Entoverse g-4

by James P. Hogan

  “What?”

  Hunt focused back on the present and looked at them. “It’s not over. It hasn’t even started.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I know why it’s so vital for Eubeleus and his cult to get to Uttan.” Hunt swallowed hard and paused to collect his words. “They were the ones who set you up through Baumer and put the fake memories in your head. Telling us about the Ichena’s operation wasn’t giving away anything that mattered. In fact it was the decoy. The Ichena were set up to be expendable-to direct attention away from what’s really happening. When JEVEX comes back on, everyone out there will be flocking back to the couplers, tens of thousands of them. The whole population has been caught on a hook, just like Baumer was.”

  Gina nodded but looked puzzled. “Yes, I follow what you’re saying. But where’s it-”

  “Don’t you see? They’ll have half the city on-line when JEVEX comes back up. And what do you think will be down there in the Entoverse? Thousands of them, waiting to come pouring out. Legions of them.”

  Gina put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God!”

  “What the hell are you two talking about?” Murray asked, looking from one to the other.

  But Hunt went on. “They were the ones who put Earth back a couple of thousand years and dreamed up the scheme to shut the Thuriens up inside a space-time bubble and take over. And despite all the limitations of where and how they originated, they almost got away with it.” Hunt raised his glass and took a long swig. “We thought we’d stopped them then, but we were wrong. And now this. And right at this moment, unless we can prevent Eubeleus from getting to Uttan, I don’t readily see a way of stopping it.”

  Before Gina could say anything in reply, a chime sounded from the panel.

  “What is it, Lola?” Murray called.

  “Nixie’s here,” the house computer announced. “She has a visitor.”

  Hunt looked up in such surprise, trying to rise as he did so, that he spilled his drink. “Here? She made it? Christ, that’s bloody marvel-”

  Then Nixie came in, looking pert, unflustered, and none the worse for wear. “Vic! Gina!” She rattled off something in Jevlenese, so used by that time to having ZORAC at hand that it was instinctive. Then she stopped, realizing her mistake, said something else toward the COM panel, and looked puzzled when it failed to respond.

  But Hunt’s eyes had widened even more as he saw the tall, lean, bespectacled figure who followed her in.

  “Ah, yes, here they are,” Danchekker said approvingly. “ZORAC informed us that it had directed you to a way out, just before it was cut off. We assumed that you would make for here.” He gazed around and took in the surroundings, including Murray’s collection of provocatively displayed girls. “So I’ve finally been enticed home by a lady of Nixie’s profession. Well, it’s never too late for a first time in one’s life for anything, I suppose.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Del Cullen was led into Garuth’s office, where Langerif was waiting with several of his officers and other Jevlenese. Garuth was sitting numbly by one wall of the room, with Shilohin next to him. Also present were a couple of the Thuriens assigned to PAC, whom the Jevlenese had brought up from elsewhere in the complex. Koberg and Lebansky were downstairs with the loyal majority of Cullen’s security force, whom the police had disarmed and locked away. They had put up a good fight, but the odds had been against them, and then a threat by Langerif to begin eliminating hostages had finished it.

  Without ZORAC, the Jevlenese had a communications problem, since human and Ganymean voices operated over completely different ranges. The small Jevlenese-Thurien translator disks were fixed-program devices that understood neither Terran languages nor the speech of the Shapieron Ganymeans, which was different from Thurien. Langerif therefore instructed that Cullen would convey any communications from Terrans to the Jevlenese, which from the nature of his job he was used to doing, and they would then relay via their translator to the Thuriens, who in turn would talk to Garuth and his staff.

  Cullen, however, was not in a mood for cooperating.

  “Were you born stupid?” he said to Langerif, speaking in the limited Jevlenese that he had picked up. “Don’t you know when you’re being set up?”

  “What are you talking about?” Langerif asked, taken aback.

