"We don't have time for this," Moore barked.
"I think we do," Wilkes said evenly.
"Guv!" Murray came crawling through the connecting tube. "Guv, there're two of the buggering things!"
Zack eyed me; then looked at Murray. "What are you blathering about?"
"There were two cubes inside the safe. Here!"
He threw one out, and Moore caught it. Then he threw an identical cube. Moore caught the second, dropped the first, picked it up, and stood staring at both.
"I'm buggered and damned," he said.
I laughed. It hurt, so I quit.
"What's the meaning of this?" Moore demanded.
"Two cubes," I said, my fattened lip moving painfully. "One I came with, one I created here, in this industrial facility."
Moore snorted. "You don't say." He tossed them both to the third gunsel, then sidled between two crates and walked over to where the Chevy, in one of its many incarnations, was parked. He grabbed one of the door handles and yanked. The door didn't give. He thumbed the little cylinder on the lock, pushing it in and out.
"Now, this thing," he said. "You will be kind enough to give us the key."
"Don't have it," I said.
For that I got a whack on the head with something hard but not too damaging. I turned to see Geof Brandon brandishing a length of thin, hollow titanium pipe-a tent pole, probably. It had stung.
Moore smiled pleasantly. "Want to amend that answer?"
"No."
I ducked this time. Geof missed, but got me on the backswing.
"Sure?"
"Yes."
Geof whipped me across the backs of the thighs.
"Look, you can have the car, God damn it, but I'm telling you I don't have the key!"
Moore raised a hand to stay Geof's. "Forget it. Murray, take a look at this lock."
Murray rummaged through a tool kit he'd brought on board, selected a flex-torque wrench and a long thin metal rod that looked good for picking old-fashioned mechanical locks, then sidestepped his way to the Chevy.
"You never answered my question, Moore," I said,
"What question was that?"
"Who's pulling your strings?"
That got me another whack across the cranium.
"Nobody pulls my strings," Moore said mildly. "Or hasn't that been clearly established? I have been misled, though." He scanned the trailer and caught sight of one of the computer's camera eyes. "Misled. Hoodwinked. Led down the garden path."
"If I had ears," Wilkes' voice said, "they'd be burning." Moore snorted.
"Then what's, your motive, Zack?" I persisted, my ears ringing from the last blow. "Don't tell me your beef against me was what made you chase us to the end of the universe."
"Why not? I've been known to bear a grudge for far less than what you did to me.. but you're right. My motives were strictly patriotic. We had to get that map from you, or the Outworlds are sunk."
"Oh, bullshit." Another stroke of the tent pole creased my back. Wincing and blinking back tears, I rasped, "Moore, listen to me. Hasn't it sunk in yet? The cube isn't a map. It never was!"
"Of course it's sunk in. It's branded in my hide, advertising me as the biggest fool in the cosmos. But now I need the blasted thing-both of them, I guess, though I don't understand that part of it. I need the cubes to buy off this insane planet:"
"So you've got 'em. So get the hell out of my truck!" Before Geof could lay on another stroke I pivoted sharply, brought my knee up waist high, and struck out with a kick to his chin, leading with the side of the foot. It caught him squarely, and he went flying into a pile of loose junk, out cold.
The third gunsel swung his weapon around to me but held off firing. I could tell by his eyes that he was very close to just letting me have it, but I'd frozen immediately after delivering the kick, and was far enough away to give him time for second thoughts.
I stood, unmoving, looking at him. A chuckle from Moore broke the tension, and he relaxed.
"Very good move," Moore said. "I was wondering when you were going to get a belly full of old Geof." He sighed. "Poor Geof. Dim as they come, I'm afraid." His expression turned wistful. "I wish Jules' heart hadn't given out. Jules had a head on him." He sighed again, and turned toward Murray, who was probing the lock with the metal rod. "How goes it?"
"It looks simple," Murray complained, "but it isn't."
"Zack," I said, "do you really want that vehicle, or will you settle for an exact duplicate?"
"Eh?"
"This factory can turn out a thousand copies of that automobile in ten minutes-will, if the plant takes a liking to you. That thing was designed and produced here."
