Jobs froze.

  "What's wrong?"

  It was Miss Blake. Jobs turned to her and opened his mouth to say something but no words came out.

  Miss Blake looked quickly from Jobs to the dead soldier and back again."This is not the time for sentiment," she said harshly."Besides, he's not even real. We are. Come on, Jobs. We need you."

  Miss Blake didn't wait around.

  Jobs got to his feet. He had the weapon.

  And he heard the scream. The sound was awful, ripping through him with the viciousness of deliberate torture.

  Jobs whirled. It was Yago! His horse was down, still screaming, legs twitching. Yago was crying, sobbing, desperately trying to pull his left leg out from under the thousand or so pounds of animal.

  Jobs raced toward Yago, vaguely aware of what he had to do. When he reached Yago he knelt, put the carbine down, and said, "I'm going to try to pull you out."

  Jobs grabbed Yago under the arms. "When I say three, use your right leg to push against the horse," he said. He ignored the presence of a Blue Meanie, for now. He knew that the second Yago was free the alien would take aim at them both. The Meanie was playing with them. Jobs resented it.

  "One. Two. Three!" Jobs pulled. He felt energy surge through his shoulders and arms. Saw Yago's booted right foot pushing against the horse's sweats-licked back. Heard his own grunts and Yago's.

  "Umpf!" Jobs fell back, Yago with him. Yago was free. His left pant leg was torn and the skin Jobs saw beneath the material was scratched and bruised.

  "Is it broken? Can you stand?" Jobs demanded.

  Yago's breath came in short gasps. "No, I mean, yes, I think I can stand."

  Jobs got to his feet, grabbed the carbine, and hauled Yago from the ground. Yago wobbled and put his arm around Jobs's shoulder for balance.

  Jobs looked up. The Blue Meanie was still there, only yards away. It raised its front right leg.

  "When I say 'run,' " Jobs hissed, "run!"

  With a bloodcurdling shriek, Jobs raised the carbine over his head and then hurled it at the Blue Meanie. It clanked off the Meanie's chest.

  The ridiculous action took the alien by surprise. The leg lowered and in that instant Jobs yelled, "Run!"

  They headed for the corridor leading off the field.

  CHAPTER 22

  HE KNEW IT WAS GOING TO BE BAD.

  "In here!"

  The home team's locker room. Open now, though it hadn't been before. Jobs stood panting, holding the door open with his back, shoving the others past him, Yago, 2Face, Miss Blake, Edward, Noyze, and Dr. Cohen.

  When everyone was in, Jobs slammed the door shut.

  2Face began to push a long bench toward the door.

  Everyone grabbed a movable object, heaved it across the tiled floor, jammed it against the door. Laundry bins, trash cans, massage table, more benches.

  "We've backed ourselves into a corner!" Miss Blake said. She'd run off into the locker room and was back, panting. "No other way out!"

  "What were we going to do, they forced us in here'" Jobs said angrily.

  "I'm not saying it was your fault," she retorted.

  "Shut up'" 2Face shouted. "Listen'"

  Jobs listened and heard nothing at first. Then, a low, persistent sound. Like some sort of drill ...

  "Back away from the door!" he cried.

  They did, in a huddle. Just in time to see the center of the door begin to buckle and curdle and disintegrate, then the entire door burn away.

  Edward cried out. Yago cursed. A Blue Meanie slowly, confidently drifted into the room, over the piled furniture, and landed on the floor in front of them. On the headpiece of his suit was a red figure. Jobs had never seen that before. It looked vaguely like a Chinese character.

  "It's the Muse," Dr. Cohen said, her voice amazingly steady. "One Divine Mountain."

  Noyze sighed. "We are in serious trouble now."

  "What do we do?" Jobs said.

  "Let me try to talk to him."

  Noyze stepped forward and wondered, very briefly, how the Muse would react when he discovered that she had understood the Children all along.

  Maybe revealing this now was a mistake. Maybe it would get her killed. Maybe it would save them all.

  Noyze lifted her hands and began to sign.

  Before she'd gotten three words into her plea, the Muse reared on his hind legs. He's angry, Noyze thought nervously. "Please, we are not enemies of the Children. But Mother wants us to live.

  If you kill us you'll only make her more angry with you. I know that's not what you want."

  Noyze waited for the Muse to absorb what she'd just told him. For a moment he didn't move.

  Then, slowly, he dropped down to all fours again.

  "We will help you reach Mother," she said, carefully signing."Together we can help Mother get well."

  It was looking good. The Muse ...

  "No'" Noyze shouted. "Please'"

  One Divine Mountain had raised his front leg. He was going to kill them.

  Jobs had stepped back very, very slowly until he was shoulder to shoulder with Yago.

  "Give me the pistol," he whispered. He kept his eyes on Noyze and the Muse.

  Yago didn't argue. Jobs took the Remington and very, very slowly moved forward again until he was just behind Noyze.

