Part 102 (2/2)
Baghdanian gave him another look. ”As I was about to say, the conductivity of the ring is broken by insulating material-gla.s.s-in two places: up inside the knot where you can't see it, and just inside the jaws of the two snakeheads. The entire arc section through the central mountain is nonconductive at the moment.
But!
If the ring rotates-say, to our right-it'll look like the black Firvulag serpent has let the golden tail of the Tanu serpent slip out of its mouth. At the same time, of course, the Firvulag serpent's bod would go deeper and deeper into the gold snake's mouth.”
”But really into the mountain.” Greggy nodded sagely.
The technician's eyes had an odd glint. ”Inside the hill, we have multiple arrays of Van de Graafs-electrostatic generators similar to the ones in the old Frankenstein movies. If your snake's tail gets gulped just a little, you'll feel a small mental shock. But the farther that tail goes down the enemy gullet, the more intense the mind-zap.”
”Merciful heavens!” Greggy exclaimed.
Baghdanian said, ”Notice the large jewelled cuffs that clasp the tail of each snake about three metres away from the enemy teeth. We call those bracelets. Those are the places where the minds have the grip-and pull. The more powerfully your team hauls away on the tail bracelet of your snake, the deeper the tail of the other team will be swallowed.”
”And the more agonizing it is for the opponent to hold on,”
Lars added.
Greggy shuddered. ”What a perfectly beastly piece of ingenuity!”
Baghdanian gave a modest shrug. ”Twenty-two years in the special-effects department of Industrial Light and Magic.”
”How is the winner known?” Rowane asked.
”The guys who get their bracelet devoured,” Lars said, ”not only lose, but end up with skulls full of half-fried neurons.”
Baghdanian wore an abstracted look as he listened to his comset, watched a digital clock, and monitored the occasionally flickering patterns on the Tanu and Firvulag grandstand monitors. ”Two minutes.”
”Start praying,” Lars told Greggy and Rowane. ”If the Firvulag lose big, maybe they'll call off the Nightfall War. Then us humans will be free to go home through the time-gate and forget we ever saw this crazy place!”
”Not all humans want to leave,” Rowane protested uneasily.
”Some hate the future world and have loving ties to this one.”
”Don't you believe it,” Lars scoffed. ”Show any sane human being a time-gate leading back to the Milieu, he'd take a running jump. Even King Golden Britches himself! Stands to reason.” He pointed rudely at Greggy. ”Wouldn't you go?”
”Well-er-” the geneticist mumbled.
”My Tonee wouldn't go!” Rowane cried. ”He wouldn't!”
The chief technician said, ”ESGs on full. FX crew stand by with pyrotechnic intro. Music track go! Tanu metaconcert established. Firvulag ditto. On your mark ... get a grip ... heave ho!”
Out on the Field of Gold, the colossal twin serpents seemed to coil amid a thicket of bramble-branched lightnings. The maws of the fabulous reptiles belched luminous clouds of green smoke that rose up into the low-hanging overcast that now made an eerie roof over the tournament ground. Another ten centimetres of black tail went down the golden weasand.
”Hold, Tanu, hold!” yelled the sidelines crowd, humans and Howlers together. The mutants no longer bothered to pretend that they were on the side of their Firvulag cousins.
Up in the enclosure of King Aiken-Lugonn, the combined aura of the triumphing Great Ones was a solar flare, the subordinate minds sleeving it in a golden swarm of blazing bees. This astral arm appeared to grip the bracelet of the Tanu serpent and haul firmly upwards.
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