Paradox Alley

by John Dechancie

  “We’ll figure something out,” Carl said with haughty confidence.

  “You think we can forage? Or do you figure to hunt small game?”

  “Huh? Hey, I don’t know, but we’ll get by somehow.”

  “Sure. I’m feeling pangs already. Darla, what do we have left back there?”

  “Some crackers, I think. Half a bag of walnuts.” She thought. “A can of beef consommés … and a rotten apple.”

  I looked at Carl.

  He shrugged off my stare. “Okay, okay. So we’ll get hungry. But the sooner we get through that portal, the sooner we get back to where we can find food.”

  I said, “Bruce, calculate the most efficient route to that master portal and give me an ETA, assuming nonstop driving and an average speed of about 130 kilometers per hour.”

  “Forty-six-point-two-five hours, Jake.”

  “So,” I said, “it’s two days if I don’t sleep or if I teach you guys to pilot this rig, and that’s assuming Skyway cruising speed, or near it, anyway. I don’t think we can average more than eighty klicks an hour over alien road.”

  “Eighty klicks?” Carl said incredulously. “That’s… what? Only around fifty miles an hour! This rig can hit two hundred or I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

  “It can do over that,” I said, “on a high-speed road like the Skyway. But I’m talking average speed, Carl. That’s different. And this is little more than a back country road.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Carl grumbled. “Shit. We can still make it, though.”

  “Maybe, if we have to. But I’m not ready to leave just yet.”

  “Right, right. I’m sorry. We gotta get Sam back, I know.” I studied Carl for a moment. The scared kid inside him was peeping through. He was farther from home than any of us.

  I looked back at the tunnel, which exited from the base of a steep hill. “Well, we can’t go down the up-ramp, that’s for sure. Bruce, can we get back to the Skyway using these secondary roads?”

  “No, Jake, there’s no connection.”

  “You can’t get there from here.” I sighed. “That’s odd. Can we go off-road?”

  “Perhaps, Jake. The maps are not so detailed that I can make that judgment with any degree of authoritativeness.”

  “Damn. I don’t want to go overland, but that through-the-mountain bit seems like the only way into the city by road.”

  “And who’s to say,” Darla added, “whether they’ll lift up the mountain and let us in again?”

  “Right. So I guess we cruise around a little and see if we can find some nice little rabbits who’ll let us conk them over the head.”

  I was hungry: I’d just picked at breakfast, which seemed like days ago, and Darla’s quickie lunch had vanished into the void. Nothing to be done about it now, though. And sitting here would accomplish less than nothing. So I eased back onto the road and brought the rig up to sight-seeing speed, just moseying along.

  “They know where we are, of course,” Darla said.

  I nodded. “Of course. They’ve known our every move. But they haven’t stopped us yet.”

  “Yes, but I’m still not ready to believe that Prime meant what he said about letting us leave any time we want to.”

  “Yeah, couple of things bother me about that,” I said. “Consider all the stuff that’s here. All those exotic vehicles, the wondrous gadgets, the technology. Just sitting around, waiting to be pilfered by disenchanted Culmination candidates.”

  “Maybe it’s supposed to be pilfered,” Darla suggested.

  I thought about it. “Maybe. Haven’t seen any signs of plundering, though.”

  “It may be we were the first ever to make it to the end of the Skyway.”

  “Gosh. Think of that.”

  Darla ruminated, then said, “You don’t think anyone could get away with swiping anything from this place, do you?”

  “Not for a moment. I can’t believe the Culmination would let this stuff get dispersed anachronistically throughout all of spacetime. Most of it is from the far, far future. It would stick out like a sore thumb back where we come from. Talk about paradoxes.”

  “What about knowledge leaking out? All that data in the library. Taking back any of that would be anachronistic in itself.”

  “You have a point. Then, I guess, the knowledge doesn’t leave here, either.”

  We looked at each other.

  “I don’t like the implications of that,” Darla said worriedly. “Neither do I.”

  The sky was a pretty, purplish blue, appearing as if it had been colored in by crayon. The strange, artificial look probably had something to do with the atmosphere being a lot shallower here than it would be on a standard planet—or so I guessed—although it was deep enough to support a few puffy clouds. No doubt the weather was controlled. I wondered if it ever rained.