  He knew it was going to be bad. He didn't know how he knew but he knew. When the Muse prepared to fire, Jobs did what he had to do.

  In one swift movement he yanked Noyze to the floor and fired.

  Screams filled the room, and the sound of people dropping to the floor. One Divine Mountain stumbled but did not fall.

  "Stay down!" Jobs yelled. Again he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the Muse fired a mini-missile. It went wild, off to the left, nowhere near Jobs and the others. The Muse stumbled again, fell to his knees.

  "Look!"

  Jobs whirled. Through a thick cloud of black smoke he could see Dr. Cohen, apart from the others, kneeling by a body covered in blood.

  "It's Yago," she cried. "He tried to crawl over behind those lockers. He was hit."

  "Is he dead?" 2Face asked, getting to her feet.

  Jobs watched Dr. Cohen's shoulders heave.

  "Yes," she said.

  The locker room began to wobble and shimmer. Jobs steadied himself, expecting the entire environment to self-destruct.

  He watched as forms blurred and felt the solid floor go soft and heard an odd sort of hush descending ...

  And then it was over. The locker room was back to what it had been before. Complete with the damage done to one wall by the Muse's missile.

  Jobs looked to Miss Blake. "Yago's dead. Shouldn't ... I thought everything would fall apart and we'd be someplace else. Based on what's happened before."

  Miss Blake shook her head. "That's your problem, Jobs. Always thinking."

  I will finish what he has begun.

  Why do they all fail me? Why?

  I am betrayed by the strange-eyed one. He promised to destroy the threat. But he failed. The Children are coming closer all the time.

  They must not reach me. I will not allow it. So I will not let him go, the one who promised to help me.

  I will finish what he has begun.

  I will not let him go.

  CHAPTER 23

  "IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME."

  "Easy does it, big guy."

  Mo'Steel had Alberto under one arm, supporting him largely with his right shoulder. Kubrick had his father under the other, his left shoulder taking the weight.

  It was not going well. They were trying to lower Alberto into one of the pits that were scattered at regular intervals around Mother's basement. Once in there, Alberto could again interface with Mother directly. Maybe, through the fact of his insanity, force her into final deterioration.

  Alberto obviously did not want to go. Mo'Steel couldn't blame him. Look at what had happened to the guy the first time he'd gotten up close and personal with Mother. And then, kah-blam!

  Mother had fried his brain.

  What did surprise Mo'Steel was that this blabbering excrement-covered madman was still possessed of enough clarity to know fear and to express resistance.

  "Aaaaaaggghhhhh!"

  Mo'Steel flinched. The guy had a pair of lungs. Alberto lunged forward, tried to throw himself out from under the supporting/restraining arms of the boys.

  "Papa!" Kubrick shouted. "It'll be okay, I ... I promise. "

  Billy was no help, at least with the physical process of lowering a thrashing Alberto into the pit. He might have recovered consciousness, even some degree of normalcy, but the guy was not strong.

  "Ahhhhh!"

  Mo'Steel flinched again. Then it registered. That cry was human, yeah. But it hadn't come from Alberto.

  "There's someone else here!" he hissed to Kubrick.

  "Ahhhh! Oh-oh-oh-oh ... "

  Billy cocked his head. "It's coming from over there," he said, pointing generally west.

  "Let's go, let's go!" Mo'Steel hefted Alberto to more of a standing position. The fight seemed to have gone out of him.

  Mo'Steel and Kubrick half-dragged half-carried Alberto between them, following close behind Billy, avoiding laser sites, checking pits.

  Billy found him first.

  "In here," Billy said. "It's Yago."

  Mo'Steel and Kubrick lowered Alberto to the floor. "Billy," Mo'Steel instructed, "watch him."

  "Yago's still hooked up to Mother," Billy said, kneeling by Alberto. The engineer had curled himself into the fetal position and was whimpering.

  Yago looked bad. His weird catlike eyes were rolling in his head and his face glistened with sweat. Mo'Steel felt sorry for the guy. He didn't know exactly what Yago had experienced but it had to have been seriously unsettling.

  Mo'Steel dropped to his knees, then belly. "Kubrick, grab my ankles."

  Mo'Steel was scared. Squeezing the A gland, that's what it was all about. Living life all glandular, no stopping, no saying no.

  Yago continued to scream and then yelp like a hurt puppy. He wasn't tied to the chair in any physical way. Unless there were invisible bonds. Didn't matter. Yago was coming out of there.

  Mo'Steel reached out for Yago's arm. He was vaguely aware of Billy shouting something.

  And then Mo'Steel saw the bones in his outstretched hand and felt a fierce pain race from his head to his feet. He was hot and cold, on fire and freezing. Way, way back in his brain a voice whispered, "My poor, brave boy."

  Dimly he felt himself being dragged backward, away from the pit. Yago, still screaming, yelping, screaming. Billy repeating, "It should have been me, it should have been me ... ."

  "No," Kubrick said calmly. "She's angry. She doesn't want to let go. I'll do it. It doesn't matter what happens to me."

