Nine by Laumer

by Keith Laumer

  “Get me Jess—fast!”

  The police chief answered.

  “Jess, the word’s out I’m poison. A carful of State law is at the front door. I’m going out the back. Get in their way all you can.” Tremaine dropped the phone, grabbed up the suitcase and let himself out into the hall. The back stairs were dark. He stumbled, cursed, made it to the service entry. Outside, the alley was deserted.

  He went to the comer, crossed the street, thrust the suitcase into the back seat of his car and slid into the driver’s seat. He started up and eased away from the curb. He glanced in the mirror. There was no alarm.

  It was a four-block drive to Miss Carroll’s house. The housekeeper let Tremaine in.

  “Oh, yes, Miss Carroll is still up,” she said. “She never retires until nine. I’ll tell her you’re here, Mr. Tremaine.”

  Tremaine paced the room. On his third circuit Miss Carroll came in.

  “I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t important,” Tremaine said. “I can’t explain it all now. You said once you had confidence in me. Will you come with me now? It concerns Bram … and maybe a lot more than just Bram.”

  Miss Carroll looked at him steadily. “I’ll get my wrap.”

  On the highway Tremaine said, “Miss Carroll, we’re headed for Bram’s house. I take it you’ve heard of what happened out there?”

  “No, James. I haven’t stirred out of the house. What is it?”

  “A gang of teen-age toughs went out last night. They had guns. One of them took a shot at Bram. And Bram’s disappeared. But I don’t think he’s dead.”

  Miss Carroll gasped. “Why? Why did they do it?”

  “I don’t think they know themselves.”

  “You say … you believe he still lives …”

  “He must be alive. It dawned on me a little while ago … a little late, I’ll admit. The locket he gave you. Did you ever try it?” “Try it? Why … no. I don’t believe in magic, James.”

  “Not magic. Electronics. Years ago Bram talked to me about radio. He wanted to teach me. Now I’m here looking for a transmitter. That transmitter was busy last night. I think Bram was operating it.”

  There was a long silence.

  “James,” Miss Carroll said at last, “I don’t understand.” “Neither do I, Miss Carroll. I’m still working on finding the pieces. But let me ask you: that night that Bram brought you out to his place. You say he ran to the kitchen and opened a trapdoor in the floor—”

  “Did I say floor? That was an error; the panel was in the wall.” “I guess I jumped to the conclusion. Which wall?”

  “He crossed the room. There was a table, with a candlestick. He went around it and pressed his hand against the wall, beside the woodbox. The panel slid aside. It was very dark within. He ducked his head, because the opening was not large, and stepped inside …”

  “That would be the east wall… to the left of the back door?” “Yes.”

  “Now, Miss Carroll, can you remember exactly what Bram said to you that night? Something about fighting something, wasn’t it?” “I’ve tried for sixty years to put it out of my mind, James. But I remember every word, I think.” She was silent for a moment.

  “I was beside him on the buggy seat. It was a warm evening, late in spring. I had told him that I loved him, and … he had responded. He said that he would have spoken long before, but that he had not dared. Now there was that which I must know.

  “His life was not his own, he said. He was not … native to this world. He was an agent of a mighty power, and he had trailed a band of criminals …” She broke off. “I could not truly understand that part, James. I fear it was too incoherent. He raved of evil beings who lurked in the shadows of a cave. It was his duty to wage each night an unceasing battle with occult forces.”

  “What kind of battle? Were these ghosts, or demons, or what?” “I don’t know. Evil powers which would be unloosed on the world, unless he met them at the portal as the darkness fell and opposed them.”

  “Why didn’t he get help?”

  “Only he could stand against them. I knew little of abnormal psychology, but I understood the classic evidence of paranoia. I shrank from him. He sat, leaning forward, his eyes intent. I wept and begged him to take me back. He turned his face to me, and I saw the pain and anguish in his eyes. I loved him … and feared him. And he would not turn back. Night was falling, and the enemy awaited him.”

  “Then, when you got to the house … ?”

