Eschaton 1 – The Other End of Time

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dan

Dannerman didn't have to be told that the world was in trouble. It always was. That was the reason it hired him and others like him, to do their best to protect it against itself.

Now here was the biggest threat of all, and shouldn't-he asked himself-shouldn't he be doing something about it? There was only one answer to that for Jim Daniel Dannerman. The question wasn't whether. It was what.

And to that he had no answer. Every other time he had found himself in harm's way he had known exactly what he wanted to accomplish. If he'd been in any doubt, Colonel Hilda Morrisey or someone like her would have spelled it out for him at the briefing. There was always a hierarchy of defined objectives. First, you stayed alive. Second, you got the evidence. Third, you called in the strike force and watched the malefactors being led away.

Here there was no briefing to tell him what to do. There was also no evidence to get, no way to get out and no strike force waiting to be called. And here the stakes were higher than they had ever been before. It was the entire population of Earth who were at risk now-Hilda herself, and sweet Anita Berman from Theater Aristophanes Two, and his landlady Rita, as well as everyone at the Dannerman Observatory… as well as everyone else he'd ever known in all his life, villains and colleagues and civilians alike. He wondered what they were doing now. He wondered how much comfort they could take in the promise of help from the "Beloved Leaders."

And he wondered, too, just how much help those Beloved Leaders had any real intention of giving. There just wasn't enough data! He knew nothing useful of those shadowy figures, had no idea what sort of bizarre alien personality traits motivated them. And had little reason to believe that benevolence was among them.

He opened his eyes when he heard Pat raising her voice. She was saying something harsh to Jimmy Lin, who was grinning as he held her by one arm. She wrenched herself free, saw Dannerman looking at her and came over to sit beside him. "Bastard," she said.

He didn't take it personally, but, "You mean Jimmy?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Who else? You'd think he'd have enough decency to give it a rest, the way things are."

"I take it he was hitting on you."

"Me, and Patsy, and Patrice-he doesn't care. He just wants to get laid. He said-" She hesitated, then shook her head. "He said what he always says, so what's the use of talking about it? Forget him." Then she looked apologetic. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Nothing that was going anywhere," he admitted.

"Well, if you're sure… Listen, I've been wanting to ask you something, Dan. What did you mean about it's being funny?"

"Funny? Oh, right. I almost forgot. Well, it is funny. Why would Dopey show us that message?"

"Why? Hum." She thought for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I see what you mean. Dopey doesn't do anything that doesn't do him some good, so what good can that do him?"

"That's the question, all right. I don't suppose you happen to have an answer?"

"I wish I did. I wish I knew how much of it to believe, too."

"So do I." Dannerman thought about telling her some of his own doubts, but there wasn't much point; they weren't clear in his own mind. Anyway, he saw that Pat was glaring again at Jimmy. Who was standing over the cooker, waiting for his next meal to heat, and leering at them.

"Bastard," she said again. "Not that I don't understand how he feels. It's been a long time-but here? With everybody watching? Although I have to say he thought about that part, too."

"Oh?" said Dannerman, surprised to find a sudden interest growing.

She looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Well, yes. Like in an airplane, you know, when you get a couple of blankets from the stew. There are all those blankets from Starlab. Then- well, did Jimmy ever explain the Rabbit Nibbles the Hare to you?"

"Frequently," he said-surprised again to find that he was feeling just a tiny bit of unexpected jealousy. "Is that what you and Jimmy talk about?"

"It's what Jimmy talks about," she corrected. "All the time." She was still studying his face as she added, "But, listen, Dan, just for the record-I mean, in case you're interested-Jimmy and I never actually did anything. Not now, or ever. The only thing I ever wanted from Jimmy Lin was for him to help me make a lot of money."

One more surprise: the feeling of relief. But, "Always thinking of the big bucks, aren't you?" he chided. He meant it lightly, but her expression changed.

"I don't want to be poor," she said.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, you were right. I wanted the bucks. That's why I wanted Starlab so badly."

"Our dear old family lawyer told me you had made some bad investments," Dannerman said, remembering.

"Did he now? Our dear old family lawyer has a big mouth, but that wasn't it. Well," she said, reconsidering, "I did make one real bad investment, maybe. That was Ferdie. My ex-husband-the sweet one. He'd spend the whole day lying naked by the pool, communing with nature, when he wasn't writing poetry. Ferdie was very Zen; made me learn my mantra and everything. But after a while I got tired of having this big, healthy man around the house who couldn't even remember to flush his own toilet, but I couldn't let him starve, could I? So before the divorce I endowed this lectureship for poetry and got him put in charge of it. I figured that would keep him eating for the rest of his life."

