Through the Reality Warp

by Donald J. Pfeil

  Above all else, Koppett was a practical politician. He wasted little time storming against the man who had betrayed him. On the contrary, he turned immediately to the only important question facing him: how to regain control of the revolution. Without the fleet solidly behind him, a mere assertion of his authority would expose that authority as a hollow shell. For much the same reason he could not demote Billiard, or have the man arrested. The only course open seemed to be one of assassination. The situation resembled Billiard’s with Goldaper, the admiral mused…

  Once Koppett came to his conclusion, he was able to get to sleep. And since there was absolutely nothing he could do from his present position in deep space to annihilate Billiard, he had to get to Lori. From there, Koppett was sure, he would have no trouble getting rid of the man who wanted to take his place as the new God of the Lorian Empire.

  II

  Throughout the night, by word of mouth and over the revolution-controlled hi-wave, the sudden arrival of Admiral Koppett had been announced. Now that the riots of the day before had ended, the people of Lori, curious about their new master, began thronging to the Plaza of the Empire in front of the Star Palace.

  A respect for tradition, plus the slight helping hand of Lieutenant Somms’s police force, kept the people of Zilamat back from the half-kilometer-long mosaic that formed the center of the plaza, a mosaic that detailed the history of the Lorian Gods. But the rest of the plaza, the surrounding rooftops and windows, and the streets leading to the central square were jammed. Some people even trampled one another in their efforts to witness an event unprecedented in the long history of their empire.

  At noon, a shadow passed over the plaza—a shadow cast by a cloud of steel—as the Zav-class transport that Admiral Koppett had taken for his flagship settled slowly to the ground. Nearly three hundred meters long, the admiral’s ship was an impressive, if somewhat barbaric, sight as its bulk crushed some of the fine mosaic of the plaza floor, the first stones of which had been laid down more than two thousand years before.

  As the ship settled, grinding the stones to a fine powder, General Billiard, flanked by Captains Forgari and Garth, appeared at the top of the hundred-meter-wide milkstone steps that led into the palace. Two squads of combat-boat officers, Billiard’s elite force, rushed to form a living corridor up the steps, their recoilless rifles held at “present arms.”

  Silently, ponderously, the giant side lock of the transport slid open and a heavy steel ramp levered out onto the plaza surface, fracturing more of the precious mosaic.

  The crowd was silent, all eyes fixed on the ramp.

  As Admiral Koppett stepped out of the ship followed by two aides, his eyes roamed over the Lorian citizens, taking in the colors of their dress, sensing their air of hushed expectancy. Looking up the flight of steps to where Billiard was waiting, the merest trace of a frown flashed across his otherwise expressionless face. He stood for a moment, at the top of the spaceship’s ramp, then started downward.

  Billiard, his face as motionless as if carved from stone, waited at the top of the palace steps. The admiral crossed the stretch of plaza between the ship’s ramp and the Star Palace steps quickly, his aides staying precisely in step exactly one pace behind their leader. At the base of the steps, Koppett stopped and looked up once more. A buzz of excitement began to spread through the crowd. The people of Lori were not sure what was taking place, but they were aware that some tremendous drama was being acted out before their eyes. In an instant, Admiral Koppett—the conqueror of the Lorian Empire, the leader of the revolution—was subtly and completely destroyed by the man who had won the empire for him. In a flash, Koppett had realized that he was not going to get a chance to arrange any assassination. Billiard had anticipated him even there.

  For a moment, he considered turning and trying to get back aboard his transport, but the recoilless rifles Billiard’s entourage held out in salute, he was sure, could as easily be turned from salute to threat at a mere signal from the man on the steps above him.

  The admiral glanced back over his shoulder at one aide, then at the other, hoping for the slightest sign of support from them, hoping they were at least going to accompany him on the climb up those marble steps. Neither moved. Neither looked at him. Their eyes were fixed on that commanding presence standing above them. Long moments passed, aging Koppett years in seconds. Then, shrunken-looking in the gold-and-white uniform that had fit him so splendidly moments before, Koppett began to climb, to pay homage to the new God of the Lorian Empire.

  He stopped three steps below Billiard, looked up at him, and tried one last piece of bravado. “You’ve done a good job, General,” he said, his voice ringing out loud enough to be heard clearly by the thousands clustered at the base of the steps. “You are to be congratulated on your victory.”

  Billiard looked down at Koppett for several seconds, a slight smile on his face. Then he spoke, his voice carrying as far as had the admiral’s. “Koppett, in the name of the revolution, you are under arrest for the murder of the God of the Lorian Empire.”

  A gasp carried up to them from the Lorians below, then a buzz which spread away from the plaza center in waves as word of the old God’s death was sent outward.

  The blood drained from Koppett’s face; then he nodded, accepting the reality of his defeat. With a barely perceptible flick of two fingers, Billiard signaled to some men behind him, and two laser-armed officers stepped forward, flanking Koppett.

  “Am I to be shot, General?” he asked, his voice calm and even.

  “No,” Billiard said, “not as long as you cooperate.”

  “And if I do cooperate?”