  “Let’s not play games. We know you’re with the Axis, right?” Cullen didn’t. He was simply ready to try anything that might throw the opposition off balance. “Well, you’ve seen the kind of value they put on people. Look what happened to Marion Fayne, and to the last guy who tried your job.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “You’re just being made the dickhead up front who’ll look like he was behind all the trouble that’s been going on. Eubeleus is gonna shovel it all on you, and come back from Uttan with clean hands. Then it’s your turn to go down the tubes. The Ganymeans are out, and he has a hand in setting up a new administration with JPC that he can control better. Think about it. It makes sense.”

  Langerif thought for a moment, then walked up to Cullen and slapped him across the face. Cullen sighed. It had been a good try, he decided. But he wasn’t going to get anywhere. So he decked Langerif with a right to the jaw, instead. One of the watching Jevlenese felled him with a stun shot. To one side, Garuth closed his eyes.

  On the command deck of the Shapieron, standing in its berthing area at Geerbaine, Leyel Torres, the ship’s acting chief in Garuth’s absence, stood looking up at the screens bringing views of the outside and from high over the city from probes that he had sent up on receiving news of the emergency. Rodgar Jassilane, the engineering chief, joined him, while crew appeared from various directions and hurried to their stations. All Ganymeans in the vicinity were being recalled to the ship, and Torres was bringing the vessel up to flight readiness as a precaution.

  “They’ve disconnected ZORAC from the city net,” Jassilane said. “What do you make of it?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I thought Terrans were unstable enough,” Torres answered.

  “What are they trying to accomplish?”

  “Who knows? Perhaps they’re all mad.”

  “What about the situation here?”

  “There are police sealing off the spaceport area, and the Thuriens are protesting. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Message via VISAR from Thurien,” ZORAC announced.

  “Yes?” Torres acknowledged.

  “Calazar will be through very shortly. Meanwhile, Earth has been alerted. They’re locating as many members of JPC as they can.”

  “Very good.”

  “What’s the last we know of the situation at PAC?” Jassilane asked.

  ZORAC answered. “Hunt and Gina were heading for an exit that was clear and open. Danchekker was still in the building. I’d lost track of Nixie. The rest had been detained.”

  “Hmm,” Jassilane murmured.

  Torres thought for a moment. “If Hunt and the woman got out, they could hardly remain at large in the city… Obviously they couldn’t go back to PAC.” He raised his voice. “ZORAC, do you have any idea where they’d be most likely to go?”

  ZORAC consulted the records accumulated from its illegal spying operations. “I’ve got some places where Hunt and Nixie talked a lot. One is a hotel, probably not worth considering. The other is a private address.”

  “Can you locate it?”

  ZORAC called up the city directory and plans of the layout from its data bank. “Yes, reference screen seven.” A cutaway view of part of the labyrinth appeared, with a residential block in one of the complexes shown highlighted. One of the apartments partway up in it was flashing. “It’s on this side of the center, not too far from PAC.”

  Tones looked at jassilane questioningly. “Not far from PAC,” Jassilane repeated. He nodded. “It’s a good bet. If they’re out, that’s where they’ll head for. Check it out.”

  “ZORAC, prepare another of the s
hip’s probes for immediate launch,” Tones ordered.

  At Murray’s, Danchekker and Nixie told their story.

  The officer in charge of the police contingent placed in the PAC front lobby had turned out to be one of Nixie’s regulars. After spotting him from a stairway that she had just descended, she had drawn him aside and was in the process of talking her way out, when Danchekker stormed out of one of the elevators, ranting and threatening everyone in sight. On an inspiration, Nixie told the officer that Danchekker was a sex therapist from Earth whom she was assisting in a study of Jevlenese customs. If she was found in the place, she told the officer pointedly, the Shiban chief of police and virtually all the city officials would be public jokes by morning-and guess whose ass would be on the line. She and Danchekker had been bundled quietly out a side door a few minutes later.

  After Hunt and Gina related their tale, Hunt went on to repeat the thoughts that he had just begun telling Gina when Danchekker and Nixie arrived. Murray didn’t know enough of the background for it to mean much to him, and Nixie couldn’t really follow without ZORAC. So, leaving the others to it, they went into another room to make some calls and see what further news they could gather of events at large.