  “He had whipped up the horses, and I remember how I clung to the top braces, weeping. Then we were at the house. Without a word he jumped down and ran to the door. I followed. He lit a lamp and turned to me. From somewhere there was a wailing call, like an injured animal. He shouted something—an unintelligible cry—and ran toward the back of the house. I took up the lamp and followed. In the kitchen he went to the wall, pressed against it. The panel opened. He looked at me. His face was white.

  “In the name of the High God, Linda Carroll, I entreat you …’

  “I screamed. And he hardened his face, and went down … and I screamed and screamed again …” Miss Carroll closed her eyes, drew a shuddering breath.

  “I’m sorry to have put you through this, Miss Carroll,” Tremaine said. “But I had to know.”

  Faintly in the distance a siren sounded. In the mirror, headlights twinkled half a mile behind. Tremaine stepped on the gas. The powerful car leaped ahead.

  “Are you expecting trouble on the road, James?”

  “The State police are unhappy with me, Miss Carroll. And I imagine they’re not too pleased with Jess. Now they’re out for blood. But I think I can outrun them.”

  “James,” Miss Carroll said, sitting up and looking behind. “If those are police officers, shouldn’t you stop?”

  “I can’t, Miss Carroll. I don’t have time for them now. If my idea means anything, we’ve got to get there fast …”

  V

  Bram’s house loomed gaunt and dark as the car whirled through the gate, ground to a stop before the porch. Tremaine jumped out, went around the car and helped Miss Carroll out. He was surprised at the firmness of her step. For a moment, in the fading light of dusk, he glimpsed her profile. How beautiful she must have been …

  He reached into the glove compartment for a flashlight.

  “We haven’t got a second to waste,” he said. “That other car’s not more than a minute behind us.” He reached into the back of the car, hauled out the heavy suitcase. “I hope you remember how Bram worked that panel.”

  On the porch Tremaine’s flashlight illuminated the broken hasp. Inside, he led the way along a dark hall, pushed into the kitchen.

  “It was there,” Miss Carroll said, pointing. Outside, an engine sounded on the highway, slowing, turning in. Headlights pushed a square of cold light across the kitchen wall. Tremaine jumped to the spot Miss Carroll had indicated, put the suitcase down, felt over the wall.

  “Give me the fight, James,” Miss Carroll said calmly. “Press there.” She put the spot on the wall. Tremaine leaned against it. Nothing happened. Outside, there was the thump of car doors; a muffled voice barked orders.

  “Are you sure … ?”

  “Yes. Try again, James.”

  Tremaine threw himself against the wall, slapped at it, searching for a hidden latch.

  “A bit higher; Bram was a tall man. The panel opened below …”

  Tremaine reached higher, pounded, pushed up, sideways—

  With a click a three by four foot section of wall rolled silently aside. Tremaine saw greased metal slides and, beyond, steps leading down,

  “They are on the porch now, James,” said Miss Carroll.

  “The light!” Tremaine reached for it, threw a leg over the sill. He reached back, pulled the suitcase after him. “Tell them I kidnapped you, Miss Carroll. And thanks.”

  Miss Carroll held out her hand. “Help me, James. I hung back once before. I’ll not repeat my folly.”

  Tremaine
hesitated for an instant, then reached out, handed Miss Carroll in. Footsteps sounded in the hall. The flashlight showed Tremaine a black pushbutton bolted to a two by four stud. He pressed it. The panel slid back in place.

  Tremaine flashed the light on the stairs.

  “Okay, Miss Carroll,” he said softly. “Let’s go down.”

  There were fifteen steps, and at the bottom, a corridor, with curved walls of black glass, and a floor of rough boards. It went straight for twenty feet and ended at an old-fashioned five-panel wooden door. Tremaine tried the brass knob. The door opened on a room shaped from a natural cave, with water-worn walls of yellow stone, a low uneven ceiling, and a packed-earth floor. On a squat tripod in the center of the chamber rested an apparatus of black metal and glass, vaguely gunlike, aimed at the blank wall. Beside it, in an ancient wooden rocker, a man lay slumped, his shirt blood-caked, a black puddle on the floor beneath him.

