At the Narrow Passage

by Richard Meredith

  Under Latham's direction the Romano-Albigensian Paratimers explored eastward into Paratime, found that what he had said was true and set about undoing the work that the Kriths were doing.

  By the time I was captured by them, the Paratimers consisted of quite a large number of individuals from various Lines to the Temporal West, and all were devoted to the total and final destruction of the Kriths and all those who worked with them.

  There must have been a great deal of truth in these things, I told myself, as there is much truth in every great lie, no matter how well hidden and distorted it might be. I didn't doubt that in essence what I was told was true, for the most part, at least as far as it concerned the humans from the West, though I could not be so sure of their altruistic motives, as they denied the same motives on the part of the alien Kriths. And, of course, I was not ready to accept any of the things they said about the Kriths -- though there were enough doubts in my mind by now so that I had some questions I was certainly going to ask Kar-hinter about when I saw him again -- if I ever saw him again.

  As far as Kar-hinter and the rest of the world outside Staunton were concerned, I was kept in total ignorance. What was happening in the war in Europe was unknown to me, though I could not force myself to feel very concerned. That had been a job when I was involved in it, but now I was no longer directly involved, and it didn't seem to matter too much. There were bigger things on my mind and, anyway, things would probably turn out pretty much as Kar-hinter had planned, though now he would have to do it without Count von Heinen and his American wife.

  I wondered what kind of conclusions Kar-hinter had reached about my disappearance. He had known that I was waiting for him with the two captives, and he knew that we -- Tracy, Kearns, and myself -- had fought two short battles with men in an alien skudder. So, with very simple arithmetic, he would arrive at the conclusion that the men in the strange skudder had rescued the captives and had either killed me or taken me prisoner. I suspected that at that moment Kar-hinter was doing his damnedest to find out for sure. If I could only get a message to him.

  Okay, then, I had decided early in my stay in the plush cell under the American earth, that was my sole objective: to get my hands on a radio and broadcast a message to Kar-hinter. But just how was I going to do that? Simple, convince the Paratimers that they had converted me, worm my way into their confidence, learn where there was a radio -- and then do everything in my power to get a message out.

  Simple. In a pig's eye!

  When two weeks had passed -- I assumed that it was about two weeks; I counted days in terms of G'lendal's violent, sensual lovemaking -- I decided that I was ready to play the part of a convert.

  Mica came in for his brief daily visit.

  "How are you this morning, Captain Mathers?" he asked, seating himself on the sofa, glancing through one of the books I had deliberately left there, several key passages underlined on the open pages.

  "Well enough, I guess," I said.

  "What's this?" he asked, noticing a passage I had underscored.

  "What?" I asked in all innocence.

  "This that you have marked," he said. Then he read aloud: " 'Despite their alien form, the Kriths have done surprisingly well in their efforts to win the confidence of humans. Their shrewd understanding of human psychology has enabled them to do this, playing on human vanity, while at the same time projecting a powerful father/hero image that even the strongest and most self-reliant men seem to find attractive. However, most humans cannot help feeling a basic animal revulsion to these creatures who, at best, can only be described as parodies of men.' "

  Beside the passage I had put two or three exclamation points.

  Mica smiled. "Is there a special significance to this, Mathers?"

  "There is to me."

  "And what is that?"

  "I'm not really sure," I said. "It's just something that, well, puts into words what I've felt about the Kriths, I suppose."

  "Few men like Kriths."

  "I never said I liked them as individuals."

  "But you admired them. Am I correct in using the past tense?"

  "Hell, I don't know," I said. "You people have me so damned confused."

  "Observe what you just said, Mathers, and keep it in mind. 'You people . . . We are people, human beings like you."

  "That's hardly proof that you're telling the truth."

  "We have been through all of this before."

  "Yes, I know."' I paused, wondered if I were going to be able to convince him. Maybe. I was about halfway ready to believe it myself. "Look, Mica, let me put it to you straight."

  "I wish you would."

  "Some of what you've been telling me is bound to be true, and maybe all of it is. I don't know how much to believe of it yet, but give me time. I'll sort it all out eventually."

  "What are you getting at?" Mica asked, the ghost of a smile flickering around the corners of his mouth as if all this were something he had heard before. Maybe so.

  "I'm not sure. Except this. You damned people have put some pretty big doubts in my mind about the Kriths. Some damned big doubts. You've just about knocked the props out from under my world."

  Mica smiled broadly at this. "G'lendal told me this two or three days ago, Eric," he said, using my first name, rare for him. "I have just been waiting for you to say it."

  So I'd fooled G'lendal already. That was something.

