Eschaton 01 The Other End of Time

by Frederik Pohl

  "Hey," he said again, sounding startled but now-astonishingly-almost pleased. "There's a Frenchman talking to me. He's saying-no, just wait a minute, I'll translate for you when he's done."

  "I speak French," Rosaleen said eagerly-only the first to make the claim; she was quickly followed by all three Pats and both other men.

  Jimmy waved impatiently for silence. "He isn't speaking French. He's speaking Chinese. Shut up so I can hear."

  "Chinese!" Martin muttered angrily, as the two Docs left as wordlessly as they had come in. One of the Pats-Pat thought it was Patrice-complained:

  "That is so inconsiderate!" Both of them were echoing Pat's own thoughts. Chinese, for God's sake! Dopey was showing even worse judgment than usual. But there was nothing to do about it but wait until Jimmy Lin was willing to talk to them.

  Evidently the Frenchman's message was short. After a moment Jimmy took the helmet off and gazed at them. "Well," he said, "that was interesting. It didn't actually tell much, but- hey!" Martin had grabbed the helmet from him. Jimmy reached to take it back, but Martin fended him off and settled the thing on his own head. "Now, what's the use of doing that?" Jimmy demanded pettishly. "You aren't going to understand Chinese, Martin."

  Martin said triumphantly, "He isn't speaking Chinese! He's speaking Spanish."

  "But that's impossible," Jimmy protested. "He was speaking quite excellent PRC Chinese, with a well-educated accent, though there was a trace of the Beijing tones-"

  "Be quiet!" Martin thundered. "I can't hear while you're making all that racket! Also, I know who this man is. I will tell you all about it if you will simply let me listen."

  Looking petulant, Jimmy Lin did as ordered, but the others didn't. Under the dark eye-patches of the helmet Martin was scowling at the noise, but he said nothing more until it was over. Then he took the helmet off and held it in his hand for a moment.

  "The man speaking, he is Hugues duValier. He's a navigator with Eurospace; I met him once at Kourou. What he is saying is a communication meant for everybody in the world. It sounds as though they finally got their own Starlab mission off."

  "What did he say?" Dannerman demanded.

  Martin shook his head. "Try it for yourself. Since he is so unexpectedly versatile, I am curious to see if perhaps this time he will speak in some language you can understand."

  "Hey!" Pat cried as Martin handed the helmet to Dannerman. "What happened to alphabetical order? Who said all the men go first?"

  "What happened to women's rights?" Patrice chimed in, and Patsy added:

  "Oink, oink, you sexist pigs."

  But Rosaleen said, "It's faster if we don't argue. Let him go; we'll all get a turn." And Dannerman placed the helmet on his head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dan

  Dannerman settled the thing on his head as rapidly as he could; he wanted to see this linguistic marvel, wanted even more to find out just what the Frenchman had to say. The helmet didn't fit particularly well and it was heavy. The goggles-opaque eye-shields, actually-dug into his flesh over the cheekbones, but they did their job. He could see nothing but blackness, could hear the sounds from his companions only faintly through the thickness of the helmet.

  Then the blackness dissolved. Dannerman was looking at a man dressed in an astronaut's EVA spacesuit, helmet tucked under one arm, and the man was looking directly back at him. It didn't look like a broadcast. It seemed that the man was standing before him, solid in three dimensions, seeming almost near enough to touch. When the man spoke he sounded as though the conversation was one-on-one. He said:

  "Hello, ladies and gentlemen. You may recognize me. I am Colonel Hugues duValier, and I am speaking to you from the astronomical observatory called Starlab. I am not alone here. I am in the company of a person who has a message of great importance for everyone on Earth. I cannot show him to you at this time. However, he is a friend, and he has given me the responsibility-and the privilege-of delivering his message to you.

