Undying World

CHAPTER 18

The parallelism was so exact in so many ways, and so grotesquely different in so many others, that Blade withdrew into his shell and made no attempt to probe or understand the Selenes. In any case the head pains were getting steadily worse. The computer would take him back soon, if he survived.

He knew only one thing-the crystal had ceased to function the moment he landed on the Selene Moon.

He did not see Onta. He saw nobody but a medium-sized, mediocre-appearing person who introduced himself as Zampa. The magnacar had deposited him in a spacious, sterile docking area lined with white tile. Blade decided it was a laboratory.

Zampa wore a neat gray business suit with a thin black tie and stiff attached collar, patent leather pumps and thin dark socks. He appeared middle aged with a lined face, graying hair and the pocks of a bad case of long ago acne. He extended his hand and Blade, not caring one way or the other, shook it, finding it moist and plumpish.

«Welcome to Selena,» said Zampa. «We were worried about you. You must have had some terrible times down there.»

There were two easy chairs in a corner of the lab. Blade sank into one, Zampa into the other. He was offered no refreshment or a bath or any change of costume.

Zampa did offer what might have been an apology. «We wish to examine you, to, conduct the first series of tests, while you are in your, er, shall we say primitive state. Do you mind?»

«Would it matter if I did?»

Zampa smiled. «Not in the least.»

Blade stared at the man who called himself Zampa. His eyes were the only thing remarkable about him. They were pink and green-a pink dot and concentric rings of green, forming a bull's-eye. Other than that he might have been any slightly weary London businessman. Blade wondered if such were the case? Was it all a computer joke with Lord Leighton made up as Zampa? To hell with it. He was too exhausted to speculate.

Blade said: «You did not keep your promise. You dropped the bomb.»

Zampa leaned toward him. «Onta made the promise, not I. Not that it matters. I would have done the same. A promise is only words and words are only meaningful when they serve one's own purpose. It was time to find a final solution to the Morphi and Gnomen problem and we have done so. But for your presence down there-and how we did fear for you, Blade-we would have done so much sooner. You have caused us a great deal of worry, you know. We dared not invade for fear you would act wrong-headedly-fight on their side and be killed.»

Blade nodded. «I would have, too.»

«Umm-so we feared. And we dared not drop the bomb until we had you safely away from there. You see our dilemma?»

«I can see,» said Blade calmly, «that you Selenes are a bunch of liars. If I had to make a choice I would prefer the Gnomen or the Morphi to you people.» For the first time he noticed the only way in which this Zampa resembled Onta-the head was too big and the neck too thick.

Zampa smiled and took a little red book from a breast pocket of his well-cut jacket. «Liar? Ummm, yes, here it is. One of our people who was sent into another dimension and got back safely-the only one so far, I am afraid-he mentions the words lie and liar in his report.»

There was no help for it. Despite his fatigue, his bone weariness, his many wounds and his very real lack of interest, Blade came alert. He had to. Lord L would expect it. And he still had a job to do-if it could be done.

He watched Zampa. «You have sent a man into another dimension?»

«I said so, did I not? Only one has come back thus far, which leaves, I am afraid, some hundred odd roaming around out there whom we will never recover.»

How many in his own Home Dimension? Blade could not help grinning. This was going to startle old Lord L.

Zampa was very patient. He tapped well-kempt fingers on his knee. «What do you call the dimension from which you come?»

«Home Dimension. HD.»

Zampa studied his book again. «That would correspond to our S Dimension, I suppose. How are you sent and recovered?»

Blade explained as best he could. Zampa listened without interruption, then crooked a finger and said, «Follow me, please.»

He might have been in the Tower computer complex but for the silence. Millions of tiny lights winked and blinked but there was not the faintest hum. Zampa led Blade into an inner chamber and pointed to a square pad of shiny material that might have been linoleum but for a metallic glisten. There was no chair, no wires or electrodes or consoles.

Zampa pointed to the pad. «We stand our subject on that and attune power to him by what our experts call sympathetic surge.»

Blade asked, «You are not a scientist?»

Zampa laughed heartily. «Dear me, no. I am what we call a friendly relations officer. I have been trained to make you like and trust me, Blade.»

Blade scowled. «I've got news for you, friend. You've got one hell of a job ahead of you.»

Zampa thumbed through his red book and put it away at last. He looked at Blade. «Some of those words I do not have listed. But do I take the meaning correctly-that I will not succeed in my job?»

«Could be,» said Blade, and he smiled coldly.

Zampa's smile was warm. «But you are wrong. I am very good at my work. Let us get back to our chairs and be comfortable.»

Just then a head pain struck Blade. He laughed to conceal it. He said, «Maybe you are at that, Zampa, and part of your job must be to keep me happy and cooperative?»

«It is indeed.»

«Then tell me about the ditramonium. How did the Morphi make it out of ordinary rock and how was the power transmitted without wires?»

Zampa looked at the red book. «Wires-wires? I do not have that word either. But no matter. Of course I will tell you about the ditramonium-even I am scientist enough for that.»

Blade did not quite believe him. «You will tell me?»

Zampa shrugged. «Why not? Ditramonium is no longer important to us. For perhaps, say, a vigintillion of counts, or as some reckon it, 1000 novemdecillions, the stuff called ditramonium was necessary to us. It was our source of power as it was to the Morphis. We, as a matter of fact, invented the Morphi and powered them with our ditramonium. A wrong and costly experiment, I am afraid. There must be, I think, fools in every dimension.