"And your generosity bankrupted you?"

"Well, not directly. It cost me a bundle, but I had plenty left… but, on the other hand, yes, I guess it did, because after I'd laid out the cash to finance the lectureship-and, believe me, Dan-Dan, I was generous-the next thing that happened was Ferdie's lawyers came to see my lawyers and said, 'Okay, now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about how we're going to divide up the community property.' "

"Skunks," he said. The diffuse light that came from nowhere made her unkempt hair radiant.

"Lawyers," she corrected. "He got some really good ones working for him, I'll say that much. They had every last thing I owned on their database. I had to give him half-which meant I had to sell off a lot of stuff that I didn't really want to sell, to keep the house and the personal stuff. But Ferdie really was a sweet man." She stretched and yawned. "Now you," she ordered.

He considered. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Especially about the women. Start with whoever it was who kept you from collecting Uncle Cubby's inheritance."

He leaned forward and lifted her hand to kiss, and the hell with who might be watching. It was the first time in a long time-maybe, he reflected, the first time ever-that he'd had this kind of boy-girl talk without having to lie through at least some parts of it, to cover up what he was really doing. But now there was nothing to lie about. "That would be Use, I guess. In a way, anyway. She was in the Mads-"

"The what?"

"The Mad King Ludwigs. The Bavarian secessionist movement. Well, the terrorists; that's what they really were. I was undercover, investigating them, when Uncle Cubby died, and I'd cut all my links with home. We were on the run, Use and I, although I always kept my team leader informed. And Use finally must've rumbled me. Or someone else did, and tipped her off."

"Who were you running from?"

"The Bay-Kahs-the Bundes Kriminalamt. The cops. They were after us because we'd tried to blow up the Kunstmuseum as a protest. I made sure the bomb didn't actually go off- maybe that's what made the Mads suspicious-but we had to get out of there. Anyway, one night Use and I had a lot to drink in this pension in the Alps. Now that I think of it, I was the one doing most of the drinking. Then I just went to sleep, not a care in the world, and when something woke me up an hour or so later, in the middle of the night, Use was gone and four big bastards with hockey sticks were crashing through the door after my blood. I knew them all. They were aktion-the organization's muscle men. I'd seen them doing their stuff at demonstrations, but I hadn't expected them to be coming after me just then."

He leaned back, meditating. "You know how you're never prepared for the really big challenges? If you knew something like that was coming up you'd get a good night's sleep first and make sure your reflexes were all tuned… Mine weren't. I was still half in die bag and all tangled up in the bedclothes, and there

I was.

"But you overpowered them anyway."

"Oh, no. I did break the arm of one of them, but the other three beat the shit out of me, until Hilda got there."

"Another of your women?"

That made him laugh. "Jesus, no. My team leader. She'd been surveilling the building. When she saw Use come out and the leg-breakers go in she decided she'd better make sure I was all right. Which I was, after I healed up for a while, though I had to stay out of sight for a month or so-the Mads had planted a couple people in the police, and they had to be collected first." He scratched himself. "Hilda had intercepted the lawyer's notice about the estate," he added, "but she didn't pass it on, because she didn't want to blow my cover."

"Poor bastard."

She was yawning as she said it, which made him yawn too. "Dirt poor," he agreed drowsily. Well, except for what the Bureau had been putting away for him, but he couldn't collect that until he retired… which didn't seem like a very early probability… unless, he corrected himself, you considered that in a way he was, perforce, pretty much retired already…

His thoughts were going in circles again. He abandoned them and let himself drift off. It was getting to be a habit to fall asleep with Pat Adcock on his shoulder, he thought, and couldn't decide whether it was a good one or not.

His body had its own opinions. When Dopey appeared again and roused the whole cell Pat's proximity had started a few glands flowing; and Dannerman woke with a major erection and the rapidly dissipating recollection of some more than normally erotic dreams. Beside him Pat was scrambling to her feet. "Come on, Dan!" she urged him. "In a minute," he said, waving her away. By the time he felt fit to stand up everyone else was clustered around Dopey and his two Docs as they dispensed more largesse.

"I have brought you more blankets and food," Dopey said unnecessarily. "You do not presently need them, I am aware, but there is always the risk that supplies may be temporarily interrupted. Meanwhile, I have some urgent business."

"What kind of business?" Patsy asked, but was outweighed by two or three others demanding to know what kind of "temporary interruptions" Dopey was talking about.