  "You will remember that some time ago these two broadcasts of alien origin were received all over the world." A screen appeared beside the figure, displaying the two old space messages one after another. "Some people thought these were some sort of a joke. Others came closer to the truth, imagining that they were warnings of an extraterrestrial invasion. That is both true and false. There is a threat of invasion by evil people, that is true. What is false is that the evil ones are not the ones shown in the messages. The evil ones-the people who are even now planning to attack our planet and do us all great harm-are the ones who sent those first false messages in order to deceive you. These brutal creatures are called by a name which is difficult for me to say; it sounds like the 'Horch.' They possess a very high technology, particularly in weaponry. They have fought many wars, over long ages of time, and in them they have succeeded in destroying many other civilizations in other solar systems. Only a few races have been able to defend themselves against the Horch. Some of them are the people whose pictures the Horch sent to you-pretending they were enemies-but they are in fact the ones who can help you defend yourself against these attackers. Their name is even more difficult to pronounce; my friends here call them 'Beloved Leaders.' You already know what they look like, from the deceitful transmissions the Horch sent. What I will show you now is a picture of a Horch."

  The image of the astronaut flicked out of sight and another being appeared. It didn't look like a picture. To Dannerman the creature looked as though it were actually standing there, no more than a yard or so away from him. It was taller than Dannerman himself, and gazing threateningly at him. It was certainly not from the gallery that had already been displayed, though equally ugly. Stocky body, wearing metallic armor. Long lizard head on a long and supple neck, with a lipless mouth filled with sharp teeth. Instead of arms it had two boneless limbs, like an elephant's trunk, fraying into half a dozen digits at the ends. In one "hand" it carried an axe, in the other a spiked club. It was, in fact, the very model of the kind of alien invader you would never want to see appearing out of your skies.

  The image shrank to a picture inset on the screen and the colonel appeared again, looking grave. "I have been shown the evidence, which is indisputable, and so I now know what terrible things the Horch can do," he said somberly. "They will do such things to us, too, if we let them, and we have no defenses of our own that could withstand them. Still, we have been offered strong allies. With the help of the Beloved Leaders-as these friends are called-we can defend ourselves.

  "Without them we are doomed.

  "That is all I can say now. In twenty-four hours I will speak to you again, and then I will give you more details about the choices before us. Until then… please. Be warned."

  The picture went to black. The message was over.

  Thoughtfully Dannerman removed the helmet. "He spoke to me in English," he announced. "Rosie? Why don't you take a shot and see what he does for you?"

  "Thanks a lot, Dan," Pat said with annoyance.

  He shook his head. "You'll get your turn. Wait till we've all seen it." He settled himself on the floor and waited, staring into space.

  Then Patsy, last to have her turn, took the helmet off and shakily, "Wow. That was an ugly one, all right."

  Dannerman had been thinking. He said, "Something strikes me as peculiar. The astronaut spoke to me in English; was it the same for you Pats? Yes, I thought so. Rosaleen?"

  "Why, yes. He spoke in Ukrainian. With a few Russian words, actually, but his accent was good. Why do you say that's peculiar? Clearly this is an announcement transmitted to everyone on Earth, like the others; naturally they would want it to be in languages everyone can understand."

  "That's not the peculiar part. Did you see duValier's lips move?"

  "His lips?" She looked puzzled, but Jimmy Lin was quicker.

  "You're thinking it was lip-synched for each of us?" he demanded. "No. Forget lip-synching. Maybe you could get away with that for European languages. Mandarin Chinese, no. DuVa
lier was actually speaking those words, Dan."

  Dannerman nodded. "But that wasn't exactly what I was thinking. What I'm thinking is that it wasn't lip-synched, and that's the part that's hard to understand. Martin? Did this Colonel duValier know all those languages?"

  Delasquez looked indignant. "That ass? No! I was astonished to hear him even speak Spanish. I do not even know how he succeeded in getting a spacecraft on course to Starlab, he is such a notorious fool."

  Pat was looking at Dannerman expectantly. When he didn't speak she prodded. "What's your point, Dan?"

  "I wish I knew. The whole thing sounds funny."

