The Devil's Eye

TWENTY-FOUR

"We've got the guns," I said. Alex was looking out the window, trying to see what the ground looked like. "No. We don't know that we have them all. Anyhow, once we land on the plateau, we'll be stuck there again." "What do you suggest?" "Can we disable it?" "I've already tried." "I mean the skimmer." "You want me to crash it?" "I'm open to a better idea." There was storage space behind the backseat. I opened it, but it was empty. "Have to use the scrambler," I said. "That is not a good idea," said Doc. "Then turn control over to me."

"I'm not able to do that."

I took out the weapon, went digging through the cockpit until I found the hardware that housed Doc. I checked to be sure the scrambler was on paralysis mode, aimed it at the hardware, and pulled the trigger. "Doc?"

"I'm still here."

"I'm not surprised." I found a lightning icon that provided a setting to shut off the aircraft's power. "What do you think?" I asked. Alex looked down at the ground. "Leave it on." "Unless you want to go back, or jump, it's all we have." "We'd lose antigrav, too, right?" "We've got wings. We might be able to glide in." He thought about it for a long minute. "Doc," I said, "can you take us lower?"

"Negative, Chase. My instructions will not allow me to do that."

"I assume these instructions take effect if you are hijacked?"

"That is correct."

"You can't pretend otherwise, I guess?"

"No. I would do it if I could."

"Okay," said Alex. "Kill the power." "Doc," I said, "if I shut down the power, will I still be able to control the flaps and rudder?"

"I can arrange that."

"Do it. Let me know when it's done."

"It's done, Chase."

"Okay." I pushed a finger against the pad below the lightning icon. "Doc, are you sure you can't help us?"

"Chase, I would if I could."

"Okay."

"I'd really prefer you not do this."

"Me, too."

"Before you act, be aware that we are in rugged country. Chances of survival are not good even if you don't die in the crash."

"I know, Doc. Thanks." I pressed. The lights in the cabin flicked off. Doc's lamps went out. The engine died. And I had my weight back. We began slicing down.

Antigrav generators are usually equipped with an auxiliary power source. I tried to restart it. Unfortunately, somebody hadn't maintained it. I got a few burps out of it, enough to slow our descent. Then it died again. The real problem wasn't even the lack of power so much as the fact I couldn't see the ground. Couldn't see anything. We could have been about to touch down, or about to fly into a mountain. We could have been in somebody's basement. I wrestled with the yoke, fought the wind, started doing profanities, looked for lights somewhere. Anywhere . Where was Callistra now that I needed her? The problem with antigrav vehicles is that they don't carry enough wing and tail to allow you to glide properly if the engines fail. I had wings, but they weren't very good at keeping us aloft. "Chase-" said Alex. "Doing the best I can." "I see lights." "Where?" "Over to the left." They were not moving. Houses, probably. I started to turn. Started breathing again. They were important because they let me know more or less where the ground was. We swung to port in a long, slow curve. My angle on the lights was changing, of course. They were rising as we went down. Then they vanished. Alex grunted. "What happened?" "Mountain." I pushed the yoke right and held my breath until they reappeared. Coming fast. I wanted to bank toward them, to keep them in sight, but I was afraid of the mountain. Had no idea where the damned thing was. So I kept straight on. They passed off the port side, and I was headed back into the night. "I'd guess we'll be down in about two minutes," I said. "Okay." It was a long, quiet run, with only the sound of the wind against the wings. Then we blasted into something. I was thrown hard against my harness. There was a rush of fresh air. Then darkness took me.

