Out of This World

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “Are they shooting at us? At the ship, I mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Pel repeated. “Listen, I really don’t know much of anything, but we are under some kind of attack, and the navigator said we should get to our cabins and lock the doors and wait there.”

  Nancy shook her head. “I can’t leave Alella,” she said. “You take Rachel, and I’ll stay here.”

  Pel chewed on his lower lip, considering, and then nodded. “Come on, Rae,” he said. “Let’s get back to our room.”

  Rachel looked up unhappily. “I want Harvey,” she said.

  “I know you do,” Pel said, “but he’s not here. Now, come on, and we can cuddle up together, if you like.”

  “Is Grummetty really dead?”

  “If your mother says so,” Pel said, “then I’m afraid he is. Your mom’s pretty reliable about these things.”

  “I don’t want him to be dead.”

  An officer trotted past, almost running. Something was buzzing loudly somewhere forward.

  A storybook hero would find some way to make himself useful, some way to save the ship, but Pel was no storybook hero, he knew that more certainly than ever. Right now, dealing with Rachel seemed much more important than saving the ship. He knelt down and spoke softly to his daughter.

  “I don’t either, Rae, but we have to go. Right now. Come on!” He reached over and took her hand, and then stood up again. She allowed herself to be pulled upright, and followed him, unresisting, as he led her by the hand back to their cabin.

  There, they sat on the bed and waited.

  * * * *

  Amy had decided to make one more attempt to convince Ted that he was awake, and that everything that had happened was real.

  For one thing, she wanted to be sure that she was convinced herself; for another, she thought Ted might be useful somehow if he once started taking things seriously.

  She had been leading the conversation gently in that direction, listening to Ted ramble on about how everyone misunderstood what lawyers really did, when the alarm bells sounded. She looked up, startled.

  “I wonder what that is?” she asked.

  Ted shrugged, looked around, and saw nothing different about the aft salon. “I guess I haven’t decided yet,” he said.

  Amy frowned.

  A crewman ran through, without so much as glancing at them. The two Earthpeople watched him go.

  “Or maybe we should go see,” Ted said, getting to his feet, “just what I’ve come up with this time.”

  * * * *

  The tocsin roused Raven from a doze. He frowned; he had slept far too much and too easily, of late. Perhaps the strain of these strange adventures in fantastic lands was telling upon him, and were it so it would be sorry news indeed; he would need all his powers when he led attacks against Shadow.

  “A bell?” he asked no one in specific. “Wherefore does it ring?”

  “I know not,” Stoddard replied. “Perchance the lieutenant can say?”

  “An he be here,” Raven agreed.

  “It’s an alarm,” Drummond said, hurriedly pulling on a boot. “I don’t know why.”

  “An alarm?” Raven said, swinging his feet to the floor and sitting upright. “Be the ship endangered?”

  “I said I don’t know,” Drummond snarled. “I’ll go find out.” He stood, boots on.

  “Shall we accompany?”

  Drummond hesitated, thinking.

  “No,” he said at last. “No, you two stay here. And don’t cause any trouble. You’re valuable; if there’s some kind of fight we don’t want you getting yourselves killed.”

  “I’ve no fear to give my life in a good cause,” Raven said. “Better to die waging war ‘gainst evil than to live in an evil world.”

  “This isn’t any war against evil,” Drummond said. “It’s probably some stupid mix-up. You just stay out of trouble.”

  “I reserve, sir, the right to judge my best role myself,” Raven retorted. “I am no child.”

  “Fine,” Drummond said. “Fine. Just stay out of it this time, though, okay?”

  Then he was gone, the door closing behind him.

  “’Tis not our fight,” Stoddard said. “’Tis not our world, so how could be?”

  Raven looked at his sword, leaning against the nightstand, but did not reach for it. “Shadow has its agents in this realm, as in ours,” he said, settling back. “But ‘til we know more, best to bide.”