  We rolled down a gradual grade and out onto flat grasslands. Structures came into view. Up ahead a side road diverged, leading to a featureless golden dome. Farther on another road branched off to a complex edifice that looked like a collision between a chemical plant and a Mogul palace.

  “So many things…” Darla said out of a reverie.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  She sighed and shook her head. “So many unanswered questions. Little things, as well as big. Like, why isn’t there any Skyway to the master portal?”

  “To slow us down. Make us think twice about leaving. Or it’s because this was such a pretty place, they didn’t want to mess it up with new construction.”

  “All of the above,” Darla said. “Or none of the above.”

  “You got it,” I said. “Don’t hold your breath for complete explanations. Mystery is the essence of life.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Let me write that down.”

  “Okay. It’s M-Y-S-T-E-R—Huh? Why are you laughing?”

  “Jake, you’re getting more batty with every kilometer you drive.”

  “I’m being driven batty. I knew there was an explanation.” For the next half hour we followed the road and saw the sights. There was plenty to look at. The vegetation changed; trees became more numerous, thickening to forest for a stretch, then thinning out a little to look like an orchard. More buildings in various architectural styles. There were other things, too, among which was a huge statue of a winged, four-legged animal resembling a gryphon, except that the head looked rather feline. The statue sat atop a cylindrical base and must have risen to more than sixty meters. An alien god—a mythical animal? Or was this the likeness of a once-extant sapient being? No telling. There were other monuments which gave the impression of being tombs or cenotaphs. One was a diamond-shaped mass of metal that stood balanced, impossibly, on one of its apexes, resting point to point with the tip of a pyramidal base. Another was a giant glass needle, a thin, tapering crystalline shaft that shot up over a hundred meters. There were obelisks, stelae, slabs, monoliths, and other masses, all of various geometrical shapes.

  More buildings. One looked very familiar. In fact, we were shocked. I pulled off the road and stopped.

  “The Taj Mahal!” Darla blurted.

  And it was, if memory served. Though I’d been in India, I’d never laid eyes on it. But the Taj is one of those universal picture-postcard images that has engraved itself in the mass mind. No mistaking those serenely graceful turnip-top domes, the slender minarets, that classical symmetry and sense of proportion. In a word, beautiful.

  “My God,” Darla said, “what’s it doing here?”

  “Part of the collection,” I said.

  “Do you think there are more Terran artifacts here?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Maybe it’s just a replica.”

  “Maybe. Looks new, doesn’t it? Probably restored or reconstructed.”

  I got us moving again. Farther along we came to an intersection. The other road was narrower but was made of the same blue-green material. I stopped, checking traffic. There was none, so I crossed and continued on.

 
I should have waited, because a few kilometers down the road I saw a blip on the rear scanner screen.

  11

  I TROMPED THE power pedal. “Bruce,” I said, “we got trouble.”

  “Noted, Jake. Bandit at six o’clock, closing fast.”

  Maybe it was Prime, come to fetch us back. But I doubted it. “In camera range?” I asked.

  “Extreme telephoto. Can you make it out?”

  I looked. It was a dun-colored dot, growing rapidly, soon resolving into a paramilitary vehicle with familiar camouflage markings. One of Zack Moore’s buggies.

  “Incoming message on the Skyway citizens’ band,” Bruce said calmly.

  “Put it through.”

  “…McGraw, breaking for Jake McGraw. Come back.”

  I recognized the voice. It was Krause, who had been an officer aboard the ferryboat Laputa: I had had a minor run-in with him, and a major one with his skipper, Captain Pendergast.

  I put my headset on. “Yeah, you got McGraw.”

  “Hi, there! Where’ve you guys been?” Krause’s chummy manner rang as false as a bell made of papier-mâché.

  “What’s it to you, asshole?” I had decided not to be civil about this.

  “Hey, now, is that any way to talk? After all we’ve been through together?”

  “Back off,” I said, “or you’re a dead man.”

  “Don’t be so paranoid. I just want to talk. What’s it like inside that castle, anyway?”

