The Devil's Eye Part 2

Q: Would I be right? Would I be right? A: A: (Smiles.) (Smiles.) Honestly, Henry, it's in the air. I'm still making up my mind. Honestly, Henry, it's in the air. I'm still making up my mind.

"She seems upbeat," I said. This Vicki bore little resemblance to the woman who'd sent that original transmission to us. "Whatever the problem is," Alex said, "it hasn't happened yet." We watched the rest of the interview. When asked what she planned to do while she was in town, Vicki said she just intended to look around. "This is a nice place. I'd like to just take it easy." "Will you be visiting the Tomb?" "Oh, I don't think so, Henry. It's a bit scary out there." "This is a nice place. I'd like to just take it easy." "Will you be visiting the Tomb?" "Oh, I don't think so, Henry. It's a bit scary out there."

There was a Barryman Museum. And Graveyard Books. And the Occult Transit Company, which provided virtual trips into the hereafter. You could get s.h.i.+rts with a picture of the monster on them. A sim that dramatized the event. A hologram of the monster itself stood in front of the gift shop. A family were getting their pictures taken beside it when we arrived. Everybody seemed to be doing a thriving business. We went looking for people who might have seen Vicki Greene. Everybody at the Point seemed to be a fan of horror fiction. Most of the locals we talked to said yes, they'd heard she'd been in town. Most said they'd seen her, and several even claimed to have talked with her. But n.o.body was particularly helpful. Several told us she'd been writing about the Barryman Monster. "Why else would she have come here?" one demanded. The word that she'd been lost hadn't gotten around, and her fans were reluctant to believe the news. On the whole, we had trouble finding reliable sources. The details didn't match. Vicki was described as wearing different clothes. Her hair was a different color. Sometimes she spoke with an accent, sometimes she didn't. We asked whether they believed that the Barryman story had any basis in fact. I thought we'd find some skepticism there, especially among the kids. But no. Of course it had happened. Ask anybody. Or go out to the cemetery when Callistra's in the sky.

They ran tours out to Barryman's grave during the daylight hours, using a light-grav bus marked ANDROID LOCAL. When I asked the hotel host whether there was a night tour, he looked startled. "Absolutely not, young lady. n.o.body goes out there at night. It's not allowed." He couldn't quite resist a smile. They picked us up at the hotel, made one more stop, and headed north to the cemetery. About fifteen of us were on board, half of whom were kids. It was a holiday crowd, full of laughter, and I could hear a little girl saying, "Is it really true, Mommy?"

"No, darling," Mommy said. "There are no such things as ghosts." Alex looked for his chance to show the tour guide a picture of Vicki. "Do you recall whether she ever rode with you?" "Mister," he said, "do you have any idea how many people go out there?" We pa.s.sed through the town and drove about three kilometers on a flat straight road. Turned right onto a cutoff. And approached a pair of iron gates. They swung open for us. (As a security measure, they were of doubtful use because the fence was broken in any number of places.) The cemetery was old. Markers dated back more than six hundred years, to the beginning of the Bandahriate. The tour guide, a middle-aged guy who was trying his best to look nervous, told us the town advisory committee was talking about putting the cemetery off-limits to visitors, because everybody knew it was just a matter of time before Forrest Barryman broke loose from his grave and n.o.body knew what he might do then. He looked around at the children, some of whom giggled while others nestled closer to their mothers. "Of course, most of us at the Point think they're worried over nothing," he said with a straight face. "But you know how people are. One restless grave's enough to give the entire town a bad name." Alex leaned my way. "You look a little nervous, Chase." Anything to put me on the defensive. I smiled at him and let it go. The cemetery was a dusty, dry place, not at all like the green, almost lush graveyard near the Country House back on Rimway. Signs reading DO NOT APPROACH AFTER DARK were posted throughout the area. "I don't think I'd want to bury anybody here that I cared about," I said. Alex looked past me, and I could have predicted his response: "At the end, I can't imagine it matters much." A burst of wind rocked the bus. "Forrest is quiet in the daytime," said our tour guide. "Nothing to worry about." The bus made its way among the headstones. Eventually we topped a low hill, and the block came into view. It was higher than I could have reached and half as long as the bus. We swung into a parking area, and the doors opened. The tour guide was first off the bus. He helped the ladies navigate down, lent a hand to the kids, all the while explaining that we were perfectly safe, that there was nothing to worry about in the daytime. "It's only active when Callistra is in the sky." He drew the word Callistra Callistra out, rolling the consonants and savoring the vowels. The guy really enjoyed his work. "They're putting on a nice show," whispered Alex. The LIE STILL inscription was, of course, the first thing that caught my eye. There was another inscription, on the far side, consisting of three rows of unfamiliar symbols. "They're Arrakesh," the tour guide explained. "They're from the out, rolling the consonants and savoring the vowels. The guy really enjoyed his work. "They're putting on a nice show," whispered Alex. The LIE STILL inscription was, of course, the first thing that caught my eye. There was another inscription, on the far side, consisting of three rows of unfamiliar symbols. "They're Arrakesh," the tour guide explained. "They're from the Enkomia Enkomia , which is an ancient text that some people think is sacred. The first line translates to his name, Forrest Barryman. The second is the date of his first burial. And the bottom says , which is an ancient text that some people think is sacred. The first line translates to his name, Forrest Barryman. The second is the date of his first burial. And the bottom says Gone to Glory Gone to Glory ." He touched the rock cautiously. "We certainly hope so," he added. "Why the strange language?" I asked. "It's supposed to help keep him in the ground," he said. "Most of the people who lived here at the time were Travelers. They were the faithful. Their name came out of their emphasis on the notion of life as a journey from a wicked world to salvation. If you look around, you'll notice quite a few of the graves have a star emblem. Those are the Travelers." "Callistra," said a woman behind me. "That's correct," said the guide. "Travelers believed Callistra was G.o.d's star, placed in the heavens as a sign of His presence." The star, of course, was central to a number of that world's religions although I didn't know that at the time. The site seemed peaceful enough. The block would have required a good-sized antigrav engine to move it. "He's not really at rest," said the guide, who was obviously not one to let go of a good thing. "If you come out here on a windy night, which is strictly prohibited, by the way, but come out here anyway, when Callistra is directly overhead, you can hear him down there, trying to get free." There was a big bald-headed guy who asked him to stop. "You're scaring the kids," he said. ." He touched the rock cautiously. "We certainly hope so," he added. "Why the strange language?" I asked. "It's supposed to help keep him in the ground," he said. "Most of the people who lived here at the time were Travelers. They were the faithful. Their name came out of their emphasis on the notion of life as a journey from a wicked world to salvation. If you look around, you'll notice quite a few of the graves have a star emblem. Those are the Travelers." "Callistra," said a woman behind me. "That's correct," said the guide. "Travelers believed Callistra was G.o.d's star, placed in the heavens as a sign of His presence." The star, of course, was central to a number of that world's religions although I didn't know that at the time. The site seemed peaceful enough. The block would have required a good-sized antigrav engine to move it. "He's not really at rest," said the guide, who was obviously not one to let go of a good thing. "If you come out here on a windy night, which is strictly prohibited, by the way, but come out here anyway, when Callistra is directly overhead, you can hear him down there, trying to get free." There was a big bald-headed guy who asked him to stop. "You're scaring the kids," he said.