  * * * *

  Somehow Pel had assumed, from what the navigator had said, that the pirates, whoever they were, would be arriving, however they would arrive, within a few minutes, but instead he and Rachel sat on the bed, hugging each other and whispering quietly, for what seemed like hours. Nothing happened; no one burst in, or even knocked; there were no loud noises, no screams, no explosions, no sign that anything out of the ordinary was going on. A few times they heard footsteps passing the door, sometimes running, sometimes not.

  Rachel fell asleep after perhaps a quarter of an hour, and Pel tucked her into bed. Then he sat, alone, waiting.

  And still nothing happened.

  He wished fervently for a book to read, or a TV to watch, or something to pass the time. A deck of cards to play solitaire would have been a taste of heaven, and he wished he had taken one when he had the chance.

  His watch still wasn’t working; after some thought he had concluded that as near as he could figure, liquid crystals didn’t exist in Imperial space, and probably couldn’t exist. He wasn’t sure about chip technology in general, whether it was impossible or just hadn’t yet been developed.

  Whatever the exact reasons, he had no way to tell how long he sat there, watching Rachel sleep and waiting for the pirates. It was very inconsiderate, he decided, to not provide every cabin with a working clock.

  He lay back on the bed, trying to think of what he should be doing and reaching no conclusions at all. Nothing that he came up with seemed very important, and they all involved leaving the room, and that meant leaving Rachel alone, which seemed like a very bad idea.

  * * * *

  Amy had reluctantly followed Ted to the forward lounge, where they watched the confusion and worry. Three times, crewmen ordered them to leave, to go back to their cabins, but Ted simply ignored them—he didn’t need to obey orders from figments of his imagination. Amy followed his lead; she wanted to see what was happening, not be cooped up in the suite with Susan and Elani and Prossie.

  Nobody had time to argue with them, or force them, and they stayed in the lounge.

  They stayed there right up until the pirates boarded the Princess and burst in through the airlock.

  Ted looked at the grey-uniformed men, at the heavy blasters they held, and shook his head. “No, no,” he said. “I don’t like this part. It’s nasty, and I don’t want any more of that. The monsters were bad enough.”

  “On the floor,” a man in a grey coverall ordered.

  Ted ignored the order; instead he stepped up and reached out for the man’s blaster. “Give me that,” he said.

  “He’s crazy,” someone called.

  Ted’s hand started to close on the barrel of the blaster, and the man holding it said, “I’ll give it to you, all right.”

  * * * *

  A dream it’s all a dream it’s a fucking dream it can’t be real.

  The pain blazed through the side of his head, screaming agony that ripped at his consciousness.

  It’s a dream.

  It has to be a dream.

  But a dream can’t hurt like this.

  I must have fallen out of bed, that’s what happened, I fell out of bed and hit my head on the floor, and it hurts like hell, why can’t I wake up? God, is it a concussion or something?

  Why can’t I wake up?

  As he fell, as he struggled to remain conscious, Ted remembered an old story called “The Knight’s Tale,” from a book of puzzles, a book called Mazes and Labyrinths, a story about a mysterious death. The man in the story had dreamed his ow
n death, and had died in his sleep as a result.

  Could that happen? Could he really die from this stupid interminable dream?

  No, the knight had lied. And he couldn’t possibly sleep through pain like this. He would wake up any second now, he knew he would wake up, and the dream would be over.

  Please, God, it would be over!

  * * * *

  “Get away from there,” someone ordered.

  Nancy looked up, startled.

  “What is that, anyway?” the man in the grey coverall demanded. He was standing in the doorway of the storage area with a blaster in his hand.

  “Alella,” Nancy said. “She’s dead, too.”

  The man looked at the little corpse.

  “What is that, some kind of freak? Or just a doll?”

  “She’s... she was a little person,” Nancy said.

  “You sure it’s dead?”

  Nancy just stared at him; the inside of her chest seemed hollow and aching.

  “Whatever, just leave it and come out of there.”

