The passage was still quiet. Gefty moved softly over to one of the chairs, took a small cushion from it and pitched it out in front of the entrance.
There was a hiss. The cushion turned in midair into a puff of bright white fire. Gefty aimed his gun high at the far passage wall just beyond the entrance and pulled the trigger. It was a projectile gun. He heard the slug screech off the slick plastic bulkhead and go slamming down the passage. Somebody out there made a startled, incoherent noise. But not the kind of a noise a man makes when he’s just been hit.
“If you come in here armed,” Gefty called, “I’ll blow your head off. Want to stop this nonsense now?”
There was a moment’s silence. Then Maulbow’s voice replied shakily from the passage. He seemed to be standing about twenty feet back from the room.
“If you’ll end your thoughtless attempts at interference, Rammer,” he said, “there will be no trouble.” He was speaking with the restraint of a man who is in a state of cold fury. “You’re endangering us all. You must realize that you have no understanding of what you are doing.”
Well, the last could be true enough. “We’ll talk about it,” Gefty said without friendliness. “I haven’t done anything yet, but I’m not just handing the ship over to you. And what have you done with Miss Ruse?”
Maulbow hesitated again. “She’s in the map room,” he said then. “I . . . it was necessary to restrict her movements for a while. But you might as well let her out now. We must reach an agreement without loss of time.”
Gefty glanced over his shoulder at the small closed door of the map room. There was no lock on the door, and he had heard no sound from inside; this might be some trick. But it wouldn’t take long to find out. He backed up to the wall, pushed the door open and looked inside.
Kerim was there, sitting on a chair in one corner of the tiny room. The reason she hadn’t made any noise became clear. She and the chair were covered by a rather closely fitting sack of transparent, glistening fabric. She stared out through it despairingly at Gefty, her lips moving urgently. But no sound came from the sack.
Gefty called angrily, “Maulbow—”
“Don’t excite yourself, Rammer.” There was a suggestion of what might be contempt in Maulbow’s tone now. “The girl hasn’t been harmed. She can breathe easily through the restrainer. And you can remove it by pulling at the material from outside.”
Gefty’s mouth tightened. “I’ll keep my gun on the passage while I do it—”
Maulbow didn’t answer. Gefty edged back into the map room, tentatively grasped the transparent stuff above Kerim’s shoulder. To his surprise, it parted like wet tissue. He pulled sharply, and in a moment Kerim came peeling herself out of it, her face tear-stained, working desperately with hands, elbows and shoulders.
“Gefty,” she gasped, “he . . . Mr. Maulbow—”
“He’s out in the passage there,” Gefty said. “He can hear you.” His glance shifted for an instant to the wall where a second of the shroudlike transparencies was hanging. And who could that have been intended for, he thought, but Gefty Rammer? He added, “We’ve had a little trouble.”
“Oh!” She looked out of the room towards the passage, then at the gun in Gefty’s hand, then up at his face.
“Maulbow,” Gefty went on, speaking distinctly enough to make sure Maulbow heard, “has a gun, too. He’ll stay there in the passage and we’ll stay in the instrument room until we agree on what should be done. He’s responsible for what’s happened and seems to know where we are.”
He looked at Kerim’s frightened eyes, dropped his voice to a whisper. “Don’t let this worry you too much. I haven’t found out just what he’s up to, but so far his tricks have pretty much backfired. He was counting on taking us both by surprise, for one thing. That didn’t work, so now he’d like us to co-operate.”
“Are you going to?”
Gefty shrugged. “Depends on what he has in mind. I’m just interested in getting us out of this alive. Let’s hear what Maulbow has to say—”.
Some minutes later Gefty was trying to decide whether it was taking a worse risk to believe what Maulbow said than to keep things stalled on the chance that he was lying.