When I came out of it, I was hanging upside down. "You okay, Chase?" Alex's voice startled me. I'd felt alone. "Chase?" "I'm here," I said. "You?" "I'm here, too. Nice landing." "That's right." I'd forgotten. "We're down." I heard him struggling to release his harness. "Are you all right, Alex?" Lights were approaching. A truck, kicking up a cloud of snow, was visible through a wall of trees. "I think so." "Okay. Stay put for a minute. Help's on the way." The front of the aircraft was gone. A cold wind was blowing snow and debris in on top of us. Alex released himself and climbed down as the truck stopped. I heard a door slam. And voices. The truck lights revealed broad, flat ground beyond the trees. "Not bad," said Alex. "Looks as if you hit the only patch of forest in the neighborhood." I was hurting in a few places, but nothing seemed to be broken, so I released my harness and lowered myself to the ground. Our rescuers were bundled up in jackets. There were two of them, and they both wore hats pulled down over their ears. A man and a woman. The man called out: "You people okay in there?" I guess I was staggering around. Alex was on the ground. They got me out to the truck. Then they went back in for Alex. It took a while. When they finally came out they were holding him up. "He's all right,"

said the woman. "But we wanted to be sure before we moved him."

Their names were Shiala and Orman Inkama. Orman was the operational director for the otherwise-automated energy-distribution site whose lights had shown us where the ground was. They took us back to their quarters, which were located in a flat gray building perched beside a field of collectors. They applied medications to cuts and bruises and told us how lucky we were. Orman wanted to take us to Barikaida, where there was a medical facility. But it was a long ride, and since neither of us was seriously damaged, we settled for showers and robes. We had no clothes, of course. We explained how we were sightseeing in the area, and Orman said he'd drive back to the scene of the crash to try to recover our bags. But there'd been no easy way to bring our gear from the plateau. "We didn't have anything with us," Alex explained. "But if you could take us into Barikaida tomorrow, that would help." So we slept in the robes, me in the guest room, Alex on the sofa. In the morning, everything I owned hurt. Shiala cooked a big breakfast, commenting on how few visitors they got in that part of the country. Then they gave us some clothes. Orman's were a bit big for Alex, but I fit reasonably well into a blouse and slacks. Shiala's shoes were too big, though, and Krestoff's boots were a mess. Nevertheless I had to stay with them. Orman took us out to the pad, and we all climbed into his skimmer. There was a party atmosphere running by then. Orman explained how many times he'd had rough landings himself. "Though nothing like what you folks did last night." Shiala laughed and insisted it was true, that Orman was the worst pilot in the world. He didn't trust AIs, though the truth was he just loved to fly himself. "By the way," he said, "we reported the crash for you." Uh-oh. "Thanks," said Alex. "They said they'll be out this afternoon to take a look and do the paperwork."

We lifted into the air while Alex and I pretended that nothing had changed. We laughed and joked, and I wondered how long it would take the authorities to figure out who had been in the crash. We crossed a river with a waterfall. The Turbulence. The land was broken at that point into a vast cleft, and the river fell almost a kilometer into lower country. "It is," said Orman, "the highest known waterfall. Anywhere." Well, Alex and I both knew of a few bigger ones, but we kept our peace. They were surprised that tourists, as we claimed to be, knew nothing of the Turbulence. (The name applied both to the river and to the waterfall.) "Well," I said, "we were just drifting through. We're from Rimway." And that seemed to settle it. They both said "Oh," as if Rimway tourists came through all the time and they routinely knew nothing about the place they were visiting.

They dropped us off at a clothing store. We all went inside, and Alex reminded me to switch over to the corporate account we'd opened when we first came to Salud Afar. "That was farsighted," I told him. "We didn't know what we were getting into," he said. He had a hard time not looking pleased with himself. But we developed a quick problem: We couldn't get clear of our benefactors. Shiala wanted to follow me around and help me shop. "We shouldn't take too long," she said, "if we're going to get back before Wash comes." "Wash is the guy doing the investigation of the crash?" "Yes, Sara," she said. (We'd given them false names.) "He's very good." Alex, left alone by Orman, found out that trains left regularly. "Another due out in two hours," he whispered to me when he was able to get me alone. Meanwhile, I'd gotten some clothes and two pairs of shoes.

