Speechless she sat, and by the end of the performance her mind was still as unsettled as when she had come in. As they applauded she waited, tensely, for him to make his move, so tightly wound that she started visibly when he took her hand.
“You must not,” he said, “be afraid of me or of violence. That is not for you, my darling. For you, for us now there is a glass of simple cognac while we discuss the delightful Serbo-Croatian performance that we have just seen.
They exited through the only door, which led now to a brocaded room where a Hungarian violinist played gypsy airs. As they seated themselves at the table a tailcoated waiter appeared carrying a bottle on a plush cushion. He placed it, with immense care, upon the center of the table.
“I trust no one but myself to open a bottle like this: the corks are fragile as dust,” Ron said, then added, “I imagine that you have never tasted Napoleon brandy before?
“If it’s from California I have,” she told him, with all sincerity. He closed his eyes.
“No,” he said in a slightly choked voice, “it is not from the State of California, but comes from France, the land of the mother of wines. Distilled, bottled and laid gently down during the short but glorious reign of the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte…
“But that must be hundreds and hundreds of years ago?
“Precisely. Each year this emperor of cognacs grows a little, grows more scarce as well. I have men working for me whose only occupation is to scour the world for more, to pay any price. I will not profane a conversation about beauty by mentioning what was paid for this one. You must judge for yourself if it was worth it.
As he talked he had been working delicately and skillfully to remove the cork without damaging it. With a faint gasping sound it at last slid free and was placed reverently on a napkin. Into each round-bellied snifter he then poured but a golden half inch and gave one to her.
“Breathe in the bouquet first, before you take the smallest sip,” he told her, and she obeyed.
A hush fell on the room as they touched the glasses to their lips and she raised her face in awe, tears in eyes, saying, “Why … it’s, it’s … .
“I know,” he said with a whisper, and as he leaned forward the dim lights darkened even more and the fiddler slipped from sight. His lips brushed the white, bare flesh of her shoulder, kissed it, then moved to her throat.
“Ohh,” she gasped, and raised her hand to caress his head. “No! she said even louder, and pulled away.
“Very close,” he smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Very close indeed. You are a creature of ardent passions; we have but to find the key.
“Never,” she said finally, and he laughed.
As they finished their brandy the lights grew brighter and, unnoticed, a silvery blade flashed from the leg of her chair, nicked the hem of her skirt, then vanished. Ron took her hand, and when she rose the dress began to unravel and a rain of golden particles fell to the floor.
“My dress,” she gasped as she clutched at the disintegrating edge. “What’s happening to it?
“It is going,” he said, then seated himself again so he could look on in comfort.
Faster and faster the process went and she could not stop it until, within moments, the dress was gone and, like heaped bullion, a golden mound rested about her feet.
“Black lace against white flesh,’ he said, smiling approval. “You did that just for me. With sweet pink ribbons for your stockings.
“This is crude and rude of you and I hate you. Give me back my clothes,” she said fiercely, fists clenched at her sides, too proud to attempt to cover her wispy undergarments with her hands.
`Bravo. You are a redhead of temperament and I have to admire you. Through that door you will find a dressing room and bathing costume, for we shall swim.
“I don’t want … she said, but to no avail for the floor moved and carried her through the door into a discreet and elegant boudoir where a black-and-white-garbed French maid was waiting. The maid had an elegantly simple, one-piece white bathing suit on her arm, and she smiled as padded arms gripped Beatrice and flashing devices stripped her remaining clothes from her in an instant.
“Do not fret zee pretty head, mademoiselle,” the maid said, holding out the suit. “They were of no value and zee replacements you shall treasure for years, if you please.
“I’ve been rushed, but I have no choice. None of this will do him any good,” Beatrice said, then tried to pull away as sudden clamps seized her again and something small and cold and solid was inserted into each of her delicate nostrils.
“How wonderful is the modern science,” the maid said as she patted away the last wrinkle on the skintight suit, which fitted to perfection. “Remember to breathe only through your nose and it will be like fresh breezes. Au revoir-et bonne chance.
Before Beatrice could protest or her raised hand could touch her nose the floor opened and she fell through into the water. She kept her mouth closed and sank under its luminescent surface and found she could breathe as easily as she had always done. The sensation was wonderful, or novel to say the least. There was music, carried to her ears clearly by the conducting water, white sand glinting below. She dived and turned and would have laughed aloud, if she were able, her lovely red hair streaming behind her.
Ron swam up, handsome and tanned in a pair of white trunks to match her suit, and smiled charmingly - then twisted under and tickled her foot. She turned, smiling too, and darted away, but he followed and they did a breathless dance of three dimensions through the crystal water, around and about, free, unhampered, happy.
Deliciously tired, she floated, suspended, her eyes closed, and felt his arms against her back and the entire strong length of his body against hers and his lips on hers and hers answering … .
“No … she said aloud, and a great bubble arose from her mouth. Her fingers tore at her nostrils and there was a sudden, brief pain as the devices were pulled free and fell, twinkling down from her hand. “I would rather die first,” she said with the last of her air.