When we'd finished at the cemetery, the tour bus took us out to look at the android laboratory. It was a cl.u.s.ter of small buildings with specimen tables and tubs and exotic-looking equipment. It was, the driver explained, not the real lab, which had gone away centuries ago. But it was was an "accurate replica." "Furthermore," he said, "this an "accurate replica." "Furthermore," he said, "this is is the ground on which it stood." He continued as if everything were still standing. Here and over there were the quarters of the scientists, directly to your right the dining room. The main laboratory itself was the one-story white building on your right. He stopped in front of it. "Some of the damage was done by the government when it came to recover whatever might connect it with the monster. We think it was the creature itself, though, that really leveled the place." "They must think we're all idiots," I told Alex. "No, no. It's all s...o...b..z. They know no one buys it, but what they want is a momentary suspension of disbelief. Like in a sim. Kick back and enjoy yourself, Chase." "Okay." "Of course, who really knows?" "About things like this? Would you please stop? You've been reading Greene's books again, haven't you?" He smiled, and we both had a good laugh. "Seriously, though, I wonder whether the story has any basis in fact? Whether they might have tried to build androids out here?" He shrugged. "Sure. They might have tried to put together a better cop. In a dictators.h.i.+p, you'd pretty much expect it. It's what makes technology so scary, Chase. Sometimes, the wrong people get to make use of it." "You think Vicki took this tour?" "You think there's any chance in the world she came all the way out here and the ground on which it stood." He continued as if everything were still standing. Here and over there were the quarters of the scientists, directly to your right the dining room. The main laboratory itself was the one-story white building on your right. He stopped in front of it. "Some of the damage was done by the government when it came to recover whatever might connect it with the monster. We think it was the creature itself, though, that really leveled the place." "They must think we're all idiots," I told Alex. "No, no. It's all s...o...b..z. They know no one buys it, but what they want is a momentary suspension of disbelief. Like in a sim. Kick back and enjoy yourself, Chase." "Okay." "Of course, who really knows?" "About things like this? Would you please stop? You've been reading Greene's books again, haven't you?" He smiled, and we both had a good laugh. "Seriously, though, I wonder whether the story has any basis in fact? Whether they might have tried to build androids out here?" He shrugged. "Sure. They might have tried to put together a better cop. In a dictators.h.i.+p, you'd pretty much expect it. It's what makes technology so scary, Chase. Sometimes, the wrong people get to make use of it." "You think Vicki took this tour?" "You think there's any chance in the world she came all the way out here and didn't didn't take the tour?" For a long minute I kept my peace. Then: "How about we come back out tonight?" "Where? take the tour?" For a long minute I kept my peace. Then: "How about we come back out tonight?" "Where? Here? Here? " "Yes. " "Yes. Here. Here. " "Why?" "Because that's what Vicki would have done. She would have wanted to " "Why?" "Because that's what Vicki would have done. She would have wanted to feel feel the emotional impact of the android story. And the grave at night was part of that impact. I doubt she could have resisted it." "You're probably right, Chase. But I don't see any point in pus.h.i.+ng this any further. What we need to do is find out where she went from here." "That seems like cheating. I think we should repeat the experience." "You really want to do this, don't you?" "Yes," I said. "I'd like to be here when the star gets overhead. That's the way she'd have done it." "Chase-" "We came to repeat the experience. To do what the emotional impact of the android story. And the grave at night was part of that impact. I doubt she could have resisted it." "You're probably right, Chase. But I don't see any point in pus.h.i.+ng this any further. What we need to do is find out where she went from here." "That seems like cheating. I think we should repeat the experience." "You really want to do this, don't you?" "Yes," I said. "I'd like to be here when the star gets overhead. That's the way she'd have done it." "Chase-" "We came to repeat the experience. To do what she she did. It seems to me, this might be at the center of things." "Okay." His voice was resigned. "If you insist." I shook my head. "No." "No what?" "I'll go alone." "Why?" "Because she did." "Chase, you're not fooling anybody." "What do you mean, Alex?" "You're still a little kid." did. It seems to me, this might be at the center of things." "Okay." His voice was resigned. "If you insist." I shook my head. "No." "No what?" "I'll go alone." "Why?" "Because she did." "Chase, you're not fooling anybody." "What do you mean, Alex?" "You're still a little kid."