"What are you talking about?"
"Didn't the Goddess tell you? This is where we got the car in the first place."
Moore scowled. "But you had it before you ever reached Microcosmos. How could it have come from here?"
"It's a paradox. Ask the Goddess."
Moore grunted. "Try to get a straight answer out of her. You haven't had to deal with… with that thing."
"You don't need the cube, either. I know a way back. I have a map. The real map. It's yours if you leave the others out of it."
Moore gave me a level stare. "Where?"
"In the computer."
Moore slowly turned his gaze toward the camera. "True?"
"Absolutely," Wilkes' simulacrum said.
Moore smiled thinly. "You were waiting for the perfect moment to tell me-is that it?"
"Of course."
` "Of course." Moore walked slowly, arms akimbo, toward the tiny box-and-cylinder affair of the camera, looking into the lens. "It's painfully obvious that you want something, Wilkes. But for the life of me, I can't understand why you think you're in a position to bargain for it."
"Think again."
"I can just take that map. Murray knows computers."
"I'll erase it before you can pull my plug."
Moore stopped and stamped his foot. The trailer shook. "Damn you! You're dead. I saw them bury you. And here you are, scheming your way through eternity-"
The Wilkes program laughed.
Moore sighed again. He looked tired, very tired. "What do you want?"
"Well, this is a little embarrassing… but I don't quite know. Um, let me put it this way-I know what I want, but I don't know who exactly to bargain with. That is to say, I have an idea of who to dicker with, but the notion won't-"
"What do you want?" Moore said tightly.
"Why, a fine new body, like Sam's."
Moore was exasperated. "I certainly can't give it to you!"
"No, you can't. But maybe Jake can."
Moore's eyes grew wary. "Oh?"
"Sure. I know the plant, what it can do. It can manufacture almost anything. It surely could fabricate me a body. as good as Sam's. I'd be willing to bet that Prime had Sam's built here. Now, I don't think the plant would do it for me-in fact, I'm fairly sure they wouldn't. But Jake's got a rep as something of an artiste around here. Right Jake? They'd do anything you'd tell them to do."
"Why not?" I said. "Sure, Corey. It's a deal."
"Wait just a bloody minute here," Moore said. "There's no deal unless I'm in. Now, is that understood?" He waited. "I said, is that underst-"
There came a flash of light and a loud crackle from the rear of the trailer. Moore jumped back and dropped to his knees, gun drawn. A column of blue smoke rose from. where Murray had been standing. I looked. A pile of carbonized matter lay on the deck-a blackened thigh bone, a rib, a shard of skull. There was nothing else but a heap of ash.
Moore rose slowly. He stepped cautiously toward the car, peering at the charred remains of his employee. The stench of burnt flesh filled the trailer. Moore's face drained, then filled with cold anger. He turned his gun on me.
"God damn you," he breathed, then screamed, "God damn you!"
He drew a bead on my forehead.
"No."
The word fell between us like a carca
ss dropped from the ceiling. The voice that had uttered it was not human.
Twrrrll stepped out of the shadows. He held a small hand weapon, and it was trained on Moore.
"No," he repeated. "The Sacrrred Quarrry cannot be, damaged."
Moore didn't move, keeping his deadly aim.
"Don't, Zack," Wilkes' voice warned. "Wouldn't be wise… just now."
Time passed, a short eternity or two.
Slowly, Moore let the gun drop. "Tie his feet, Darrell," he told his only conscious helpmate. "Then see if you can bring Geof around."
Darrell had me sit. He was very careful not to give me an opening for a move. He tied me with more of the plentiful rope they had brought.
Geof finally came to. I hadn't broken his neck, much as I wished I had. Rubbing his chin, he picked up his gun and stood up shakily.
"Bring her over here," Moore then instructed, pointing at Darla.
I strained against my bonds. There was nothing I could do.
"She's pregnant, Zack," Darrell said uneasily.
"So?" Moore thundered. "If you haven't the balls for it… "
Darla didn't look at me. Her face was grim, but resolute. I was glad she didn't look at me. It would have been worse. They had her down when something happened outside. There was a light so intense that, somehow, it seeped into the dark of the trailer.
