by Andre Norton
At one point one of them must have put a question, for Ross responded in Yilayil, pointing to Eveleen, "My mate."
Shrill tweets rose from all sides. The Jecc obviously found the notion of "mates" an exotic concept.
Eveleen did not try to comprehend all the various Jecc reactions, but Ross seemed to know who to listen to, for again he responded in Yilayil. "Yes, it requires one of each of us to pass on genetic material. One offspring results—rarely two or more—but we can repeat the process, just as you Jecc do…"
Eveleen felt a sense of unreality seize her; the biology lesson lasted until they reached the outer caves.
Here, abruptly, they entered civilization—but for totally different beings.
Beautiful colors were everywhere. The catwalks and pathways, the furnishings, everything was child-sized. Jecc swarmed everywhere, on all levels—for Eveleen saw, tipping her head back, that catwalks and cave tunnels were located at several levels. At the very top, she saw tiny faces peeping timidly down—Jecc children?
Then she lost sight of them as they were led beyond, into an even greater cave. Cool air swirled gently across her face as she gazed up at row on row of great murals painted in realistic, glowing colors all round the stone walls. This was what she had glimpsed from the upper vent—but it was far vaster, and more beautiful, than she had conceived.
Sudden silence brought her attention downward.
The Jecc had settled into rings, with old wrinkly Jecc closer at hand, and others outward in widening circles.
One of the Jecc greeted Ross formally, using all the Yilayil deferences.
Ross said back, "I have come to make certain you were aware of the new people recently discovered."
The old Jecc trilled, "We know of the world-being. We know now why we have changed."
A weird, sighing whistle went through the ranks of Jecc; Eveleen felt hairs prickling on the back of her neck. The emotions caused by the sound were intense—loss, isolation.
"Then you can decide what you want to do," Ross said. "This is why I came."
"What do you do, Ross of Fire Mountain?"
"We have a ship, we will go back to our world," Ross said.
Again a sound swept through the Jecc, this time a susurrus of high-voiced whispers.
"We have a ship," the old Jecc said at last. "At Harbeast Teeth Island. It is secret all these generations."
"One ship?" Ross repeated.
Rapidly the Jecc explained—and Eveleen began to understand. That sense of unreality still pervaded her mind. She seemed to be watching from somewhere else, observing this exchange between two utterly different races, using the language of a third race, to talk about spaceships from the past— a technology not yet attained by Earth civilizations.
Comprehension worked its way slowly into her head. The ship the Jecc had was a kind of shuttle, hoarded against the day when they would return to normal. Apparently they had a great ship up in space, circling around. Eveleen nodded to herself; of course it would be unmolested. The mysterious plant entity only controlled what was on the surface.
How many other races might have motherships circling around in orbit?
No way of knowing.
Suddenly the conversation ceased. Ross turned to Eveleen. "Come on, we're done," he said.
In silence they walked past the ranks, and out of the caves.
Neither spoke until they reached the transport.
"So are they going back home?" Eveleen asked. "I confess I didn't follow it all."
"They don't know," Ross said. "Some want to, some don't. Others want to stay—and a fourth group wants to find another world."
"That same debate must be going on all over the world," Eveleen commented.
Ross sat back. "I don't know why, but the whole damn mess makes me sad."
He activated the control, and the flat car zoomed forward, relieving Eveleen of having to think of anything to say.
* * *
"LET'S GET OUT of here," Ross said when they reached the Nurayil dorm for the last time, and found everyone gathered—Misha having also just returned from an unnamed errand.
"I am going to need help transporting Saba," Gordon replied, looking relieved that they were safely back. "She's by far the weakest of us all. Her body has—we believe—been resisting the changes, and her immune system is at a dangerously low ebb."
Eveleen watched Ross's face brighten. Now he had orders, impending action—a clear need, one that he could meet, even if it was just to carry a sick woman on a stretcher.
"There's a transport near the House of Knowledge," Misha began.
"Found it," Gordon said. "Everyone needs to get their gear, and meet at the transport near this dorm. Come on, let's move."
Under cover of the sudden springs of conversation, Eveleen heard Misha address Gordon. "So it was a false trail you sent us on—the island, the Field-of-Vagabonds."
"I needed to keep you busy," Gordon said. He hesitated, then added, "You'll have to admit even a needless trip is better than sitting with nothing one can do, counting off the seconds."
"Ah." Misha shrugged. "So you claim empathy as your reason?"
Gordon only laughed. "Go. Get your gear."
Eveleen watched Misha vanish through the open door.
She knew that whatever Svetlana had said in her letter was not going to be shared with anyone; nor would Misha permit anyone to see him reading it. She thought about being separated forever from Ross, and even though the Russians' relationship might not have even remotely been like what she and Ross shared, for the first time, she felt pity for the blond agent.
She kept her thoughts to herself as she packed her few belongings. To her surprise her emotions were mixed at the thought of abandoning forever the little cell.
Ross and she were alone. She was not aware she'd sighed until he said, "You can't be wanting to stay."
"No," she said. "But I hate feeling that I could have done better. That this mission was so strange, so…"
"Nightmarish? Long? Boring?" Ross prompted, looking amused.