With a gurgling woosh the pool emptied and they sat on the damp sand below. “Woman of will,” Ron said, handing her an acre-sized white towel, “I do love you. Now we shall dance, a gavotte; you will enjoy that. There is a string quartet and we will wear the costume of the proper time, you gorgeous in high white wig and low, wide decolletage … .
“No. I’m going home. She shivered and wrapped the towel tighter about her body.
“Of course. Dancing would be too commonplace for you. Instead we will … .
“No. My clothes. I’m going. You cannot stop me.
He bowed, graceful as always, and gestured her toward a door that had opened in the wall. “Dress yourself; I said violence was not for you. Violence is not your excuse.
“I h-have no excuse,” she said through chattering teeth, and wondered why she shivered since she was so warm.
The little maid was waiting and stripped her down and dried her while a miraculous machine did her hair in seconds, though, in all truth, Beatrice was not aware of this, or even aware of being unaware, as her thoughts darted and spun like maddened butterflies. Only when the maid offered her a dress did she order her thoughts, push it away, push aside the closets of awe-inspiring garments, all her size, to find a simple black suit buried in the back. It had a curve-hugging and breathless simplicity, but it was the best she could do. Powdered, manicured, made up, she had no awareness of it or of the passing of time until, born anew, she stood before him in a chaste and oak-paneled room.
“A last drink,” he said, nodding at the Napoleon brandy on the table.
“I’m going,” she shouted, because for some reason she wanted to stay. Hurling herself past him she tore open the door on the far wall and slammed it behind her. A stairway stretched up and down and she ran down it, flight after flight, gasping for breath, until she could run no more. For a moment she rested against the wall, then straightened and touched her hair, opened the door and stepped through into the
same room she had left high above.
“A last drink,” he said, lifting the bottle.
Speechless this time, she ran, closed the door, climbed upwards, higher, until her strength was gone and the stairs ended with a dusty fire door leading to the roof. Opening it she threw herself through into the same room she had left far below.
“A last drink,” he said, decanting the golden drops, then glancing up to notice how her eyes flew to the other doors around the room. “All doors, all halls, all stairs, lead back here,” he said, not unkindly. “You must have this drink. Sit. Rest. Drink. A toast. Here’s to love, my darling.
Exhausted, she held the glass in both hands, warming it with the heat of her body, then drank. It was heavenly and his face was close beside hers and his lips were whistling in her ear.
“Would you believe,” the hushed sibilants sounded, “would you believe that this brandy contains a drug that destroys your will to say no? Resistance is useless, you are mine.
“No, no … her lips said, while her arms said yes, yes, and pulled her to him. No, no, never, never, and darkness descended.
“Drugs, mind-destroying drugs,” she said later, in the warm darkness, their fingertips just touching, cool sheets against her back, her voice a little smug and satisfied. “There was no other way, drugs against my will.
“Do you believe,” his shocked voice answered, “that I would put anything at all in that brandy? Of course not, my darling. We have just found your excuse, that is all.
7:
If
We are there; we are correct. The computations were perfect. That is our destination below.
“You are a worm,” 17 said to her companion, 35, who resembled her every way other than in number. “Yes - that is the correct place. But we are nine years too early. Look at the meter.
“I am a worm. I shall free you of the burden of my useless presence. 35 removed her knife from the scabbard and tested the edge, which proved to be exceedingly sharp. She placed it against the white wattled width of her neck and prepared to cut her throat.
“Not now,” 17 hissed. “We are shorthanded already and your corpse would be valueless to this expedition. Get us to the correct time at once. Our power is limited, you may remember.
“It shall be done as you command,” 35 said as she slithered to the bank of controls. 44 had ignored the talk, keeping her multi cellular eyes focused intently on the power control bank: constantly making adjustments with her spatulate fingers in response to the manifold dials.
“That is it,” 17 announced, rasping her hands together with pleasure. “The correct time, the correct place. We must descend and make our destiny. Give praise to the Saur of All, who rules the destinies of all.
“Praise Saur,” her two companions muttered, all of their attention on the controls.
Straight down from the blue sky the globular vehicle fell. It was round and featureless, save for the large rectangular port on the bottom now, and made of some sort of green metal, perhaps anodized aluminium, though it looked harder. It had no visible means of flight or support, yet it fell at a steady and controlled rate. Slower and slower it moved until it dropped from sight behind the ridge at the northern end of Johnson’s Lake, just at the edge of the tall pine grove. There were fields nearby, with cows, who did not appear at all disturbed by the visitor. No human being was in sight to view the landing beside the path that cut in from the lake here: a scuffed dirt trail that led to the highway.
An oriole sat on a bush and warbled sweetly; a small rabbit hopped from the field to nibble a stem of grass. This bucolic and peaceful scene was interrupted by the scuff of feet down the trail and a high-pitched and singularly monotonous whistling. The bird flew away, a touch of soundless color, while the rabbit disappeared into the hedge. A boy came over the rise from the direction of the lake shore. He wore ordinary boy clothes and carried a schoolbag in one hand, a homemade cage of wire screen in the other. In the cage was a small lizard which clung to the screen, its eyes rolling in what presumably was fear. The boy, whistling shrilly, trudged along the path and into the shade of the pine grove.