He didn't like the idea. It's dangerous, he said. No place for a woman. Who knows who's hanging around out there at that time of night? There might even be predators in the area. I told him not to worry, that I'd call him if anything out of the ordinary happened. Anyhow, I was armed. I'd bought a 21k scrambler, which I would have with me. "But," I told him, "you might want to keep a plasma gun handy in case there really is a monster running loose." He said something along the lines of how I needed to work on my sense of humor. When Callistra had risen prominently into the center of the sky, I fought my way through another series of cautionary admonitions from Alex, went up to the roof, and took the skimmer back to the cemetery. It's an even drearier place at night. There was no light, save the soft blue evanescence cast over the headstones and monuments by the lone star. I landed in the parking area, about thirty meters from the grave site. A strong wind was blowing out of the west and carrying a lot of dust with it. I climbed out, turned on my lamp, and walked over to the grave. Something moved off to my right, on the edge of vision. A couple of teens, trying to walk and make out at the same time. They disappeared behind a mausoleum. I shut off the lamp and stood in the silence, broken only by the drone of insects. The block gleamed in the starlight. I'd expected to be able to see the town lights, but there was only a soft glow in the trees to the south. A warm breeze kicked up. I pictured Vicki standing at that identical spot, listening to the darkness. And she had to be thinking how she might re-create that place, how she could use it. In her Point Man Point Man interview, she'd mentioned interview, she'd mentioned The Devil's Eye The Devil's Eye as a working t.i.tle. I looked up at the blue star. It was the wrong color. But that night, in the presence of the oversized marker, color didn't matter. I wondered whether she'd been at all nervous. Or whether she delighted in an experience like that. Was that maybe why she'd come? Maybe it had nothing to do with planning a novel. Maybe she just liked the inner creep, the chill, that came with standing near a grave that people insisted was unquiet. A set of lights appeared in the northwest, pa.s.sed overhead, and descended toward the glow that marked the town. I turned my lamp back on and looked at the symbols on the marker. as a working t.i.tle. I looked up at the blue star. It was the wrong color. But that night, in the presence of the oversized marker, color didn't matter. I wondered whether she'd been at all nervous. Or whether she delighted in an experience like that. Was that maybe why she'd come? Maybe it had nothing to do with planning a novel. Maybe she just liked the inner creep, the chill, that came with standing near a grave that people insisted was unquiet. A set of lights appeared in the northwest, pa.s.sed overhead, and descended toward the glow that marked the town. I turned my lamp back on and looked at the symbols on the marker. Forrest Barryman. Gone to Glory. Forrest Barryman. Gone to Glory.

The rock and the Arrakesh characters had to be pure s...o...b..z. Who knew what they really said? Whether they said anything at all? The whole town was an enterprise based on a fantasy. Like West Kobal on-where was it?-Black Adrian, where a sea monster with enormous tentacles was periodically reported. Or Bizmuth in the Spinners, where visitors from another galaxy were supposed to have crashed. (They and the wreckage had been spirited off by the government, which denied everything.) There's even a place that claims to have a doorway into another dimension. They'll show you the doorway, it's in the side of a mountain, cut into solid rock, but conditions have to be exactly right to get through it, which, of course, they never are. Just as well: The locals claim no one has ever come back. But townspeople swear you can get a magnificent view of this other-dimensional place. It was easy to imagine Vicki Greene standing there, thinking the same thoughts, wondering the same things. Possibly concluding that the answers didn't matter. That it was the uncertainty that counted. I began, that night, to feel close to her. Until then, she'd struck me as a kind of opportunist, making money by writing about things that could never be. That I personally didn't care about. But it struck me that the vampires and Forrest Barryman and all the rest of it weren't imaginative creatures dreamed up to separate idiots from their money. That they reflected light into the darkest corners of what makes us human. There was, after all, a time when we did not comprehend the natural world, did not see the order. There was only a vast darkness, a world for which no one really knew the rules. Filled with phantoms s.n.a.t.c.hing unwary travelers, perhaps. With angels moving stars, and G.o.ds riding the sun across the sky. The ground moved. It wasn't a tremor, exactly. More like a flutter, a barely noticeable palpitation. My imagination, probably. It came again. I could see nothing, but I eased the scrambler out of my pocket and took a long look around. I was alone. The teenagers seemed to have gone. The block moved. Began to rise. I shook my head. Stared as one end, the forward end, the end closer to me, lifted.