  By the time Hunt finished, Danchekker was looking appalled. “Yes,” he whispered. “I can see it now… Such a world, with its inherent perils and insecurity, would account for the whole Ent nature. And it becomes clear how the idea of escaping to the world they saw through these visions could become their overriding obsession.”

  “But to escape, they needed hosts to escape into,” Hunt said. “And that, I believe, is why the Jevlenese were turned into system junkies. It kept them hooked into the system, and hence get-attable.”

  Danchekker nodded. “Their numbers grew with time, and the Jevlenese population became victims of what was surely the strangest alien invasion ever: an attack of information viruses from inside a computer, light-years away.”

  “Except, that was only the preliminary,” Hunt said soberly. He stabbed his finger in the direction of the door. “Outside, there are God knows how many couplers, waiting for the main system to be activated, and on Uttan there’s a caretaker crew of Thuriens expecting a shipload of religious pacifists who’ll dismantle the military installations.” Hunt shook his head emphatically. “That isn’t going to happen. Once Eubeleus neutralizes them and gets himself entrenched, he’ll be able to make Uttan practically impregnable. And what do you think he’ll be doing once JEVEX is running again and we’re scratching our heads wondering how to get in?”

  The looks on Danchekker’s and Gina’s faces said there was no need for him to say.

  Hunt nodded. “You said a minute ago, Chris, that the Jevlenese were victims of an attack by alien information viruses out of a computer. But what happened before is nothing compared to what’ll happen if Eubeleus turns JEVEX on again. Unless we can stop him from getting to Uttan, this planet’s going to be hit by an epidemic!”

  So finally, it seemed, they had gotten to the bottom of what was going on, and why. But that did nothing to solve the problem of what to do next. Given the means, of course, the first thing would have been to contact the Thuriens and get Eubeleus stopped, but with ZORAC off the air they were incommunicado. So they examined what other options they had.

  Danchekker’s proposal was to head for the Thurien-controlled refuge at Geerbaine. If Jevlenese were contesting that, they might be able to find some way of getting aboard the Shapieron, or failing that, maybe one of the Thurien ships.

  Hunt was less confident of their chances of getting there. “It’s the first place they’ll be looking,” he declared. “There’s already been trouble even in that area, and some of these cults are just looking for an excuse to get even with Terrans. I don’t like it, Chris.”

  “There’s been a lot of activity in that direction,” Murray, who had rejoined them by that time, confirmed.

  “What, then, do you suggest?” Danchekker invited.

  “We might be better off lying low in the city for a while,” Hunt said. “Maybe we’ll find a way of making contact in the meantime.”

  A worried look crossed Murray’s face. “I don’t know if it would be smart to stick around this place for too long,” he said. “If that Jev cop at PAC talked to Nixie, it’s not gonna need a genius to figure out where you’re probably holed up.”

  Silence fell, with nothing any closer to being resolved. Gina stood up and stretched to loosen her shoulders. “I haven’t eaten all day,” she said. “What kind of options do we have in that direction?”

  “I’m just about out,” Murray said. “I was about to stock up today. There are a couple of takeaway joints on the block. One’s an herbivore place that does a kind of soya greaseburger with seaweed pulp. The other’s the local idea of a deli.”

  Gina pulled a face as she recalled Sandy’s squid-shit sandwiches at PAC. “Scrambled eggs with corned-beef hash, sausage patty, and a side order of fries,” she murmured, staring wistfully at Murray’s wall poster of San Francisco.

  “Eggs over medium, bacon, mushrooms, and fried tomatoes,” Hunt sighed.

  “Yeah… it does kinda get to you after a while,” Murray agreed. “I might have a few cans of stuff from home left out back. Let me go take a look.”

  As he got up and moved to the door, the chime sounded from the panel again, and Lola’s voice said, “Osaya is calling from upstairs.”