Kerim Ruse, perched stiffly erect on the edge of a chair, eyes big and round, face almost colorless, apparently believed Maulbow and was wishing she didn’t. There was, of course, some supporting evidence . . . primarily the improbable appearance of their surroundings. The pencil-thin fire-spouter and the sleazy-looking “restrainer” had a sufficiently unfamiliar air to go with Maulbow’s story; but as far as Gefty knew, either of them could have been manufactured in the Hub.
Then there was the janandra—the big, snakish thing in the storage which Maulbow had brought back up from the moon along with the battered machine. It had been, he said, his shipboard companion on another voyage. It wasn’t ordinarily aggressive—Gefty’s sudden appearance in the vault must have startled it into making an attack. It was not exactly a pet. There was a psychological relationship between it and Maulbow which Maulbow would not attempt to explain because Gefty and Kerim would be unable to grasp its significance. The janandra was essential, in this unexplained manner, to his well-being.
That item was almost curious enough to seem to substantiate his other statements; but it didn’t really prove anything. The only point Gefty didn’t question in the least was that they were in a bad spot which might be getting worse rapidly. His gaze shifted back to the screens. What he saw out there, surrounding the ship, was, according to Maulbow, an illusion of space created by the time flow in which they were moving.
Also according to Maulbow, there was a race of the future, human in appearance, with machines to sail the current of time through the universe—to run and tack with the winds of time, dipping in and out of the normspace of distant periods and galaxies as they chose. Maulbow, one of the explorers, had met disaster a million light-years from the home of his kind, centuries behind them, his vehicle wrecked on an airless moon with damaged control unit and shattered instruments. He had made his way to a human civilization to obtain the equipment he needed, and returned at last with the Silver Queen to where the time-sailer lay buried.
Gefty’s lip curled. No, he wasn’t buying all that just yet—but if Maulbow was not lying, then the unseen stars were racing past, the mass of the galaxy beginning to slide by, eventually to be lost forever beyond a black distance no space drive could span. The matter simply had to be settled quickly. But Maulbow was also strained and impatient, and if his impatience could be increased a little more, he might start telling the things that really mattered, the things Gefty had to know. Gefty asked slowly, as if hesitant to commit himself, “Why did you bring us along?”
The voice from the passage snapped, “Because my resources were nearly exhausted, Rammer! I couldn’t obtain a new ship. Therefore I chartered yours; and you came with it. As for Miss Ruse—in spite of every precaution, my activities may have aroused suspicion and curiosity among your people. When I disappeared, Miss Ruse might have been questioned. I couldn’t risk being followed to the wreck of the sailer, so I took her with me. And what does that mean against what I have offered you? The greatest adventure—followed, I give you my solemn word, by a safe return to your own place and time, and the most generous compensations for any inconvenience you may have suffered!”
Kerim, looking up at Gefty, shook her head violently. Gefty said, “We find it difficult to take you on trust now, Maulbow. Why do you want to get into the instrument room?”
Maulbow was silent for some seconds. Then he said, “As I told you, this ship would not have been buffeted about during the moments of transfer if the control unit were operating with complete efficiency. Certain adjustments will have to be made in the unit, and this should be done promptly.”
“Where do the ship instruments come in?” Gefty asked.
“I can determine the nature of the problem from them. When I was . . . stranded . . . the unit was seriously damaged. My
recent repairs were necessarily hasty. I—”
“What caused the crack-up?”
Maulbow said, tone taut with impatience, “Certain sections of the Great Current are infested with dangerous forces. I shall not attempt to describe them . . .”
“I wouldn’t get it?”
“I don’t pretend to understand them very well myself, Rammer. They are not life but show characteristics of life—even of intelligent life. If you can imagine radiant energy being capable of conscious hostility . . .”
There was a chill at the back of Gefty’s neck. “A big, fast-moving light?”
“Yes!” Sharp concern showed suddenly in the voice from the passage. “You . . . when did you see that?”
Gefty glanced at the screens. “Twice since you’ve been talking. And once before—immediately after we got tumbled around.”
“Then we can waste no more time, Rammer. Those forces are sensitive to the fluctuations of the control unit. If they were close enough to be seen, they’re aware the ship is here. They were attempting to locate it.”
