The Two Worlds (106 page)

"Don't listen," Garuth broke in. "Do whatever—"

"Remove him," Langerif ordered. Two armed guards ushered Garuth away, out of range of the screen.

Eubeleus resumed. "You will take your ship away from Jevlen immediately at maximum speed, and out of Athena's planetary system completely. The Thuriens will project a toroid to remove it from this region." He raised a hand, seeing the protest start to form on Torres's face. "There is nothing to negotiate. You will commence at once."

Sandy was ebullient at seeing that the others were safe, and for the moment she wasn't worried about what would happen next. Gina, standing in the forefront of the group behind Torres, was looking especially crestfallen. "Don't worry, Gina," Sandy called, as if she could direct the words only at her. "Things will work out. Maybe it's all just happening in our heads." A private joke. Gina caught it and smiled back.

"Glad you made it, chief," Duncan called out from beside Sandy. Hunt acknowledged with a nod and a faint grin.

Eubeleus paled with anger. "Take them all away!" he shouted. "They've served their purpose. The Ganymeans know we have them." He looked back at the view of Torres. "Don't let their frivolity mislead you, Captain. Take your ship outward immediately. Otherwise, I don't have to tell you what will become of your precious friends there."

Torres could only nod numbly. But behind him, Danchekker's face had taken on the enraptured expression of somebody who had just seen a light, as if he had only just realized something that should have been obvious long before.

Eubeleus's face vanished from the screen on the
Shapieron
's command deck. Calazar and Eesyan were left on another, staring gloomily from their capital on Thurien, and Caldwell, in Washington, was still showing on the one adjacent. But Danchekker was already hopping about in the center of the floor, gesticulating excitedly first one way, then another, at the Terrans and Ganymeans around him. "She just said it! Sandy just said it, on the screen there! In their heads!" He pointed wildly at Keshen, who pulled back in alarm. "He's still got them!"

Hunt raised a restraining hand. "Chris, calm down, stop dancing about like that, and say whatever the hell it is you're trying to say."

Danchekker regained most of his composure, but was still unable to prevent his finger jabbing repeatedly in Keshen's direction. "The activation codes! Don't you see?
He
entered them into the touchpanel in the club! He still has them, subconsciously, inside his head. visar can get them out again!"

Hunt stared for a full five seconds. "Is that right?" The question was mechanical. He already knew enough to have little doubt of the answer.

"Yes . . . with Keshen's permission, naturally," visar said.

"Of course," Calazar whispered numbly. It was so unheard of that no Thurien would have thought of it—or a Thurien-oriented computer.

Hunt looked at Keshen. "Is it okay with you?"

Keshen shrugged, still taken aback at having suddenly become the center of things. "Well, I guess so . . . Sure."

Hunt turned to Torres. But the Ganymean was shaking his head. "But is there any point? The Jevlenese will be watching our every move. If we so much as take the ship anywhere near a redirector satellite . . ." He made a helpless gesture and left the sentence unfinished.

A silence fell, broken by the humming and pulsating of distant machinery buried in the ship.

Then Caldwell said, "Maybe there is a point. If the Jevlenese are going to have all their attention fixed on the
Shapieron
, that might make it an ideal decoy while something else tries for the satellite—one of the ship's probes, maybe. Some of those probes are fitted with h-space gear and can talk to visar. If Keshen says he can get into the planetary net from the satellite, you'd just have to bridge a connection across. How many guys would it take to do it?"

Everyone looked at Torres and the Ganymean crew officers. They were the only ones who could answer that.

"It's got a chance," Rodgar Jassilane said at length. "When the stress field breaks down under main-drive acceleration, the entire external electromagnetic environment of the ship is disrupted. If a probe were ejected at the right moment, it might well get away undetected against the background . . . and there's nothing else we can try."

"Who'd need to go?" Hunt snapped. "Keshen for a start, I assume." He turned back to the Jevlenese engineer. "Will you do it?"

Keshen swallowed hard, but nodded.

