"It is as if, for example, an Englishman of this Paratime were suddenly told that there was no such place as China."
"Yes, sort of like that, I suppose."
"Let me go on," Mica said. "I would like to follow this analogy out. May I?"
"Why not?"
"Very well. Our hypothetical Englishman has been to America and the Continent, of course. He is a well-traveled man, and educated. He has met Chinese and seen pictures of China and knows fellow Englishmen who claim to have been to China -- but he himself has never been there. Still, all evidence points to the fact that there is such a place as China. It never occurs to him to doubt for a moment the existence of China. Now what would happen," Mica asked, "if someone, in all seriousness, were to tell him that China does not exist?"
"He'd laugh in his face."
Mica smiled, nodded, then said, "Take this fantastic Cross-Line Civilization that you believe to exist far to the Temporal West. Have you ever been there, Captain Mathers?"
"No."
"Yet you know it exists. How?"
"Like your Englishman, I've seen pictures of it. I've spoken to people who have been there."
"Have you ever met anyone from those Lines? Any human natives, I mean."
I thought for a moment, honestly trying to rake up memories. "No, not that I can recall. I've met Kriths from there, though."
"No," Mica said, "let us ignore the Kriths for a moment. You have never met a human being who was native to those Lines. Now, the stories you have heard, the pictures, the tapes, the books you have read, could they have been faked? Could they have been lies?"
"Well, yes, I suppose they could have been. But it would have to be an enormous conspiracy to pull something like that off."
"Granted, but then, in the final analysis, all you have to prove that there is such a wonderful and beautiful Cross-Line Civilization is the word of the Kriths. Is this not so?"
"Yes, but not quite the way you mean it.
"Why not? Tell me, do you like the Kriths?"
"Yes and no."
"That is hardly an adequate answer, Eric. Do you know of a single Krith that you personally like as -- well, as a person?"
"No, but then there are a lot of people I don't like either."
"Surely. But do you understand them? The Kriths? I mean, do they act from the same motives as human beings? Can you translate their thoughts into human terms?"
"No, not really. They don't think the way we do, I suppose, but then I don't think we should expect them to. They aren't people, but I trust them anyway."
"Why?"
"Well, they've never given me any reason not to."
"Ah," Mica sighed. "You're saying then that you have never caught them in a lie."
"I supposed you could take it that way."
"Then, in the final analysis, you believe in the Cross-Line Civilization simply because you have never caught the Kriths lying to you. That is hardly proof that they are not lying. All you can really be sure about is that, if they are lying, they are lying so well and so consistently that you have never caught them at it. Right?"
"I can't accept that."
"I do not expect you to at this stage." Mica paused. "Let us take Martin Latham. You have never met him, so you really have no reason to believe his words or even that he is a real person. He could be our 'Lie.' Is this so?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"I have met him," Mica said, "and I believe him. Now you have my word that what Latham says is true, as opposed to the word of the Kriths that contratime communications exists. You must accept one of us on faith. Which will it be? You need not answer that yet. Not for a while, at least."
There was something almost sinister in his last sentence, but before I could comment, there was a gentle rapping on the door. Mica did not turn but called over his shoulder, "Come in." His eyes never left my face.
The door clicked, swung outward, and Sally and Scoti came into the room. They were both now dressed in the conventional clothing of this Line: Sally in a white blouse and a full green skirt; Scoti in a dark business suit. And more than ever Sally reminded me of Kristin.
"Good morning, Eric," Sally said. "How are you feeling?"
"Well enough," I answered, then nodded to Scoti.
"I hope you hold no hard feelings, old man," Scoti said. "For that bump on the head, I mean. I was just doing what I had to do."
I didn't answer.
"I have just been having a little chat with Captain Mathers," Mica said.
"And . . ." Scoti said expectantly.
"Calm yourself, Scoti," Mica said. "He is at least trying to be honest with us."
"That's all we ask, Eric," Sally said, sitting down on the sofa. "We don't expect you to give us any military secrets."
"I don't believe I have any you don't know about already," I said.
Sally looked so young and fresh and innocent that I found it hard to believe she was the same woman I had kidnapped -- or tried to kidnap. She -- well, I liked her.
"That doesn't matter," she was saying. "We just want you to listen to us and then judge for yourself what is true."
"Okay," I said. "I'll listen. I have a pretty good idea what will happen to me if I don't."
There was silence in the room for a few moments.
"Let me ask you a question," I said at last.
"Very well," Mica replied.
