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The cool, hushed atmosphere of the treatment room stood in sharp contrast to the tension Jack Crandall felt building within himself. Seated in his cushioned chair, he inhaled a series of slow, deep breaths. Behind him, the Psycho-Dynamics technician carefully lowered the molded headband onto his brow. A faint, prickly sensation accompanied the touch of the metal filligree. On his right, his most recent partner, Alicia, underwent the same procedure.
He knew a small but finite risk existed that he might soon die. The persona overlay would seem quite real while they dwelt in the computer generated world. If he "died" there or became seriously injured, his brain would be convinced of that reality and respond to it.
Jack glanced over at Alicia. Her taunt expression and long fingers intertwined in a tight knot on her lap told him she wanted to undergo this therapy no more than did he. Unfortunately, unless they could reestablish mutual trust after their near disastrous last mission, dismissal from the Corps and its Network loomed as the only alternative.
Yet he could not imagine existence Outside. Like a heartbeat, fieldwork kept him going when all else in the world fell apart. The possibility of losing that last island of certainty and hope stalked his nightmares. For Jack, it was either face this ordeal as he had faced all the others during his career or accept an enforced retirement that hovered a bare step above oblivion.
The director of the facility, Dr. Rankin, stepped between their chairs. His lined face and gray-flecked hair presented a picture-perfect image of competence and skill. "If you still wish to continue, we are ready to begin."
Jack tensed. Alicia said nothing.
"We're ready," Jack said quietly.
Dr. Rankin gestured towards the technicians. Seconds later the room began to fade into a gathering blue haze. Before it disappeared entirely, though, Jack swivelled his head towards Alicia.
Her moist, dark eyes staring at him formed the last image Jack saw as the haze closed in around him.
Jack opened his eyes to flickering dimness.
A delicate shiver ran down his spine. Gingerly he straightened a kink from his back. Wraithelike, a gentle breeze drifted across his bare arms and legs, shredding the mist into evaporating tendrils. For some unknown reason, his thoughts felt dulled and clogged.
Looking around, he saw that he stood in a cool, damp hallway. The roughly hewn stones of the walls and ceiling possessed a mottled texture. Each massive block measured close to a meter across.
Slowly he became aware that he clutched a smoky torch in his left hand. Its red and orange flame cast nervous shadows around him. From out of those dancing doppelgangers came an abrupt correction and a name. This was no hallway, he realized. He had entered the Labyrinth, the maze of King Minos of Crete; the brainchild of Daedalus, the greatest architect of the land.
Another thought flowed into his awareness: he was not "Jack" but Theseus, warrior and hero. Behind him stood...
"Ariadne..."
Theseus extended his right hand towards the king's daughter. She seemed ill at ease.
Silky blond hair curled down towards her firm, bare breasts. As her long, tapered fingers touched his, Theseus realized with renewed conviction that this prize justified any risk, made any danger acceptable...even that of her half-brother, the Minotaur.
Theseus lowered his head to kiss Ariadne. Soft, warm, and inviting, her lips molded to his. As he pulled away, the scent of her hair lingered with him.
Hesitantly, she smiled and placed a hand lightly upon his chest.
"We come to our destiny," she whispered.
Theseus nodded. His quest here would change their lives forever.
"It will be dangerous?" Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yes. In a way." Theseus laughed at her expression. "Don't worry. With your help, I'll have no trouble with the man-bull. Then it will be my turn to free you. Your father will be unable to keep you from me after this. Together we can succeed, Ariadne -- will succeed -- where alone we would fail. When we do win through, no one will ever separate us again."
Ariadne lowered her gaze and seemed to consider Theseus's words. Something appeared in her left hand: the means for his safety and, ultimately, the key to their salvation. Like an offering to the gods, she held up a ball of string.
"Here." She thrust the small sphere into his right hand and quickly stepped back. Tightly she clutched one end of the string in her fist. The tiny lifeline trembled between them.
Theseus gazed down at the coarse thread and then up into the shadowed eyes of this woman whom he loved. She had seen it, he thought: the link between them. She had given it to him of her own free will. The next step was his. He had to demonstrate the extent of his own commitment. Alone, he would have to slay the flesh-eating monster which guarded these darkened passageways. Alone, he would have to destroy the Minotaur.
Silently, he turned from Ariadne and began to walk. No room remained now for words. The time had come for action. Yet despite his resolve, he glanced behind him. In implicit farewell, Ariadne raised a hand, the thread trailing from her fingers. A moment later, a bend in the passageway hid her white-clad form from his view.
