Praja Waluu was last to cross, of course, and the three of us inched carefully down the far side of the bridge keeping one eye out for stray giant spiders, but we got down to the others with any trouble. The klurath had already sent scouts ahead who reported the new tunnel clear of obvious dangers, and none of us was sorry to see the last of that cavern.
“Did you feel something?” Kyle asked me.
“Like what?”
“I thought I felt something when I entered the tunnel. It was—kind of a buzzing all over my skin.”
I lifted my lantern to give him a once-over. “I don’t see anything on you.”
He shivered. “It’s gone now; it was just for a second. Kind of like… walking through a curtain made of static electricity.”
By now, everyone had stopped to listen, but no one else had felt anything. Kyle shrugged.
“Well, whatever it was, it stopped, so I guess that’s that.”
I looked back at the entrance, wondering if I should suggest he walk through it again and see if the same thing happened, but then I remembered everything that had gone on back there, and I threw the idea into the garbage. Sometimes I’m stupid that way.
We were happy to see that the tunnel appeared to be free of cave spiders of any size or description, so empty that Praja Waluu passed the word that only the front and rear marchers had to keep their torches on; the rest of us could relax. With the signs adding up all around us, we should have been less relaxed, but we’d been through a lot.
And that was when we hit the door.
We didn’t actually hit the door, of course, but Tars Arcus, who was leading at that moment, stopped so suddenly it felt like we’d collided with something. His startled hiss brought Praja Waluu to the fore, and it wasn’t long before we were all crowded in the small space staring at the studded brown slab of metal that blocked our way. I won’t repeat all the questions we were asking each other, since none of us had any answers anyway. On the other hand, it was pretty obvious that whoever we were looking for, we’d found them.
Tars Arcus advanced, his lance ahead of him, and tapped the door. Nothing happened. He set aside the lance and put his hand out while we all held our breaths, but again, there was no apparent reaction. He didn’t die a horrible, screaming death, and the door didn’t open.
We spent a few minutes examining the door and the area around it, but it was plain from the start that there were no buttons, scanners, keypads, or sensors. Every one of us tried every telepathic command we could think of, to no effect. And yet, there was something about that metal piece that said door, not wall. It wasn’t a barricade; it was a portal. We all knew it opened; we just didn’t know how to open it.
Finally Kyle spoke up.
“You know that weird tingling feeling I had a little while ago? I’m having it again.” He gestured at the door. “And I think it’s coming from there.”
“Give it a try,” Skull suggested. “Touch it and see what happens. Ow!” Sanja had punched him hard in the arm. “It didn’t hurt Tars Arcus…!” She punched him again.
The rest of us ignored them as Kyle walked up to the door and placed his hand on it. It slid sideways without protest or hesitation, revealing what was on the other side.
“Wow,” Kyle said, and nobody disagreed with him.
The corridor was clean. And it was bright. And smooth, running straight and slightly downward as far as we could see. After the dimness of the tunnels and caves, it seemed to shine, but given a few moments, our eyes adjusted. It wasn’t all that bright, it glowed from all surfaces so that there were no shadows, but it wasn’t in any way uncomfortable. The ceiling was high enough that none of could touch it. The walls were slightly rounded, as if it had been built as a tube and pushed through rather than built in. We all looked at each other, the same question on our minds:
Do we go in?
Obviously, we had to go in. This was what we had come to find. Whoever had built this corridor, whoever was at the other end, was our quarry, the enemy who had been infiltrating Jhal. We couldn’t come this far and just turn back to tell Gaz Bronn we’d found where his problem was coming from—especially after what all we’d been through to get here.
“You think it’s alarmed?” Skull asked.
“If it is, they already know we’re here,” Praja Waluu pointed out. “We need to find out where this goes. We have no idea who we’re dealing with, or why they’re coming all the way up to Jhal from here.” He paused, looking at his men. “I should send somebody back to tell Gaz Bronn what we’ve discovered and lead another expedition, but I don’t like splitting up my team when I don’t know what we’re walking into.”
Tars Arcus glanced back the way we had come. “Whoever’s been coming in Jhal, I don’t think this is the route they used.”
“Why not?” asked Praja Waluu.
“Look at us. There were twenty of us to start out, armed to the teeth, and we barely made it this far. If you were going to use these tunnels regularly, why not clean them out? Why not pave them like this all the way up and put the door closer to Jhal? For that matter, why leave a radioactive cavern full of monsters between you and where you wanted to go?”
When he put it that way, he made the rest of us feel like idiots.
“He’s right, of course,” I said. “But what does that mean? Why put the tunnel here at all?”
“It was a mistake,” Kyle said. “They probably traced the tunnels all the way to Jhal by sonar, or some kind of sensor. Maybe they sent drones out. So they find this route, start the tunnel, then halfway up they run into Tars Arcus’ Famous Cave of Monsters. They shut down the project, seal the tunnel, and find another way up.”
