Glory Lane

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Man, they ain’t waiting around,” Seeth observed.

  “Like they’ve been ready to take off as soon as we got here.” Kerwin was inspecting the walls of the room.

  Rail was relaxing in one of the spacious chairs. “Yirunta knows his job work. This has gone well. There has been no chase pursuit and it may be we have escaped unde­tected. The journey to House may be relaxing.” Off in a corner, Izmir was hugging the ceiling. He moved easily aside as Yirunta rejoined them.

  “All’s well so far, my friends. I haven’t seen House since I was a child and my parents emigrated to Nedsplen, so I am looking forward to this visit as much as anyone. It will be good to look upon a real ocean once more instead of these pond patches, which are all that remain of the seas of Nedsplen. Most have been covered by city or machinery.”

  “I was impressed with how clean everything was,” Kerwin told him. “The air, the water, stuff like that.”

  “One can build a livable city without pollution and slums. It is mostly a matter of will and responsible govern­ment. This requires responsible individuals. People who are willing to put the general welfare above personal gain and ambition. People who are willing to work for others, who take pride in their accomplishments instead of per­sonal advancement. Something I believe you Cro-Magnons have not been able to achieve.”

  “Only in isolated cases,” Kerwin admitted.

  “That still don’t make us ‘fighting monkeys’,” Seeth muttered.

  “I am afraid that is what you are known for.” Rail swiveled his chair around. “While I was on your world I observed a sport which, like so many things you do, is nominally illegal but practiced nonetheless. Two small birds were armed with short sharp knives on their legs, and then placed opposite each other in a restricted venue. Those surrounding them placed bets on which animal would survive the incipient battle and which would do the most damage.”

  “Cock fighting, yeah. A lot of that goes on in New Mexico.”

  “The feeling seems to be,” Rail continued, “that if you take any two Cro-Magnons, arm them, muss their feathers a little and put them in close proximity they will try to kill each other. I suspect a lot of betting will take place if and when you do try to join the galactic community.”

  “Maybe we’ll have matured by that time.” The analogy embarrassed Kerwin.

  Rail shrugged. “Difficult to pass up a chance to make money. We’d have to do it without the knives, though. Most of the civilized peoples have outgrown blood sports.” Noting that his friends found ongoing discussion of the subject disagreeable, Rail rose and moved to the far wall.

  “Wouldn’t you like to see where you’ve been?” He touched a hidden control.

  No curtains parted, no drapes rolled up. No blinds clattered toward the ceiling. The entire end of the room vanished. Kerwin found himself grabbing wildly for his seat. They were a thousand feet above the sprawling sub­urban metropolis that housed the spaceport they’d just left, rising slowly and steadily toward departure orbit.

  “We’ll accelerate go faster presently,” Rail informed them. “There’s a lot of traffic in this area. We’re still relatively close to Alvin.”

  Exhibiting no symptoms of vertigo, Seeth promptly walked right up to the edge of the illusory sheer drop. “Hey, this is great!” He put a hand out toward nothing­ness. “Feels kind of rubbery. Not like glass.”

  “The effect is accomplished by actually altering the composition of the ship’s hull. If one wanted to spend enough money on the required necessary equipment, I suppose one could build an entirely transparent vessel, but this would inconvenience those individuals who are sub­ject to—“

  “Fear of heights,” Kerwin moaned, finishing the sen­tence for him as he clung weakly to his chair.

  “Fear of heights?” Seeth looked back at him. “That still bother you, brother boy? This wall’s solid, man. There’s nothin’ here to be afraid of. Come on over and take a look. Ain’t never gonna see a view like this again.”

  While Kerwin demurred, Miranda sauntered over and peered out.

  “Neat. Like when Uncle Joe flies me to Houston.”

  Yirunta put a steadying hand on Kerwin’s shoulder as he eased him out of his restraints. “It’s quite all right, dear cousin. There may look to be nothing there, but it’s every bit as solid as the rest of the hull.”

  “I know, I know.” Kerwin wiped sweat from his fore­head. “It’s all mental. I know that.”