Slowly and carefully, Theseus unwound his link with safety. The faint scrape, scrape of his sandals kept time with his step. With a rising rhythm, his pulse beat in anticipation of what might await him along the passageway he had selected. Reassuringly, his sheathed short sword slapped against his left thigh. The flickering of his torch painted black ghosts on the surrounding walls. Unconsciously, he strained to catch some sound, some indication that he approached his goal.
Nothing came to his ears. But for himself and the life-giving thread he held in his palm, the Labyrinth appeared empty. Doggedly, Theseus maintained his course, wondering just how ferocious the Minotaur would be. There had been tales aplenty in the court.
The Minotaur... The offspring of a queen and a bull. A meat eater. How would such a beast act after having been locked in a maze for the whole of its life, alone and brooding upon the injustice of its plight, thirsting for the time when revenge would be its due? What manner of monster would it have become?
Unexpectedly, Theseus received his answer.
"Ho! Little man!"
Startled, Theseus dropped the ball of thread. The deep-throated bellow of the Minotaur echoed painfully in the narrow confines of the passageway. Instinctively, the warrior slid free his sword. The time for battle had arrived.
"You do not answer!" the Minotaur roared. The stones themselves trembled from the power of that anger. With the insolence of supreme confidence, the naked man-bull placed its massive, callused fists on its solidly boned hips. Its heavily muscled legs straddled the width of the passage. Broad, shaggy shoulders filled the space before Theseus. The sinews of the creature's arms seemed specially designed for tearing victims apart limb from limb.
Yet the most terrifying aspect of all was its head. As large as an anvil, the skull of the Minotaur sported a pair of long, curving, needle-pointed horns, ideally suited for disemboweling a squirming, screaming prey. Under beetled brows, two large eyes glowed coal-red in the darkness encasing them, twin caverns into a mind-numbing cauldron of lust and death. The snout below was the soft, broad one of a healthy bull. The thing's thick lips pulled back in a snarl to reveal a mouthful of dagger shaped teeth glinting in the torchlight, teeth quite capable of ripping human flesh into ragged shreds.
Theseus knew he had to strike the spark from those glaring eyes, a task which had appeared far easier in anticipation than in actuality. Uncertainly, he slid his tongue across his lips. A glance at his sword did not reassure him. That weapon seemed woefully inadequate for the task at hand; a mere sliver of metal that would, at best, only enrage the beast.
Suddenly the Minotaur loomed close above him. In wicked promise, its huge hand curled into a fist in front of his eyes. The warrior felt the hot stench of the monster's breath washing across his face.
"I will crush you, 'O Mighty Warrior.'" The Minotaur's mocking voice rumbled across him, its threat the simple statement of an incontrovertible fact.
Theseus opened his mouth to speak. He would refute those bold words and show the strength flowing within him.
Nothing emerged.
At that inner betrayal, Theseus's sword arm trembled. The confrontation should not go this way, he thought uneasily, not like this, at all.
Forcing calm upon that inner turmoil, Theseus stared hard at his sword. He would will it to expand and lengthen, compel it to grow into such a fearsome weapon that not even the monstrous Minotaur could withstand its terrible onslaught.
Indifferent to his desire, it refused to change. Something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.
Lifting his head towards the Minotaur, he wondered if it had always been so overpowering, so ferociously invincible? Surely it could be slain. But how...?
Wait. The destiny of Theseus was to kill the --
Theseus? No... He was not Theseus, was he? He was only...
Blood coursed loudly in his ears. With his head throbbing, he took a confused, involuntary step backward.
Unhurriedly, the Minotaur closed the gap between them. Its laughter reverberated in the air. "The mighty Theseus! Ha! Run, little man. Run while you have the chance. I will find you, though. You can never escape the Labyrinth!"
The Labyrinth. That had to be the answer. Was Ariadne abandoning him at that very moment? Could he place the fault for this approaching disaster on her? With him eliminated, there would be no question of him versus her. There would be only her. Did she truly view him as such a rival that she would deliver him to death? He had thought their partnership close. Obviously, her concern had been only a ruse, a deception designed to ensure that she alone would emerge alive from the Labyrinth. The inheritance would belong solely to her. And he had tried to give her his trust. He had tried.
In haughty challenge, the Minotaur stood before him, waiting for him to break and scurry away. Its powerful body glistened with sweat in the light of the torch. The beast's perverse desire for sport found expression as it trembled in the excitement of promised violence.
Theseus, though, had other ideas. Without warning, he struck.
