The navigator (23 page)

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deck. Cati was dimly aware of Mervyn and Uel scrambling over the bridge, weariness forgotten. The Planemen wheeled about the masthead like spindly, evil birds and then dived to attack again. The water alongside the craft boiled, and she felt a hard jolt through the wheel. Desperately Cati spun the wheel away from them. She felt strong hands grab the wheel away from her and was aware of Wesley, white-faced, alongside her. In his hands Boat came about, faster and more agile than she would have believed possible, but still the Planemen came.

Another flash seared the deck and through the snow she saw Dr. Diamond thrown heavily against the base of the mast. She turned to the left. The snow cleared momentarily and she saw one of the Planemen skimming the wavetops, heading directly for the wheelhouse. Closer and closer he came so that she could see the gaunt features, the rime-crusted beard, the cracked and frozen leather jerkin, the grim, staring, red eyes, and the great hands grasping the controls and moving, she knew, to trigger the terrible power of the magno cannon.

Cati stood fixed to the spot and she knew that she could no more have moved than she could have snatched the Planeman from the sky. Suddenly, a burst of blue flame shot from the roof of the wheelhouse above her. The Planeman veered wildly to the side to avoid it, but the bolt of magno seared the side of the plane and struck his shoulder a glancing blow. As he dipped dangerously close to the waves, Cati could see a jagged rip in the shoulder of his leather jacket and smoke rising from it.

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Grimacing with pain, he eased the craft into the air, turned, and flew away from Boat.

Another Planeman came skimming across the waves astern of the boat, firing as he came. Cati saw flame streaking toward the windows of the dining cabin and heard a great crash of crockery falling to the deck, but both Mervyn and Uel were firing now and the Planemen were having to use all of their skills to avoid their fire. One of the Planemen raised his hand in a signal and they all wheeled about and flew swiftly away. The snow began to ease. Boat rose on a wave and Cati heard another crash as more crockery came down.

Dr. Diamond! she thought. She had seen him hit! Shaking herself out of her stupor, Cati ran out of the wheelhouse and down onto the deck. Dr. Diamond raised himself gingerly onto one elbow. There was a deep gash on his temple, and he was deathly pale.

"Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

"Am I think I," the scientist said, looking groggy. He swayed and Cati reached out to support him. "Hap ... What happened?" he asked, making an effort to correct his speech.

"The Planemen attacked. They must have got ahead of us during the night."

"Now I remember," he said. As Boat crested a wave, Dr. Diamond swayed again and Cati had to grab the mast to stop them both falling over.

"I think I'd better lie down," said Dr. Diamond. Cati

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helped him across the deck to his cabin, trying to avoid the great scorched furrows left in the deck by the Planemen's guns. He lay down on the bed and Cati wet a cloth and bathed the gash on his head until she was sure that it was clean.

"Thank you, Cati," he said softly. "I think I'll stay here for a while." Turning at the door, she saw that the man was almost asleep already.

She went back to the wheelhouse. Wesley was still at the wheel. He was talking in low tones to the Sub-Commandant. Both of them looked gray with exhaustion.

"They must have known we were leaving," he was saying, his voice angry. "They couldn't have guessed it."

"Possibly," the Sub-Commandant said, "but perhaps they picked up our trail by accident."

"What about the stopcock?" Wesley demanded angrily. "How did it get open?"

"I admit that it is strange," the small man said.

"It's a whole lot more than strange," said Wesley. "There's someone aboard this here--"

"Cati," the Sub-Commandant interrupted. "How is Dr. Diamond?"

"I think he's all right. He's doing a bit of backward talking, but I think that's just the bang on the head. He's lying down."

"That's one good thing," Wesley said. "We're going to need all the help we can get, not that it'll make any difference anyhow."

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"Why's that?" asked Cati. "They didn't put a hole in us, did they?"