  "Damn it, Mica," I said, hoping this would convince him of my sincerity, "I'm not saying that I really believe you or that I'm ready to join you. All I said was that you've made me doubt."

  "That is the first big step, Eric. The rest is downhill." He paused for a moment. "The world will never look the same to you again."

  I'll be damned, I was thinking. He really does believe me.

  "If I offered you transportation back to the place where Scoti picked you up, would you accept it?" he asked slowly.

  "You mean set me free?" I asked, almost but not quite startled, then realized that it was an obvious trap that I wasn't going to let myself fall into. "I don't know. I mean, I'm not being treated badly here at all, but I would like my freedom. But as for going back with the Kriths right now, well, I don't think so. Not right now, anyway. I'd want to think about it and about what I'd do and about how I'd resolve these questions before I do anything."

  "An appropriate answer," he said. "But do not worry. That is the last place you will be going, even if you were given your freedom. Excuse me for a moment."

  He rose, crossed to the intercom on the wall, and spoke a few alien, French-sounding words into it. A voice that I tentatively tagged as Sally's answered back. Mica smiled.

  When he turned back to me, he said, "This button will ring Sally's quarters."

  "Okay."

  "I just told her that you are to be given limited freedom in her custody. She requested that she be your 'guardian,' as it were, should you be put on probation. She will accompany you wherever you go outside your room, tell you about our little world here, and help you reach some further conclusions. I hope that is agreeable with you."

  I smiled back at him. "Yes, quite agreeable."

  "Now listen carefully, Captain Mathers," he said, his face suddenly becoming hard and cold. "You must remember that you are on a very limited probation. Sally has explicit orders what to do if you step out of line. I would hate for her to have to shoot you because of a stupid mistake. Ask her before you do anything."

  I nodded understanding.

  "Very well," he said. "She will be down before dinner to give you a Cook's tour, as they say, of Staunton. I probably will not see you again today." Then he smiled a halfway convincing smile. "Welcome to the human race, Eric."

  When Sally arrived a couple of hours later, she was wearing tight shorts and an equally tight halter that matched the golden color of her hair and failed to cover her body very effectively. Though she wasn't the stunning beauty that G'lendal was, she was still a very attractive young woman and a person whose pr
esence I enjoyed.

  Yes, I told myself, I even liked Sally better than G'lendal. Sally was a fairly simple person. By this I don't mean stupid. She certainly wasn't that. But rather she was what she seemed to be, said what she felt, did what she believed to be the right thing to do. I could understand Sally and perhaps that was because I understood the culture in which she lived and where she had been formed. And she still reminded me of Kristin.

  As for G'lendal -- I understood absolutely nothing about her or about the world from which she had come. It really didn't exist for me. It was as unreal to me as the beautiful Cross-Line Civilization that the Kriths had told me about -- and which, I suppose, I had even then begun to doubt.

  But, back to Sally.

  "Mica tells me that you're willing to listen to us," she said as the door closed behind her.

  "Yes, I guess you could say that," I said, noticing the small bulge on her right hip under the shorts that obviously wasn't a part of Sally's anatomy -- the bulge that could only be the shape of a very small handgun which I assumed was quite deadly.

  "Would you like me to show you around?"

  "Yes, I Suppose so."

  "Let's go then."

  Staunton, I learned that afternoon, consisted of two major sections of underground burrows in addition to a dozen or so other tunnels separated from the two main ones. To my surprise I had been kept in the smaller one.

  The Americans, the natives of this Line, dwelt and worked in the larger section that was, in reality, a small city built under the earth with a population nearing ten thousand. Here there were stores and shops and theaters and meeting halls and factories and machine shops and printing plants and weapons stores. And here the leaders of the American rebels directed the operations of their guerrilla war against the British overlords. This was, simply, the nerve center and store house of the American rebellion, A.D. 1971.

  And I thought that Mica must have been pretty well convinced of my sincerity to allow me to see even that much -- or pretty well convinced that I would never escape to tell anyone else what I had seen.

  The other section, the smaller one where my cell was located, was devoted to the Paratimers' quarters and their Outtime devices. Most of this area was secret, and apparently even Sally didn't know all of what went on there, though she did show inc what she was permitted to.

  Unlike the American burrow city, that of the Paratimers consisted of little more than sleeping quarters, machine shops, laboratories, storerooms, one large cafeteria, and, of course, a few detention cells. For personal shopping and amusements the Paratimers visited the American section.

  The Paratimers, as I said before, consisted of individuals from at least a dozen Lines, and this was was evidenced by the bizarre decorations and unusual costumes, or lack of costume, worn by the people in the Paratimer quarters. I learned later, however, that when visiting the American section they did their best to hide their difference. When in Rome . . .