  Patrice nodded. "I know what you mean. If I saw that on TV at home I'd turn it right off. 'Beloved Leaders,' for Christ's sake! Only-well, if what he says is the truth…"

  Jimmy Lin finished the sentence for her. "Then," he said, "the world is really in the deep shit."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Dan

  Dannerman didn't have to be told that the world was in trouble. It always was. That was the reason it hired him and others like him, to do their best to protect it against itself.

  Now here was the biggest threat of all, and shouldn't-he asked himself-shouldn't he be doing something about it? There was only one answer to that for Jim Daniel Dannerman. The question wasn't whether. It was what.

  And to that he had no answer. Every other time he had found himself in harm's way he had known exactly what he wanted to accomplish. If he'd been in any doubt, Colonel Hilda Morrisey or someone like her would have spelled it out for him at the briefing. There was always a hierarchy of defined objectives. First, you stayed alive. Second, you got the evidence. Third, you called in the strike force and watched the malefactors being led away.

  Here there was no briefing to tell him what to do. There was also no evidence to get, no way to get out and no strike force waiting to be called. And here the stakes were higher than they had ever been before. It was the entire population of Earth who were at risk now-Hilda herself, and sweet Anita Berman from Theater Aristophanes Two, and his landlady Rita, as well as everyone at the Dannerman Observatory… as well as everyone else he'd ever known in all his life, villains and colleagues and civilians alike. He wondered what they were doing now. He wondered how much comfort they could take in the promise of help from the "Beloved Leaders."

  And he wondered, too, just how much help those Beloved Leaders had any real intention of giving. There just wasn't enough data! He knew nothing useful of those shadowy figures, had no idea what sort of bizarre alien personality traits motivated them. And had little reason to believe that benevolence was among them.

  He opened his eyes when he heard Pat raising her voice. She was saying something harsh to Jimmy Lin, who was grinning as he held her by one arm. She wrenched herself free, saw Dannerman looking at her and came over to sit beside him. "Bastard," she said.

  He didn't take it personally, but, "You mean Jimmy?" he asked, just to make sure.

  "Who else? You'd think he'd have enough decency to give it a rest, the way things are."

  "I take it he was hitting on you."

  "Me, and Patsy, and Patrice-he doesn't care. He just wants to get laid. He said-" She hesitated, then shook her head. "He said what he always says, so what's the use of talking about it? Forget him." Then she looked apologetic. "Did I interrupt something?"

  "Nothing that was going anywhere," he admitted.

  "Well, if you're sure… Listen, I've been wanting to ask you something, Dan. What did you mean about it's being funny?"

  "Funny? Oh, right. I almost forgot. Well, it is funny. Why would Dopey show us that message?"

  "Why? Hum." She thought for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I see what you mean. Dopey doesn't do anything that doesn't do him some good, so what good can that do him?"

  "That's the question, all right. I don't suppose you happen to have an answer?"

  "I wish I did. I wish I knew how much of it to believe, too."

  "So do I." Dannerman thought about telling her some of his own doubts, but there wasn't much point; they weren't clear in his own mind. Anyway, he saw that Pat was glaring again at Jimmy. Who was standing over the cooker, waiting for his next meal to heat, and leering at them.

  "Bastard," she said again. "Not that I don't understand how he feels. It's been a long time-but here? With everybody watching? Although I have to say he thought about that part, too."

  "Oh?" said Dannerman, surprised to find a sudden interest growing.

  She looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Well, yes. Like in an airplane, you know, when you get a couple of blankets from the stew. There are all those blankets from Starlab. Then- well, did Jimmy ever explain the Rabbit Nibbles the Hare to you?"

  "Frequently," he said-surprised again to find that he was feeling just a tiny bit of unexpected jealousy. "Is that what you and Jimmy talk about?"

  "It's what Jimmy talks about," she corrected. "All the time." She was still studying his face as she added, "But, listen, Dan, just for the record-I mean, in case you're interested-Jimmy and I never actually did anything. Not now, or ever. The only thing I ever wanted from Jimmy Lin was for him to help me make a lot of money."

  One more surprise: the feeling of relief. But, "Always thinking of the big bucks, aren't you?" he chided. He meant it lightly, but her expression changed.

  "I don't want to be poor," she said.

