“What do we do now?” she asked.
“ZORAC, what are the options? Can we get out?”
“That’s probably the best bet. Look, there are Jevienese engineers in the control section right now, switching in the backup communications and monitoring systems. I could be cut off at any moment. I’ll give you directions, now, to a way out through the basement that I’ll unlock. It leads into the city’s freight-moving system. First, you need to go down through the back stairs from the passage outside where you are, to a garbage-compacting plant . .
They lost ZORAC shortly after, but found their way down through the route that it had described. The exit was unlocked, and they entered a system of tunnels and shafts, much of it collapsing from disrepair, which brought them into the automated sublevels of Shiban. When they had gone what they judged to be a safe distance from PAC, they began ascending via catwalks and stairways to reemerge into habitation. A short distance farther on, Hunt recognized the street outside the hotel that Nixie had taken him to. “Okay, I think I know where we are,” he told Gina.
“That’s great. But where do we want to be?”
The Shapieron was the obvious place—assuming ZORAC or whoever was in charge aboard the ship didn’t decide to take it up from the surface for some reason. But with the police possibly on the alert for them, Hunt put their chances of getting to Geerbaine as slim. And even if they did, access to the pad where the Shapieron stood would surely be impossible.
“Well, there’s only one American I know in town,” Hunt said.
“What we do when we get there, I’m not sure. But keep your voice down on the streets. There’s probably an order out to watch for Terrans.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
There were plenty of police about, but from the way they were positioned they seemed to be a reserve force drawn up around PAC rather than a cordon sealing it off. At any rate, they hadn’t cleared the surrounding precincts, and Hunt and Gina were able to blend in easily enough. Green crescents were everywhere, and the ayatollahs were out in force delivering perorations to excited crowds. Although none of what was being said was comprehensible to the two Terrans, the fever of excitement in the air was impossible to mistake. It was as if the city was alive with anticipation of some imminent event.
As they passed through the buzzing arcades and plazas, Hunt tried to make more sense out of what had happened. He didn’t believe that the real motivation could be simply a straight takeover of the administration for the reasons Langerif had claimed. JPC was already talking about winding the existing administration up, and the obvious thing would have been to wait and see what came of it.
The only other possible aim was to prevent details getting back to JPC and the powers behind it of what was happening at PAC. But all that anyone outside could know was that the Ganymeans were
checking out the main JEVEX sites, and all that could tell anyone was that a lot of JevEX was not where it was supposed to be. That meant that whoever was behind it did not want people making the connection with Uttan; which was another way of saying that they were very anxious not to give JPC any grounds for reconsidering its decision to let Eubeleus go there.
The street they were following crossed a small square in which a wildly gesticulating ayatollah clad in a yellow tunic and green smock was haranguing a crowd pressed from wall to wall. There was no quick way through. They could either work their way across to where the street continued on the far side, or back up and find another way around. Hunt looked resignedly at Gina. She shrugged back. He turned and began edging his way between the waving, applauding Jevlenese.
What he sensed wasn’t the uplifting, jubilant kind of excitement that went with carnivals and festivals. It was more intense, fervently passionate. The faces around them were inflamed, mouths writhing mindless slogans, eyes glazed, oblivious to all but some inner rapture. This was the beast that made lynch mobs and Nuremberg rallies out of the same people who brought their children to Sunday-afternoon parades.
No, Hunt told himself after they had gone a few yards. The beast wasn’t in the crowd. It was up there, on the makeshift platform of packing boxes fronted with banners. It didn’t belong to the rational universe. It was a product of another place, another reality.
He looked at the crowd again: unaware, unseeing, incapable of knowing. Nothing would ever change of its own accord there. And he looked at the shrewd, hawklike features of the speaker, scanning, alert to every feedback and cue, trying to grasp the alienness staring out from behind the glittering eyes.
The eyes seemed to meet Hunt’s for an instant, and even at that distance Hunt had the eerie feeling that his thoughts were being read as plainly as his face. He wondered how long ago the being inside the body he was looking at had found itself staring out at this new world. Whether his initial reactions had been of terror or otherwise, he had come to terms with his new existence and its irreversibility, and mastered the survival skills of the niche in which he found himself. And all the while, the mass of those who had been born there and belonged there immersed themselves in fantasies and waited for the Thuriens to repair their decaying cities. And from their unwitting ranks, the intruders had recruited the followers that they needed around them to make them feel secure. Just as was happening right now, in front of Hunt’s eyes.