I'd like to say I stood my ground. I understood immediately it was an elaborate illusion for tourists brave enough to go out there at night. To feed the legend. But it didn't matter. My hair rose, and my heart started to pound. The bottom of the rock cleared the ground, and I could see something holding it, lifting it from beneath. An oversized blue-tinted hand appeared, pus.h.i.+ng down on the ground while the slab kept going up. I turned and ran. All the way back to the skimmer. I ordered the AI to open the hatch while I was still running. "Start the engine," I told it. My heart was coming out of my chest. The skimmer was already off the ground when I jumped on board.

NINE.

Reality is what hits you in the head when you don't watch where you're walking.- Wish You Were Here All right. I wouldn't have you think I'm a complete coward. I went back a few minutes later, stayed in the skimmer, and looked down at the place from a safe alt.i.tude. The grave was quiet, and the block was flat on the ground again. I set back down in the parking area, opened up, and got out. I checked the time and stood where I'd stood before. And waited. Until it started again. I retreated to the lander and watched the routine play itself out. The hand, blue in the starlight, raising the slab, was as far as it went. Then it shut down. I returned again to my chosen spot. And stood there. After about two minutes, it happened a third time.

I was on my way back to the Point when Alex called. "Are you okay?" "Are you okay?" he asked. "Ummm. Yes. I'm fine." he asked. "Ummm. Yes. I'm fine."

"See any monsters?"

"Just the usual ones."

"Good. When will you be back?"

"Why?"

"So I know when to start worrying."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay. Let me know when you get in."

"Alex?"

"Yes?"

"The people in this town can't be trusted."

"I'm shocked to hear it."

In the morning, I couldn't resist going down to the city hall. Alex tried to talk me out of it, but I was annoyed that they were playing tricks on their visitors. It was a run-down building, situated next to the courthouse and across the street from the police station. They had a human receptionist who looked as if she had more important things to do than talk to strangers. "Who did you want to see, ma'am?" "The supervisor, please." "Do you have an appointment?"

"No." "I'm sorry. He's not available at the moment. How can we help you?" "You know," I said, "somebody's going to have a heart attack out there." "Out where?" It went on like that for a while, but I finally managed to get past her to a staff a.s.sistant. He was no help either, and relayed me to an overfed guy in a large office that needed sweeping and dusting. He looked as if he'd been there forever. He had a bristling white mustache and an enormous bald skull. He smiled in a grandfatherly way, told me he was glad I'd come by, and pulled over a chair for me. His nameplate identified him as a Mr. Collander. "Ms. Kolpath," he said, "I'll put your comments on the record, and we'll look into it." We sat there a moment, watching each other. He was giving me a chance to say thank you very much, shake his hand, and leave. "Mr. Collander," I said, "this doesn't bother you at all, does it?" The smile stayed in place, but it acquired a regretful aspect. "I wish I could say I'm disturbed." He pressed his fingertips against his forehead. "But I won't lie to you. No, we've known about it for a while." "In fact you put it there." I looked up at a framed picture of him, two young girls, and a puppy. He was presenting them with an award. His eyes followed mine. "It's our annual Pet Appreciation Day," he said. "Look, Ms. Kolpath-May I call you Chase Chase ?" " ?" " Ms. Kolpath Ms. Kolpath will do fine." "Ms. Kolpath, may I ask what you intend to do when you leave here?" "I haven't decided yet." "I can understand you were frightened." "I wasn't frightened." Terrified would be closer to the truth. "So what happens now? That thing turns on every time someone goes out there?" I'd gotten up, and he asked me to sit again. "I won't take much of your time," he said. "I'm sorry for your inconvenience. I truly am." He nodded toward the window. "Look around you. Boldinai Point is a small town. It has no major industry. We're isolated, and the only reason we exist at all is our tourist trade. If that were to go away, this town would dry up." The guy was good. In retrospect, thinking about it, I wonder that I could have been put off so easily. But at the time, it was hard to argue with. "There's no harm done," he said. "We have monitors. If someone in ill health were to go out there, we'd intervene. But for most people who come here, Ms. Kolpath, it's just part of the show. It's what they expect. Look, I'm sorry you took any of it seriously. But n.o.body really believes there's an android up there being held in its grave by a rock. We will do fine." "Ms. Kolpath, may I ask what you intend to do when you leave here?" "I haven't decided yet." "I can understand you were frightened." "I wasn't frightened." Terrified would be closer to the truth. "So what happens now? That thing turns on every time someone goes out there?" I'd gotten up, and he asked me to sit again. "I won't take much of your time," he said. "I'm sorry for your inconvenience. I truly am." He nodded toward the window. "Look around you. Boldinai Point is a small town. It has no major industry. We're isolated, and the only reason we exist at all is our tourist trade. If that were to go away, this town would dry up." The guy was good. In retrospect, thinking about it, I wonder that I could have been put off so easily. But at the time, it was hard to argue with. "There's no harm done," he said. "We have monitors. If someone in ill health were to go out there, we'd intervene. But for most people who come here, Ms. Kolpath, it's just part of the show. It's what they expect. Look, I'm sorry you took any of it seriously. But n.o.body really believes there's an android up there being held in its grave by a rock. We pretend pretend it's so, for our tourists." He took a deep breath. "Let me ask you a question: What would you have thought if you'd gone up there and nothing had happened?" I was starting to feel like an idiot. He smiled and told me I should come back and see him if I had any other problems. Then he was escorting me toward the door. "I hope you'll try to see our side of things, Ms. Kolpath. And while you're here at the Point, just relax and enjoy the ride." He offered me a gift certificate for the souvenir shops. And as I was going out, he smiled. "We've been in operation for sixty years. Never lost a tourist." it's so, for our tourists." He took a deep breath. "Let me ask you a question: What would you have thought if you'd gone up there and nothing had happened?" I was starting to feel like an idiot. He smiled and told me I should come back and see him if I had any other problems. Then he was escorting me toward the door. "I hope you'll try to see our side of things, Ms. Kolpath. And while you're here at the Point, just relax and enjoy the ride." He offered me a gift certificate for the souvenir shops. And as I was going out, he smiled. "We've been in operation for sixty years. Never lost a tourist."