Praja Waluu gave the klurath head-bob of agreement. “Sounds like a government project, all right. But if that’s the case, they probably didn’t set any alarms. None of those creatures could have gotten through the door.” He looked closely at Kyle. “In fact, you’re the only one who could. I wonder what that means?”
Somehow, I thought, Keryl would have had a pithy answer to that question. And I suddenly figured out what I thought it would be.
“It means that we should get inside and shut the door before the flies come in.”
Okay, so it didn’t answer Praja Waluu’s question, but nobody argued with me.
Just in case, Kyle stepped through the doorway last. After a few seconds, the door slid back into place. We stood for a moment, gathering ourselves, reveling in the first chance we had had to relax since we started.
“Is anyone else hungry?” I asked. “I’m starving.” I leaned against a wall and sank to the floor, thereby ensuring everyone else had to stop. Sanja gave me a look that not only asked: “You’re hungry already?” but also conveyed how she had once been lost in the desert for four days and nights with nothing but a canteen and a pocketful of dates. Don’t ask me how she managed to put all that in one look, but she did.
On the other hand, she bit into her rations as deeply as anybody, so maybe it was only two days in the desert.
The floor of the corridor was smooth, but provided enough traction that footing was sure even on the downslope. We were more interested in the fact that, even with all of us walking down that small space, it didn’t echo. I couldn’t see any evidence of surveillance equipment, and if Kyle’s theory was correct there shouldn’t be any, but it still felt as if we were exposed. A natural feeling, I guess, after hiking through all those dark and narrow tunnels.
After several hundred steps, we could see that something in the distance was different, not just the same hallway stretching out ahead of us. We soon realized that we were approaching a branch, that we would soon face a choice of three directions to follow. We stopped at the intersection and crowded around Praja Waluu.
“Which way?” someone asked.
Two doors simultaneously slid closed alongside and in front of us. The only remaining path lead to the right.
“I think,” I said, “we’re supposed to go that way.”
A Stunning Revelation
I am not by nature a suspicious man, but I was trained by the United States government as an investigator and interrogator, so it was not hard to imagine that Vanu’A had provided me with this intelligence on Dr. Res for reasons of her own. What they might be, I was hesitant to theorize, but it was also hard to imagine that a woman who had spent her life reading every thought around her like an open book and mapping her life accordingly would not be capable of meticulous planning. I had to wonder if Dr. Res truly understood the power of his bodyguard. Did he believe he could lie to her? Had he tried? Was that why she was letting me see his cards?
Regardless, those were not questions Vanu’A was likely to answer. I must be satisfied with knowing that because she could not read my mind, whatever plans she had would be handicapped by her lack, and hopeful that I could thwart them when the time came.
We found Dr. Res in his dining room, as usual, his massive table serving as a desk. I could barely make him out at first, surrounded as he was by holographic images of charts, records—and photographs of star fields. I was non-plused; it seemed an odd time to become involved in astronomical research.
He waved his hand as he heard us enter, collapsing the entire diorama down into a flat display which magically faded from view.
“Come in, come in! Sit down. I was about to put down my work anyway.”
It took no telepathic skill to see that Dr. Tofan Res was a lousy liar. This was my chance! Sometimes the essence of interrogation is the ability to pick up a thread—any thread—and follow it where it leads.
“I noticed you were looking at some astronomical photographs,” I began cordially. “Is astronomy another of your fields of study?”
His momentary hesitation was my confirmation. “Oh, no, not really. Those are old pictures. They were taken in your wife’s era, and I brought them back. For a while I thought I might be interested in seeing how much movement there was in the stars over time.” He shrugged and smiled ruefully. “That was back when I thought I’d have time for such things.”
I did not have to feign my disappointment. “Really, doctor. I may not have not studied astronomy, but even I know that there is no noticeable change in star patterns over the space of three hundred years.”
“Perhaps there’s no noticeable difference,” he shot back, more confident now, “but astronomical instruments are much more discerning than they were in… your day.”
I had to hide my smile. I had not realized just how much I enjoyed the verbal chess games that had been too few and far between in my days in Intelligence. Tofan Res’s mental shields were very good, and operating at their peak. Nothing in his brain gave away the slightest clue to his thoughts.
His face, on the other hand, was betraying him with every tic and blink. So much so, in fact, that my subconscious mind had deciphered his entire web of lies before I knew to speak the words.
“Very good, doctor. Put the bumpkin in his place. Unfortunately, we both know that the current state of astronomical research has nothing to do with your interests. I daresay that you could have obtained the results you wanted with Galileo’s telescope, given the ideal viewing conditions that exist here on the Moon.”
Tofan Res rocked backward as if he had been shot, his mental shields fracturing into a thousand pieces—but they reassembled almost instantly and he regained his outer composure. To his credit, he did not try to pretend nothing had happened. He did pass a glance with Vanu’A, and I actually felt her silent denial brush by me, as she must have intended.
“I’d be fascinated to know how you figured it out,” Tofan Res said. “Or was it your wife?”