"I'll go with him," Jassilane offered promptly. "That's all. You won't get more than two of us into one of the h-fitted probes, anyway."

There wasn't time for any more finesse. Eubeleus was probably wondering already why the ship wasn't accelerating. Hunt looked at Torres and indicated Keshen with a jerk of his head. "Let's do it. Get him to a coupler, quick."

Torres confirmed the order with a brief wave to one of the Ganymeans. "zorac, prepare a sounding probe for launch." He waved to two more of the ship's officers. "Have two EV suits made ready at the access lock, one Terran model, one Ganymean."

Keshen was already being speeded through a doorway out from the command deck to the couplers. The other Ganymeans saluted and hurried away.

Chained again, and with guards keeping them constantly covered at spearpoint, the prisoners sat morosely in the bumping, sliding cart as it approached the outskirts of Orenash. It was amazing, Hunt thought. Now that he was adjusting to the crazy dynamics of the place, he could
see
the change between north-south and east-west lengths every time the cart rounded an approximately right-angle bend. The scientist in him, even in a predicament that made anything else seem pointless, noted it as a detectable alteration in the cart's length-breadth proportions. No wonder the people here had never made anything beyond a few primitive tools. And the mountains discernible off to the left in the twilight were noticeably closer than they had been when the procession came out onto the plain, although the route was surely more or less parallel to them.

Beside him, Gina was pressed close, fighting to keep her emotions under control. He reached across her lap to squeeze her arm reassuringly. One of the guards growled something threatening. Hunt drew back.

"Well, here it is," she said. "The world of Earth's mythology, only real, just like we said. But who'd have thought we'd end up in it?" She drew a long, shaky breath, and the brave face she had been struggling to maintain broke down. "Look, I'm not very good at this. I don't know what they've got lined up at the end of this ride, but—"

"Save it," Hunt said. "As you said, it's a mythology become real. Miracles can happen."

"What miracles?"

"Who knows?"

"You know what a fluke it was for us to get that connection. What chance is there of anything else, anywhere in Shiban? If it got cut off, it must mean either that the club was taken over, or Eubeleus shut down all the links. What else can any of them"—she shook her head, unable in her fear and confusion to sort out the philosophical niceties—"us, whoever those people still out there are . . . What can they do? Do
you
know?"

"Not exactly," Hunt confessed.

"See!" Possibly from the workings of some inner defense mechanism, Gina became almost belligerent. "You don't know. But the
you
out there is every bit the same person, isn't it? And up to the point where we got detached, he knew as much as you did. So why should
he
have any better ideas? And the same goes for the rest of us."

Hunt didn't have an answer. He could only look away.

They were coming into the city of Orenash. The architecture was massively imposing, and foreboding. Ahead, trumpets sounded as the leading body of soldiers passed through a large gate set between two square towers in a high wall. Crowds were milling around the vehicles, shouting praises to the priests and jeering at the captives.

It was an odd feeling, trying to project how he would feel about himself, Hunt found. To the originals of themselves that they had been derived from, they were just knots of computer code. He wondered how much those originals out there would really care. Right now, he didn't feel at all like a piece of computer code, and he cared very much. But how much of that was likely to impress itself on other beings in another universe, whatever their superficial resemblances and theoretically coincident identities? They didn't have the same stake in the outcome of all this.

It was not a very reassuring line of thought to find himself being drawn along.

"Data update from Jevlen," an operator sang out suddenly. Eubeleus swung to face him from the middle of the floor, his haste betraying a tenseness that he had been striving not to show. "The
Shapieron
is accelerating out of free-fall now. Readings indicate profile consistent with maximum ramp up to interstellar speed."

It took Eubeleus a moment or two to register the fact fully. Then, gradually, the realization percolated through that his gamble had paid off. He let his tension dissipate slowly, savoring the feeling of relief flowing over him to take its place.

He had expected some delay, despite the harshness of his ultimatum, for there were bound to be deliberations between those aboard the vessel and whoever else they were in contact with. Their final submission, expressed in the form of the ship's departure, would come only as a last resort. His worry had been that they would call what they thought to be a bluff and so force his hand, thereby necessitating what would have been a regrettably ugly note on which to begin the new regime. But now the danger was past.