"Okay, suppose that what you're telling me is true. Suppose that there's really no Cross-Line Civilization and suppose that the whole contratime communications business is a fraud, then why are the Kriths going to all this trouble?"
Mica smiled, looked at the other two, then back to me. "I was waiting for you to ask that, Captain Mathers," he said.
"So answer it."
"I wish I could."
That one sort of startled me. I had fully expected Mica and his gang to have a glib explanation of the Krithian logic behind the great plot they were postulating.
"I won't try to lie to you, Mathers," Mica said. "You are too intelligent a man for that. In all honesty we do not know why the Kriths are doing what they are doing. We know that they are telling the greatest lie in all history, in all the histories of all the Paratimes put together, but we really do not know why. We merely know that they are."
For a few moments I was at a loss for words. This wasn't working out as I had expected.
"Look at it this way, Mathers," Scoti said. "When you catch someone telling you a lie and you don't know why, you've got to assume that his purposes aren't good. It could be very dangerous to do otherwise, right?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"That is our assumption," Mica said. "We do not know that they mean mankind ill, but they are doing their best to profoundly alter the course of history in as many Paratimes as they can. They must have some reason, some logic of their own for doing it and all we can do is guess at what it is -- and do what we can to stop it until we can learn why."
"Okay," I said. "If what you're saying is true, then I guess you'd have to act that way." For some reason I had the sudden feeling that Mica and Scoti honestly and truly did believe what they were saying. But then you never can tell about feelings, can you?
"We cannot tell you why the Kriths are lying, only that they are. And if you will let us, we will prove it to you," Mica said.
"Okay, prove it."
"That will take some time," Mica said, "but now I think you are going to let us have that time." He glanced at the watch on his wrist. "I have other responsibilities to attend to, but I'll see that additional books and tapes are sent to you. You can study them at your leisure. Is there anything else you would like?"
"Yes, some cigarettes, if you can get them."
"Of course," Mica said. "I will see to it at once." He rose. "Scoti, will you come with me?"
The other man nodded.
"I will see you later, Sally?" Mica asked.
"Yes," Sally said, glancing up at the tall, thin man, an expression on her face that I cou
ld not identify but that puzzled me. What was her relationship to him?
In a few moments the door closed behind the two men, and Sally and I were left alone in the room. It was a rather tense and awkward situation at first.
"I don't hold it against you," she said. "What you did. You were only doing your job as you saw it."
"I'm glad you look at it that way," I told her. "What about your husband?"
"Albert?" She smiled an odd smile. "He'll recover."
"You're glad of that?"
"I don't suppose it matters now. He won't be of much use to us anymore, it appears."
"Oh?"
"He was just a tool, as far as I'm concerned, and since it appears that the Kriths will find a way to destroy the Imperial nuclear project, we will just have to start another, without Albert."
I didn't go into it any further, either about Von Heinen or about the Kriths' destroying their Baltic plant. I was curious, but the answers could wait.
We were silent for a long while before I asked the next question.
"How long have they been here?"
"The Paratimers? Oh . . ." She thought for a moment. "About fifteen years. They contacted my father when they first arrived. They've been working with us ever since."
"Who's this we?"
"The Mad Anthony Wayne Society."
"Uh-huh," I grunted. "What's their relationship to the Holy Roman Empire?"
Sally chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "Minor," she said after a while. "Only two years ago did they actually let them know who they were."
"Then the Holy Romans know about the Paratimers and the Kriths?"
"A little," she answered. "They haven't told them everything."
"Why?"
"They're on our side."
"Oh," I said, nodding. "And you also believe everything the Paratimers say?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Sally smiled. "Now you sound like Mica interrogating one of our prisoners."
"I'm sorry, but I'm trying to learn what I can."
"I know. Yes, I believe them because, well, it makes sense to me, what I can see of it. They're human beings and the things you're working for aren't. That in itself seems reason enough."
"I suppose you've got a point there."
"Let me make another one, Eric."
"Go on."
"Our world is divided today between three, oh, call it four, if you want to count Spain -- our world is divided between these empires and not a one of them is worth a damn. I suppose, if I could really be objective about it, maybe the British are no worse than the Imperials, maybe even a little better since there are a lot of British people, some in the aristocracy, who don't approve of the way the king has treated the colonies. But, all in all, ninety percent of the human race is in a state not much better than slavery and the rest rule them, except for a few of us, like the ARA and the Mad Anthony Wayne Society, who still believe that people have the ability and, yes, the God-given right to rule themselves.