  “Good food, good service, and a great game room. Any other questions?”

  “Food! All we’ve had to eat is synthesized glop! We’re starving and you’re living off the fat of the land! Isn’t fair.”

  “Doesn’t the White Lady take care of you?”

  A pause. Then: “We call her the Goddess. That’s what she is, you know.”

  “And she doesn’t feed her children?”

  “No. She just tells us to do stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “Most of the time we can’t understand her.”

  I thought it best to pull a few more teeth and try to get what information I could. “Where’s the rest of your crew?”

  “Oh, around.”

  It looked as though I wouldn’t get much out of him, but I needed a little time. Krause’s vehicle was pacing us now. I wanted to pick the best place to make my move. I’d take the offense first in this particular engagement. I was tired of screwing around with these guys. Besides, best to strike when the situation was still one-on-one. So I needed to chat him up a little longer.

  “Where are you guys holed up?” I asked.

  “We have a place. Kind of a temple, sort of. It’s nice. But the food we found is awful. I bet that everything in that green palace of yours is first class.”

  “You alone?”

  “No. Got a few of the guys here. Are you?”

  He laughed. “I’ll bet. Or did most of your gang decide to join up with that Prime fellow? They all ducked out on you—that right, Jake?”

  “Yeah, they all ducked out.” I killed the mike. “Everyone strapped in?” I looked around. My crew was well-trained by now.

  Krause chuckled. “They all want to be gods, huh? Actually, I don’t blame them. Wouldn’t mind being boss of the universe for a while. But the Goddess says it’s all a crock.”

  I switched the mike on again. “That so?” I said, eyeballing the road ahead for a likely spot to do a “moonshiner’s flip,” a.k.a. an “Alabama roundhouse.”

  “Yeah, that’s what she says. She says Prime is misleading people and getting them involved in things that aren’t their business. ”

  “What’s the Goddess’ business?”

  “You got me. What do I know from what a goddess is supposed to be up to? None of us understands what the hell’s really going on here. Except that—whaddya call her?—the White Lady and Prime are enemies.”

  “What’s she been after you to do?”

  Krause snorted. “Kowtow to her, for one thing. I’m getting pretty tired of it.” His voice took on a worried edge. “Jeez, I hope she isn’t listening. But you should see what we have to go through. Kneeling when we talk to her, calling her Your Divinity, and crap like that … Christ, I hope she didn’t hear that either.”

  “What’re you worried about? What happens if you incur her disfavor?”

  “No food, no water. Two of our guys died last night—they got sick on the trip. Scurvy, I think, though Jules had a heart condition, too. Anyway, the Lady could have saved them, but she didn’t; because Moore gave her lip.”

  So, Moore wasn’t in Krause’s vehicle. And we had two less enemies on this world. Good and good.

  “I probably shouldn’t have told you any of that … but, I dunno. Most of us really would like to go home. You got the map now, Jake. The real one. How ‘bout we make a deal?”

  “You still believe rumors?” I said.

  “C’mon, Jake. The Goddess told us. She gave you the real map. We need it to get back home.”

  “The Goddess told you wrong, Krause. I never had a map and I don’t now.”

  “Then where are you going?” He grunted. “Heading for that big portal on the other side, I bet.”

  “Just out sight-seeing, Krause. Lots of interesting things here.”

  “Yeah, sure. Look, we don’t even want the map. All we really want is the Black Cube. The Goddess wants it. If she don’t get it, we don’t get off this pancake.”

  “Krause, you got yourself one big problem, there. My sympathies, but I can’t help you. I don’t have the cube any more. My truck was broken into last night. Somebody stole it.”

  Krause delayed answering a moment. “How can I be sure you’re telling the truth?”

  “That’s a tough one.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ahead was a sharp curve. I took it at high gee. Coming out of it I saw my opportunity. The road straightened out and continued into a long straightaway, bisecting a greensward that looked level and firm.

  I cut the mike. “Bruce, stand by for an Alabama roundhouse.”

  “Jake,” Bruce admonished, “that is not a recommended maneuver.”

  “Stand by!”