“Boy,” a high-pitched and tremulous voice called out.
“Can you hear me, boy?
“I certainly can,” the boy said, stopping and looking around for the unseen speaker. “Where are you?
“I am by your side, but I am invisible. I am your fairy godmother … .
The boy made a rude sound by sticking out his tongue and blowing across it while it vibrated. “I don’t believe in invisibility or fairy godmothers. Come out of those woods, whoever you are.
“All boys believe in fairy godmothers,” the voice said, but a worried tone edged the words now. “I know all kinds of secrets. I know your name is Don and …
“Everyone knows my name is Don and no one believes anymore in fairies. Boys now believe in rockets, submarines, and atomic energy.
“Would you believe in space travel?
“I would.
Slightly relieved the voice came on stronger and deeper. “I did not wish to frighten you, but I am really from Mars and have just landed … .
Don made the rude noise again. “Mars has no atmosphere and no observable forms of life. Now come out of there and stop playing games.
After a long silence the voice said, “Would you consider time travel?
“I could. Are you going to tell me that you are from the future?
With relief: “Yes I am.
“Then come out where I can see you.
“There are some things that the human eye should not look upon ….
“Horseapples! The human eye is okay for looking at anything you want to name. You come out of there so I can see who you are o r I’m leaving.
“It is not advisable.
The voice was exasperated. “I can prove I am a temporal traveler by telling you the answers to tomorrow’s mathematics test. Wouldn’t that be nice? Number one, 1.76. Number two… .
“I don’t like to cheat, and even if I did you can’t cheat on the new math. Either you know it or you fail it. I’m going to count to ten, then I’m leaving.
“No, you cannot! I must ask you a favor. Release that common lizard you have trapped and I will give you three wishes - I mean, answer three questions.
“Why should I let it go?
“Is that the first of your questions?
“No. I want to know what’s going on before I do anything. This lizard is special. I never saw another one like it around here.
“You are right. It is an Old World acrodont lizard of the order Rhiptoglossa, commonly called a chameleon.
“It is! Don was really interested now. He squatted in the path and took a red-covered book from his schoolbag and laid it on the ground. He turned the cage until the lizard was on the bottom and placed it carefully on the book. “Will it really turn color?
“To an observable amount, yes. Now if you release her … .
“How do you know it’s a her? Is it your time-traveler knowledge-of-the past again?
“If you must know, yes. The creature was purchased from a pet store by one Jim Benan, and she is one of a pair. They were both released two days ago when Benan, deranged by the voluntary drinking of a liquid containing quantities of ethyl alcohol, sat on the cage. The other, unfortunately, died of his wounds, and this one alone survives. The release… .
“I think this whole thing is a joke and I’m going home now. Unless you come out of there so I can see who you are.
“I warn you… .
“Goodbye.
Don picked up the cage. “Hey, she turned sort of brick red!
“Do not leave. I will come forth.
Don looked on, with a great deal of interest, while the creature walked out from between the trees. It was blue, had large and goggling, independently moving eyes, wore a neatly cut brown jumpsuit, and had a pack slung on its back. It was also only about seven inches tall.
“You don’t much look like a man from the future,”
Don said. “In fact you don’t look like a man at all. You’re too small.
“I might say that you are too big: size is a matter of relevancy. And I am from the future, though I am not a man.
“That’s for sure. In fact you look a lot like a lizard.
In sudden inspiration, Don looked back and forth at the traveler and at the cage. “In fact you look a good deal like this chameleon here. What’s the connection?
“That is not to be revealed. You will now do as I command or I will injure you gravely.
17 turned and waved toward the woods. “35, this is an order. Appear and destroy that leafed growth over there.
Don looked on with increasing interest as the green basketball of metal drifted into sight from under the trees. A circular disk slipped away on one side and a gleaming nozzle, not unlike the hose nozzle on a toy firetruck, appeared through the opening. It pointed toward a hedge a good thirty feet away. A shrill whining began from the depths of the sphere, rising in pitch until it was almost inaudible. Then, suddenly, a thin line of light spat out towards the shrub, which crackled and instantly burst into flame. Within a second it was a blackened skeleton.
“The device is called a roxidizer, and is deadly,” 17 said. “Release the chameleon at once or we will turn it on you.
Don scowled. “All right. Who wants the old lizard anyway.
He put the cage on the ground and started to open the cover. Then he stopped and sniffed. Picking up the cage again he started across the grass toward the blackened bush.
“Come back! 17 screeched. “We will fire if you go another step.
Don ignored the lizardoid, which was now dancing up and down in an agony of frustration, and ran to the bush. He put his hand out and apparently right through the charred stems.
“I thought something was fishy,” he said. “All that burning and everything just upwind of me and I couldn’t smell a thing.
He turned to look at the time traveler, who was slumped in gloomy silence. “It’s just a projected image of some kind, isn’t it? Some kind of three-dimensional movie.
Galactic Dreams Page 9