  Oh, right, Mo'Steel thought, on his back, rigid. Right. Kubrick was the one, no pain and all....

  Mo'Steel heard Yago screaming and Billy mumbling and then a grunt and then a sort of loud sizzle like a million fatty hamburgers being dropped into a million hot frying pans.

  Mo'Steel couldn't move his head but he could roll his eyes and he saw Kubrick, his body smoking, carrying Yago.

  Mo'Steel wiggled his right index finger. Okay. That worked. Then another finger and then the whole hand and then the toes and feet. Finally he climbed to his feet and staggered over to where Kubrick had laid Yago out. Mo'Steel had a serious dislike of dead things but he sucked it up and pressed his ear against Yago's chest, listened hard. There it was, a heartbeat, faint but steady.

  Mo'Steel sat down hard on his butt and looked around at the sorry group. Billy looked stricken and guilty. Alberto was picking at his toes.

  Kubrick was staring at his smoking hands.

  Mo'Steel put his head on his knees and sighed.

  Yago was dead.

  Jobs had never liked Yago, but still. He was one of them, one of the ever-dwindling group of survivors. One of the last human beings.

  "Someone help me," he said. He knelt by the Muse. "I need to get the suit off him. Maybe we can use it. The other Meanies will find us soon enough."

  Noyze knelt at his side. "There's a seam here," she said. "Along the side."

  Jobs began to remove the suit. One Divine Mountain looked far less intimidating without his armor. For a moment Jobs felt pity for the hairless, four-legged creature. But he couldn't let sadness overwhelm him like it had so often since they'd come to this ship. Later, maybe, there would be time for grief.

  Maybe.

  CHAPTER 24

  "MOTHER HAS GONE TO WAR."

  Billy was getting something. Something from Mother. What did she want, or not want, Billy to know?

  It would come. In the meantime, Billy would wait, keep himself open but also on guard. Mother could not be trusted.

  She'd outright attacked Mo'Steel and Kubrick when they'd tried to pull Yago from the pit. What was Yago's significance to her? Why had Mother wanted him so badly at that very moment?

  Kubrick seemed to have healed. Mo'Steel was okay, too.

  Billy felt tired. He walked away from the group, from Yago, conscious now but silent, head in his hands; from Mo'Steel, making small jumps in place, always moving; from Kubrick, trying to get his father's shoes back on his feet.

  He was hearing something from Mother. Mother had not stopped playing through whatever scenario she had been sucking from Yago's brain. She was angry and she was working on without Yago, but what exactly was happening Billy didn't know. Something bad. And the baby was involved.

  An all-too-vivid image tore through Billy, knocking him off his feet. Far, far away. Chechnya, his mother falling, always falling, forever falling to the dusty ground, men shouting, women screaming, a baby seeing it all, recording it all, making memories before full consciousness, understanding nothing, understanding everything.

  "That's it," Billy whispered.

  "What?" It was Mo'Steel. He stuck out a hand to help Billy to his feet.

  "Mother has gone to war. She has to be stopped," Billy said, holding Mo'Steel's eyes, willing him to understand. "We have to stop her."

  Mo'Steel continued to look at Billy with an expression of honest puzzlement. Then, "Oh. You really think it's necessary?"

  Billy nodded. "I do."

  "Right. I think Yago can help us now."

  "I'll help, too," Billy insisted.

  Mo'Steel grinned, though the grin was a bit shaky."Okay, I'll talk to Kubrick and Yago."

  Billy waited. Then he heard his name called softly and he joined the others.

  "Me and Kubrick, his arms. Yago and Billy, his legs. Be as gentle as you can, but don't let go."

  Billy glanced at the others. No one looked happy. But no one was protesting, either. Least of all poor Alberto, who seemed to be on the verge of sleep, his head resting on his chest, legs splayed out before him.

  Billy took hold of Alberto's left foot.

  "On the count of three."

  Jobs hoped the suit's controls were technological, something he could figure out. If the suit worked by some sort of mind-speak or directed thought, he would be helpless.

  "I won't be able to wear it," he said to Noyze, peering inside. "But maybe I can fire the fléchette gun or the mini-missiles."

  Jobs spotted a series of tiny buttons inside the right tentacle.

  "I think this .. ."

  Someone screamed.

  Jobs fell back on his butt, still holding the suit.

  Three Blue Meanies were crowding the doorway.

  One by one, they entered the room. The one closest to Jobs looked in his direction. Jobs knew he recognized the Muse's special suit.

  It was now or never.

  The Blue Meanie closest took aim at Jobs.

  Jobs reached in and pressed one of the tiny buttons.

  "Whoa!" Noyze fell back in surprise.

  "Get down!" Jobs shouted, though the kickback had already thrown him flat on his back.

  He hadn't fired the mini-missiles at all. Instead he'd fired the suit's rockets and now it was shooting wildly around the locker room like a punctured balloon.