  “Okay,” Murray said. A female Jevlenese voice came on, sounding excited, and Murray said something in reply. While they were talking, Nixie appeared in the doorway. “What’s she saying?” Murray asked her. “Something about a hat with a window?”

  Nixie talked to Osaya. “Oh, eprillin!” she announced, spotting his problem.

  “I thought that was a hat,” Murray said.

  “Yes. But also it means a kind of fish.”

  “So what’s the hell’s she talking about a fish with a window?”

  “She says there something that look like fish, up there outside window.”

  Murray shook his head. “Have they been smoking funny stuff up there, or something?

  “I go see.” Nixie exchanged a few more words with Osaya, then left.

  Murray went into the kitchen, and the others heard him open a cupboard and begin rummaging. Then came the sound of hard objects being thumped down on the floor. “Say, waddya know!” his voice called through the doorway. “Genuine ham… And how about some Boston beans?”

  “I’ve never heard of fried tomatoes,” Gina said to Hunt. “Is that something else weird that the English do?”

  “Delicious,” Hunt said. “Especially on a slice of fried bread, with the juice soaking in. But what you really need to finish it off is a bit of black pudding.”

  “What’s black pudding?”

  “I rather think that the wise adage about sausages and politics applies even more in this instance,” Danchekker advised.

  At that moment Nixie’s voice came from the panel. “Murray, come see here. Bring Vic up.”

  Hunt sent Danchekker and Gina a puzzled frown, then rose. Murray stuck his head back through the doorway. “What is it?”

  “Come see,” Nixie’s voice said.

  Murray shrugged and withdrew. Hunt followed him out through the front door.

  They went up two flights and entered another apartment, situated on the opposite side of the stairwell. The interior was an orgy of feminine extravagance and brilliant colors, with fluffy pink floors that looked like cotton candy, couches and chairs finished in a variety of white, lilac, and red down, outrageously erotic murals, and black walls glowing with constantly changing Mandelbrot patterns. Inside was the tall girl whom Hunt had met before, apparently off-duty at the moment in a simple shirt with pants. She beckoned and led them through a room with an enormous bed, built-in Jacuzzi, and mirrors everywhere, to where Nixie was standing at a window framed by long, silky drapes. Hunt and Murray peered out.

  Below and to the sides was a jumble of
interconnected roofs, with parts of various walkways and lower parts of the city visible in the spaces between. A roof enclosed the whole area above, with a web of transportation tubes and lighting installations hanging beneath, and two of the vast channels that cut across the city to carry airborne traffic receding into the distance. Whether there was more of the city above that, there was no way of telling.

  Hanging motionless in the air above an open area maybe a couple of hundred feet away was a drop-shaped, silver-gray object about the size of a small car. It was featureless except for a couple of ribs that flared into rudimentary fins at the tail end, and a cylindrical device on a retractable metal pylon, which seemed to be nodding inquisitively in their direction.

  “Ain’t never seen nothing like that before,” Murray said, staring at it, nonplussed.

  “Is police thing? Come look for us?” Nixie asked nervously.

  Hunt shook his head, and a faint smile softened his features. “It’s looking for us, but it’s not the police,” he said. “That’s one of the Shapieron’s reconnaissance probes. They must have figured out where we are.”

  “Shit, I hope the cops aren’t so fast,” Murray muttered.

  Hunt thought quickly. “Murray, is there any kind of portable communications gadget here-a remote pad for talking to the house system or something? If the Ganymeans figured this much out, they’ll be scanning for Jevlenese transmissions.” Murray consulted with Nixie, who said something to Osaya. Osaya went over to a bedside unit and came back with a tablet of what looked like veined, gray marble with gold inlaid designs and gold touchpads. She held it to the window and tried a few codes, then said something that sounded negative.

  “Does that talk to the city net?” Hunt asked Murray.

  “It should.”

  “Tell her to try fifty-six.”

  Murray passed it on, and Osaya tried again. Then a familiar voice said, “Ahah! We seem to be through. Hello, is anybody there?” Then it repeated itself in Jevlenese.