"Lose her," said Alex. "How?" "Go to the washroom or something." "That won't work. Take my word for it." "What do you suggest?" Shiala was standing a counter away, looking at hats. "Tell them the truth." "I don't think that's a good idea." "Alex, if we take off, they'll think we're in trouble and call the police. They'll have us before we can get to the train station." So we took them to lunch. While we ate, we told them what had happened. We didn't tell them everything. Just that we had uncovered some corruption in high places. We told them about the plateau and why we had crashed. We told them we needed for them to say nothing until we got clear. Would they be willing to trust us? And do that for us? They listened. Surprisingly, Shiala was the more resistant. "They're wanted by the law," she told Orman. "We could get into a lot of trouble." "All you have to do," said Alex, "is explain that you didn't know. That we came into town, and we separated to do some shopping, and you didn't see us again." "I just don't know," Shiala said. Orman took a long look at both of us. "Sure we'll help," he said. "You folks get as far away from here as you can. Shiala and I will stay in town for the rest of the day. Make it harder for them to find us."

We took time to go to Korvik's CommCenter, where we bought new links and opened accounts under bogus names. Then we said good-bye to Shiala and Orman and caught a train headed north. Away from Rendel. By then, Krestoff and her people would have been rescued, and there was a good chance that Wexler would expect us to try to make the flight to the Lantner world. That would mean they'd be looking for us at the spaceports. And they'd probably have people alerted at Samuels as well. So we took a week and disappeared. We settled in at a northern seaside resort, played the gaming tables, hung out on the beaches, and generally had a good time. If there was a search on for us, we saw no sign of it. Eventually, Alex called Peifer. "Where the hell you guys been?" Peifer demanded. "I've been trying to reach you."

"Why? What's going on, Rob?"

"I have somebody I want you to meet."

"Okay. Best not to mention any names at the moment." The new links should have been safe, but you never knew.

"I understand. Sounds as if you've been making some progress."

"You remember where you met us?"

"Of course."

"There's a business with the same name."

"You're kidding."

"Check the listings." He needed a minute or two. "Okay. I see it." "Meet me inside the front door at noon tomorrow."

"Okay."

"And Rob?"

"Yes."

"We're in a little trouble." " You? How the hell is that possible? But okay. I never got this call. Have no idea where you are." "Thanks." "In fact I don't know where you are."

"We met him in the spaceport terminal," I said. "Right." Alex was enjoying himself. "What business incorporates 'terminal' in its name?" "They sell women's lingerie. It's called Terminal Attraction." "Ah. You did your homework." "I always do my homework, love." Next morning we took the train back to Marinopolis, and at a quarter to twelve we were posted in the Caribu Restaurant across the walkway from the lingerie store. The store advertised itself as THE HAPPY PLACE. At noon sharp Peifer showed up. He was in a white jacket with a broad-brimmed matching hat. We waited until he entered the store. No one else seemed to be watching, so I crossed the walkway and went in behind him. He was standing checking out the latest in casual underwear. There were a couple of customers. Both women. Neither looked like CSS. Of course, they weren't supposed to. "Chase," he said. "It's good to see you." It was an atmospheric place. Soft blue lights, diaphanous blue curtains twisting in a nonexistent breeze. Misty music. "And yourself, Rob. You want to follow me?" He looked around at the slips and panties. "I thought we were going to meet here." A clerk appeared on the scene and glanced from one of us to the other. "May I help you?" Peifer pointed toward a sheer nightie. "You'd look great in that, Chase." "Thanks," I told the clerk. "We'll pass for the moment." Neither of the customers showed any interest in us, and I saw no one outside. We left, but to be safe we circled the block. Still nobody. "You guys must really be scared," said Peifer. "Call it cautious." We went into the Caribu. He broke into a big smile when he saw Alex. They sat down together while I stayed near the window. They talked for a few minutes. When I was satisfied nobody was out there, I joined them. "I want you to meet Ecco Saberna," said Peifer. "He thinks he knows what got to Vicki Greene." "And what was that?" "I'll let him tell you. Why are you on the run?" "The CSS thinks we figured out what happened to Greene." Alex had suggested we not reveal Wexler's complicity until we had more information. Until we could prove it. "The CSS? They're the good guys." "It's news to me." Peifer leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "So did you?" "Figure it out? "Yes. What's going on? Why's the CSS involved?" We ordered. When the AI asked what I wanted, I asked for a beef sandwich. "And a boltslinger." "What's a boltslinger?" asked Alex. "Don't know," I said. I'd seen it on the menu. Peifer assured me I'd like it. Peifer was about average size, and he needed to get a workout program going. His beard was unkempt. Maybe it was that beards weren't fashionable back home. In any case, he came off like a guy who was pretending to be an intellectual. That characteristic gave him an air of vulnerability, though, and made him easier to trust. "Rob," Alex said, "we still don't know what's happening. "Give me a few days, and I think I'll be able to tell you." "Why would the CSS think you know?" "We were looking into the Edward Demery business." He looked surprised. "That's a coincidence."