  Nancy didn’t move.

  “Damn it, bitch! Get out here!”

  In some part of her mind Nancy knew that she should do what the man in grey wanted; he had that gun, and he was getting angry, and it wouldn’t do Alella or Grummetty any good to linger here.

  That logical, sensible part of her was overwhelmed, though, by the grief and emptiness she felt, and she still didn’t move.

  With a wordless growl, the man reached in and grabbed her by the hair, one-handed, the other hand keeping the blaster at ready. He tightened his grip until, even through her grief, she felt the pain; a small gasp escaped her.

  Then he dragged her out into the corridor.

  Exhausted from her long hours tending the little people and from all the cumulative strain of being swept out of her own world, awash in despair, she never did find the strength to scream.

  * * * *

  When the door opened, Raven expected to see Lieutenant Drummond enter. By the time he saw the stranger’s face it was too late.

  “Touch that sword and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” the man in gray told him.

  Stoddard glanced at Raven, who gave a quick negative jerk of the head. The weapon in the stranger’s hand would not have worked back in the real world, nor in Pel Brown’s Earth, but this ship sailed in the Empire’s skies, where such devices were effective indeed.

  “Surely, sir,” Raven answered. “Whatever please you.”

  Stoddard accepted this hint, and made no move for his weapons.

  “Get out here.” The man gestured with his blaster.

  “Certes. Might I ask, though, whether Lieutenant Drummond...”

  “No questions.”

  Raven shrugged and obeyed.

  He had no fear of any fight, but unarmed men against one of the Empire’s fire-weapons was a senseless waste. He would heed, for the present, Lieutenant Drummond’s advice. Perhaps this was some jurisdictional squabble between Imperial factions, or a disagreement over the succession to the throne, but in any case, this gray-clad fellow with the rude speech gave no impression of being one of Shadow’s monsters. Surely, in time, all would be made clear, and when matters were settled Raven and his companions would be free.

  And perhaps whatever faction this person represented would be more eager to fight Shadow than had been Captain Cahn and his crew.

  * * * *

  Pel was awakened by a pounding on the door; it was only when he started up that he realized he had dozed off.

  He turned the knob, struck once again by the incongruity of ordinary wooden doors, with knobs and hinges, aboard a spaceship.

  The door was shoved open, the knob yanking out of his hand before he could react, and he found himself facing three unfamiliar men in grey uniforms. Two of them held drawn blasters; one needed a shave.

  “Out,” one of them ordered.

  “What...” Pel began.

  “Out,” the man repeated, gesturing with his weapon.

  Pel reluctantly stepped out into the passageway, then turned and said, “My daughter...”

  “That her?” One of the men pointed at Rachel, still asleep.

  “Yes,” Pel said.

  “Get her.”

  Pel obeyed. He crossed quickly to the cot and stooped over her, then stood again, lifting the girl to his shoulder. She protested sleepily, then flopped against him, her arms around his neck.

  “Out,” came the order.

  Nervously, Pel returned to the corridor.

  “That way,” he was told, and one of the men herded him forward, toward the lounge, while the others vanished into the cabin.

  Farther aft, down the passage, Pel could see armed men at other cabin doors, and ahead he could see a knot of people.

  In the lounge he found the ship’s doctor bent over Ted Deranian, who lay on the floor, arms flung out to either side. One side of Ted’s head was...

  Pel couldn’t see it clearly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it, but he couldn’t look away, either. There was black, and red, wet and shining, and the hair was gone. He was glad Rachel was asleep, and not able to see it.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” someone said.

  “He tried to play hero,” Amy answered. “When they came charging in here Ted tried to take away one of their guns, and the man with the gun shot him. He didn’t have time to aim, though, so he’s still alive.” She made a choked little noise, apparently suppressing a hysterical giggle, and said, “I mean, the man didn’t have time to aim, so Ted’s still alive.”