"Oh, I don't know," Eveleen said. "Confusing, I guess is the best term. Is it only going to get harder, Ross? Suddenly I feel, well, old."
"You're sick. I'm sick. We're going home," he reminded her. "C'mon, help me get our sticker off the door. I hope the next inmate has a better time—"
"If there is one," Eveleen said. "How weird. It could be that we are the ones who caused the evacuation."
"Except we still have three races down the timeline, two of them nothing anyone would want to be," Ross reminded her.
They laid their palms on the screen, then pressed the control that they had learned meant vacate.
"Uh oh, we forgot to check our credit rating," Ross joked.
"Oh, I'm sure we had enough for half a ride," Eveleen joked back, trying for lightness.
They kept up the banter as they threaded their way through the crowded street.
This time there was a difference. Unasked, various beings offered them deference. Again and again the other races withdrew, permitting them to go first. No one spoke to them, and expressions were as impossible to read as ever, but somehow their status had changed.
Eveleen was still pondering this when they descended the ramp to find everyone waiting.
Everyone—even Saba, who looked so frail Eveleen felt her heart start pounding. But Saba's dark eyes were clear and smiling, and she held her head at a proud angle as she leaned on Viktor's and Gordon's shoulders.
Together they all rode the last car to the station near the parkland.
Half an hour's hike, through misting rain, and they reached the time apparatus.
Zina stepped forward and worked the controls.
Eveleen watched, waiting impatiently for the doors to open.
Lights flickered on the little console. Zina frowned, and punched the code more carefully.
Impatience turned to alarm.
"What now?" Ross asked, then he cursed under his breath.
For answer, the doors slid open.
And framed there were two Baldies, blasters in hand.
CHAPTER 29
QUICKER THAN AN eye blink, Zina slammed her hand on the door controls and they shut on the Baldies.
She poked at the manual lock, saying over her shoulder, "Fast. Out of here."
Misha led the way.
Gordon picked Saba up; Ross fell in step right behind them, in case Gordon, who was breathing heavily, should falter. Ross glanced down, saw Eveleen at his side.
"They must get that same vertigo right after the transfer," she panted.
Up ahead, Zina turned. "I counted on that." She gave them a faint smile.
Under his breath, Ross said to Eveleen, "She's fast. Give her that."
Eveleen chuckled somewhat breathlessly. "You mean the rest of us were going to stand around like zombies."
From behind came the keening noise of blaster fire.
"They're out," Misha said with mordant humor. "And hunting us."
"Quiet." Zina's word was not loud, but her voice carried command.
No one spoke. Ross's mind roiled with questions— guesses—plans as he plunged along the pathway behind Eveleen.
Viktor took over the lead, and in silence they wound along trails and under hanging ferns, coming to a stop in a deep little grotto.
Gordon bent, and Saba slid to the ground, where she sat with her eyes closed. It was hard to see her expression; the light seemed muted.
Ross blinked, surprised to discover that night was falling.
The rain had ceased, but the sky was covered by a heavy bank of clouds.
Everyone was breathing hard.
Ross said, "If they've got the machine, that means they've got the camp upstream."
Zina gave a tired nod. "It means they might have the ships as well." She turned to Gordon. "Your surmise was my own: that our tampering with the navigational wire must have sent out some kind of signal we were never aware of."
"Where do we go now?" Vera asked. "Back to the city?"
"Then we lead them right to the others, and they'll start shooting everyone," Eveleen protested.
"They will find their way to the city anyway," Zina said. "And they will shoot until they find us. I think we must go ahead, and warn the Yilayil. Now, so they have time to prepare."
Viktor gave a single nod, and plunged into the undergrowth.
A short time later they came to the transport, and both Viktor and Misha checked the area carefully before they emerged from the protective screen of shrubbery and dodged down into the partially overgrown entrance.
"This ought to buy us a few hours," Ross commented as they half skipped, half ran down the steep rampway.
"The lights will draw them," Misha responded.
"Whom do we tell to get the fastest action?" Zina asked.
Saba said, "We must return to the House."
The car was still there from earlier; they all dropped into it, Gordon hovering protectively near Saba. The two of them conferred in quiet voices as everyone else found a seat and leaned back.
Misha worked the controls. The car lurched, then began to pick up speed, pressing Ross back into his seat. He rather enjoyed these things, but he'd always liked roller coasters— the more dangerous the better.
They passed their old station and continued to the House of Knowledge station.
This one, Ross noted with grim surprise, did not seem as dusty and neglected as all the others. Who in that place used it—and why?
Useless to ask now.
When the car had come to a stop, Gordon helped Saba out, and in a group they proceeded up the ramp.
There they found a clean, dry tunnel. At the exit doors, Saba turned. "You'll have to wait," she said. "No one's been permitted inside. Even with all the changes, I don't know what it might mean to break that rule."
Zina said, "We will be much better here. Gordon, go with her. The rest of us will remain here until you return."
Ross promptly dropped his pack to the tiled flooring and sank down with his back to the wall. He pulled out his canteen, took a deep drink, then offered it to Eveleen, who also drank.