When I got back to the hotel, Alex looked up from a cup of the local brew and, with one of those complacent expressions, asked where I'd been. "Just out walking." He examined his cup and studied the notebook that lay on his lap. "Did they agree to dismantle the gear at the grave site?" While I was considering my answer, he said I was just in time to go with him to meet with the organizer of a local reading club. His name was Dolf, and he was waiting for us at the Boldinai Point Library. It was next door to the city hall. We went in and found him talking with one of the librarians. We did a round of introductions, then he led us to a room that served as a small auditorium.

He was a former police officer, and he admitted to having served during Bandahriate days. "But we weren't doing any of the stuff here that was going on in other places," he said. "We wouldn't have allowed it." He was one of the tallest people I've ever seen, his height accentuated by a p.r.o.nounced lankiness. He'd been blond at one time, but his hair was going gray. He wore a thick, unkempt mustache, and his eyes possessed the shrewdness of a professional cardplayer. He was well along in years and told us that horror fiction was one of those forbidden delights that made his life a pure pleasure. "Did you know in advance Vicki Greene was coming?" Alex asked. He was obviously not sure why we were asking the questions. I thought he'd mistaken us for a couple of fans. "No. Not really. We only found out a couple of days before she got here. We were notified, I think, by one of the book dealers in Korimba. He called the Graveyard-" "The graveyard?" I asked. "Graveyard Books. Our own shop." "Oh." "My understanding," he continued, "is that Korimba heard it from somebody at Spirit." "The distributor," said Alex. "Yes." "How did you actually connect with her? With Ms. Greene?" "We had no code and couldn't find a listing for her. But we knew when she was coming so we staked out the hotels. And Amelia, Louie Black's wife, spotted her walking into the lobby of the Hamel." He sat back and looked immensely pleased with himself. "She let us take her to lunch. Right over there." He pointed across the street to a modest caf . The Tomb. "They put a couple of tables together." He corrected himself. "I don't mean she let us buy." "Of course." "We wanted to. But she insisted on paying her own." "How'd she seem?" "She's a funny lady. Doesn't take herself seriously. And, man, she sure likes her dessert." He apparently hadn't heard the news yet. "Dolf, do you know how long she stayed at the Point?" "Three or four days. Why do you ask?" Alex hesitated, then told him what had happened. He listened, shook his head, seemed genuinely saddened. "Did she tell you where she intended to go when she left here?" He shook his head. "No. I can check with the others. See if she might have mentioned it to any of them." "Okay. Yes, I'd appreciate it if you did that. Did you see her at all after the lunch?" "No." He didn't need to think about it. "No. Next we heard, she was gone." "Did she tell you why she'd come here?" "Sure." The smile came back. "She said she wanted to meet Barryman."

Dolf called back that night. He'd talked with the others. "When she left here," he said, "she told a couple of our people she was going to Bessarlik." "Bessarlik? What's that?" He laughed. We didn't know? "It's the Haunted Forest."

TEN.

My advice to you, Grimly, is to do the sensible thing: Hide.- Etude in Black Living in a different world always takes some adjustment. Your weight is usually different. Not by a lot, but it's amazing what the sudden acquisition or loss of a few pounds can do. Time is inevitably a problem. It's never been possible, despite some effort, to standardize the measurements. Hours on Salud Afar are longer than at home, and minutes are shorter. I won't try to explain that. Suffice it to say that a day in Boldinai Point, defined as a complete turn on the planetary axis, is almost two standard hours longer than the one we were accustomed to. The result was that our sleeping patterns quickly went berserk. The biggest adjustment, though, was the food. Most of it was unfamiliar and tended to be flat. We stuck as closely as we could to items that were at least reasonable facsimiles of what we got on Rimway. n.o.body cares about the details of any of this, but the reader should be aware that when I refer, say, to bacon or eggs, I'm not really talking about the home-grown stuff so much as an approximation. And the coffee, by the way, never really got close. We were finis.h.i.+ng a pseudobreakfast next morning when Alex got a call. "Mr. Benedict?" "Mr. Benedict?" "Yes." "Yes."

"Mr. Benedict, I'm calling for Dr. Wexler."

"Who?"

"Dr. Mikel Wexler. He's with the history department at Marikoba University. He'd like very much to have a few moments of your time. Will you be available later this morning?"

"What does Dr. Wexler want to talk about?"

"I believe it has to do with Vicki Greene."

"I'm available now."

"He's in conference at the moment, sir. Would ten o'clock be satisfactory?"