Moore rose, cursing. "It's her," he said.
Suddenly the back door flew up and white light flooded the place. To me it was a divine presence, a deliverance.
"SHOW YOURSELVES, MORTALS," came an amplified voice. I recognized it.
Moore debated with himself before taking only one of the cubes. His face was pale, but he steeled himself and moved forward, squeezing around the Chevy. When he reached the opening, he dropped to his knees.
"We hear, Great Lady," he said, shielding his eyes from the source of divine light high above. "We have the object you desire."
There was a slight hesitation before the voice answered sharply. "YES. YES, VERY GOOD. IS THAT IT?"
"Yes, Great Lady."
"GOOD. TELL YOUR COMPANIONS TO COME OUT. I WISH TO SEE THEM. NOT YOUR CAPTIVES-THE OTHER ONES IN YOUR BAND."
Geof and Darrell began moving, but Moore waved them back.
"See here… Goddess," Moore said tentatively.
"WHAT IS IT?" The voice was impatient.
"We had an agreement. Here is the cube, the object you told us to obtain for you. We did so, at great peril… we paid a dear price." He grunted in discomfort, and rubbed his eyes. The light was much too bright to bear. "I… can't see you, Great Lady," he said.
"NEVER YOU MIND. I GAVE YOU AN ORDER, AND I EXPECT IT TO BE CARRIED OUT. PRONTO. ER, RIGHT NOW"
"What order?" Moore said suspiciously.
"I TOLD YOU TO COME OUT OF THAT TRUCK, THAT'S WHAT ORDER. AND LEAVE YOUR WEAPONS BEHIND, TOO."
"What? I-" Moore strained mightily to see through the blinding glare. "Look! If you'd cut out the bloody theatrics for a moment-"
"DON'T USE THAT TONE OF VOICE WITH ME, SLIMEBALL! WHEN I SAY RABBIT, YOU HOP UNDERSTAND? AND FURTHERMORE-"
Moore was beside himself. "Just a bloody minute!"
Sam chose that moment to move. I didn't have time to wonder how he'd gotten free of the extra-sturdy lumberjack rope, because things started happening very quickly. He came running out of the front of the trailer, slamming into Geof after delivering a neck chop en passant to Darrell, who fell over. Sam and Geof tussled on the floor for a moment, then the gun popped out of their combined grasp and hit the floor. They both dove for it. Next thing I knew, John was cutting me free; I hadn't seen where he'd come from. As I clawed free of the ropes I heard the sizzle and saw the flash of energy discharge. John ducked. I crawled over to Darrell to look for his gun. The voice was still booming outside. Inside, shouts and general commotion. Glancing up, I saw Zoya on her feet, wielding a hunting knife. I found the gun and rolled toward the back of the trailer, coming to my knees beside the right rear tire of the Chevy. I popped to my feet, saw Moore aiming over the automobile's roof. I raised Darrell's machine pistol and let loose about ten rounds at him, then fell to my knees again: It was quiet toward the front of the trailer: I glanced back. Everyone was down. I could see Darla-she was huddling behind some empty food cartons; she was okay.
"Sam?" I called.
"He's hit, Jake," I heard John say.
There was no movement at the back of the Chevy. I decided to risk it and charged to the rear door. Moore wasn't visible. Outside, the light had dissipated.
"John!" I yelled. "Can you see him on the other side of the car?"
"No, he must have jumped out."
I heard running feet out in the showroom. I poked my head out the rear opening and looked toward the front of the truck. Moore was running full tilt across the glossy blue floor. I brought the pistol up and got off a few rounds just as he disappeared through the entrance to a tunnel leading to one of the main factory buildings.
I went back inside.
Sam's eyes were closed, but he was breathing, which was miraculous in light of the massive chest wound he'd sustained. The energy bolt had seared a twisted black burn from his abdomen to the base of his neck.
"Do what you can," I said to John quietly. "I'm going after Moore."
Darla was at my side, her grip tight on my upper arm. "Don't go, Jake," she said. "Let's get out-let's leave."
