The Mistress of Illusions

by Michael D. Resnick

  She smiled bitterly. “On this world, in this universe?”

  “Unless you plan to rest somewhere else,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

  She made no reply, and they began walking. Soon the wall vanished, though it was so dark they could only tell it was gone by the fact that they could no longer feel it. They continued, came to a small, misshapen building, couldn’t find a door or any other method of entering it, and proceeded again.

  “Worse comes to worst, we’ll take turns napping and standing guard over each other,” said Raven. “But I can’t believe this entire world hasn’t got a few hundred shelters, maybe even more.”

  They heard an inhuman shriek in the distance.

  “It certainly seems to need them,” added Raven.

  They walked around what seemed to be an open plain. As they neared the far edge of it, they could tell they were facing artificial structures, but they couldn’t make them out in the near-total darkness. Then, suddenly, a voice chimed out: “Hey, fella—you and the lady need a lift?”

  Raven and Lisa froze, trying fruitlessly to spot the speaker.

  “Well?” said the voice.

  “I can’t see you,” said Raven.

  “Damn, that’s right! You’re a human, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stay where you are,” said the voice. “I’ll be right over.”

  Raven thought he could see some movement ahead and to his right, but the more he concentrated the more difficult it became. Finally he relaxed and suddenly he was confronting a creature out of one of his childhood nightmares. It possessed a crocodile’s mouth and teeth, a neck as long as a brontosaur’s, a body covered with spikes (all pointing outward, of course), and six sturdy legs, each ending in fearsome-looking claws.

  “So where are you heading?” asked the creature.

  “Home,” said Raven.

  The creature chuckled and blew thick blue vapor out of its huge nostrils. “Biped, two arms, one head, taller than a squirrel, shorter than a Denebian Sand Devil. I need more info, pal. Home could be any one of seventeen hundred and three worlds.”

  “Class C star, eight major planets, an asteroid belt between the fourth and fifth planet, and possibly a runaway moon beyond the eighth planet.”

  “Good,” said the creature. “That boils it down to only thirteen.” It paused. “By the way, my name’s—um, let me think—ah, got it, my name’s Jasper.”

  “You forgot your name?” asked Raven.

  “Certainly not. But for an instant there I forgot how to translate it into your primitive, dismal language. And you are?”

  “She’s Lisa, I’m Eddie,” said Raven.

  “Well, let’s get started,” said Jasper. “Name of planet you want to find?”

  “Earth.”

  “And the star?”

  “We call it the sun, but officially it’s Sol.”

  “Fine,” said Jasper. “Now, which direction is Sol?”

  Raven shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

  “Take a guess.”

  “Up?”

  “I need a little more than that.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’d better remember fast,” said Jasper. “We’re being approached by a carnotaur, and he smells hungry.” A brief pause. “Of course, they all smell hungry, probably because they all are.”

  “Can we climb aboard you and trust you to keep out of his way until we can come up with better directions for getting home?” asked Raven.

  “It’s worth a try,” said Jasper, and they became aware of his huge body walking up and coming to a stop right next to them.

  “I can outrun any carnotaur that was ever foaled.” He paused. “Or are they whelped, or maybe hatched?”

  “How do we get onto you?” asked Raven.

  “Try the stairs, of course,” answered Jasper, and suddenly Raven and Lisa saw a staircase descending from the creature’s back, which was about thirty feet above the ground.

  “After you,” said Raven, standing aside.

  “But you’re the vital one,” complained Lisa.

  “Then the sooner you climb onto his back, the sooner I can follow you and the less chance that I’ll be eaten or whatever by the carnotaur.”

  She seemed about to protest, then shrugged and began racing up the stairs. He followed instantly, and a moment later both were perched precariously along Jasper’s spine.

  “Stop shifting your weight and moving your feet, or you’ll fall off,” said Jasper. “And the carnotaur is getting closer every second. Well, every second and two-fifths, anyway.”

  “Your back keeps moving when you walk or run, even when you breathe,” replied Raven. “We can’t stay up here without shifting our weight.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” said Jasper. “I hadn’t thought of that. Here!”

  And as the last words were uttered, a pair of comfortable benches composed of Jasper’s bone and flesh rose and took shape right behind them.

  “Better?” asked Jasper.

  “Much,” said Lisa.

  “Good, because I’m going to have to start a little evasive maneuvering,” said Jasper. “The damned carnotaur seems to have brought its whole ugly brood with it. There are five—no, six—of the little bastards. Just a sec!”

  Suddenly their benches, and Jasper’s back, began bouncing wildly, and they heard a chorus of agonized high-pitched screeches.

  “Make that three of the little bastards now,” said Jasper. “Mama, or maybe it’s Papa, never taught them the basics of hunting anything that could fight back.”

  “So once we elude the carnotaur . . .” began Raven.

  “Wrong tense,” said Jasper. “It just gave up the chase.”

  “Okay,” said Raven. “Where do we go now?”