He was still struggling for the upper hand. I had not realized that Tofan Res held me—or more broadly, the humanity of my era—in such contempt. I was going to enjoy this even more than I anticipated. I stood up, and walked around the table behind him, using the techniques of the ancients he despised to intimidate him by forcing him to look up at me, and turn in his chair to keep me in sight. Vanu’A, having retired to a chair at the opposite end of the table, made no move to impede me.
It would be a pleasure to explain to him how and where his deception had fallen apart, how his great intellect had failed even to fool the lowly primitive human lifted from his native time, pretending to play on the same field as his highly-advanced descendents. Yes, a great pleasure indeed—as soon as I figured it out for myself. As usual, I had spoken without thinking, and although I was right, I was completely at sea when it came to showing the genesis of my revelation. The milliseconds passing while I evaluated my situation felt like minutes, and I knew I must speak or lose my advantage forever.
“I will give you credit, doctor, for your role in the game. It was nothing you did that gave it away.” I gave Vanu’A a nod. “It was she.”
This was, if anything, an even greater shock, for the natural conclusion to be drawn was that my telepathic powers were far more developed than I had let on—that while I was immune to Vanu’A’s probes, her mind was free for my perusal, and if I could pick the mental pocket of the greatest telepath who ever lived…then I knew all, and any belief that I was the prisoner here was mere illusion. Tofan Res felt his world threatening to crumble. Despite his shields, his panic was manifest.
In the long run, however, I would never have been able to persist in such a lie, and its inevitable exposure would ruin me. I must rely, then, on my own natural gifts and show that even a “primitive” man was not to be underestimated.
“I have lived a dangerous life, Tofan Res,” I began with some affectation, “and I have survived because I know the people around me. Nuum, and Thorans, are accustomed to picking up mental cues from each other, no matter how tightly one’s mind is shielded. None of you can read my mind, however, which puts you on the same level as I—only I am used to that, and you are not. You are so used to shielding your thoughts, you have never learned to shield your words. And Vanu’A is more guilty than most.
“Some time ago, she spoke to me of her wish to escape the constant babble of humanity in her head. She said it was difficult to escape, ‘even here.’ But time machines cross time, not space—your position relative to the Earth does not change. And the time machine we used to get here was in the middle of a city, so expecting fewer people makes no sense.
“Later, she made another slip of the tongue when she said you had heard of me because you had been doing a great deal of time travelling between 300 years ago and now. Even the brightest can become confused when yesterday and tomorrow become interchangeable. I know something about that myself. Vanu’A simply got her time periods mixed up, but it was a telling mistake. With anyone else, she would have read it in his mind the moment she said it, and tried to correct it, but with me…”
“But the Moon,” Res Tofan insisted. “How did you know we were on the Moon?”
“That,” I admitted, nodding, “was something of an educated guess. I knew we were somewhere extremely isolated, that we must have been brought here by matter teleportation and not time travel, but it was your own photographs that sealed the deal, as we used to say. I had heard talk in my time that if astronomers could someday set up observatories on the Moon, they would be able to make fantastic discoveries that Earth-bound scientists could not, because of the lack of atmosphere. It stood to reason that a civilization as advanced as the Thorans had been would have placed their observatories on the Moon. Hence, I guessed that that was where we were. I needed only your reaction to confirm it, which you provided graciously.”
Tofan Res made no reply, simply staring at some undefined point in the center of the room. I thought that Vanu’A’s eyes showed an approving sparkle, but the signs were too subtle to be certain. I took a chair across from Dr. Res. He was at my mercy, or at least as much as he would ever be. I must act now, and boldly.
“What puzzled me, doctor, was why you went to all the trouble to lie to us. An unknown base on the Moon would have been as overwhelming
as being taken back three hundred years in time. Either would form an inescapable prison. So why not tell us the truth? And I believe the answer is as old as mankind: You have a problem, and you did not want us to know about it, because it would interfere with your aura of invincibility. Your problem is that your time machine is not working as it should. I can help you with that.”
Tofan Res placed a hand on the tabletop, retrieved one of his holographic star field images, and stared at it. After a few moments he responded to me, his lips barely moving.
“And how would you do that?”
“In the Procyon, my wife’s flagship, I have a branch library. That library has been with me almost since I first set foot in this era—and when I went home.”
He blinked, and actually looked at me. “Do you mean…are you saying that library time travelled with you?”
I held up two fingers. “Twice.” Then I held up another finger. “No, three times.”
By now the doctor was shaking. “And it would have been sensing and analyzing data the whole time…” he whispered. He stared at me with a feverish intensity. “You have to get that library! You have to bring it here! There may still be time!”
Whatever had gripped him so hard, I knew it was not the right moment to mention that the library had been damaged, and that for all I knew it was beyond repair. Were that the case, we were all doomed regardless, for the Librarian was my last hope of convincing him that his experiments were about to rend the space-time continuum and remediating the damage—always assuming, of course, that the damage could even be reversed.
Still, it never hurt to know what you are up against.
The Cosmic City Page 18