«However-and after I have satisfied your curiosity in this, Blade, I will expect you to start answering questions — we began to run short of rock. No rock, no ditramonium. Which is why Onta and his people conspired to shut off the power down there, to conserve the rock against our own needs. I do not know just how Onta did it and I do not want to know-he is not a person to my taste. But of course we all know that such things must be done.»

«How well I know.» Blade was grim.

«Yes, I suppose so. But let me get on. Our scientists were all working like mad on an alternate source of power, a substitute for ditramonium, and not many counts ago they found it. You see, then? Our new power is far better than ditramonium and much less troublesome and expensive to produce.»

Blade nodded. «So you did not need the city nor the Morphi, and certainly not the Gnomen?»

Zampa made a wiping gesture with his hand. «Need them? Of course not. The Morphi were a failed experiment and the Gnomen were animals, not as interesting, really, as the mole rats in their deep sewers. Forget them, Blade. They are now extinct.»

Blade said nothing. He let his facial expression say nothing. No use warning Zampa if, as just might be, the few Gnomen women and their guards had gone deep enough to escape the fire. They would live and have his babies. Suddenly, and Blade could not quite understand it, he very much wanted this to be true.

Zampa was watching him with an odd smile. Blade nodded and had to acknowledge, «You are good at your work. But you were going to explain ditramonium to me.»

«I cannot really explain that but perhaps I can show you.» Zampa tore a blank page from his notebook and scribbled on it. He handed the bit of paper to Blade.

qs' + ut = zoa — SEL to 1/2 P

thus transference of ut to 1/2 + P = PM (packet motivation) to final, realized, of:

s=s

s-zo

leadin to t' = B (t+b (ut/oz)to ° ° th)

Blade scanned it for a moment and said, «Thanks a lot.» Zampa looked puzzled. «It is all there. I'm afraid that it is the best I can do.»

Blade put the paper in his pocket. He scrubbed at his beard, grinned and nodded. He was acting now, so Zampa would not suspect the pain that was ripping his brain apart. Perhaps if Zampa knew Blade was about to leave him and the Selene Moon, there just might be some way to detain him. He reckoned on a few minutes yet before the HD computer grabbed him.

He smiled and smiled. Soon Zampa would think he was dealing with an idiot. But it hurt… it hurt terribly.

«You have been kind,» said Blade, «and I admit I did not think you could make me like you. But you're good. You've gotten around me. Now if I can help you I will. But first I would like to know just what is in store for me. It is not a secret?»

Zampa waved his little book and laughed. «No secret. But there's no hurry, none at all. You will soon be out of my hands, of course, but I can make a guess. For a great many counts you will be given tests and examined. I do not know the details of all that. Eventually an effort will be made to send you back to the very dimension from which you came and-«

Blade writhed in agony and did not let it show. «You mean that I am to be sent through your computer?»

Zampa nodded, all smiles. «I believe so. And they hope to bring you back. The purpose, of course, is to establish communication, a working relationship, between your dimension and our own. If this can be accomplished you will, naturally, receive great honor. You may even be made an honorary Selene.»

Blade's body was wrenched. Pain flowed. He saw Zampa's smile detach itself and come toward him. Blade retreated. He groaned, screamed, writhed, suffered. The smile pursued him. His guts flowed from him, turned to snares and tried to capture the smile. No luck His own mouth, no beard now, detached and went to meet the smile.

The smile-the smile-the smile

Blade grunted in last agony. «Cheshire-cheshire-cheshire-«

The smile of Zampa spoke: «Cheshire? Let me see. I do not think I have that word either. Is it a Gnomen word?»

Blade had gone. Only his mouth remained. His mouth said, «A Gnomen word? Who Gno wens? — hah-hah-I think, Zampa man, that Blade and the Gnomen have screwed you. Time will tell, but I feel sure that the end is not a dead and silent hell. Ba-by-pa-goose-bug off, Zampa baby. .»

For the last time Zampa was seen clearly. . Zampa saying, so seriously as he rifed his little book, «I do not believe I have that word either. . «

The nurse was button cute, petite, and had the legs to go with the Dior-designed mini-uniforms so recently permitted at St. Barts-over the bitter cries of Head Nurse Olvey, who had piano legs in parentheses.

But Dior was for Nurse Hawkins, definitely. Blade, with only a sheet over him, watched her with pleasure. When she had just now taken his temperature there had definitely been a happening.

Nurse Hawkins came back to his bed. She glanced down and turned a slow pink.

Blade did not even mind her archness as she said, «My word, but aren't we a naughty, naughty boy.»

There was nothing to say. There were a million things to think of and he did not think of any of them. He reached for Nurse Hawkins' hand and gave it a squeeze. For a moment she permitted it, smiling at him and repeating: «We are a naughty boy.»

Blade resorted to an Americanism. «You haven't seen anything yet, baby.»

Nurse Hawkins turned severe. «I should hope not.»

Then she relented. «You have a visitor,» she said softly.

J came in, fussing as usual, his Homburg and rolled umbrella clutched in his hand.

«How are you, my dear boy? Don't tell me if you'd rather not. Lie if you like. Stay here as long as you please. Lord Leighton is dying to get his hooks into you. I know how you dread the debriefing.» He shot a look at Nurse Hawkins. «If we could be alone, please?»

They were alone. J said, «The formula you brought back is gibberish. Nonsense. Lord L is most unhappy.»

«I couldn't care less,» said Richard Blade. He glanced down at the sheet. The tented arch was just subsiding.

«I think I'm happy,» said Blade. «In fact I am sure of it.»