"In what way?" "You're going to be interested in what Ecco has to say."

Peifer knew a hotel in Sikora, a town about forty kilometers west of Marinopolis. It was a cheap place with low visibility. For a small additional remuneration, the owner would neglect to enter guest information online for CSS, as hotels on Salud Afar routinely did. (Some absolutist tendencies from the Bandahriate remained in place.) He gave us directions, and an hour later we checked into the Starlight Suites. That evening, Peifer showed up with Ecco Saberna. He was another bearded guy, built low to the ground. Hard dark eyes like marbles. "The truth of the matter, Alex," Saberna said in a tone that suggested dark times were coming, "is that there's a rift out there. It's located somewhere near the Lantner asteroid." "A rift?" "A break in the time-space continuum." Alex frowned. I looked at Peifer. Was this guy crazy? "If I'm correct, and I think I am, it's moving at a substantial velocity. In this direction." He took a deep breath. "We're lucky it's as far away as it is." "A distortion?" Alex asked. He was having trouble grasping the concept. It was my turn: "They're supposed to be theoretically possible. But nobody's ever seen one." "Of course nobody's ever seen one, child," Saberna said. "If you get close enough to make the observation, you'll have a great deal of trouble talking about it later." He seemed to think that was funny, and he chuckled. It was an abrasive sound. Peifer had been standing quietly with his arms folded. "I know it sounds wild," he said, "but Ecco's a prizewinning physicist. He knows what he's talking about. And it would explain a lot." Alex took a moment to appraise Saberna. "You think," he said, "that the two ships that went out to the Lantner rock got swept up by this thing?" "Yes. That's exactly what I think happened." "And the people who were outside on the surface of the asteroid?" "They would have been caught as well. In the gravity field created by the passing rift." "So they'd have been dragged off?" "Yes." "Why wasn't the asteroid also sucked in?" He shrugged. The answer was obvious. "It was too massive. And the effect was only momentary."

We were chewing on pastries that Peifer had brought with him. Alex took a bite out of a cinnamon roll. "What makes you think it's a rift?" he asked. "We're in a highly problematic field, Alex. There's no hard data. But let me show you what we do have." He proceeded to do so. In detail. He put up a display that tracked how a deformity in the continuum might occur, resulting from too much stress, how it might even be caused by the new star drive, the one that had been developed by the Dellacondans during their war with the Mutes and was just now coming into wide use. He apparently had no conception of Alex's role in those events. I understood none of it, and I was pretty sure Alex had gotten lost, too. "So where is it now?" he asked. "This deformity?" "There's no way to know without going out to find it. But the government won't do that. They don't want to admit it's out there. I know. I've talked to them. But it is there, Alex. And I'd be willing to bet it's coming this way. That's why they're keeping it quiet. They want to avoid panic. They keep talking about Mutes to distract people." "How fast would it be traveling?" "Best guess for a fracture of this nature: about ten percent of cee." "Then it would be here in about-" He scribbled some numbers on a pad. Made a face. Saberna grinned. It wasn't easy to be in the presence of ordinary people. "Three hundred years." "That doesn't sound like crisis proportions."