  Sally officially lived in the American section, of course, but I somehow got the impression that she spent very little time there. This, added to the fact that I had already suspected that there was some kind of relationship between her and Mica, aroused an uncomfortable feeling of jealousy in me. But what reason did I have for feeling that? Sally certainly owed me nothing -- and what did I owe her?

  Other than my life, perhaps . . .

  No one, either in the American or Paratimer sections, showed us any special attention, though I got the impression that everyone knew Sally and they all were very glad to have her back with them and not across the sea in the Holy Roman Empire where she had spent the previous year as the wife -- in name, at least -- of Count Albert von Heinen.

  The tour ended in the cafeteria in the Paratimer quarters, where we joined perhaps half a thousand people having their dinner.

  When we had finished eating Sally told me that she would have to take me back to my quarters now. She had things she had to do that evening. She did not say that she was going to be doing those things with Mica, but I certainly got that impression.

  I guess I got more impressions that day than outright information.

  We went back to my quarters, and Sally locked me in.

  For a while I paced the floor and wondered just where any radio equipment was located and glanced anxiously at my watch -- which had been returned to me at last, having been found harmless -- wondering whether G'lendal was going to come as she had come every night since I had been there.

  Back to the radio question. I had not thought it wise to come out and ask Sally about it, though I was sure that somewhere the Paratimers had radio gear, even though they must have used it sparingly to avoid detection by the Kriths and my own Timeliners. Well, I had to somehow find out where it was and learn to operate gear that I was sure would not be of any make that I had ever seen before and would probably not even be labeled in any language that I could read.

  Okay, I comforted myself, you're a damned sight closer to it than you were. Just be patient and take it easy and you'll find out.

  Then I lit a cigarette wand paced the floor some more and waited for G'lendal's knock on the door.

  16

  Of Democracy, Sautierboats, and Guns

  The next four weeks went quickly, though my anxiety grew greater as I was continually frustrated in my efforts to discover radio equipment. I knew that there had to be some means of contacting the outside world, but I was unable to find it.

  My days were full and interesting as I learned more and more about the world in which I found myself, as I learned more about the Paratimers who were beginning their secret war against the Kriths and Timeliners. And the nights . . . well, they were interesting too. Mica did not see fit to let me sleep alone a single night or even sleep very much. There was Jonna, of course, and even G'lendal, who came back to me a few times, and Deean and Suski and two or three others, all lovely and willing and fully experienced in bedtime pleasures.

  I will not attempt to detail those four weeks, much of it would be repetitive and most of the details are, from my present viewpoint, unimportant, though I will hit on a few of the high points.

  The American rebels of Staunton were self-governing and made a very big thing out of getting everyone involved in the democratic machinery that elected the governing council. The actual process -- party meetings, speeches, nominations, campaigns, elections, and so on -- was not unlike some other democratic processes that I had seen before. The outstanding thing was the fervor and dedication of these Americans. They not only believed in democracy -- they loved it.

  Every two years the five-man governing council of Staunton was elected and it so happened that the late spring of 1971 was the time of that election. Sally, who was an official of the Jeffersonian Party, invited me to attend the nominating convention of that party, which occurred one weekend, beginning on Friday evening and lasting through Sunday evening. As much as the rebels loved their democracy, they could not afford to allow it to interfere with their ordinary workweek.

  Sally came for me after dinner on that Friday evening clad in a very conservative dress adorned with a large metal pin printed with a stylized picture of one of the rebels' heroes, the American patriot named Thomas Jefferson who was said to have been largely responsible for the writing of the American Declaration of Independence nearly two hundred years before and who had been brutally executed by the British after the collapse of the first rebellion.

  "We'd better hurry," she told me. "It will begin soon."

  We hurried.

  One of the main features of the underground burrows of the American section of Staunton was a huge amphitheater cut from the stone and earth. My guess was that it would hold, when packed full, something on the order of four or five thousand people. And on this particular night, it was packed. There was hardly standing room for all the people who were attending, or rather attempting to attend, though Sally as a party official was able not only to get in, but to get us seats fairly near the front where we coul
d see as well as hear the speakers on the stage. I wondered if the people in the rear of the theater could even hear despite the elaborate sound system of the theater -- a Paratimer installation.

  We had hardly got into our seats when music began to play, recorded, I supposed, since there was no visible band. At once Sally tugged on my arm, so I rose with her and followed her example of placing my right hand over my heart. I didn't recognize the music, but it was heroic and stirring, and I realized how much it must affect the people who knew it and the principles it represented to them.

  Anyway I've always been a sucker for that sort of thing.

  "Remain standing until I sit down," Sally whispered to me.