Just as had been happening on Earth all through its history because of the agents that the Jevlenese had sent there. Those were the ones whose insecurity had appeared as paranoia or the craving to control others, in a way that normal people were incapable of comprehending. And now Hunt could see why that should be so. The agents that had infiltrated Earth to perpetrate some of its worst episodes of brutality and inhumanity had not been human at all. Their only goal had always been what Hunt was witnessing right now: to secure themselves against other rivals from the Entoverse by reinforcing their own army of fanatics. The simple, undeveloped peoples of Earth became what misplaced Thurien benevolence had turned the bulk of the Jevlenese into: a ready—made pool of exploitable recruiting fodder.
Exploitable recruiting fodder . . . The phrase kept running through Hunt’s mind all the way to Murray’s.
“Who is it?” Lola’s voice inquired from nowhere identifiable around the purple door with the white surround.
“It’s Vic. Is Murray in there?”
Murray’s voice came on the line at once. “What do you want this time? You’ve already got me a bad reputation. My friends don’t like the company I’ve been keeping.”
“Let us in. It’s important.”
“Us? Oh, shit, not again. Have you brought those two walking tanks back?”
“There’s just me and a friend called Gina. She’s a journalist— American.”
“My life story isn’t for sale yet. I haven’t figured out the ending.”
“Look, PAC’s been taken over by a jevienese coup of some kind. The Shiban police are in on it.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“It could be planetwide. I don’t know. But maybe the Federation isn’t dead yet. We have to get in off the streets.”
The door opened. Hunt nodded at Gina, and she went through ahead. Murray was waiting for them in the lounge. “Gina Marin,” Hunt said. “This is Murray. He’s from the West Coast, too. San Francisco.”
“Yeah. It’s a small galaxy.” They nodded, then shook hands loosely.
“Hi. I’ve heard about you, Murray. I’m another friend of Nixie’s.”
“I guess we can swap all the questions about home later. Is she okay? From the amount I’ve seen of her lately I figured she’d shacked up there at PAC or joined the Marines.”
“She’s been a big help,” Hunt said. “She was okay the last time I saw her. We got separated in the commotion. Gina and I only just managed to get out.” He spotted the COM panel and screen in front of the chair that Murray normally used and moved across to it. “Mind if I try something?” He tapped pads to activate it and call up channel fifty-six in the way he knew by now for J
evlenese units. “ZORAC, can you read?” He waited a moment. “Anything here?” There was no response.
“Bad news?” Murray asked.
Hunt nodded resignedly. “They’ve cut the connection via PAC from the Shapieron.”
Murray said something at the panel in Jevlenese, and a short message appeared on the screen.
“What’s that?” Hunt asked.
“It says they’re on an emergency system. Services are restricted,” Murray said. He motioned with his head to indicate a cabinet with bottles and glasses, at the same time raising his eyebrows questioningly.
Hunt nodded. “Thanks. I could use one.”
“Me, too,” Gina said without caring what it was, and sank into a chair.
Murray squatted down and opened the cabinet door. “So what gives?” he asked over his shoulder as he poured.
“The Jevienese sprang a surprise at PAC. They’ve turned out the Ganymeans and taken over. I’m not really sure what happens next.”
“Jesus!” Murray doubled the measure that he had poured into his own glass and downed half of it at a gulp. He straightened up and passed out the glasses, then propped himself against the edge of the large table. “Is the jolly Green Giant who took off yesterday with the shipload of rollers mixed up with it?”
“If so, it hasn’t come out into the open yet, but we’re pretty sure, yes,” Hunt said. He downed a draft from his glass, then asked in turn, “What’s going on in the city? The place is electric. Green crescents out everywhere. They seem to be expecting something.”
“It started yesterday. The big rumor out there is that JEVEX is coming back. The head freaks are delirious about it. Nobody around here’s gonna spill too many tears if the Gs do have to walk.”
Gina let her arm fall slackly to rest on the arm of the chair and looked across the room. Her tension had eased now that they were secure for the time being, allowing the full impact of what had happened to get through. Her face was drawn, sapped of vigor by her acceptance of the hopelessness that she had been putting off.
“So that’s it,” she said, her voice flat. “It’s over. We wait around until the cavalry limps in, and go home with what’s left of the pieces—if we don’t get picked up in the meantime.”
“Shit, isn’t there anywhere they’ll leave a guy alone?” Murray muttered. “Does this mean they’re gonna be setting up the IRS here?”
“That might be the least of your problems,” Gina said humorlessly.
“What about the others back there?” Murray asked.
“We’re not sure. We only just got out.”
“So . . . what happens next?”
“I don’t know. What do you think, Vic?” Gina looked over at Hunt. But he was sitting with a strange, faraway look on his face and hadn’t heard. “Vic, are you okay?”
“Recruiting fodder,” Hunt said, still distant. “That’s what it’s all about.”
“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 Jevienese, 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 Jevienese 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 jevienese-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.”<
br />
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.
Hogan, James - Giant Series 04 - Entoverse (v1.1) Page 39