We did a quick search on Wexler. He was one of the heroes of the Resistance, the underground movement that had fought Cleev's government for years. He'd been captured, tortured, and eventually broken out by his comrades in a celebrated escape. When the Coalition came to power, he took up a teaching career, and was now chairman of the history department at Marikoba. He was the author of Rebel on the Sh.o.r.e Rebel on the Sh.o.r.e , an account of those turbulent years. And served as an occasional advisor to Administrator Kilgore. Alex took an hour to read sections of the book. "I'll say one thing for him," he said. "He gives most of the credit to other people." We took the call in one of the hotel's conference rooms. Alex introduced me as his a.s.sociate, and Wexler commented gallantly that he wished he had so lovely a partner. Usually that kind of comment puts me on guard, but he seemed sincere. He was a congenial guy, almost leisurely, but there was something in his eyes that suggested you wouldn't want him angry. And his manner implied that he understood his likeness would one day join the statues of the heroes in Marinopolis. He spoke with the a.s.surance of someone accustomed to making decisions. And I could see that he worked out. He had thick gray hair and the kind of chiseled features that suggest an inner strength. He was, I thought, the kind of guy I'd want at my back if I got in trouble. , an account of those turbulent years. And served as an occasional advisor to Administrator Kilgore. Alex took an hour to read sections of the book. "I'll say one thing for him," he said. "He gives most of the credit to other people." We took the call in one of the hotel's conference rooms. Alex introduced me as his a.s.sociate, and Wexler commented gallantly that he wished he had so lovely a partner. Usually that kind of comment puts me on guard, but he seemed sincere. He was a congenial guy, almost leisurely, but there was something in his eyes that suggested you wouldn't want him angry. And his manner implied that he understood his likeness would one day join the statues of the heroes in Marinopolis. He spoke with the a.s.surance of someone accustomed to making decisions. And I could see that he worked out. He had thick gray hair and the kind of chiseled features that suggest an inner strength. He was, I thought, the kind of guy I'd want at my back if I got in trouble. "If you don't mind my saying so," "If you don't mind my saying so," he continued, he continued, "I think this young lady has played a major part in your success." "I think this young lady has played a major part in your success."

I probably blushed. "You're absolutely correct," said Alex. "Don't know what I'd do without her." There was another minute or so of social fencing. Then Wexler came to the point: "I just found out the other day about Vicki Greene. It's a pity. What on earth would possess her to do such a thing?" "I just found out the other day about Vicki Greene. It's a pity. What on earth would possess her to do such a thing?"

Alex gave the standard reply: "It was what we hoped to find out." "Yes. I wish you luck." "Yes. I wish you luck." His brow furrowed. His brow furrowed. "Did you expect to find the answer on Salud Afar?" "Did you expect to find the answer on Salud Afar?" "Don't know." "Don't know."

"If you don't mind my asking-"

"Go right ahead, Dr. Wexler."

"Mikel, if you please. You might consider me something of a fan. I'm curious how this became of interest to you."

Alex told him about the message.

They're all dead. "Who's all dead?"

"We have no idea."

"What a strange, cryptic business. So how do you plan to proceed, if you don't mind my asking?"

"We thought we'd begin by following in her footsteps."

"I suppose that's as good a course as any."

I noticed a cane propped against the side of Wexler's chair. A souvenir, perhaps, of Cleev's dungeons. "Mikel," said Alex, "what's your your connection with her?" connection with her?" "I met her at Samuels. When she was leaving." "I met her at Samuels. When she was leaving."

"You knew her, then?"

"I knew her from her pictures. I've been one of her readers since she started her career. I don't usually admit that, but-Well, anyhow, I knew she was in the area and that she was about to leave." He was seated in a dark blue fabric chair. Behind him, two windows opened out onto what was probably the university campus. He was seated in a dark blue fabric chair. Behind him, two windows opened out onto what was probably the university campus. "I arranged to be on the station." "I arranged to be on the station." "Did you get a chance to talk with her?" "Did you get a chance to talk with her?"

"Yes. For a few minutes."

"How did she seem?"

"How do you mean?"

"Did she seem upset? Depressed?"

"Not at all. She wasn't what I expected. I thought someone who wrote horror books would be-Well, you know. But she wasn't like that. Not at all." He smiled. He smiled. "She was a witty woman. I pretended I just happened to be there, of course, and asked if she was really Vicki Greene. You know how that goes. So we got talking, and she let me buy her a drink." "She was a witty woman. I pretended I just happened to be there, of course, and asked if she was really Vicki Greene. You know how that goes. So we got talking, and she let me buy her a drink."

"May I ask what you talked about, Mikel?" The smile widened. "How much she enjoys writing sequences that'll scare the daylights out of the reader. She actually giggled when she described how she sits there and reads the really inflammatory pa.s.sages to herself. Out loud." "How much she enjoys writing sequences that'll scare the daylights out of the reader. She actually giggled when she described how she sits there and reads the really inflammatory pa.s.sages to herself. Out loud." He shook his head. He shook his head. "What a loss." "What a loss." They were both silent for a minute. Then he continued: They were both silent for a minute. Then he continued: "I'm glad you're looking into it. I think there are a lot of us who would like to know why she would do such a thing. But I must admit to being curious. You've come so far. Did the family engage you to pursue this?" "I'm glad you're looking into it. I think there are a lot of us who would like to know why she would do such a thing. But I must admit to being curious. You've come so far. Did the family engage you to pursue this?"