  “Then we shall see what can be arranged,” Billiard answered, signaling for the guards to take the admiral away.

  Billiard looked out over the crowd in the plaza, and off to one side a technician pointed a remote-spot microphone at him. The Earthman’s voice, when he spoke, boomed out from speakers surrounding the plaza.

  “Citizens of the Lorian Empire,” he announced, “for the protection and preservation of the Lorian Empire, I have found it necessary to take command of the revolutionary forces. The purity of the revolution must not be tainted by treachery, and it was through treachery that Admiral Koppett arranged the death of the late God of the Lorian Empire. Stability must be maintained, both here on Lori and throughout the empire. To that end, the edicts of the revolutionary command must be obeyed without question by all Lorians, everywhere. Those citizens of the empire who fought against the revolution honorably are hereby, by my command, pardoned. There shall be no recriminations, no reprisals, no persecutions… But should there be men out there who dream of a return to the corrupt government of the past, who dream of a continuation of the power of the hated Redhats, who lust for power and hope to take advantage of the confusion which is the inevitable result of the revolution, let me warn them. Their efforts will have one result: death. There is but one power on Lori, and that power is me. Support me, and we will build a new and even greater Lorian Empire. Those who oppose me will most surely die.”

  Billiard looked out at the crowd and was met with complete silence. He let the silence stretch until it was almost painful; then, without any sign of hurry, he turned and strode back into the palace.

  Garth and Forgari, caught by surprise, hurried after him.

  “What are you going to do with Admiral Koppett?” Santha asked breathlessly, after she had caught up with him. “You can’t kill him.”

  “Of course I can’t kill him,” Billiard said. “After all, he is the father of the revolution.”

  Santha looked up at him, expecting to see sarcasm in his expression. She found none.

  “The best thing,” Billiard continued, “would probably be simply to exile him from the empire, with enough of a pension to keep him living in comfort—but not with so much that he can ever again plot a revolution.”

  Santha smiled up at him, relief in her face that Koppett was not to be hurt. “Thank you,” she said simpl
y.

  “It is best. You may go on now, Captain. I need to speak with Captain Forgari for a moment.”

  Santha smiled again, nodded, then hurried on into the depths of the palace.

  “Captain…” Billiard said.

  “Yes, sir?” Forgari answered, continuing to walk at Billiard’s side, his eyes straight ahead.

  “I want you to make sure that Koppett never gets off Lori alive. Understand?” he sighed.

  “Yes, sir.”

  III

  In the next few days, Billiard found that fighting to win an empire was a lot easier than slogging through the mountain of details necessary to keep it running as an efficient unit. He delegated everything he possibly could—either to officers of the revolution or specialists in various fields—and still found himself at his desk for twenty or more hours each day, less than half of which hours he was able to spend on his prime mission: trying to locate the secret Redhat base where the work on his own encapsulated universe was probably being completed by Redhats intent on removing Billiard from the throne.

  Billiard had not seen Santha in nearly a week. Then, one morning, while he was fighting his way through a series of reports on veterans’ rewards that had given him a splitting headache, she pushed past his secretary and into his office.

  “Come on, iron man,” she said. “You’re getting out of here for a while.”

  “Lieutenant Garth, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Billiard countered.

  “Captain Garth, remember? You promoted me.”

  “And if I don’t see your backside in about five seconds, I’m gonna demote you farther than lieutenant.”

  “Bah, you don’t scare me!” Santha retorted, sticking her tongue out at Billiard.

  He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. “All right,” he chuckled, “what do you want?”

  “You,” she said simply.

  “For what?”

  “A picnic.”

  “A picnic!” Billiard exploded. “How the empire’s name do you expect me to make time for a picnic?”

  “By simply getting up and walking out of here. Believe me, the Lorian Empire won’t fall apart if you neglect your duties for a few hours.”

  Billiard looked at the woman, at the smile on her face and at the deeper pleading in her eyes; then with sudden decision he stood up, grabbed his cap and her arm, and strode out of the room.

  Already wishing he hadn’t agreed, thinking of the number of things that still had to be done this day, Billiard found his headache getting worse instead of better as Santha led him out onto the palace roof to an open aircar. Climbing in behind the controls, she lifted the small ship easily, smoothly, sitting relaxed in the bucket with her hair blowing back in the brisk wind created by their flight.

  “Where to?” Billiard asked.

  “Someplace I haven’t been since I was a kid,” Santha answered. “I only hope it’s still there.”

  They flew on in silence for almost half an hour before she pointed the nose of the aircar downward, peering intently at the low range of mountains just in front of them. She seemed to be flying them straight into a solid rock escarpment, and Billiard was tensing himself for a grab at the controls, when she suddenly twisted the little ship to the left, around a spur of rock, and they flashed into a narrow green gorge cut into the heart of the mountains by a small river.

  Billiard leaned over and looked straight down at a rushing stream of white water that seemed to be a narrow ribbon shining brightly more than a hundred meters below.