Vera sat down on Eveleen's other side, and Viktor beside her. They began to converse in quiet Russian. Zina and Irina had embarked on another conversation, also in Russian. Ross, lifting his head slightly, saw Misha standing at the other end of the tunnel, his back to the group, his body tense. Reading his letter, of course. Ross shook his head, and returned his attention to his immediate surroundings; from time to time, he saw his wife sending covert and compassionate glances Misha's way.
It was not long before Gordon and Saba abruptly returned.
"They know," Gordon said. "And if I understand right, they are prepared."
"Then here our responsibilities end," Zina said. "Let us return to the time-shift apparatus. We have to see if they still hold it."
"We have to take it back," Ross said grimly.
Misha turned around. "You don't," he said with all his old sardonic humor, "want to see what happens?"
"And how can we do that?" Eveleen asked, hands on hips. "I'd as soon not have a ringside seat, especially with blasters providing the special effects."
"No," Ross cut in. "Let me guess: another of these transport stations will give us a perfect view?"
Misha smiled, and Viktor laughed.
"The other tower. The spaceport tower," Misha said. "It was probably a military outpost of some sort. You can see over the entire city from it."
Zina hesitated, then gave a nod. "If it's quick. We'll have a better report, maybe a better understanding of what happened."
Again to the cars, and this time they proceeded farther up the line. Ross realized he was getting a feel for the geography of the transport system; if he was right, the Yilayil city had been much, much bigger in the past.
They disembarked and walked out into an empty street, partially overgrown. All of them used their flashlights, making their way after Misha.
The tower turned out to be one of the ones Ross and Gordon had found in the far future—the tall red one wherein the savage weasel-creatures had built their lair. They had not been able to explore farther.
This time there was an elevator to take them up, silent and slow but still working. Bluish lights flickered in it, faint but still working from some long-term power source.
At the top, there were a number of devices that turned out to be zoom lenses. A central control area with a huge screen above must have been a video linkup of some sort— but age had destroyed that system.
The lenses were manually operated. The one Ross chose had dust and some tiny fungi growing tenaciously in it, but it worked well enough. He could see more clearly down into the dark street than he could with his naked eye. The principle was not infrared—he couldn't figure it out. Everything looked shadowless and curiously flat, but discernible.
"Hey!" Eveleen's voice was sharp. "They're right below us!"
"The spaceport," Zina said. "Of course. They would check there first—"
"What do we do? We haven't any weapons," Vera asked, looking from one to another.
Ross saw his wife in her fighting stance, her face tense but calm. Misha had not moved.
He suddenly looked up. "Watch now." He pointed downward.
Ross pressed his eye to his viewer, in time to see not two Baldies, but a team of ten of them, walking in single file up the empty street, firing at anything that moved. They also shot away any plants in their way, blazing a trail that anyone could follow.
And had.
As Ross watched, the lead Baldy tipped his head back and stared right up at the tower—seemingly at him.
"You think this was their tower, long ago?" Eveleen murmured.
No one answered—everyone was watching.
From behind came a group of six tall, four-armed figures, all of them in flaxen robes.
"Yilayil," Saba murmured, easily heard in the silent room.
The l
ead Baldy swung about, lifting his weapon, but before he could fire, the Yilayil all raised long tubes to their mouths. Ross could see their furred cheeks puff as a cloud of particles that glowed with odd colors streamed out of the tubes; he didn't know if the colors were real, or some effect of the lenses.
The Baldies got off two shots, and two Yilayil collapsed to the street. Then the Baldies stopped firing. Looking around wildly, they slapped at their faces and bodies, tried to run, but moved as though wading through glue. The ground seemed to be sticking to their feet. Involuntary wormlike motions lifted their arms into the air, splayed their fingers, and tipped their heads back. Within a minute, they stood frozen, and horror suffused Ross as he saw thin green tendrils curl out of their ears, mouths, and noses.
He hastily looked away, swallowing rapidly. Whatever had happened, it was no more pleasant a death than the blasters had been.
Zina's voice was flat. "That's enough. Let us retreat."
"Just as well," Ross said tightly, "we don't have to go out there."
Eveleen gave a quick, wincing nod.
They withdrew in ordered haste, glad of the tight air system—for whatever that spore had been that the Yilayil had used might still be permeating the air.
No one spoke on the return—either on the transport ride or during the night hike to the time-transportation apparatus.
Misha and Viktor checked ahead—but they found the transport hut deserted. The rest of the group emerged from the jungle, Gordon still helping Saba, and Zina once again pressed the controls.
And again nothing happened.
Ross felt Eveleen's hand slide into his. It was obvious what had occurred. The Baldies had either changed the codes or else had jammed the apparatus. Either way, unless the team up the timeline figured out what was going on, they were stuck here forever.
"We assume that a signal brought them," Saba said at last. "Why do you think they came?"
"To rescue that scoutcraft," Gordon said in a tired voice. "Remember, the globe ship belonged to the Baldies originally."
"Then…" Eveleen said slowly. "Then we are the bad guys here, not the Baldies?"
Silence met this, but Ross sensed everyone's attention turning her way.