  "I'm sorry-"

  "No, you were right. I wanted the bucks. That's why I wanted Starlab so badly."

  "Our dear old family lawyer told me you had made some bad investments," Dannerman said, remembering.

  "Did he now? Our dear old family lawyer has a big mouth, but that wasn't it. Well," she said, reconsidering, "I did make one real bad investment, maybe. That was Ferdie. My ex-husband-the sweet one. He'd spend the whole day lying naked by the pool, communing with nature, when he wasn't writing poetry. Ferdie was very Zen; made me learn my mantra and everything. But after a while I got tired of having this big, healthy man around the house who couldn't even remember to flush his own toilet, but I couldn't let him starve, could I? So before the divorce I endowed this lectureship for poetry and got him put in charge of it. I figured that would keep him eating for the rest of his life."

  "And your generosity bankrupted you?"

  "Well, not directly. It cost me a bundle, but I had plenty left… but, on the other hand, yes, I guess it did, because after I'd laid out the cash to finance the lectureship-and, believe me, Dan-Dan, I was generous-the next thing that happened was Ferdie's lawyers came to see my lawyers and said, 'Okay, now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about how we're going to divide up the community property.' "

  "Skunks," he said. The diffuse light that came from nowhere made her unkempt hair radiant.

  "Lawyers," she corrected. "He got some really good ones working for him, I'll say that much. They had every last thing I owned on their database. I had to give him half-which meant I had to sell off a lot of stuff that I didn't really want to sell, to keep the house and the personal stuff. But Ferdie really was a sweet man." She stretched and yawned. "Now you," she ordered.

  He considered. "What do you want to know?"

  "Everything. Especially about the women. Start with whoever it was who kept you from collecting Uncle Cubby's inheritance."

  He leaned forward and lifted her hand to kiss, and the hell with who might be watching. It was the first time in a long time-maybe, he reflected, the first time ever-that he'd had this kind of boy-girl talk without having to lie through at least some parts of it, to cover up what he was really doing. But now there was nothing to lie about. "That would be Use, I guess. In a way, anyway. She was in the Mads-"

  "The what?"

  "The Mad King Ludwigs. The Bavarian secessionist movement. Well, the terrorists; that's what they really were. I was undercover, investigating them, when Uncle Cubby died, and I'd cut all my links with home. We were on the run, Use and I, although I always kept my team leader informed. An
d Use finally must've rumbled me. Or someone else did, and tipped her off."

  "Who were you running from?"

  "The Bay-Kahs-the Bundes Kriminalamt. The cops. They were after us because we'd tried to blow up the Kunstmuseum as a protest. I made sure the bomb didn't actually go off- maybe that's what made the Mads suspicious-but we had to get out of there. Anyway, one night Use and I had a lot to drink in this pension in the Alps. Now that I think of it, I was the one doing most of the drinking. Then I just went to sleep, not a care in the world, and when something woke me up an hour or so later, in the middle of the night, Use was gone and four big bastards with hockey sticks were crashing through the door after my blood. I knew them all. They were aktion-the organization's muscle men. I'd seen them doing their stuff at demonstrations, but I hadn't expected them to be coming after me just then."

  He leaned back, meditating. "You know how you're never prepared for the really big challenges? If you knew something like that was coming up you'd get a good night's sleep first and make sure your reflexes were all tuned… Mine weren't. I was still half in die bag and all tangled up in the bedclothes, and there

  I was.

  "But you overpowered them anyway."

  "Oh, no. I did break the arm of one of them, but the other three beat the shit out of me, until Hilda got there."

  "Another of your women?"

  That made him laugh. "Jesus, no. My team leader. She'd been surveilling the building. When she saw Use come out and the leg-breakers go in she decided she'd better make sure I was all right. Which I was, after I healed up for a while, though I had to stay out of sight for a month or so-the Mads had planted a couple people in the police, and they had to be collected first." He scratched himself. "Hilda had intercepted the lawyer's notice about the estate," he added, "but she didn't pass it on, because she didn't want to blow my cover."