"No," said Alex. "She asked for help. I felt an obligation."

"Of course. Well, I certainly hope you can come up with an answer."

Alex leaned forward. "Mikel, are you aware of anything unusual that might have happened to her while she was here?" "No," "No," he said. he said. "Of course we didn't talk long." "Of course we didn't talk long." He picked up his cane. Held it across his knees. He picked up his cane. Held it across his knees. "Had anything happened while she was here, the media would certainly have picked it up." "Had anything happened while she was here, the media would certainly have picked it up."

"We checked the archives. There was nothing."

"Then I would say nothing happened. She's a major celebrity, Alex. Even out here. Her books sell on every continent. People love her. I'm reluctant to say this because you've come so far, but I'd be very surprised if, whatever drove her to do what she did, won't eventually be traced to some family or personal problem back home. A love affair gone wrong, possibly. Something along those lines."

"You're probably right, Mikel." Alex looked my way. "Did you have anything, Chase?"

"Yes," I said. "Mikel, may I ask why you contacted us?"

"I heard from several sources that you were inquiring about Ms. Greene. I was interested in why she might have done what she did." He smiled. He smiled. "Besides, it was an opportunity to meet you and Alex. I enjoy meeting celebrities." "Besides, it was an opportunity to meet you and Alex. I enjoy meeting celebrities."

"Before we leave for the Haunted Forest"-Alex could not suppress a grin-"I've something to show you." "And what's that?" "Take a look." He darkened the room, and we were gliding toward a mountain range. It was the middle of the evening, the sun below the horizon, lights just coming on. "Towns," I said. "Is there something special about them?" "It's the Homeworld Security Project," said Alex. "Which is what?" "I told you about the Mute incidents." "Yes." "They're taking it pretty seriously." We pulled in closer to some of the lights. Near the base of a mountain, I saw digging equipment. And temporary dwellings. "What are they doing?" I asked "Digging shelters." "What? You're kidding." "Not at all. It's described as a purely precautionary measure." "Things haven't deteriorated that much, I hope." "I don't know. It's hard to be sure what's really going on." It looked like a major project. Cutters and extractors were out in force. Lots of lights, robots everywhere, even a few humans. And, of course, they were working at night. "This is only one site. Apparently, this is going on around the world." "I wasn't aware of it." "We haven't been paying attention. They're digging into mountains. Or, more precisely, getting ready to." "They really expect an attack from the Mutes?" "Apparently. They're not making a lot of noise about it. The Administrator was on earlier this morning, talking about how they don't ever expect to have to use the shelters, but it's better to be prepared." "If the Mutes were to attack in force, I don't think a few holes in the ground would be much help." "I agree." "So what's really going on?" "It might be politics." "How do you mean, Alex?" "We're into an election cycle. Administrator Kilgore is running for reelection." "He might want to look as if he's protecting everybody." "That's a possibility." He looked worried. "There's something you're not telling me," I said. "The activity started within the last five months. The incursions. The Homeworld Security Project." I knew where he was going. "It all started right after Vicki left."

ELEVEN.

We're adrift in an ocean of the mind. Our lives consist primarily of navigating through shoals and storms, enjoying the experiences of a thousand ports, putting landing parties ash.o.r.e on strange islands, takingvisitors aboard, and dropping anchor occasionally to bask in the sunlight. The destination is of no consequence.- Love You to Death A funny thing happened on the way to the Haunted Forest. Getting there involved a flight across the Crystal Sea. We leased a skimmer from Reliable Transport and headed out. It was one of those brilliant, pleasant summer days, with the sting of salt in the air and a sense of approaching fall. Armies of white clouds drifted through the morning sky. A few fishermen were out. I watched one who'd netted something and was about to shoot it with a long-barreled scrambler. We sat back, enjoying the ride. The AI kept us steady at about a thousand meters. Alex was in the midst of wis.h.i.+ng he'd left me behind because somebody should be running the business. It was a mistake just to close up for three months and invite our clients to go elsewhere. I was half-listening, wondering what Ben was up to, thinking what an idiot's chase we were involved in, when the AI lit up. "Chase," "Chase," she asked, she asked, "do you have a minute?" "do you have a minute?" It's never good news when an AI in a taxi or a leased vehicle starts a conversation with you in the middle of a flight. It's usually to inform you that the main axle has fallen off, that rough weather lies ahead, or that you're over the storied volcano, Mt. Boombas.h.i.+, at a bad time. "Yes, Lyra, what is it?" It's never good news when an AI in a taxi or a leased vehicle starts a conversation with you in the middle of a flight. It's usually to inform you that the main axle has fallen off, that rough weather lies ahead, or that you're over the storied volcano, Mt. Boombas.h.i.+, at a bad time. "Yes, Lyra, what is it?"

"I seem to have lost control of the vehicle."

"That can't be right," I told Alex. We were still moving steadily ahead. I adjusted my seat, sliding it closer to the instrument panel, and released the yoke. "Okay, Lyra," I said, "can you turn over control to me?"

"Negative, Chase. I am disconnected. I do not understand it."