I took my jacket off and covered her. I kissed her.
"He must die," I said.
Zoya was standing over Geof. There was a hunting knife in his back. I put one arm around her and hugged. She was stiff, unyielding.
"Good work," I said.
"I have never killed before," she said.
"How did you get the knife?"
"It was right next to me, under a loose piece of paper. They didn't bother to check. And they sat us so that we could pass the knife back and forth." She ran a hand through her chestnut brown hair. "Stupid of them."
Darla said, "Our last joyride really messed up things back here. That's Sean's knife, I think. I remember putting it inside this tool case. See? It fell and popped open."
I hugged Zoya again, then checked Darrell, who hadn't moved since he'd gone down. His neck was broken, and he was dead.
"Where's the Reticulan?" I asked, suddenly remembering. Ragna said, "The beast left in all hastiness when the shooting is commencing." He pointed to the access tube.
"Damn. We'll have to check out the cab and aft-cabin."
"Hi, there!" came Arthur's voice from the back of the trailer.
I went back and lowered the lift for him. He stepped on and came up.
"Did you see the Reticulan out there?" I asked.
"That ugly one in the chartreuse chitin? He took off after the other one. Did you like my little show?"
"Show?"
"I thought my performance was especially brilliant in light of the fact that I've never really heard the Goddess speak in person."
"That was you?" I said in astonishment.
"Sure was. Tell me I'm not a true thespian."
"You're a genius."
Arthur feigned protest. "Oh, really, it was nothing."
"Thanks," I said.
"Thank the plant people. They handled the special effects… "
"Only too happy to oblige," the plant foreman said, its voice as usual coming out of thin air. "Issue was debated, and was decided that some form of indirect intervention was required."
"Again, we owe you," I said.
"Small matter."
I went back to check on Sam.
"Strangest thing," John said. "The wound is healing. See?" He ran his hand very lightly along Sam's wound, brushing away crumbs of fried, charred flesh. Underneath was whitish scar tissue. "Remarkable. He's still out, though. Pulse good, and-"
Sam's eyes fluttered.
"Sam!" I said, kneeling beside him.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. "Yeah?"
"You okay?"
<
br /> "Feel okay." He began to scratch his chest, but John stopped him. "Itches like hell," he complained.
"I think you're.going to be fine," I said.
"Would you believe I tripped over some junk and let him grab the gun? If you'd clean up this damn place once in a while-"
"Sam, shut up."
"You talk to your father like that?"
"Rest up and you can chew me out later. Moore got away. I'm going after him."
"Don't be a fool."
"I do believe he's left the plant by now," Arthur said. "Their vehicles were parked in a loading dock not far from here."
"What about the Reticulan?"
"The security systems are reporting that two 'life-units' have `exited facility,"' Arthur said, apparently hearing a report on the electromagnetic wind.
Sam got to his feet, John helping. "There's something I have to do, Jake. No, I'm okay."
He crawled through the access tube. I followed. When I got to the aft-cabin, Sam was standing at the bulkhead, undoing the plate over the CPU housing.
"Hello, Jake," said Bruce's voice. "Sam here seems to think that we need a complete reformatting of auxiliary storage. I was trying to explain to him that that action would necessitate-"
"Forget it, Wilkes," I said. "We're not falling for it."
"Jake, I don't think you understand. The mole program you call Corey Wilkes has relinquished control to me. There is no need-"
"SHUT UP!" I said, then took a deep breath. "It's over, Corey."
A pause, then. "Sam, please." It was Wilkes' voice.
"No, Corey," Sam said, lifting the protective lid over the RESET switch. "Time to call it a day."
"I see," Wilkes' voice said quietly.
Sam stood, poised with his finger over the red switch. "I should hate you, Corey. But I don't. I've always felt sorry for you. I don't think you've ever enjoyed one minute of your life."
After a long silence: "Push it, Sam." There was a sound not unlike a sigh. "I'm… I'm really very, very tired."
Sam pushed the switch. A few red lights appeared on the CPU.
And another human life ended. Somehow, it's always sad, no matter what.
Paradox Alley s-3 Page 23