"Merely more of the difficulties we have already experienced," he explained. "They will be dealt with. Now, as to the more important matters-"

But Rosaleen, poking around in the mounting heap of supplies the Docs were lugging in, had more important matters of her own. Arms akimbo, she faced Dopey angrily. "We need more than food and blankets," she said. "We need medical supplies. We need-"

"We need to know what's going on on Earth, too," Patsy put in.

Dopey said defensively, "I cannot promise that. I do not have authority to make such promises. I have in fact asked those who decide for permission to provide you with additional data, but I have not received an answer. You do not understand how difficult things have become."

"I don't care how difficult things have become."

"But, you see, at present I am unable to reach the ones who could give permission. Just at present, that is to say."

"Everything's 'just at present,' " Jimmy Lin sneered, and Dannerman, looking at the stack of food packages, had a comment of his own:

"You must expect us to be here for a long time."

"That is also not for me to decide, but the reason for the large quantity is that I do not know when I will be able to get more.

I have said this. Now we must deal with the urgent matters. Do you have any questions about the announcement made by your Colonel duValier?"

Dannerman was surprised that that was the "urgent" business, but it was Pat who spoke up. "We've got plenty of questions, but they're not about Colonel duValier. For instance, these 'Horch' the colonel talks about in what you transmitted to the Earth. Are they related to the problems you're having?"

Dopey didn't answer immediately. Dannerman expected him to thrust his paws into the muff and go again into the thinking-it-over trance, but he merely looked pained-as much as a kitten face can look pained. Finally he announced, "There is a disjunction here. You are correct in one respect. The Horch are indeed responsible for our problems, because they are evil. They have performed acts of terrorism which have caused great hardship for us. You will understand what terrorists are like, Agent Dannerman, from your own experiences with Colonel Hilda Morrisey. The Horch are criminals in much the same way as your human terrorists, but far more dangerous than any you can imagine. However, you have made a false assumption."

"Which is?" Dannerman demanded.

"That message has not been transmitted. The reason for that is that Colonel duValier has not yet arrived on Starlab."

"Hah!" Jimmy Lin shouted. "I knew it! It was a damn simulation."

"The problem was not understood," Dopey admitted. "It will be corrected."

Something was bothering Dannerman. He asked, "Why bother with simulating somebody who isn't there? If you wanted to send a message that seemed to come from a human being, why not use one of us?"

Dopey hesitated again. "That would not be effective," he said, and would not say why. The only subject that he seemed willing to discuss was what their reactions had been to the message, and when they began asking questions in return-what would be in the second message? What other languages would it be delivered in?-he did not respond at all.

Not until, at a venture, Pat asked, "Are we in personal danger from these Horch?"

That made Dopey pause to think once more. "At this time, no," he said at length.

"Oh, fine," Patrice muttered. "You're making me feel all cuddly warm and protected."

"I understand you. That is sarcasm, meaning the opposite," Dopey said. "You will, however, be protected."

"By you?"

"I? No, of course not I. That protection will come from a far more advanced race than my own."

"Meaning," Dannerman asked, "those odd-looking scarecrows we saw on TV?"

Dopey winced. "That was an unfair picture our enemies transmitted. The Beloved Leaders come from a light-gravity planet and thus are rather frail in physique."

He paused as Jimmy Lin made a sound of disgust. " 'Beloved Leaders,' " Lin sneered.

Dopey looked inquiring. "Your tone of voice indicates disapproval," he said.

"You damn bet it does! 'Beloved Leaders' is what the old Koreans called their dictators. That's not a good name, Dopey."

"Thank you," the alien said. "That too is useful, although I am not sure that a change will be permitted. At any rate, because of their evolutionary heritage the Be-the persons in charge, that is, would not be on a planet of this mass."

"So they're not really going to be around to save us?" Jimmy Lin demanded in alarm.

But that was one question too many. Dopey evidently had what he had come for. Without farewell, he turned and disappeared into the mirror, which re-formed seamlessly behind him, like a puddle of mercury closing over a stone.

Dannerman stared after him for a long minute, though there was nothing to see but his own reflection in the wall. He was puzzling over something, and it showed. "What's the matter?" Pat demanded. "You still wondering why he showed us that message?"

"Actually no," Dannerman said. "I think that's pretty obvious now, isn't it? He's using us to be his sneak-preview film critics, getting our reactions before he puts the thing on the air. No, it's something else." He hesitated for a moment. Then, "Tell me something, Pat. When we were talking I mentioned Hilda to you, didn't I?"

"Sure. Your boss in the Bureau. I remember."

"But did I ever say her last name? No, I didn't think so. So how did Dopey know that it was Morrisey?"