  “Well, we’re not going to try all thirteen worlds without a plan,” said Jasper. “Hell, with my luck, your world will be the thirteenth, and two or three of the early ones will have critters that like nothing more than eating sweet, innocent, unassuming, not-quite-hideous beasts like myself.”

  “I’m open to suggestions,” said Raven.

  “So am I,” replied Jasper. “I’m not quite up there with Mephistopheles or even Houdini, but I intuit that you’re here to prove yourself, perhaps to this gorgeous damsel here, so probably I should turn the planning and thinking over to you and just act as transportation.”

  “Even if due to my inexperience on this world I direct you to certain death?” asked Raven.

  “Let me think about that,” said Jasper.

  “Simple question,” said Raven. “What’s to think about?”

  “I hate dying!” exclaimed Jasper. “It’s always too messy, and occasionally painful.” He paused. “Especially the third time.”

  “You’ve died three times?” asked Raven, surprised.

  “Five, actually,” answered Jasper. “But the third was the worst.”

  “Strange world,” mused Raven softly. “I wonder how many times I can die?”

  “Once and out,” said Lisa. “You’re a man. Jasper is a . . . well, something else.”

  “Okay,” said Raven. “It makes a depressing kind of sense when you put it that way.” He was silent for a moment. “Jasper, take us to this world’s exit point. Maybe once we’re there I can dope out which planet is Earth.”

  “That’s only part of it,” said Jasper.

  “Why am I not surprised?” muttered Raven. “What’s the other part?”

  “Parts,” said Jasper. “Plural.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “I don’t have a gun.”

  “I mean, let me know what the parts are.”

  “Well, first you want a date, or at least an era,” answered Jasper. “From what little I know of oxygen worlds, without that I c
ould drop you off a couple of hundred million years before your own time, in the middle of carnotaur hatching season. Or I could dump you a few million years in your future, after the atmosphere has turned toxic and everyone has long since emigrated to more hospitable worlds.”

  “Okay,” said Raven. “What else do you need to know?”

  “A location,” said Jasper. “Most planets capable of sustaining oxygen-breathing life have polar ice caps. I could drop you off on one with no protection from the cold—or in the middle of an ocean, thousands of miles from shore but a lot closer than that to a school—hell, a whole university—of sharks.”

  “You sure know how to cheer a guy up,” muttered Raven.

  “You really think so?” replied Jasper enthusiastically. “Maybe I missed my calling. Maybe I should have been a nightclub comedian, once they invent nightclubs on this godforsaken world.”

  “Best of luck to you,” said Raven unenthusiastically.

  “Oh, by the way, hold tight!” said Jasper suddenly.

  Raven and Lisa had a sudden sensation of falling, then settled back in their seats as Jasper seemed to be rising again.

  “What the hell was that all about?” demanded Raven.

  “Canyon,” explained Jasper. “Only saw it after I’d started dropping down into it.”

  “How long until we reach whatever the hell it is you call our destination?”

  “I thought it was Earth,” said Jasper, puzzled.

  “I mean, our point of departure.”

  “Oh, anywhere from three minutes to a week, always assuming your week has four days like mine does.”

  “Why the difference?”

  “Depends on whether the Slaughter Machine is patrolling the area when we get there,” answered Jasper.

  “The Slaughter Machine?” repeated Raven. “That sounds ominous.”

  “Only when it’s on duty.”

  “What the hell is it?”

  “An entity—”

  “Entity?” interrupted Raven.

  “I don’t know if it’s a machine or a living being,” explained Jasper. “But it does tend to kill anyone who tries to leave without a ticket or a passport, though in truth I have no idea whether it eats them or simply defenestrates them.”

  “The Slaughter Machine patrols a lot of such areas, does it?” asked Raven.

  “No, just the one we’re headed to.”

  “Then why might it be anywhere else?”

  “It probably isn’t,” answered Jasper.

  Raven frowned. “Then let’s assume it’s here.”

  “I ran the figures in my head, and there’s a point zero zero zero three percent chance that it will be elsewhere. I am a logical entity. I have to take every possibility into account.”

  “Let’s go with the odds,” said Raven. “Assume the Slaughter Machine is waiting for us.”

  Jasper considered it for a moment. “Seems logical,” it said at last. “Besides, I hate dying.”

  “You and us both,” said Raven.

  “The alternative is to stay here for eternity and whatever comes after,” said Jasper. “You choose.”

  “Go to the exit point,” said Raven.

  Jasper flapped his wings, and Raven and Lisa felt the compression as he rose higher and began attaining more speed.

  “Somehow this isn’t what I had in mind when I went through that portal,” said Raven.

  “I’m sure it’s different every time,” replied Lisa.

  “I’ve been trying to imagine what a Slaughter Machine must be like,” remarked Raven. He turned to her. “Whatever the hell it is, just stay clear of it. This isn’t your final exam.”

  She stared at him, looked like she wanted to disagree, but made no comment.

  They flew in silence for fifteen minutes. Then Raven spoke up. “Are we getting any closer?”

