Paradox Alley

11

I tromped the power pedal. "Bruce," I said, "we got trouble."

"Noted, Jake. Bandit at six o'clock, closing fast."

Maybe it was Prime, come to fetch us back. But I doubted it. "In camera range?" I asked.

"Extreme telephoto. Can you make it out?"

I looked. It was a dun-colored dot, growing rapidly, soon resolving into a paramilitary vehicle with familiar camouflage markings. One of Zack Moore's buggies.

"Incoming message on the Skyway citizens' band," Bruce said calmly.

"Put it through."

"… McGraw, breaking for Jake McGraw. Come back."

I recognized the voice. It was Krause, who had been an officer aboard the ferryboat Laputa: I had had a minor run-in with him, and a major one with his skipper, Captain Pendergast.

I put my headset on. "Yeah, you got McGraw."

"Hi, there! Where've you guys been?" Krause's chummy manner rang as false as a bell made of papier-mache.

"What's it to you, asshole?" I had decided not to be civil about this.

"Hey, now, is that any way to talk? After all we've been through together?"

"Back off," I said, "or you're a dead man."

"Don't be so paranoid. I just want to talk. What's it like inside that castle, anyway?"

"Good food, good service, and a great game room. Any other questions?"

"Food! All we've had to eat is synthesized glop! We're starving and you're living off the fat of the land! Isn't fair."

"Doesn't the White Lady take care of you?"

A pause. Then: "We call her the Goddess. That's what she is, you know."

"And she doesn't feed her children?"

"No. She just tells us to do stuff."

"Like what?"

"Most of the time we can't understand her."

I thought it best to pull a few more teeth and try to get what information I could. "Where's the rest of your crew?"

"Oh, around."

It looked as though I wouldn't get much out of him, but I needed a little time. Krause's vehicle was pacing us now. I wanted to pick the best place to make my move. I'd take the offense first in this particular engagement. I was tired of screwing around with these guys. Besides, best to strike when the situation was still one-on-one. So I needed to chat him up a little longer.

"Where are you guys holed up?" I asked.

"We have a place. Kind of a temple, sort of. It's nice. But the food we found is awful. I bet that everything in that green palace of yours is first class."

"You alone?"

"No. Got a few of the guys here. Are you?"

He laughed. "I'll bet. Or did most of your gang decide to join up with that Prime fellow? They all ducked out on youthat right, Jake?"

"Yeah, they all ducked out." I killed the mike. "Everyone strapped in?" I looked around. My crew was well-trained by now.

Krause chuckled. "They all want to be gods, huh? Actually, I don't blame them. Wouldn't mind being boss of the universe for a while. But the Goddess says it's all a crock."

I switched the mike on again. "That so?" I said, eyeballing the road ahead for a likely spot to do a "moonshiner's flip," a.k.a. an "Alabama roundhouse."

"Yeah, that's what she says. She says Prime is misleading people and getting them involved in things that aren't their business. "

"What's the Goddess' business?"

"You got me. What do I know from what a goddess is supposed to be up to? None of us understands what the hell's really going on here. Except that-whaddya call her? — the White Lady and Prime are enemies."

"What's she been after you to do?"

Krause snorted. "Kowtow to her, for one thing. I'm getting pretty tired of it." His voice took on a worried edge. "Jeez, I hope she isn't listening. But you should see what we have to go through. Kneeling when we talk to her, calling her Your Divinity, and crap like that… Christ, I hope she didn't hear that either."

"What're you worried about? What happens if you incur her disfavor?"

"No food, no water. Two of our guys died last night-they got sick on the trip. Scurvy, I think, though Jules had a heart condition, too. Anyway, the Lady could have saved them, but she didn't; because Moore gave her lip."

So, Moore wasn't in Krause's vehicle. And we had two less enemies on this world. Good and good.

"I probably shouldn't have told you any of that… but, I dunno. Most of us really would like to go home. You got the map now, Jake. The real one. How 'bout we make a deal?"

"You still believe rumors?" I said.

"C'mon, Jake. The Goddess told us. She gave you the real map. We need it to get back home."

"The Goddess told you wrong, Krause. I never had a map and I don't now."

"Then where are you going?" He grunted. "Heading for that big portal on the other side, I bet."

"Just out sight-seeing, Krause. Lots of interesting things here."

"Yeah, sure. Look, we don't even want the map. All we really want is the Black Cube. The Goddess wants it. If she don't get it, we don't get off this pancake."

"Krause, you got yourself one big problem, there. My sympathies, but I can't help you. I don't have the cube any more. My truck was broken into last night. Somebody stole it."

Krause delayed answering a moment. "How can I be sure you're telling the truth?"

"That's a tough one."