"Might as well've," Wesley said. "Take a look at thon." He pointed toward the oars on the left-hand side. A deep scorch mark ran across the top of them and two of them were splintered, not yet broken, but bending out of shape each time they touched the water and threatening to snap. Cati remembered the hard tug on the steering she had felt when the Planeman attacked down that side and she realized that was what she had felt.

"If that goes," Wesley said, "it's the end of us."

Boat limped on through the day. The Sub-Commandant insisted that they keep up the same pace.

"Fair dos," Wesley said, "but if the weather gets up a bit, she'll snap."

"Does that mean we have to stop?" asked Cati. The Sub-Commandant explained that they could still keep going, but they would have to disengage the two damaged oars and two oars on the other side, opposite the damaged ones, otherwise they'd end up going round in circles.

"Them Planemen would catch us in a second," Wesley said. Behind them, a line of Planemen hung in the frozen sky, a kind of terrible patience to the way they were flying now. Cati noticed that one of them was flying slightly lower than the others and seemed to have difficulty keeping his place in the line.

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Dinner that night was subdued. The sleepless night had taken its toll. Dr. Diamond had stayed in bed for most of the day and was now managing, with difficulty, to get his sentences the right way round. Uel and Mervyn looked tense and tired. Chancellor could barely lift his head to eat. Only Wesley and Cati's father seemed alert: the Sub-Commandant calm, eating methodically, Wesley's eyes darting suspiciously round the table, scrutinizing each face in turn.

"Stop that," Cati whispered to him.

"What?"

"Looking at me like that. I didn't open your precious stopcock."

"Somebody did."

"Well, it wasn't me. You probably left it open yourself."

"Whatever the two of you are squabbling about, please don't," the Sub-Commandant interrupted. "We're all tired. We'll take four-hour watches tonight, in twos. Wesley, you can take the first one with me."

Wesley looked at him with approval. If two people were working together, then there was no chance of anyone interfering with stopcocks or anything else without being seen.

The night passed without incident. The Sub-Commandant took his watch, with Wesley. Uel and Mervyn took the four hours in the middle of the night. Cati took the dawn watch with Dr. Diamond. She

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shivered when she walked out onto the deck, not with cold, although there was a deathly chill in the air, but with awe. The night sky had cleared and every star shone as brightly as they must have done at the beginning of the world, the great constellations stretching off into infinity. Slowly she clambered up to the wheelhouse, reluctant to step into the shelter, for the movement of the boat made the stars seem to spin and wheel in the dark sky.

"Fascinating," Dr. Diamond said when she entered the wheelhouse. "Do you see anything different, Cati?"

"Just that the stars are so bright."

"Yes, they are bright, but they are also different. The constellations are not where you would expect. The Milky Way should be over there. The Plow should not be visible in that quarter."

"Why's that?" Cati asked.

"Well, if you interfere with time, then you also interfere with space. Things are dragged out of place in unexpected ways."

The night passed without incident. Cati found herself holding the wheel, almost dozing, while Dr. Diamond made measurements from the stars with a series of sextants and protractors and other oddly shaped instruments he had brought from his cabin.

When the dawn came, the air itself seemed to glint and sparkle with cold. The sky was cloudless and the sea was a deep, cold green flecked with white. When Cati went out onto the bridge ice particles stung her face.

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"The wind carries the foam off the top of the waves," Dr. Diamond said, "and it freezes in the air."

They looked back along the wake of Boat. The Plane-men hung in the air at the same distance as before. Except that this time there were only three of them.

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There is one good thing about being under Whit-washisberd's table, Owen thought, and one bad thing. The good thing was that he had been thrown almost on top of a small inspection window, so he could see out. The bad thing was the proximity to Whitwashisberd's feet, from which emanated an almost indescribable stink.