  “Of course we are,” answered Jasper.

  “Any traffic, or are we the only ones?”

  “We’re the only one on this route to what you call the exit point,” said Jasper. “I have no idea if it’s being approached from other directions, or if any ships are on the ground there.”

  “How much longer?” asked Raven.

  “About three hundred balumbas,” said Jasper.

  Raven signed. “And how long is a balumba?”

  “You weren’t the brightest one in your class, were you?” replied Jasper.

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Maybe forty pirellas.”

  Raven sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “Don’t be,” said Jasper. “At least you’ll die a better-educated corpse when you finally come face-to-whatever with the Slaughter Machine.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement.”

  “Freely given,” answered Jasper. Then: “Brace yourselves. Coming in for a landing.”

  “Can’t you just hover over the spot you want to land at and then lower yourself to the ground?” asked Raven.

  “Son of a grunch!” exclaimed Jasper happily. “I never thought of that!”

  Jasper came to a halt in midair, and then very slowly, very gently, lowered himself to a solid surface.

  “How was that?” he asked.

  “Very comfortable,” answered Raven. “Add it to your repertoire.”

  “I definitely will,” said Jasper. “Always assuming we survive the next few minutes.”

  “Okay,” said Raven, getting to his feet. Lisa stood up as well. He knew ordering her to sit back down would be fruitless, and he couldn’t bring himself to push her back onto her seat. “Where is it?”

  “The Slaughter Machine?” said Jasper. “On the ground, just beyond this door.”

  The door vanished.

  Raven stood in the open doorway and surveyed the area. It was dark, as the rest of the planet had been, but not so dark that he couldn’t see a sleek, alien-looking building with a large open doorway some fifty yards away.

  Then a movement off to his left caught his attention, and he turned to face the strangest thing he had ever seen. It had sixteen mechanical arms and legs, all of different lengths, all armed, some with blades, some with what seemed like explosive weapons, some that were beyond Raven’s ability to identify. It possessed six glowing eyes circling its massive head, and three legs that seemed almost too light and agile to carry that massive armed and armored body.

  “Who approaches?” it demanded.

  “You speak English,” noted Raven.

  “I speak directly to your brain,” replied the Slaughter Machine, “so language and translation aren’t necessary. Now state your purpose for being here.”

  “This lady”—he indicated Lisa, who was now standing beside him—“and I wish to go home.”

  “And where is home?”

  “Earth, the third planet circling Sol.”

  “Words!” growled the machine contemptuously. “Think!”

  Raven tried to picture a celestial map of the solar system, then dwelt on the conversation he’d had with Jasper about Earth’s location.

  “Ah!” said the Slaughter Machine. “Earth.”

  “Yes.”

  “And how do you expect to get there?”

  “I’m told we can reach it through the local exit point, which is to say the building behind you.”

  “Have you the password?”

  Raven frowned. “No.”

  “Have you purchased passage with the necessary combination of the one hundred twentieth through the one hundred twenty-seventh elements?”

  “No.”

  “Then you may not leave.”

  “Have you a superior I can speak to?” asked Raven.

  “Nothing is superior to the Slaughter Machine,” was its answer. “Not only may you not leave, but for your impertinence you ma
y not live.”

  Raven studied the machine. When it spoke he could see some lights flashing inside it; otherwise it remained as dark and foreboding as when he’d first seen it.

  “How do you know I won’t let you live?” said Raven.

  “I am not alive, and therefore cannot be killed,” said the Slaughter Machine.

  “You can’t be killed in the sense that I can be,” agreed Raven, “but you can be terminated.”

  “How?” demanded the machine.

  “Let’s put that powerful brain of yours to work and see,” said Raven. He paused for a few seconds. “Ready?”

  “I am ready,” said the machine.

  “Are you never wrong?”

  “It is impossible for me to err.”

  “Okay,” said Raven. “I’ve got an easy one for you to start with. How much are five plus four?”

  “Nine, of course.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely,” said the machine.

  “No exceptions under any circumstances?”

  “None.”

  “And if we find an exception you’ve made a mistake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” said Raven. “Compute in Base Seven.”

  The machine was silent for a moment, then uttered a truly ear-splitting scream. What passed for its head slumped forward, the lighting and whirring of gears it had possessed stopped, and it remained totally motionless.

  “I don’t understand what just happened, Eddie,” said Lisa.

  “Simple math. Any high schooler can do it—though I don’t think they do these days—and even some grade school kids. We compute almost everything in Base One. When you use different bases, you sometimes—not always, but often—come up with different answers to the same problems.”

  “That’s remarkable!” she said.

  He shot her a self-deprecating smile. “That’s the benefit of a high school education.”

  She looked around. “So what do we do now?”

  “Enter the station here and book passage home.”

  “We didn’t exactly fly here,” she said.

  “I’m sure they know that,” he replied, taking her arm and leading her into the building.

  They found themselves in a large, empty room. A moment later an incredibly ancient humanoid alien, his skin discolored and wrinkled, approached them.