“What could they do?”
Maulbow said, “A single attack was enough to put the control unit out of operation in my sailer. The Great Current then rejected us instantly. A ship of this size might afford more protection, which is the reason I chose it. But if the control unit is not adjusted immediately to enable it to take us out of this section, the attacks will continue until the ship—and we—have been destroyed.”
Gefty drew a deep breath. “There’s another solution to that problem, Maulbow. Miss Ruse and I prefer it. And if you meant what you said—that you’d see to it we got back eventually—you shouldn’t object either.”
The voice asked sharply, “What do you mean?”
Gefty said, “Shut the control unit off. From what you were saying, that throws us automatically back into normspace, while we’re still close enough to the Hub. You’ll find plenty of people there who’ll stake you to a trip to the future if they can go along and are convinced they’ll return. Miss Ruse and I don’t happen to be that adventurous.”
There was silence from the passage. Gefty added, “Take your time to make up your mind about it, if you want to. I don’t like the idea of those lights hitting us, but neither do you. And I think I can wait this out as well as you can . . .”
The silence stretched out. Presently Gefty said, “If you do accept, slide that fire-shooting device of yours into the room before you show up. We don’t want accidents.”
He paused again. Kerim was chewing her lips, hands clenched into small fists in her lap. Then Maulbow answered, voice flat and expressionless now.
“The worst thing we can do at present,” he said, “is to prolong a dispute about possible courses of action. If I disarm, will you lay aside your gun?”
“Yes.”
“Then I accept your conditions, disappointing as they are.”
He was silent. After a moment, Gefty heard the white rod clatter lightly along the floor of the passage. It struck the passage wall, spun off it, and rolled into the instrument room, coming to rest a few feet away from him. Gefty hesitated, picked it up and laid it on the wall table. He placed his own gun beside it, moved a dozen steps away. Kerim’s eyes followed him anxiously.
“Gefty,” she whispered, “he might . . .”
Gefty looked at her, formed the words “It’s all right” with his mouth and called, “Guns have been put aside, Maulbow. Come on in, and let’s keep it peaceable.”
He waited, arms hanging loosely at his side, heart beating heavily, as quick footsteps came up the passage. Maulbow appeared in the entrance, glanced at Gefty and Kerim, then about the room. His gaze rested for a moment on the wall table, shifted back to Gefty. Maulbow came on into the room, turning towards Gefty, mouth twisting.
He said softly, “It is not our practice, Rammer, to share the secrets of the Great Current with other races. I hadn’t foreseen that you might become a dangerous nuisance. But now—”
His right hand began to lift, half closed about some small golden instrument. Gefty’s left arm moved back and quickly forwards.
The service knife slid out of its sheath and up from his palm as an arrow of smoky blackness burst from the thing in Maulbow’s hand. The blackness came racing with a thin, snarling noise across the floor towards Gefty’s feet. The knife flashed above it, turning, and stood hilt-deep in Maulbow’s chest.
Gefty returned a few minutes later from the forward cabin which served as the Queen’s sick bay, and said to Kerim, “He’s still alive, though I don’t know why. He may even recover. He’s full of anesthetic, and that should keep him quiet till we’re back in normspace. Then I’ll see what we can do for him.”
Kerim had lost some of her white, shocked look while he was gone. “You knew he would try to kill you?” she asked shakily.
“Suspected he had it in mind—he gave in too quick. But I thought I’d have a chance to take any gadget he was hiding away from him first. I was wrong about that. Now we’d better move fast . . .”
He switched the emergency check panel back on, glanced over the familiar patterns of lights and numbers. A few minor damage spots were indicated, but the ship was still fully operational. One minor damage spot which did not appear on the panel was now to be found in the instrument room itself, in the corner on which the door of the map room opened. The door, the adjoining bulkheads and section of flooring were scarred, blackened, and as assortedly malodorous as burned things tend to become. That was where Gefty had stood when Maulbow entered the room, and if he had remained there an instant after letting go of the knife, he would have been in very much worse condition than the essentially fireproof furnishings.