"What's going on?" asked Alex. "Don't know. Something's Something's flying-Whoop!" We started to accelerate, then to drop. And I don't mean flying-Whoop!" We started to accelerate, then to drop. And I don't mean descend descend . The antigravs shut off, and the only thing keeping us aloft was the stubby wings, which provided . The antigravs shut off, and the only thing keeping us aloft was the stubby wings, which provided some some lift but not nearly enough. We were sliding down that pleasant summer sky. I pulled the yoke back, but nothing happened. "You still have control," I told Lyra. "Turn loose." lift but not nearly enough. We were sliding down that pleasant summer sky. I pulled the yoke back, but nothing happened. "You still have control," I told Lyra. "Turn loose."

"I do not have control."

The ocean was coming up fast. If I'd had time, I'd have ripped the AI out by the roots and tossed her over the side, but it probably wouldn't have helped anyhow. There was nothing at that point except to hang on to the stick. Then, without warning, the engines went to neutral, the antigravs cut back in, and we leveled off. We rolled in over the surface. It was smooth as gla.s.s. We were maybe ten meters off the water. I could see waves, not much more than ripples. They drifted past. The yoke moved around as if it weren't connected to anything. "I'm declaring an emergency," "I'm declaring an emergency," Lyra said. "Send the call." Lyra said. "Send the call."

"I will if I can."

We started to climb. "Thank G.o.d," said Alex. "You've got it now?" "No," I growled. And to demonstrate the point I banged the yoke with an open hand.

"Unable to transmit, Chase."

"Can you turn the radio over to me?"

"Negative. I get no reaction from it."

I tried to switch it on. Nothing happened. We were still going up. Accelerating again. "Chase." Alex was hanging on to his chair. "Do something."

I was pressing pads and hitting switches. When none of that worked, I went looking under the panel for something that might allow me to gain control of the aircraft, some sort of emergency board or cutoff switch. I wasn't familiar with that type vehicle, had in fact never seen the make before. At three thousand meters, we leveled off. But we were moving like a bandit. And while I played around in the cabin, the thing began to shake. Violently. "It's coming apart," Alex said. He was speaking through clenched teeth. "What's happening?" "Going through the sound barrier." I couldn't get any kind of response out of the d.a.m.ned thing. "I didn't think these things could go that fast." I was waiting for the wings to come off. "Apparently some makes can." Then we were through it. The rattling and banging stopped, and we were flying free again. "Good, Chase," he said. "Now can you slow it down? And get us to land?" As if some unseen force had answered, the drive shut off. We began to lose acceleration. The antigravs kept us aloft as we bounced and clattered back through the sound barrier. I was still strangling the yoke, trying to pull the nose of the skimmer up by sheer physical force. "I am still off-line," "I am still off-line," said Lyra. said Lyra. Me, too, kid. Me, too, kid.

I didn't bother with the skimmer's radio. I had taken two links on that trip. One was a necklace, the other a bracelet. I was wearing the bracelet that day. I called on the distress frequency. A woman responded: "Sh.o.r.e Watch. Go ahead." "Sh.o.r.e Watch. Go ahead." "Sh.o.r.e Watch, we are going down. Need immediate a.s.sistance." "Sh.o.r.e Watch, we are going down. Need immediate a.s.sistance."

"Please keep calm and describe your emergency."

"We've lost control of our aircraft." We were losing alt.i.tude again. This time, though, it wasn't a free fall. Still, we were going down at a good clip.

"Your location, please?"

"Lyra, where are we?" Lyra provided a set of coordinates, and the Sh.o.r.e Watch said they'd be right there. "Better make it quick," I said. We continued to brake. Suddenly, my weight came back. "Alex," I said, "the antigravs are off again." "Have you resolved your problem?" "Have you resolved your problem?" asked the voice from the Sh.o.r.e Watch. "Negative," I said. And, to Alex: "Hang on." asked the voice from the Sh.o.r.e Watch. "Negative," I said. And, to Alex: "Hang on."

No need to worry about that.

We plowed into the top of a wave, bounced, and came down hard. The impact threw me against the harness. I heard Alex saying, "Come on, Chase," as if it were my fault. Then the cabin was filling with water, and he was trying to get me out of my seat. He'd come to my rescue like this once before, so I thought it was a good sign. But everything was getting dark and starting to spin. "-with me, Chase," he was saying. "Stay with me. I can't do this alone."

But he did. When I saw daylight again, we were in the water, hanging on to something, riding down the side of a wave. It was one of the chairs. "You okay?" he asked. I looked around. Ocean in all directions. No sign of the skimmer. I needed a minute before I could speak. "I've been better," I said at last. "Nothing broken?" Everything seemed okay. "I don't think so." "All right. I think if there were, you'd know it." "I guess. Where's the skimmer?" "Down like a rock." He watched me get hold of the chair. "Don't put too much weight on it." "Okay." He let me go. I kicked a little bit to stay up. "They should be here soon," he said. "I hope. How long's it been?" "Just a few minutes."

"Have you you called the Sh.o.r.e Watch?" "Since we came down? No." "Why not?" "I was too busy trying to keep your head out of the water." "Okay. Let's try it again." I got the same operator. called the Sh.o.r.e Watch?" "Since we came down? No." "Why not?" "I was too busy trying to keep your head out of the water." "Okay. Let's try it again." I got the same operator. "They're on the way," "They're on the way," she said. she said. "Should be about fifteen minutes." "Should be about fifteen minutes." "Good. Thanks." "Good. Thanks."