  “Then here is an excellent opportunity for you to con­quer an unreasonable fear.”

  Kerwin forced his eyes open. There was Seeth, smirking at him. Miranda stood nearby, looking down while ques­tioning Rail. All three of them were standing inches from cloudland. So what was he, the intellectual superior of his two companions, doing standing frozen to the spot, unable to move? Was he that terrified of an illusion?

  With Yirunta helping, he moved a step at a time toward the transparency. Soon the time to look down arrived. He did so, and swallowed.

  They were ten thousand feet above the city. Except for the slow crawl of clouds, there was no feeling of motion. A slightly redder sun than he was used to was just rising over the far horizon as day returned to this part of Nedsplen. The pale, ghostly crescents of twin moons were fading into blue sky. He forced himself to stand there. Somewhat to his surprise, he did not faint.

  The magnificent panorama gave him something to focus on. The city of Nophia spread out in all directions, indi­vidual structures gleaming as they were touched by the rising sun. Off to the east, a green belt separated the smaller metropolis from greater Alvin. Except for the green belt there wasn’t an open patch of ground to be seen. Most of the parks, Rail informed them, lay beneath underground domes. Along with air and water, sunlight was simply another commodity to be piped in.

  Rapid movement, dimly glimpsed, caused him to lift his head. It was not a cloud. It had long, sharp teeth and brilliant little nasty eyes that were locked on him like gunsights, and a wingspan the size of a Cessna, and it was coming right for him.

  It wasn’t vertigo but another type of sensory overload that finally caused Kerwin to pass out.

  10

  “I think he’s coming around.”

  Something cool on his forehead, accompanied by a soft hissing. Cool mist bathed his face. Opening his eyes, he saw Yirunta nod, put something in his pocket and step back. Rail was there too, and Seeth. No sign of Miranda.

  He found her when he sat up. She was still standing against the transparent wall, outlined against the firma­ment. Space was alive with streaks of moving color, a Jackson Pollock painting in slow motion. Shifted stars, Kerwin mused, or another effect he had no name for.

  “What happened? That thing...?”

  “Prestral bird,” Yirunta explained.

  Seeth’s face was animated as always. “Man, you should’ve hung around for the end. Splattered itself all over the hull, which looked transparent to it, too. You must’ve had evening meal written all over you, brother. It never slowed up.”

  “It was gross.” Miranda spoke without turning from the galactic palette. “Totally gross.”

  “You must not be ashamed or angry at yourself,” Yirunta told him gently. “Gracious sakes, you’re not used to flying, much less such a perfect transparency. It was just bad luck that it dove as you approached.”

  Seeth was still rambling on. “Like a bug on a wind­shield at seventy miles per, man! I don’t know if it was trying to pull up or what. You wouldn’t think one bird could have so many guts.”

  “Happens all the time,” Yirunta continued. “Nedsplen remains rich in large-scale ornithological species. They do have a tendency to run into ships as they are departing.”

  Kerwin blinked at the far wall. It showed no sign of any impact. “What happened to the...?”

  “The guts?” Seeth said cheerfully. “They burned off when we really started moving.”

  “Pity it couldn’t have been an Oomemian,” Rail murmured.

 
“Where are we now?” Kerwin stood. Perhaps it was because he was still dazed, but he found that the transpa­rent wall no longer troubled him. “Where’s Nedsplen?”

  “Oh, long and far behind us.” Yirunta looked pleased. “We’re well on our way to House. You were unconscious for quite a while and, knowing little of Cro-Magnon physi­ology beyond the fragility of the system, I was reluctant to turn you over to the ship’s infirmary. Your friends assured me you would recover, and so you have.

  “We should arrive in a few days. Meanwhile, you are free to enjoy the facilities of the ship. Captain Ganun believes in treating his guests well.”

  “I don’t suppose that means—“ Miranda began.

  “I am sorry, Miranda, but this is a working transport vessel. There are no shopping facilities on board.”

  “Darn. Oh well, at least I got my stuff from Alvin with me.”