"Yeah."

Ahead was a sharp curve. I took it at high gee. Coming out of it I saw my opportunity. The road straightened out and continued into a long straightaway, bisecting a greensward that looked level and firm.

I cut the mike. "Bruce, stand by for an Alabama roundhouse."

"Jake," Bruce admonished, "that is not a recommended maneuver."

"Stand by!"

"Standing by."

I flipped the master toggle controlling the traction gradients on the trailer rollers. Those rollers were now frictionless. I braked hard. The trailer immediately jackknifed to the left, but instead of correcting, I let it go, twisting the control rings on the steering bars and defrictionizing the cab rollers as well. The rig spun. Stopping this maneuver was the hard part.

"You pulling over, Jake?" came Krause's voice.

"Bruce! Stabilize!"

I flipped the master toggle back and frantically twisted the control rings, at the same time countersteering and braking. I had to do almost everything at once-Bruce was handling the stabilizing jets and monitoring the various safety servos which would help keep the rig from going completely out of control. We were now traveling backward and decelerating. The trailer started to swing out again. I toggled and pedaled and steered, fighting to get it back into line. I juiced the power rollers to maximum grab, defrictionizirig the rears again. The rig shuddered, and we rolled to a crunching stop-a brief one, because I had the power pedal floored. The rig sprang forward and we flew back up the road.

Krause was coming out of the turn.

"Jake, I can't take your word… HEY, WHAT THE HELL!"

We were heading right down his throat.

The jungle-striped gun buggy swerved off onto the shoulder, but I kept steering right for him.

"Bruce, stand by on exciter cannon!" "Roger. Target visually acquired."

Krause didn't have time enough to get a shot off at us. The vehicle's exciter turret was swiveling into line, but whoever was driving was too busy trying to avoid getting smashed by one big mother of a trailer truck and was frantically steering against the turret's swing. The gun buggy veered off and headed out into the greensward, presenting its broadside to us for a perfect set-up shot.

"Fire!" I yelled, but Bruce beat me by a quarter second. His shot was dead on target, the blue-white exciter beam opening a fiery gash along the entire length of the gun buggy's starboard side. I swung off and headed back onto the road. The left parabolic showed Krause's vehicle trundling across the grass, heading for a clutch of bone-white pyramids. It hit a low rise, bouncing crazily.

Then it exploded. Bruce's shot must have penetrated to the ordnance bays. A starburst of arching contrails blossomed out of the fireball:

I couldn't look anymore because we were heading back into the curve. I braked into the turn and accelerated out. Two more military-style vehicles were heading right at us. "Fire at will!"

Bruce let fly, hitting both gun buggies head-on. They shot past on either side, and I heard the crackle of belated return fire. Again, we had surprise on our side. They hadn't had reaction time enough to get off a shot at the cab. I wasn't about to give them another opportunity.

"Bruce, emergency power. Gimme all you got."

"Yes, Jake."

I roared back the way we had come, taking turns at maximum gee and cheating on the bends by cutting across the shoulder of the road when necessary. I hadn't had time to see if Bruce's shots had been effective. Most vehicles have their thickest armor front and back, since most attacks on the road come from those quarters. Knowing that, I still hoped we had lucked out, or had at least disabled them. We had a big lead, and it would take time for them to turn around, but those buggies were fast. I didn't think we could outrun them on this slow road. Out on the Skyway, no problem. They'd have trouble catching me. But not here. Which meant I would have to think of something quick.

I thought, quickly, if not brilliantly. I feared a missile attack. I had dealt with their ordnance before, and only Carl's magic Chevy had saved us-even at that, we had taken a hit. If they chased us, they would wait for a level stretch and let loose what missiles they had left. Better to get off-road now and try to take advantage of the terrain. They could follow, but out there we'd have a chance of catching them broadside, the only hope of a sure kill.

Trouble was, the orchard landscape was back, and there was nowhere to go-if I didn't want to go crashing through the trees-which would slow us down, and needless to say, leave any easy trail to follow. I looked out at the neatly spaced rows of trees. Some were gnarled little things, but most were six meters high at least. On the whole, they didn't look crashthrough-able. There was maybe enough space between them to squeeze by… hard to tell, though. I thought back. The intersection was coming up. If I could get there and make a turn before they saw us, they'd have-to split up, and since there were only two vehicles chasing us and three ways I could go, we might lose them completely.

But no such luck.

"Jake, I have visually acquired our pursuers."

"Damn."

"Missile alert! Incoming! Take evasive action!"