Both Maulbow’s weapons—the white rod lying innocently on the wall table and the round, golden device which had dropped from his hand spitting darts of smoking blackness—had blasted unnervingly away into that area for almost thirty seconds after Maulbow was down and twisting about on the floor. Then he went limp and the firing instantly stopped. Apparently, Maulbow’s control of them had ended as he lost consciousness.
It seemed fortunate that the sick bay cabin’s emergency treatment accessories, gentle as their action was, might have been designed for the specific purpose of keeping the most violent of prisoners immobilized—let alone one with a terrible knife wound in him. At the angle along which the knife had driven in and up below the ribs, an ordinary man would have been dead in seconds. But it was very evident now that Maulbow was no ordinary man, and even after the eerie weapons had been pitched out of the ship through the instrument room’s disposal tube, Gefty couldn’t rid himself of an uncomfortable suspicion that he wasn’t done with Maulbow yet—wouldn’t be done with him, in fact, until one or the other of them was dead.
He said to Kerim, “I thought the machine Maulbow set up in the storage vault would turn out to be some drive engine, but apparently it has an entirely different function. He connected it with the instruments he had made in the Hub, and together they form what he calls a control unit. The emergency panel would show if the unit were drawing juice from the ship. It isn’t, and I don’t know what powers it. But we do know now that the control unit is holding us in the time current, and it will go on holding us there as long as it’s in operation.
“If we could shut it off, the Queen would be ‘rejected’ by the current, like Maulbow’s sailer was. In other words, we’d get knocked back into normspace—which is what we want. And we want it to happen as soon as possible because, if Maulbow was telling the truth on that point, every minute that passes here is taking us farther away from the Hub, and farther from our own time towards his.”
Kerim nodded, eyes intent on his face.
“Now I can’t just go down there and start slapping switches around on the thing,” Gefty went on. “He said it wasn’t working right, and even if it were, I couldn’t tell what would happen. But it doesn’t seem to connect up with any ship systems—it just seems to be holding us in a field of its own. So
I should be able to move the whole unit into the cargo lock and eject it from there. If we shift the Queen outside its field, that should have the same effect as shutting the control unit off. It should throw us back into normspace.”
Kerim nodded again. “What about Mr. Maulbow’s janandra animal?”
Gefty shrugged. “Depends on the mood I find it in. He said it wasn’t usually aggressive. Maybe it isn’t. I’ll get into a spacesuit for protection and break out some of the mining equipment to move it along with. If I can maneuver it into an empty compartment where it will be out of the . . .”
He broke off, expression changing, eyes fastened on the emergency panel. Then he turned hurriedly, reached across the side of the console for the intership airseal controls. Kerim asked apprehensively, “What’s the matter, Gefty?”
“Wish I knew . . . exactly.” Gefty indicated the emergency panel. “Little red light there, on the storage deck section—it wasn’t showing a minute ago. It means that the vault doors have been opened since then.”
He saw the same half-superstitious fear appear in her face that had touched him. “You think he did it?”
“I don’t know.” Maulbow’s control of the guns had seemed uncanny enough. But that was a different matter. The guns were a product of his own time and science. But the vault door mechanisms? There might have been sufficient opportunity for Maulbow to study them and alter them, for some purpose of his own, since he’d come aboard . . .
“I’ve got the ship compartments and decks sealed off from each other now,” Gefty said slowly. “The only connecting points from one to the other are personnel hatches—they’re small air locks. So the janandra’s confined to the storage deck. If it’s come out of the vault, it might be a nuisance until I can get equipment to handle it. But that isn’t too serious. The spacesuits are on the second deck, and I’ll get into one before I go on to the storage. You wait here a moment, I’ll look in on Maulbow again before I start.”
Complete Short Fiction (Jerry eBooks) Page 113