"We think they're worried about the economics," said Peifer. "It would scare the hell out of people. The economy would collapse. It might be hard to hold society together if you have to take a short-range view." "Short-range?" I said. "Three centuries?" "They're probably right," said Alex. "It wouldn't be the short-range view. It would be that there's no future." I thought about Wexler selling his property. Cashing out while he could. "What would happen," Alex asked, "if it arrived in this area? How big is the damned thing?" "That's anybody's guess." "Why do you think it's coming here?" Saberna crossed his arms. "I think the government went out and looked. And they didn't like what they found. Vicki Greene found out about it somehow, and they had to keep her quiet. Why else would they have done the lineal block?" Alex was rubbing his eyebrows, staring down at the floor. "How would they even have known where to look?" Saberna was having trouble keeping the exasperation out of his voice. "It would be a very easy threat to check. You would only have to be concerned if it were coming in this direction, is that not right? Yes. They could have found out its theoretical velocity. And they knew it was out near the Lantner world thirty-three years ago. After that it would simply have been a matter of doing the math." Alex shook his head. "That can't be right," he said. "Why not?" "If you're correct, what's the point of building the shelters?" Saberna held out his hands, palms up. Wasn't it obvious? "It's a distraction. They know rumors about the distortion have gotten out. They're trying to sell the Mute story." I hadn't heard any of the rumors. "The mainline media stay away from them," said Peifer. "But we've been hearing them for the last two months. I think this is exactly what's happening. Global has been reporting that some people near the top of the government have been divesting themselves of holdings and converting their wealth into Confederate currencies. The sort of thing you might do if a major catastrophe was on the way. But on the other hand, economists are talking about a downturn, and they say divestment routinely happens at such times." "You think it gives credence to Ecco's ideas?" "I don't know. Maybe it just means stormy weather ahead, and they're putting their holdings in the vault. But hell, if the end of the world is coming, then yes, I'd expect the people who know about it to be trying to get clear. And take their money with them." His eyes grew hard. "And they'd have every incentive to keep it quiet."

Despite their name, the Starlight Suites had no suite. The proprietor seemed to think that a suite was a room with an elegant name. So we had separate quarters. I retired to mine, got ready for bed, killed the lights, and took a minute to look down at the street. We were on the top floor, the fourth. There were shops across the way, a legal office, a landing pad. I half expected to see someone watching us. But it was quiet. Maybe we were safe. Nevertheless, I didn't unpack my bag, other than to hang up the new clothes I'd bought. This was my first experience being on the run, and I can't say I cared for it much. I was still pumping too much adrenaline, I guess, to sleep well. I watched the HV for a while. Finally, toward dawn, I drifted off. We went to breakfast at a place called Bandy's, where we both grumbled about inedible food and avoided talking about interspatial rifts. "We'll keep the hotel room here," Alex said. "But I think it's time to head for the asteroid." I thought so, too. But on the way back to the Starlight Suites we saw a guy coming out of the building. He paused on the front steps, gazed across the street, and walked away. There was something of Agents

Krestoff and Bong in the way he carried himself. I steered Alex into a turn. "Stay away from the building," I said. "I think so, too." "Give me your key." He produced it. "What are you going to do?" "Make sure we don't get picked up again. You go back to Bandy's and have some coffee. I'll come get you when I'm sure it's safe." The Starlight Suites lacked a rooftop parking area, but there was a connecting walkway with the Weidner Building, which housed several business offices. I left Alex and walked into the Weidner Building. Rode the elevator up to the fourth floor and climbed a set of stairs to the roof. The door was locked. But my room key opened it. I let myself out onto the roof, and crossed to the Suites in the connector. It was cold. I hurried down to ground level, keeping to the staircases. I took a good look around the lobby before I showed myself. When I was satisfied no one was there except the bot at the desk, I walked over to her. "Hello, Dale," she said pleasantly, using the alias we'd given the hotel. "What can I do for you?" "Has anyone been asking for us? Either me or Henry?" The bot nodded. "Um, yes. A police officer was in here a few minutes ago. He showed us pictures of you and the gentleman." "What did you tell him?" "That I'd never seen you. But I don't think he believed me." I gave her some money for the owner. "Thanks, Hass."

I went back up to the rooms, grabbed my bags and Alex's, and dragged them up onto the roof, across the walkway, and down through the Weidner Building. I hauled the two bags out onto the sidewalk, flagged down a land cab, went to the restaurant, and picked up Alex. Twenty minutes later we were at the train station.