"Our congratulations," one of the others offered. "This is exactly the kind of unswerving will that the plan needs."

Eubeleus dismissed the remark offhandedly, as if the fact should have been sufficiently obvious not to need voicing. "So much for their last, desperate attempt, which as you see, turns out to have been a mere distraction," he said. "And now, back to our main task. Is jevex running now?"

"Fully functional, Excellency," the familiar voice of jevex responded. Reassured looks passed between the others around the control center.

"Before we open the links to Jevlen, I want a final check that we are not registering any attempts at irregular access," Eubeleus said. "I want the system fully secure on all counts."

"Commencing core reintegration prior to connection to Jevlen," jevex confirmed.

"Breakdown of
Shapieron
's stress field is beginning," the first operator called out. "Ship is decoupling from normal space . . . Delta index is fading . . . Last readings give acceleration as undiminished."

At last Eubeleus felt safe, and he permitted a smile of triumph to play around the corners of his mouth for an instant. "It is time to proceed," he announced. He turned to one of the aides. "I shall guide the Prophet personally, as intended. You watch here until Iduane returns." He allowed his gaze to drift slowly over the company. "When we see each other again, Shiban will be ours." Applause greeted his words. Eubeleus turned and left the room.

Meanwhile, in the blackness of space twenty thousand miles above the surface of Jevlen, a tiny speck that the tracking sensors had missed in the disturbance from the starship's departure emerged unseen from the electromagnetic upheaval and disappeared into the starry background.

"Probe away, on course, and checking positive," zorac reported.

"Well, that's it," Hunt said in the center of the
Shapieron
's command deck as the screens showing the external views being picked up by the ship's scanners blanked out. The vessel was now out of touch with the universe electromagnetically, its sole means of communication being by visar, using h-space.

"It's out of our hands," Danchekker agreed. "There's nothing more we can do now but play out our role as decoys." He thought for a moment and sighed. "It's not an especially gratifying role to find oneself reduced to, considering what's at stake. In the situations you've landed us in before, we have generally been able to contribute something more positive."

Hunt was about to reply, but checked himself and looked at Danchekker oddly. "Well, that's not exactly true, is it, Chris?"

"What do you mean?"

"It isn't out of our hands—not exactly. A lot depends on what those surrogates who are still down in the Entoverse have managed to pull off. And they're every bit as much `us' as you and me, aren't they—if what Calazar and the others are saying is correct?" He frowned and rubbed his chin, finding the thought as bemusing as the look on Danchekker's face indicated that Danchekker himself did. "It's a peculiar situation, when you finally get a moment to think about it, isn't it?"

A messenger forced his way through the crowds packed into the grounds of the temple of Vandros and went up to the chambers inside. He spoke to one of the priests, who went to the door that led out to the main steps from where the ceremonies were being led, and beckoned Ethendor over.

"Word from the main gates," the priest informed him. "The Examiner and his caravan are entering the city now. They are bringing more heretics—faces unknown, who claimed to have come from the gods."

"Ah, so the celebrations shall be complete," Ethendor said, nodding. He understood it all now.

"This is why the people were told to be patient?" the priest queried.

"The plan unfolds in its perfection," Ethendor assured him.

Then the Voice came again into Ethendor's mind. "The time will come very soon now, Prophet chosen by the gods. Are you prepared to receive the Great Spirit?"

"The last of our enemies are being brought before us to face atonement, and Waroth has been cleansed of its stain," Ethendor replied, "All is prepared."

"You have done well. All that was promised shall be yours in Hyperia."

"I shall rule over vast multitudes? My word shall move armies and my wishes shall be law? Kings shall tremble at my displeasure?" Ethendor's inner voice shook, and his eyes blazed with the vision. "I shall scatter mine enemies mercilessly before me as dust to the winds, and be mighty as the gods themselves?"