  “Bram!” Miss Carroll gasped. She went to him, took his hand, staring into his face.

  “Is he dead?” Tremaine said tightly.

  “His hands are cold … but there is a pulse.”

  A kerosene lantern stood by the door. Tremaine lit it, brought it to the chair. He took out a pocket knife, cut the coat and shirt back from Brain’s wound. A shotgun blast had struck him in the side; there was a lacerated area as big as Tremaine’s hand.

  “It’s stopped bleeding,” he said. “It was just a graze at close range, I’d say.” He explored further. “It got his arm too, but not as deep. And I think there are a couple of ribs broken. If he hasn’t lost too much blood …” Tremaine pulled off his coat, spread it on the floor.

  “Let’s lay him out here and try to bring him around.”

  Lying on his back on the floor, Bram looked bigger than his six-foot-four, younger than his near-century, Tremaine thought. Miss Carroll knelt at the old man’s side, chafing his hands, murmuring to him.

  Abruptly a thin cry cut the ah*.

  Tremaine whirled, startled. Miss Carroll stared, eyes wide. A low rumble sounded, swelled louder, broke into a screech, cut off.

  “Those are the sounds I heard that night,” Miss Carroll breathed. “I thought afterwards I had imagined them, but I remember … James, what does it mean?”

  “Maybe it means Bram wasn’t as crazy as you thought,” Tremaine said.

  Miss Carroll gasped sharply. “James! Look at the wall—”

  Tremaine turned. Vague shadows moved across the stone, flickering, wavering.

  “What the devil … !”

  Bram moaned, stirred. Tremaine went to him. “Bram!” he said. “Wake up!”

  Bram’s eyes opened. For a moment he looked dazedly at Tremaine, then at Miss Carroll. Awkwardly he pushed himself to a sitting position.

  “Bram … you must lie down,” Miss Carroll said.

  “Linda Carroll,” Bram said. His voice was deep, husky.

  “Bram, you’re hurt …”

  A mewling wail started up. Bram went rigid. “What hour is this?” he grated.

  “The sun has just gone down; it’s after seven—”

  Bram tried to get to his feet. “Help me up,” he ordered. “Curse the weakness …”

  Tremaine got a hand under the old man’s arm. “Careful, Bram,” he said. “Don’t start your wound bleeding again.”

  “To the Repellor,” Bram muttered. Tremaine guided him to the rocking chair, eased him down. Bram seized the two black pistol-grips, squeezed them.

  “You, young man,” Bram said. “Take the circlet there; place it about my neck.”

  The flat-metal ring hung from a wire loop. Tremaine fitted it over Bram’s head. It settled snugly over his shoulders, a flange at the back against his neck.

  “Bram,” Tremaine said. “What’s this all about?”

  “Watch the wall there. My sight grows dim. Tell me what you see.”

  “It looks like shadows: but what’s casting them?”

  “Can you discern details?”

  “No. It’s like somebody waggling their fingers in front of a slide projector.”

  “The radiation from the star is yet too harsh,” Bram muttered. “But now the node draws close. May the High Gods guide my hand!”

  A howl rang out, a raw blast of sound. Bram tensed. “What do you see?” he demanded.

  “The outlines are sharper. There seem to be other shapes behind the moving ones. It’s like looking through a steamy window …” Beyond the misty surface Tremaine seemed to see a high narrow chamber, bathed in white light. In the foreground creatures like shadowy caricatures of men paced to and fro. “They’re like something stamped out of alligator hide,” Tremaine whispered. “When they turn and I see them edge-on, they’re thin …”

  “An effect of dimensional attenuation. They strive now to match matrices with this plane. If they succeed, this earth you know will lie at their feet.”

  “What are they? Where are they? That’s solid rock—”

  “What you see is the Niss Command Center. It lies in another world than this, but here is the multihedron of intersection. They bring their harmonic generators to bear here in the hope of establishing an aperture of focus.”

  “I don’t understand half of what you’re saying, Bram. And the rest I don’t believe. But with this staring me in the face, I’ll have to act as though I did.”