  Pel realized that the doctor was feeling Ted’s chest, rather than his head, but before he could ask anything, Amy added, “They kicked him after he fell; we think a couple of ribs are broken.”

  “Was anyone else hurt?” Pel looked around, checking who was present.

  There was Susan, standing quietly, and Prossie Thorpe, and Soorn, and Valadrakul. There were three, four, five of the Princess’s original passengers, and three of her crew, in addition to the doctor.

  “Where’s Nancy?” Pel asked.

  Amy turned and glanced about, worried. “I don’t know,” she said. “Wasn’t she with you?”

  “No,” Pel said. “She stayed with Alella.”

  Raven and Stoddard emerged from the corridor behind Pel, their swords gone, a blaster leveled at their backs. Beyond them Pel could see more of the original passengers, and farther back Captain Cahn and two of his crewmen.

  “All right,” one of the grey-clad men ordered, “through there. Let’s go.” He pointed toward the airlock.

  “What about my wife?” Pel called.

  “Don’t worry about it,” another man ordered him. “Just move.”

  Pel started to say something, and the man shoved a blaster under his nose with one hand, pointing to the airlock with the other. “Move,” he said.

  Pel moved.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The corridors of the pirate ship—if that’s what it actually was—were gray-painted metal and resembled the inside of a submarine Pel had once toured. This vessel was far more what he had always expected a spaceship to look like than Emerald Princess had been.

  He had little time to study it, though; he was hurried to a large, bare chamber, where he and some of the others were locked in, without any further explanation.

  For a moment after the heavy steel door slammed shut Pel stared at it, expecting something more to happen. When nothing did, he turned to consider his surroundings.

  A row of stained, bare mattresses lay along one of the long walls; at the far end were two small bathrooms, the doors standing open. There were no other furnishings, no windows, no other doors. In the room with him were Amy and Susan; the navigator of Emerald Princess; two passengers, one a young man, one a middle-aged woman; and of course, Rachel.

  “What happened?” Amy asked. “Who are those people? Where are we?”

  “Pirates, right?” Pel asked, looking
at the navigator.

  He nodded. “Pirates,” he said. “From one of the rebel worlds out on the fringe, I suppose. Though I don’t know why they picked on the Princess; I’d think there were juicier targets out there.”

  “And those juicier targets are probably better-guarded,” the young man said knowingly. “The Princess was small enough that we weren’t worried about pirates, and we didn’t have any defenses. Made us a sitting duck.”

  The navigator’s expression made it plain that he wasn’t impressed with this logic. “There’s a good reason we weren’t worried,” he said. “A gravity gun’s an expensive thing to operate, and bringing in a ship in mid-flight isn’t any picnic; the Princess shouldn’t have been worth the trouble.”

  “Well, how much trouble was it, really?” the young man argued. “The ship itself—she’s a nice little boat, and they’ve got her for next to nothing, really. And the passengers—we had money and jewels along, some of us, and they can probably collect ransoms on most of us...”

  “No, they can’t,” the navigator interrupted. “How the hell could they collect any ransoms? If they tell anyone where they are, so someone can make the payment, the Empire’ll hunt them down and wipe them out.”

  “Well, there’s still the ship...”

  “I suppose,” the navigator admitted. “But it still seems strange. The ship isn’t anything all that special.”

  Amy, Pel, and Susan exchanged glances.

  “Do you think it might have had anything to do with us?” Amy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Pel said. “Could Shadow have tracked us somehow?”

  “Why would it bother?” Amy asked.

  “Does it need reasons?” Susan said. “It tried to kill us once, back in that forest; it could just be trying to finish what it started.”

  “In that case,” Pel argued, “why didn’t it already kill us? I mean, why didn’t these pirates just shoot everybody?” A thought struck him, and he added, “And even if they aren’t working for Shadow, if it was the ship they wanted, why didn’t they shoot us?”

  That question made everyone uneasy; Amy cast a glance at the mattresses.

  “Those stains don’t all look like blood,” she said uncertainly.