I'd already taken it, panic-braking. The orchard had given way to a sort of wide esplanade lined with dark monuments leading diagonally off to the right. I barely managed the turn, scraping the side of the trailer against one of the huge metallic blocks. With any luck

There was a flash and an accompanying crump as the missile hit one of the monoliths. I was momentarily relieved for more than one reason-they hadn't unleashed a barrage of missiles. They were probably low, trying to make each shot count, but they probably had at least one more to chuck at us.

I raced down the stone-paved esplanade. It flared into a circus, in the center of which stood a free-form sculpture done in twisted metal. I skirted that, roaring off the pavement and onto turf. Ahead was an obstacle course of monuments and other odd bric-a-brac, and on the other side lay a grouping of turquoise domes.

I dodged and weaved through the field of monuments-it was like a driver training course. Stray exciter bolts sizzled around us, but no missiles came our way. I made a lurching turn around the domes, coming to the foot of a low hill dotted with more orchard trees. There was nowhere to go but up, so I went, flooring the pedal and hitting the first tree dead on. Not much to these trees-it snapped, fell, and we steamed right over it. I wanted to leave as much debris behind as I could, so I started sideswiping them, getting them to fall and block our pursuers' path. Branches scraped against the ports and crunched beneath the rear rollers. I tore the hell out of that goddamn hill. It would have been fun under other circumstances.

It wasn't a big hill, and we were over the top quickly. Apparently the gun buggies were having a hard time getting up the slope. They hadn't fired at us. There were no trees here on the other side, nothing but a gradual grade down to a flat meadow with no cover other than tall weedlike plants. It was a good hundred meters across to the edge of a thick forest. I hurried. We shot down the hill and bumped across level ground. I floored the pedal and cut a swath through the tall grass, scanning ahead to judge how thick the forest was and whether we could go crashing through or whether we had to turn and fight. I decided to risk more damage to the ecology and plunged the rig into the trees. This stuff was thicker. The cab shook with the impact. I heard a horrendous cracking, looked out and saw the right stabilizer foil fall away. But we didn't stop. Trees fell in our path, branches slammed against the view ports. It was rough going. I got hung up a few times, but managed to get free and keep rolling. Momentum was on our side; also a 600 megadyne nuclear-fusion engine. We crashed out into a small clearing, and I paused to look about for a trail or a road. There was a tiny break in the tree line off to the right, so I headed for it, and it turned out to be the start of little more than a deer path. But it helped.

"Hope Smokey the Bear isn't around," Carl managed to say over the snapping, thumping, and banging.

"Who the hell is that?" I shouted.

"Forget it."

The vegetation was not quite Earthlike, but not very exotic either, just more of thousands of variations I had seen on the basic theme of "tree." These had drooping branches bright with feathery red and yellow leaves. There didn't seem to be any wildlife about-nothing squawked or hooted disapproval at our intrusion, nothing bolted from cover to run for its life. I wondered if the whole planet were lifeless except for vegetation, Prime, we humans, and the White Lady.

We crashed out into the clear, and I stopped, slid back the port, and listened. No noise behind, nothing like two vehicles trying to follow our trace. They'd haye a rough time getting around the tree stumps and other debris I'd left. Good. Better and better.

"We have sustained some damage, Jake," Bruce informed me.

"I know. Anything critical?"

"All main systems seem to be functional. However, we have a hull breach in the trailer, and the right stabilizer foil has detached itself."

"Yeah. So much for stability. Well, it could have been worse."

"I must compliment you on your creative driving, Jake," Bruce said.

"Thank you. I was inspired."

I got moving, crossing a grassy field to the slope of a low rise. At the crest, I stopped. There was an abrupt transition in terrain beginning a few meters away. The grass petered out, giving way to dust and gravel. A few wiry bushes with brilliant pink blossoms dotted a parched landscape. An eroded butte ringed by mounds of talus lay about half a kilometer ahead. Near it sat a complex of buildings that looked like some sort of industrial facility.

"Interesting," I said.

"There's a road down by those buildings," Carl said.

"Yeah. Good as any, I guess."

I drifted down the hill and rolled out into the desert.

Carl gave a look out the port, checking the rearview parabolic mirror. "You think we lost 'em?'

"I hope. Not much cover out here."

It was pretty, though. The dust was red, the rocks coffeebeige, and the vegetation was in colorful bloom. The sky had turned a deeper shade of violet as the "sun" declined to our right, coaxing long shadows from outcroppings of rock and stunted, rough-barked trees.

"We should look for someplace to spend the night, a hideout of some sort," I said.

"What about that place there?" Lori asked.

"I'd like to get some more distance between us and those gun buggies first," I answered.

I hurried toward the thin green line of the road, bumping over rocks and fallen tree trunks, following the edge of a sinuous depression to our right that looked like a dry wash. Darla began, "Maybe we should='

"Alert!" Bruce interrupted. "Bandits at six o'clock!"