  “Is that right?” Kerwin muttered.

  “Well, of course. I mean, like, those packages are kind of sacred, you know.”

  “Sacred shmacred. You can’t take that stuff back to Earth. What would people say?”

  “That they’d like to copy the designs.”

  “I don’t mean the designs, dammit! What happens if somebody starts analyzing the materials?”

  “I’ll tell them that I bought them in Alvin.”

  “Right, sure.”

  “You upset yourself unnecessarily,” Rail told him. “If it comes to that, your people will invent their own expla­nations. Anything to avoid dealing with reality. You Cro-Magnons are wonderful at rationalizing. Your collective obtuseness is of historic proportions.

  “And while you do have the run of the ship, Captain Ganun suggests you remain in this meeting area whenever possible. There are individual cabins encircling this central room. If you stray outside you’re liable to come in contact with the regular crew. In spite of the fact that everyone has been ordered to treat you as respected guests, there could still arise the occasional awkward confrontation.”

  “Don’t worry, Jack.” Seeth looked confident. “I’ll stick tight. I got some music to play, I got something to eat, I’ve even got cash.” He jiggled a pocket full of interstellar currency. “Got no reason to stray. I’m gonna squat right here and strum my toy.” He displayed the compact, folded flower instrument.

  “What about you, my friend,” Yirunta asked Kerwin. “You have your instrument as well. Or would you prefer another form of relaxation?”

  “If there are some books,” Kerwin began, then thought better of it. “Naw. I don’t guess you have books. Just computer screens and stuff, right?”

  The translator struggled for a moment but soon made his meaning clear. “Of course we have books. We value them highly. No matter how much information you can pack into a single molecular storage cube it’s never quite the same as picking up a book. You wouldn’t be able to read any of them, though. Translators work with the mind and ears, not the eyes.

  “With a cube playback you still won’t be able to read any of the inscriptions or subtitlings, but your translator will be able to handle the aural accompaniment and of course you’ll have no trouble with the visuals. What would you like to study?”

  “Galactic history,” Kerwin said promptly.

  “Goodness gracious me. That takes in quite a lot of territory. You’re talking millions of cubes. Anything in particular?”

  “You bet. Anything recent on the Isotat and anything about their visits to Earth. Anything about the Neanderthal migration, your own history, and if I can get through enough of that, I’d also like to see a condensed update on the Prufillian-Oomemian War.”

  Rail turned proudly to his old friend. “There, you see? They have come quite a way since you were transported to House. They do have other interests besides fighting.”

  “It would seem so. Encouraging.” Yirunta sounded sad. “What a shame they continue to waste so much time and energy on petty domestic quarrels.”

  By the next day, on-board activity had settled into a routine. The crew grew used to their prehistoric guests and, contrary to some initial worries, there were no recur­rences of the ancient rivalry. The Neanderthals continued making comments about the presence of stinking fighting monkeys on board, but among themselves and in private, while for their part the two Cro-Magnon men kept their opinions about ape-women to themselves.

  Kerwin couldn’t read nonstop. When he and Seeth weren’t jamming with their newly acquired alien instruments, he managed to cajole his younger brother into trying a game that resembled chess played with a child’s building blocks. The idea was to complete your architectural construct be­fore your competitor. When this was accomplished to the satisfaction of the game’s computer, lights flashed and a musical tone sounded repeatedly.

  They were halfway through one such contest when Yirunta stuck his head into the communal room. “Sorry to inter­rupt, goodness knows, but Ganun wants everyone in the war room.”

  “War room?” Rail put aside the miniature viewer that had been clipped to his chin. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ain’t it obvious?” Seeth abandoned his construction, which promptly collapsed, and rose. “Something’s wrong with the ship’s plumbing and we need to have a conference to figure out what to do about it.” He started pacing and waving his arms. “Why would we be asked into the war room unless somebody’s after us, man! Can’t you figure out when somebody’s after us? Does everybody’s brain except mine work in slo-mo?”