"Okay," she went on, "now look at what is happening. Who are your Kriths supporting? The British Empire. The greatest slaveowner in the history of the world -- my world, at least. And who are the Paratimers helping? Us, the rebels who want to see an end to all slavery -- the fact that we're working with the Imperials right now is only incidental to the whole thing. We'll take care of them once we've beaten the British. The Paratimers will see to that. But honestly answer me: Whose cause is more moral? The Kriths'? Or Mica's and Scoti's and the other Paratimers'?"
"On the face of it I suppose it looks right to you," I said. "But you can't see the whole picture."
"Can you?"
"Better than you can, I think."
"Then you tell me how it's moral to support tyrants. Or is your world ruled by a monarchy?"
I smiled. "No. My people are the ones who invented the republic in the first place, remember?"
"The Greeks?" Sally asked.
I nodded and then went on, "Well, if the Imperials are beaten by the British, your world stands a better chance of becoming free in the long run. If the Holy Romans win, you're in for a long period of tyranny and warfare that makes the present day look mild by comparison."
"How do you know?" she asked.
I paused for a moment. How could I answer her without falling back on the word of the Kriths? And, then, they hadn't figured on the Americans having an advanced technology behind them. Maybe my head was beginning to spin a little by then.
"You don't need to say it," she said. "You just have to accept the word of the Kriths, on faith, that that's the way it's going to turn out."
"Yes, I suppose so," I said defensively. "But I can show you the histories of other Lines where it has worked out exactly the way they said it would."
"That's still accepting their word. They wrote the books, didn't they, or at least supervised their writing?" She paused. "One of our great patriots was also something of a philosopher and once he said, 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.' And at best your bush is only hypothetical."
"I don't suppose there's any point in trying to argue with you."
Sally smiled. "I don't want to argue with you, Eric. I want to be your friend."
"That's what everybody tells me."
She rose, smiled again. "I really must go. I'll come back to see you later."
"I'll be looking for you."
And then she was gone, and I was alone in the room again, and I wondered and wondered and wondered. . . .
A short time after Sally left, a panel in the wall below the intercom slid back revealing a receptacle in which sat two cartons of cigarettes, a stack of books and video tapes, and a small tape player and monitor.
Lighting a cigarette, I placed the tapes and books and player on one of the tables and scanned the titles on the tape boxes. Apparently Mica was giving me the whole propaganda story in one lump.
Well, I decided, I might as well get into it. If I were going to fool them into believing that I had swallowed their story, I had better learn my lines well. I spent the rest of the day reading books and viewing tapes.
15
Of Mica, Sally, and G'lendal
The days that followed dragged by interminably, although the nights were all too brief, for at night G'lendal would call on me, ostensibly to ask more questions, to continue her "interrogation," although on her second visit things began to get more interesting. Before that night was out, I found myself in bed with lovely, delightful G'lendal, and those details are none of your business.
During the day Mica, Scoti, and two or three others would visit me at intervals, mostly to answer questions, make suggestions and point out avenues of thought I hadn't yet followed.
During my captivity in Staunton, I gradually pieced together the whole story of the Paratimers or at least that part of it made available for my consumption. In another nutshell, it was something like this:
In the Romano-Albigensian Lines from which Mica, Scoti, and about a third of the Paratimers in Staunton had come, the European Renaissance that followed the fall of the original-Roman Empire and the so-called Dark Ages had reached a full and early flower in early-thirteenth-century France under the religious heretics called the Albigensians, Arian Christians who denied the oneness of Jesus the Christ -- the Messiah -- and God the Father. After successfully resisting the persecutions of the Roman Church and finally raising an army of their own, the Albigensians established their independence from both the emerging French nation and the orthodox church -- and set about revolutionizing the world.
Despite the decades of religious war that finally led to the philosophical sundering of the Christian world, the Albigensians embarked on a serious program of learning. Their newly discovered and rediscovered knowledge spread like wildfire across Europe centuries earlier than it had in the world in which I now dwelt. The American continents were discovered in a steam-driven ship and fully colonized by Europeans within a century; a technological civilization evolved while Sally's
people were still wondering what electricity was; world wars were fought; and finally, as the atomic age exploded across half the world and the first tentative steps to the stars were begun, the cultural descendants of the heretic Albigensians established a world at peace with itself.
Nearly a century ago, already with colonies on the Moon and on Mars, with a starship abuilding in orbit around Earth, they discovered the parallel universes and set out on a cautious voyage of exploration. Then, less than thirty years ago, Martin Latham found them.
At the Narrow Passage Page 15