The rearview screen showed two camouflage-painted buggies rushing down the hill.

"Fire rear exciters at will!" I shouted, mashing the power pedal.

"Affirmative. Have commenced firing."

I weaved the rig back and forth, eyeing the terrain ahead for cover. There wasn't much to eye. A few rock formations,

low mounds, nothing elevated enough to completely hide the rig. Best we could do was to swing around and bring our forward guns to bear, hunkering down behind the crest of a ridge to present a low profile. Basic tank warfare in open country.

But they still had missiles, and one was coming our way. "Tracking multiple missiles," Bruce said imperturbably. "Jake, you had better take cover. I can't seem to knock any of them out."

I had already steered sharply to the right, heading for the dry wash. If I could get down in there without wrecking us, and if the wash were deep enough, and if we could get back out of there, and if- We practically fell into the wash. The cab dropped, crashing to the stream bed, pulping our bones and teeth. I recovered quickly enough to floor the pedal and pull the cab away before the trailer flipped over. The accordion joints along the trailer groaned, bent to the failure point.

There was a crunching thud-the trailer falling in behind as I wheeled out into the dry wash, rollers jouncing over ruts and boulders. I heard a whoosh. A missile impacted about twenty meters downstream, throwing up a geyser of dust and rubble.

"Only one actual blip, Jake," Bruce informed. "The others were electronically generated decoys. I'm very sorry to report that our defensive systems are not quite up to par."

"They never were," I said. "Can't afford it."

Now what? We were sitting ducks in this hole. I raced downstream, feeling the undercarriage whack against protruding boulders. I winced, hoping the rig would hold together. One hole or tear in a vital component and it would be over.

Farther downstream the channel widened and the height of the banks shrank to half a meter. I looked around, checked the parabolic. Nothing, so I wheeled to the right. Whump, bang, and the cab was up and out of the wash-crash, rep, the trailer following. I cringed. Ohmygod, I thought, I'm going to cry when I look underneath the rig. If I ever get the chance.

We were out and exposed, but no more missiles came our way. Those buggies would have just as much trouble crossing the wash, so now was my chance to pack some distance between us and them.

"Jake," Bruce said, "I'm getting a very unusual blip on the scanners. Airborne, descending and closing with us."

Carl craned his neck, looking up. "See anything?" I asked.

"No… 1-?" He froze. "Carl? What is it?"

He turned around. The color had drained out of his face. "Shit," he said in a scared, half-audible whisper. "Shit!"

"What the hell is it, Carl?" I shouted.

He looked at me. His eyes were panicky, crazed. "Not, again," he said.

"Jesus Christ, Carl, what-" The rig left the ground.

I yelled. The engine quit, and a blood-freezing silence fell. The rig was taking off like a plane, nose high and soaring. I looked out the port. A huge black object, irregularly shaped, hovered above us. The angle was wrong to get a good view.

"Jake, what is it?" Darla screamed.

"I don't know," I said. "A craft. Sucking us up in some sort of gavitic beam."

"Prime," she said flatly.

"I guess."

The object came into the forward ports as our angle of ascent steepened. The thing was rounded, bulbous in spots, and big. Other than that, it was almost featureless.

Carl was tugging futilely at the hatch lever-the master sealing circuit was on.

"I gotta get outta here," he said through gritted teeth.

"Carl, take it easy. It's probably Prime, picking us up."

He tore off his harness and leaped at me, gabbing the front of my jacket with both hands. He shook me. "Open that fucking door, d'you hear? Open that door! I gotta get out! I gotta get outta here!" His face was contorted by blind fear, his eyes sightless, his lips the color of his face, a dead fish's belly.

"Carl, what the hell's wrong with you?" I snapped.

"You don't understand, you don't understand. That thing can't get me again, I won't let it, I gotta get outta here, I-" He let me go, wrenched around and stabbed at the instrument panel.

I unstrapped myself and seized both of his arms. "Carl, take it easy!"

He struggled free, turning around. He sent a haymaker at me, which I ducked. I closed with him and wrapped him up. We Indian wrestled for a moment, then he dragged me to the right. I tripped, falling between the front seats. Carl stepped over me and fled aft. I was in an awkward position and couldn't get up immediately, my left foot wedged underneath the power pedal. I finally freed it and hauled myself up.

Carl was lying facedown on the deck. Darla stood over him. Lori, still strapped in, was in tears.

"Hope I didn't hurt him," Darla said. "Side neck chop."

"You're good at that," I said. I went back and checked him. He wasn't unconscious, just stunned. He writhed, groaning.

"He'll be okay. You have a light touch."

"What's his problem?" I said.

"I think that thing up there is his flying saucer."