  Suddenly the wall cleared. Like a surface of moulded glass the stone threw back ghostly highlights. Beyond it, the Niss technicians, seen now in sharp detail, worked busily, silently, their faces like masks of ridged red-brown leather. Directly opposite Bram’s Repellor, an apparatus like an immense camera with a foot-wide silvered lens stood aimed, a black-clad Niss perched in a saddle atop it. The white light flooded the cave, threw black shadows across the floor. Bram hunched over the Repellor, face tensed in strain. A glow built in the air around the Niss machine. The alien technicians stood now, staring with tiny bright-red eyes. Long seconds passed. The black-clad Niss gestured suddenly. Another turned to a red-marked knife-switch, pulled. As suddenly as it had cleared, the wall went milky, then dulled to opacity. Bram slumped back, eyes shut, breathing hoarsely.

  “Near were they then,” he muttered, “I grow weak . .

  “Let me take over,” Tremaine said. “Tell me how.”

  “How can I tell you? You will not understand.”

  “Maybe I’ll understand enough to get us through the night.” Bram seemed to gather himself. “Very well. This must you know …

  “I am an agent in the service of the Great World. For centuries we have waged war against the Niss, evil beings who loot the continua. They established an Aperture here, on your Earth. We detected it, and found that a Portal could be set up here briefly. I was dispatched with a crew to counter their move—”

  “You’re talking gibberish,” Tremaine said. “I’ll pass the Great World and the continua … but what’s an Aperture?”

  “A point of material contact between the Niss world and this plane of space-time. Through it they can pump this rich planet dry of oxygen, killing it—then emerge to feed on the corpse.”

  “What’s a Portal?”

  “The Great World lies in a different harmonic series than do Earth and the Niss World. Only at vast intervals can we set up a Portal of temporary identity as the cycles mesh. We monitor the Niss emanations, and forestall them when we can, now in this plane, now in that.”

  “I see: denial to the enemy.”

  “But we were late. Already the multihedron was far advanced. A blinding squall lashed outside the river cave where the Niss had focused the Aperture, and the thunder rolled as the ionization effect was propagated in the atmosphere. I threw my force against the Niss Aperture, but could not destroy it … but neither could they force their entry.”

  “And this was sixty years ago? And they’re still at it?”

  “You must throw off the illusion of time! To the Niss only a few days have passed. But here—where I spend only minutes from each night in the engage
ment, as the patterns coincide—it has been long years.”

  “Why don’t you bring in help? Why do you have to work alone?”

  “The power required to hold the Portal in focus against the stresses of space-time is tremendous. Even then the cycle is brief. It gave us first a fleeting contact of a few seconds; it was through that that we detected the Niss activity here. The next contact was four days later, and lasted twenty-four minutes—long enough to set up the Repellor. I fought them then … and saw that victory was in doubt. Still, it was a fair world; I could not let it go without a struggle. A third identity was possible twenty days later; I elected to remain here until then, attempt to repel the Niss, then return home at the next contact. The Portal closed, and my crew and I settled down to the engagement.

  “The next night showed us in full the hopelessness of the contest. By day, we emerged from where the Niss had focused the Aperture, and explored this land, and came to love its small warm sun, its strange blue sky, its mantle of green … and the small humble grass-blades. To us of an ancient world it seemed a paradise of young life. And then I ventured into the town … and there I saw such a maiden as the Cosmos has forgotten, such was her beauty …

  “The twenty days passed. The Niss held their foothold—yet I had kept them back.

  “The Portal reopened. I ordered my crew back. It closed. Since then, have I been alone …”

  “Bram,” Miss Carroll said. “Bram … you stayed when you could have escaped—and I—”

  “I would that I could give you back those lost years, Linda Carroll,” Bram said. “I would that we could have been together under a brighter sun than this.”

  “You gave up your world, to give this one a little time,” Tremaine said. “And we rewarded you with a shotgun blast.” “Bram … when will the Portal open again?”

  “Not in my life, Linda Carroll. Not for ten thousand years.” “Why didn’t you recruit help?” Tremaine said. “You could have trained someone …”