The sharp blade skewered the beast and buried itself in the creature's abdomen. An ear shattering scream of pain, rage, and surprise blasted from the Minotaur. Blood spurted in a mad shower, drenching Theseus's hand and arm. With a shudder, the beast jerked away, wrenching the sword from Theseus's grip.
Reflexively, Theseus spun about and ran towards an imagined sanctuary. The earth itself trembled from the Minotaur's crazed blows, dislodging stones which threatened to bash in his skull. Theseus did not look back to witness the throes of his adversary. With single-minded focus, he rivetted his attention on his thin guide to safety. In the wavering light cast by the torch, he followed the thread snaking ahead of him on the cold, stone floor.
An inner compulsion kept him running, this way, that way, turning, twisting, wondering how much further he had to go, how much more he could endure, how long the string would last. Behind him, the screams of the Minotaur rose and faded and rose again. Relentlessly the creature stumbled after the human who had dared violate its lair.
His goal could not be much further, Theseus thought. Perhaps he had been wrong about Ariadne. Perhaps...
Do you see, Ariadne? Do you see what I risk for you? Let us be together again. Soon.
Suddenly he skidded to a stop, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. His fear had been well-founded, after all. The thread...ended.
Clearly, Ariadne had trailed him into the maze and then cut the thread. With cold disregard for their pact, she had taken the line to safety and sanity with her, leaving him in the bowels of the earth to die alone at the hands of...
...the Minotaur.
Slowly Theseus twisted about.
The ragged sound of labored breathing waxed in volume from the direction he had come. With abrupt clarity, the source of that omen materialized in front of him. Soul searing groans bubbled from the Minotaur's broad chest and throat. Maddened torment danced brightly across its face as it focussed its gaze upon the one who had implanted a sword deep within its body. In demonic glee and triumph, its fiery eyes widened. Shaking, it dragged forward an injured body which seemed to expand into hardened planes of iron banded muscle. Intimidating teeth lengthened even further into swords promising a horrid death.
Desperately, Theseus struggled to move, to think, to plan what to do, to attempt to fight or run. In stubborn rebellion, his feet remained firmly frozen to the dirt strewn stones beneath him. Stunned, he looked up as the black maw of the beast descended towards him. Saliva dripped in hot, curving strings from its fleshy lips.
No! Such a fate could not be just. His existence could not end like this. He would not let it be terminated so uselessly, not while he still could act. There had to be another way.
A fraction at first and then more, he managed to move his legs. With an abrupt rending of constraints, he scrambled backward in frantic retreat. Despite its own agony, the Minotaur seemed to be enjoying his fear. Its laughter of delight, however, slid roughly into a gurgling cough as a crimson froth oozed from between its lips.
With his mind racing, Theseus swept his gaze across his would-be grave site. Perhaps he had judged too hastily. An explanation other than treachery might reveal itself, something which lay closer to home.
Staggering drunkenly, the Minotaur drew closer, toying with its prey. The ragged grin on its alien face was highlighted by the blood -- its own -- coating its hungry fangs.
Die! Theseus thought wildly. Why don't you die? In reckless defiance, he waved his torch in the narrowing space before him. For a moment, the Minotaur hesitated at the threat.
Closer to home... Not Ariadne? Himself? Was the situation he faced now due to his shortcomings and not hers? Did this trial require more than merely hoping for trust? He had to believe, deep within his mind that he trusted her as he once had, that he could trust her. Any space for groundless suspicions would weaken him, and that he could not allow, not if he expected to survive.
Holding the torch before him, he backpedalled, knowing that his feeble talisman would not delay the beast for long.
Clenching and unclenching its terrible fists, the Minotaur advanced.
An insistent tendril tugged at Theseus's mind. Risking a glance, he scanned the pavement stones beneath his feet. His heart stuttered at what he saw.
The string! The string began again! Ariadne had not cut it, after all. Somehow it had broken, abraded, perhaps, on the ancient stone. Or maybe a knot had pulled loose separating the two segments as he worked his way through the Labyrinth. An accident. He could trust her...and he would.
The torch flared in the invisible caress of a drifting breeze. Coming with it, an unbidden thought told him what he needed to do. An instant later, a mad, banshee cry burst from his throat. Headlong he rushed towards the Minotaur and leaped directly at it. Surprised and confused by the puny human's attack, the creature halted.
In that crystalline moment of doubt, Theseus thrust the fluttering torch into the monster's face. As the fire licked at its eyes and snout, the Minotaur bellowed, its death-dealing hands rising protectively to ward off the danger.