Despite the tightness of his bonds, Owen managed to get his face up against the window. The snow had stopped. He could see pine trees stretching out silendy to either side of the Q-car. The huge wheels enabled the craft to move through the trees, but it swayed and bumped as it went. Earlier, he had heard Johnston tell Whitwashisberd that they would be reaching the true Harsh Road soon and that they would pick up speed

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then. Owen wasn't sure if he liked the idea of that. He was tired and he pressed his face against the cold glass to wake himself up. As he did so, he thought he saw a black shape moving through the trees behind the Q-car. He looked again. There was definitely something there, running lightly and tirelessly in the snowy spaces between the pines. Someone, he thought, who is following the car.

Owen felt his heart leap. The figure was carrying something in a coil at its waist. A long whip. It was Pieta! She was keeping pace effortlessly, but what would happen when they reached the Harsh Road?

There was a sudden stir in the cabin. "Harsh Road coming up!" Passionara sang out. "Get us some speed. Get the boy quick to freezebones Harsh." This provoked gales of mirth from Mariacallas. Owen thought that he would like to strangle both of them.

The ground was more open now. The trees had given way to scrub and then to clear, featureless snow. As it did so, the Q-car started to pick up speed. He saw Pieta clear the edge of the trees and accelerate as she realized what was happening.

Then Owen saw something odd. The edge of what seemed to be some kind of crash barrier protruding from the snow. He saw what was unmistakably a motorway sign, bent and aged, but still recognizable. Ahead, a long, snow-covered space led off into the distance. It is a motorway, he thought. The Harsh had taken a motorway and turned the whole thing into an island in time.

Things started to happen quickly then. The Q-car

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leapt forward as it hit the road. Owen could see that Pieta was running at full tilt now, but it wasn't fast enough. Just as she started to fall back into the darkness, he saw her reach to her belt. The Q-car bounced onto the motorway, the jolt of it throwing him backward. By the time he had got back into position at the window, Pieta was gone. No one could help him now. He was being delivered to the Harsh, who could turn time backward and make an entire motorway an island in time. Owen closed his eyes and let despair wash over him.

On and on through the night the Q-car sped, moving so fast that the landscape through which they passed was reduced to a blur. Owen was exhausted but he couldn't sleep. His legs were tight with cramp and his arms were bound so tightly he could no longer feel them. Passionara was driving. Johnston and Mariacallas sat at the rear of the cabin, drinking gin and playing whist. Whitwashisberd drank gin as well, then fell asleep. The floor on which Owen lay vibrated with his snores, adding to Owen's misery. With the first glimmer of dawn he fell into a disturbed sleep, punctuated by the drunken yells of Johnston and Mariacallas.

Owen's fitful sleep was finally broken by loud shouting. It was Passionara.

"Hey, wakey wakey, gents! You want me drive all night to hell?"

There was no answer from the others. They were all drunk and snoring. Passionara let the Q-car coast to a

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halt. He got out of his seat and walked back down the cabin. Owen quickly shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. After a moment he could sense the man leaning over him, feel his breath.

Owen remembered the look of hatred on Passionara's face after Whitwashisberd had kicked the razor blade out of his hand. He had never felt more helpless in his life. The man stayed there for a minute and Owen squeezed his eyes shut even tighter as if he could block him out. In the end Passionara merely muttered something under his breath and Owen sensed him move away. Cautiously Owen opened one eye. Passionara was examining the sleeping men. He bent over Johnston and fiddled at his neck. Johnston grunted, but did not wake. Passionara straightened, holding a key on a chain, and did a silent jig to himself. He went to a small cupboard under the rear bulkhead and opened it. It was the gin store. Passionara picked out a bottle and put it in his pocket. Then, moving cautiously, he replaced the key round Johnston's neck and started back up the cabin. Owen squeezed his eyes shut once more.

Owen did not open his eyes again until the Q-car lurched into life. Passionara was at the controls, but this time he was swigging from a bottle of gin as he drove. Owen stared out of the window. The sun shone brightly and the whiteness of the snow outside was almost unbearable. The wind blew fine powdery snow against hidden objects, creating strange shapes and making the world outside look like no country he had ever seen. As