  “I can see how you acquired your name,” Rail said primly. “It derives from the English word meaning ‘to fume’. You’re angry ill the time, isn’t that right?”

  “That’s me, Jack. All the stupidity and venality I see in the world, I just can’t settle down and take it easy. Tough. So I’m a hardcase, so what?”

  “Actually,” said Kerwin quietly, “his real name isn’t Seeth. It’s Seth. He’s named after an uncle who lived in Iowa.”

  Seeth-Seth glared at his brother. “You’re supposed to keep that private, man. You promised.”

  “This isn’t Albuquerque. I don’t think you have to worry about it getting around.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Just watch it, okay?”

  Yirunta observed this exchange uncertainly, decided to ignore it. “Listen to me, dear cousins. This vessel is now on a war footing. Ganun sent me back to inform you because he feels you deserve to know what is going on.” He looked past them. “Where is the female?”

  Kerwin sighed. “Parading around the ship in one of her new outfits. She seems to be laboring under the impression that some of the crew might find it interesting. She doesn’t realize they’ll be laughing at her behind her back.”

  “They may not. Clothing is clothing, no matter the wearer. Style is everything.”

  Seeth stepped close. “So who’s chasing us?”

  Rail was despondent. “I had so hoped that the Oomemians would not be able to track us.”

  “So did the Captain,” Yirunta admitted. “We aren’t sure the Oomemians are involved. Actually, I don’t know quite what’s happening. It’s all very confusing and remem­ber, I’m not part of this crew. I’m a guest like you. It could be that, in attempting to avoid the attentions of the Oomemians, Ganun has inadvertently intruded on someone else’s space. Please follow me, that we may be enlight­ened together.”

  He led them through the ship. They met few crew on the way. Already at their battle stations, Kerwin thought uneasily.

  They entered a luxurious, oval room. The lighting was soft and indirect. Holographic sculptures drifted freely, while three-dimensional murals lined the curving walls. Glowing bubbles bounced against the ceiling. Deep, com­fortable chairs were scattered haphazardly across the floor. Automatic servers moved easily between them, dispensing food and tall, cool drinks.

  Yirunta looked grim. “Here we are.”

  “Wait a minute.” Kerwin was shaking his head as they moved further into the room. “This is the war room?”

  “Of course. What di
d you think it was?”

  “I dunno. I guess I expected something, well, some­thing a little more Spartan.”

  Ganun sat in the biggest, softest chair in the center of the room. Other crew members occupied similar seats. One wall was dominated by a single, curving transparency that provided a sweeping view of stars and nebulae. Off to one side, several members of the crew were crowded around a door-sized viewscreen. Its depth of field was astonishing.

  “Hey, this is my kind of war room!” Seeth threw himself into an empty chair and snuggled down into the cushioning depths. He was nearly swallowed, since the furniture was intended to accommodate much larger backs and backsides. He slid his fingers across the arm controls and an autoserver promptly appeared in front of him.

  Kerwin studied the occupants of the room. “Nobody looks very tense. Where are the battle screens and gun turrets? It looks like everybody’s getting ready for a party, not a fight.”

  “I like it,” said Miranda not unexpectedly. She walked over to examine a tower of pure white glass while Kerwin muttered under his breath. “This is neat. You know where I can get one?” she asked Yirunta.

  “We’re about to have a battle, maybe get blown into vacuum, and all you can think about is the decor?” he snapped at her.

  “Well, I mean, sure.” She ran perfect fingers along the pyramidal tower.

  “I believe that is a mobile, self-setting, full-spectrum radionics sensor,” Yirunta informed her.

  “Wow! One of these would just look simply great out in front of the sorority house.”

  “Instead of a lantern-holding jockey, no doubt,” Kerwin growled, more upset at the situation than her indomitable indifference to reality.

  She walked around the device. As she did so she looked down at Seeth, comfortable in his oversized chair. “Your brother says your real name is Seth.”

  Seeth’s gaze narrowed and he sat up straight, putting his fresh drink aside. “I warned you, man. I’m gonna kill you!”