  “Standing by.”

  I flipped the master toggle controlling the traction gradients on the trailer rollers. Those rollers were now frictionless. I braked hard. The trailer immediately jackknifed to the left, but instead of correcting, I let it go, twisting the control rings on the steering bars and defrictionizing the cab rollers as well. The rig spun. Stopping this maneuver was the hard part.

  “You pulling over, Jake?” came Krause’s voice.

  “Bruce! Stabilize!”

  I flipped the master toggle back and frantically twisted the control rings, at the same time countersteering and braking. I had to do almost everything at once—Bruce was handling the stabilizing jets and monitoring the various safety servos which would help keep the rig from going completely out of control. We were now traveling backward and decelerating. The trailer started to swing out again. I toggled and pedaled and steered, fighting to get it back into line. I juiced the power rollers to maximum grab, defrictionizing the rears again. The rig shuddered, and we rolled to a crunching stop—a brief one, because I had the power pedal floored. The rig sprang forward and we flew back up the road.

  Krause was coming out of the turn.

  “Jake, I can’t take your word … HEY, WHAT THE HELL!”

  We were heading right down his throat.

  The jungle-striped gun buggy swerved off onto the shoulder, but I kept steering right for him.

  “Bruce, stand by on exciter cannon!” “Roger. Target visually acquired.”

  Krause didn’t have time enough to get a shot off at us. The vehicle’s exciter turret was swiveling into line, but whoever was driving was too busy trying to avoid getting smashed by one big mother of a trailer truck and was frantically steering against the turret’s swing. The gun buggy veered off and headed out into the greensward, presenting its broadside to
us for a perfect set-up shot.

  “Fire!” I yelled, but Bruce beat me by a quarter second. His shot was dead on target, the blue-white exciter beam opening a fiery gash along the entire length of the gun buggy’s starboard side. I swung off and headed back onto the road. The left parabolic showed Krause’s vehicle trundling across the grass, heading for a clutch of bone-white pyramids. It hit a low rise, bouncing crazily.

  Then it exploded. Bruce’s shot must have penetrated to the ordnance bays. A starburst of arching contrails blossomed out of the fireball:

  I couldn’t look anymore because we were heading back into the curve. I braked into the turn and accelerated out. Two more military-style vehicles were heading right at us. “Fire at will!”

  Bruce let fly, hitting both gun buggies head-on. They shot past on either side, and I heard the crackle of belated return fire. Again, we had surprise on our side. They hadn’t had reaction time enough to get off a shot at the cab. I wasn’t about to give them another opportunity.

  “Bruce, emergency power. Gimme all you got.”

  “Yes, Jake.”

  I roared back the way we had come, taking turns at maximum gee and cheating on the bends by cutting across the shoulder of the road when necessary. I hadn’t had time to see if Bruce’s shots had been effective. Most vehicles have their thickest armor front and back, since most attacks on the road come from those quarters. Knowing that, I still hoped we had lucked out, or had at least disabled them. We had a big lead, and it would take time for them to turn around, but those buggies were fast. I didn’t think we could outrun them on this slow road. Out on the Skyway, no problem. They’d have trouble catching me. But not here. Which meant I would have to think of something quick.

  I thought, quickly, if not brilliantly. I feared a missile attack. I had dealt with their ordnance before, and only Carl’s magic Chevy had saved us—even at that, we had taken a hit. If they chased us, they would wait for a level stretch and let loose what missiles they had left. Better to get off-road now and try to take advantage of the terrain. They could follow, but out there we’d have a chance of catching them broadside, the only hope of a sure kill.

  Trouble was, the orchard landscape was back, and there was nowhere to go—if I didn’t want to go crashing through the trees—which would slow us down, and needless to say, leave any easy trail to follow. I looked out at the neatly spaced rows of trees. Some were gnarled little things, but most were six meters high at least. On the whole, they didn’t look crashthrough-able. There was maybe enough space between them to squeeze by … hard to tell, though. I thought back. The intersection was coming up. If I could get there and make a turn before they saw us, they’d have to split up, and since there were only two vehicles chasing us and three ways I could go, we might lose them completely.