, Sir Lukasz. Think nothing of it. Our conversation won't disturb the tykes in the slightest."
I met his imploring expression with a frown. "I think you might be a dangerous man -- wherever you come from. You can't expect me to invite a potential enemy into a family home or go off somewhere and leave young children unsupervised."
He smiled again. "May I be permitted to ask if the youngsters are secure and well -- just at this instant, I mean?"
His intonation placed me even more on guard. I answered carefully. "As far as I know."
"Excellent. Then we shall remain in this instant of Time as long as necessary and the little ones will be entirely safe."
"I still don't have the foggiest what you're talking about."
"Foggiest?" His looked puzzled, as if I'd used an unfamiliar word. He seemed to search his memory and then exclaimed, "Oh, you're saying that you have no idea what I'm referring to! I shall demonstrate anon." The man reached into his pocket, as if groping for a weapon. Reflexively, my force field flared to its greatest strength, casting a green glow into his innocuous face.
From his coat the man brought what looked like a gumdrop wrapped in cellophane. I glowered at the object and the smooth, office-worker-type hand that held it. "Well? What's that?" I asked.
Without a word, he let the candy drop.
I lurched; the thing might be a disguised bomb. Only, the candy didn't drop.
The instant it had lost contact with his fingers, it stopped in mid-air, just hanging there as if levitated.
Exasperated, I conjured up a field of mystical interference, a type that scrambles radio communications -- in the event that he was bugged -- and then spoke bluntly. "What is this game? What does it prove? I could play tricks like that, too."
"Of course you could; you're Mantra after all. I rather admire your ingenuity. If I were an ordinary security risk, that electromagnetic static that you've just conjured would have foiled me. It is exactly because of your quick-thinking and many talents that I've come seeking your assistance."
"All this talk is getting us nowhere, Mister. I hope we can make friends, otherwise I can't afford to let you get away alive."
"That's it exactly!" he chirped excitedly. "I've come to make friends."
Somehow he was missing my point. I wondered if he was bolder than he looked or just dumb. "How do you know so much about me...?" I began.
"Because I have virtually all your memories and knowledge downloaded into my VIGOPS!" he exclaimed. The nano-technology in your bloodstream monitors your brain activity and converts what it finds into a retrievable data stream that it broadcasts to an interpretive matrix within my vehicle and stores it. Similar micro-cellular nanites in my own bloodstream allow to me to tap the database wherever -- and whenever -- I am."
"What's a VIGOPS?" was all I could think to ask in the teeth of this daunting techno-babble.
"It's an anagram transliterated from my own language. In your speech you might call it, ah -- a memory bank."
"Are you saying you can steal my thoughts and read them?"
"Why, yes. And that's only one of the benefits you have acquired from the microscopic robots that I injected into your system a couple of hours ago."
My fists clenched. "So you took it upon yourself to shoot me full of some sort of high-tech crap without asking me first?"
He nodded contritely. "I regret the discourtesy, but the nanites do not affect the human physiology adversely -- and they enable any person who is lucky enough to have them to communicate with his controller across multiple planes of reality and extreme temporal displacement."
This was an explanation? "Are you calling yourself my 'controller'? I don't care fore that idea. I'm tempted to do something that's painful and long-lasting."
"I sincerely hope not, madame -- sir. Once I make clear that I'm acting in extreme urgency you may judge me less harshly."
For his own sake I hoped he was right. I once more glanced at that damned gumdrop hanging in space.
Pointing to the perplexing object, I asked: "How do you do that?"
He ventured a hopeful smile. "I am able to activate the micro units installed in both of us. The devices we both carry act as receptors of a time-dilation field broadcast to them from inside my vehicle. The field displaces us to a temporal sub-dimension in which chronological progression is so attenuated that a single nanosecond of real time seems like a year to those within it."
I thought he was saying that he had stopped time. What an incredible assertion! I looked around, trying to pick out some anomaly that would disprove it. The second hand on the wall clock wasn't moving, nor were the leaves in the bushes outside swaying. Everything around us, in fact, looked eerily still, like images in a picture. On the other hand, my face, clothes, and hair all felt perfectly normal to the touch.
"Anything that is directly in contact with our bodies is acclimatized to the field," the stranger explained. "Experiment with the phenomenon all you like."
My glance fell upon the small round table beside the door, upon which rested one of Gus's model autos. I pushed it over the edge and it started to fall, but the instant that it and my finger broke contact, the toy stopped dead in space -- just like the candy had.
I rounded on my visitor. "Did you do this to the kids, too?"
"Of course! Preserving the cherubs in safety was the whole point of suspending Time, wasn't it? And there is an added benefit! Real time is very short, but when one retards the march of Time, he may function as if he has more of it -- more time to confer and plan."
"Maybe we should talk," I finally conceded.
# I led the little man inside and sank down at the edge of the couch. "Please, take a chair," I told him, though I did not feel the least bit hospitable.
He did as bidden and I sat waiting for him to start telling his story. But now my visitor seemed to be at loss for words.
"You're a very strange man," I remarked. "How can you do the things you do?"
He gave a modest shrug. "Technical education."
I eyed the fellow, suspecting that he might only be feigning obtuseness. "Education has its value," I agreed condescendingly, "but there must be more to it than that. By the way, you haven't told me your name."
He grinned again. "I have been remiss. On Earth I usually call myself Gabriel."
I nodded. "All right, Gabriel, you have some explaining to do. Can you really play tricks with time?"
"Ah, I'm afraid so," he admitted almost apologetically. Gabriel's show of diffidence didn't exactly reassure me. Some of the most notorious serial killers in history have been shy men. "But it's very difficult to explain such technical concepts to one who hasn't had any prior orientation to the basics of multi-dimensional mechanics," he concluded.
"If you're saying that I'm too dumb to understand your explanation, maybe I'm the wrong person to be 'recruiting'."
"Oh, I hope not! I mean, I'm certain you're not. It takes a very intelligent person to have a career of adventure spanning centuries. "
I wasn't going to be taken in by the soft soap treatment. "I'm not so smart," I told him. "I've made a lot of mistakes and enemies have killed me more times than I want to remember."
"I was speaking of future centuries."
I stared. Did this intrusive stranger really know something? Archimage had once predicted a long life for Mantra, but my former liege lord had been a notorious liar. Even while telling me that I would be stuck in a female shell for the long haul unless I rescued him, he was planning to steal Eden Blake's body for himself and cast my soul into oblivion. And that after a millennium and a half of faithful service.
"Centuries? Really?"
"Well," Gabriel murmured, "not really."
"Huh?"
His tone had taken on a remorseful timbre. "Once you were fated to have a very long life in most of the timelines that have existed up to now, but now something terrible has intruded."
"Meaning?" I asked cautiously.
He sighed again. "There is a daunting probability that you will cease to exist tomorrow at 7:11 p.m. That's Pacific Time, of course."
The little man had earned my undivided attention.
But he still had not won my trust.
TO BE CONTINUED.... |
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