At that action he had hoped to elicit, Theseus released the torch, daring destruction as he dove under the Minotaur's lifted arms. With both hands, he gripped the hilt of his captured sword and pulled. With a wet, sucking sound, the blade slipped free. Shadows thrown by the sputtering torch skittered across the walls as though in fear of the howling beast.
"Now you die, little man!" the Minotaur shouted. "You'll die piece by piece."
Reflexively, Theseus spun to his right, hitting the stone floor with a jarring thud which stole his breath. Gasping for air, he rolled across the pavement as the Minotaur reached for his throat. The dim light of the dying torch illuminated the hidden drama as Theseus scrambled to his feet. and the Minotaur began to turn. Without waiting for the completion of that motion, Theseus drew back his gore-covered blade. Drawing on all of his adrenaline-charged strength, he sent the sword arcing towards its target. Only the slightest of resistance met that razor edge as it sliced into and through the tendons of the monster's right heel. Like a collapsed balloon, that massive leg crumpled beneath the weight of the body above it. Smoothly, Theseus yanked the weapon free and struck again.
As the sword penetrated the heel of the other leg, the Minotaur gave vent to a bone-rattling roar of pain and frustrated rage. Precariously, it tottered, astonishment twisting its animal features as it realized it was doomed, beaten by a scrawny man with a tiny sword. Crashing to its knees, the Minotaur thrashed its arms about in a last desperate attempt to snare the prancing human. Theseus gave it no opportunity to do so, setting his mouth in a determined line, knowing that the end approached.
Carefully he lifted the sword high above his head, holding it there until the Minotaur twisted its shaggy head to gaze directly up at him. Whatever emotions revealed themselves in those agonized features possessed no power to alter the course of the next few moments.
"No more!" Theseus said, his voice trembling. "You'll threaten me no more."
Defiantly, the Minotaur snarled its hatred. As Theseus brought the sword slashing down towards its neck, it died with that twisted grin wreathing its lips.
With a jarring thud, the blade lodged against unyielding bone. In involuntary surrender, the Minotaur's corpse dropped heavily to the ground, the flames in its eyes flickering one final time before being extinguished forever.
With sweat and dust streaking his body, Theseus staggered backward, his arms quivering from effort and reaction.
Over. At last it is over.
Almost.
Gingerly, he stepped passed the hulking husk of the Minotaur. Just beyond it, the torch lay burning fitfully yet still alive. In the grip of an unexpected calm, Theseus stooped to pick it up. Ahead of him, the thread he needed to lead him to freedom dwindled away into the darkness. Though the beast had been vanquished, he knew that if he lost sight of his guide once more, he would wander the dark corridors of the maze until he died.
No longer did he allow himself to wonder if that thread would end again, to worry that Ariadne might have abandoned her post at the Labyrinth's entrance. She might have failed him once...or it might have been he who failed her, but that no longer mattered. He knew it would never happen again.
Minutes later he smiled at the glimpse of a ghostly form. Soon it resolved itself into the beautiful vision of Ariadne running towards him, mist swirling about her legs in translucent eddies. Knowing he would need its light no more, Theseus cast aside the torch, stretching out his arms in silent answer to those of Ariadne. Her lips parted as she said...
"...Jack."
Jack Crandall's eyes fluttered uncertainly. Reluctantly the haze enveloping him tattered and faded away. From somewhere came the awareness that his mouth was dry, that his arms ached from unaccustomed exercise. Sweat soaked his clothing. Stiffly, he turned his head to the side.
"Jack." Alicia gazed at him, smiling, tears brimming in her eyes. These were different tears, though, than those he had witnessed before.
Weakly, Jack returned her smile.
"Thank you, Jack," Alicia said softly. "Thank you for seeing. And believing." Hesitantly she extended a hand across the space between their chairs.
With an effort, Jack reached out towards his partner, his link into the Network which sustained and bound them together; the Network that would save their way of life if saving it was still possible. The two members of the Corps held each another's hands tightly. The contact felt good.
After a long moment, Jack looked up. Dr. Rankin stood there, watching them, a grin on his usually solemn face.
"You succeeded," he said. "I'm glad for you."
Jack swallowed. "Thank you, Doctor," he said with a croak. "For your help."
Dr. Rankin shook his head. "No. Don't thank me. The responsibility and the choices were yours. They always have been. They always will be."
Jack nodded. The therapy had merely confirmed emotionally what he had come to believe intellectually. From beginning to end, his fate had rested in his own hands. He could see with a newly found clarity that everyone deserved a second chance to be trusted...and to trust.
Even himself.