  To their right, along the canyon wall, was a ledge that looked like a climbing trail for outdoorsmen. Santha was watching it intently, with only brief glances forward to keep the aircar in the center of the gorge. When they came upon a place where a cup in the canyon wall offered a level spot, she slid the airboat in with expert hands, landing them without a bump. “This is it,” she said with a bright smile, jumping out of the boat. “Come on, I’ll show you!”

  Billiard hit the release on his seatbelts and followed Santha out of the aircar, wondering where she could be going. She led him over the rim of the rock shelf and pointed downward.

  Looking over, he saw a small tributary stream, nearly twenty meters below. The water was tumbling fast, along a small, higher gorge of its own, which constantly narrowed as it cut down toward the main canyon. It disappeared after some fifty meters, rushing down through what seemed to be but a narrow crack between two boulders.

  Santha turned and ran back to the aircar, retrieving an insulated hamper she had prepared earlier. Then she was back at the edge of the rock shelf, stepping over it, fitting her feet into small cracks in the rock face.

  “Come on,” she ordered. “It’s lunch time, and I’m starved.”

  “You’re kidding!” Billiard said. “You’ll kill yourself trying to climb down there.”

  “I’ve done it hundreds of times.”

  “When you were a lot younger.”

  Santha stuck her tongue out at Billiard, then dropped down over the edge.

  He watched her, checking each spot where she put her hands and feet, and realized that the cliff wasn’t quite vertical—just very steep. There were handholds, and a few small plants. And ten meters below, the slope lessened considerably.

  Santha was down almost to a level area near the stream, when she turned to look back up at Billiard, shading her eyes with her hand. Billiard could see her lips moving, but over the rush of the water her voice was completely lost.

  Shrugging, and wishing his headache would go away, Billiard started down the cliff. He found a series of expansion cracks he was able to get his hands and feet into, and the climbing was not as difficult as it had appeared it was going to be.

  Then he made a mistake.

  Reaching across a slight outcropping, the beginning of a bulge in the rock that reached its fullness about three meters below, Billiard took hold of a small bush, using it for a brace while he swung his body across to the next foothold. The bush, which had easily supported Santha’s weight, gave under Billiard’s greater bulk. He slipped and slid almost straight down the smooth rock face, his hands scrabbling for purchase. In a moment, his right hand brushed against a huge clump of green and blue flowers, and he grabbed at their bases. Several came out in his hand, but the majority held, stopping his downward plunge.

  Not knowing exactly where he was on the rock face, Billiard held on tight and kept still, waiting for his heart to stop pounding. He was lying on his stomach on the slight slant of slippery, damp rock, and could hear the rushing water below—very loud, now. Almost as loud as the pounding of blood in his ears and the rasping of his breath. Cautiously, he stretched his left arm out, searching for a handhold.

  He almost let go in shock when his hand contacted something warm and soft—some sort of flesh.

  With the fleeting thought that there were, he knew, several species of wild carnivores on Lori, Billiard slowly turned his head to the left. He let out a grateful sigh of-relief when he saw that what he had touched was his companion’s hand, held out to him from where she was crouched on a small ledge of rock level with him, some two meters away.

  He reached out, locking his fingers around Santha’s wrist. Her fingers gripped his wrist in the same way, and he let go of the flowers, swinging across and getting his legs up onto the ledge with her.

  Santha looked at him, smiling, then started down again. Billiard had no choice but to follow, thinking of a few choice things he was going to have to say to her when they finally got to wherever it was she was going with such determination.

  A few more feet of descent followed, and then the rock surface leveled out as the sound of water beating back and forth between the walls drowned out every other possible noise. Large boulders, which had appeared to be only small rocks from above, blocked straight-line passage, however, and although moving along the stream was less dangerous than climbing down the cliff, it was not that much easier.

  Santha was waiting for him a
bit farther on, and Billiard stopped, on reaching her, to sit for a minute on a rounded boulder to catch his breath. She sat down next to him, leaning over to shout in his ear. “Not much farther. Just through that crack there.” She pointed at the narrow opening between the two boulders, the opening that had looked only inches wide from the shelf far above.

  “Can we get through there?” he yelled back.

  “No problem,” she laughed. “Come on.”

  Flashes of light off the tumbling water made it hard to see as Billiard followed Santha cautiously along the cut, jumping from rock to rock, trying to keep his balance and finding his feet constantly slipping on the wet rocks. His progress was more of a mad scramble than a deliberate walk. Nevertheless, in minutes they squeezed through the cleft and came out into a small, clear space. Here was a pool, surrounded by boulders except for one small stretch of sand. At the other end of the clearing, the water in the pool poured slowly out between two worn rocks. When Billiard walked over to peer at the fall, he found himself looking straight down almost a hundred meters to the main river below.

  “Well?” Santha asked.

  “Beautiful. As soon as I get back to the office, I’ll put out an executive order making this place off limits to everyone except us—by order of the God of the Lorian Empire. I’ve got the title, and here’s a chance to use it for something important!”

  “I doubt if that’s necessary,” Santha replied. “I’d be very surprised if more than a dozen people on the whole planet know about this spot. And I’m willing to share it with them—as long as they aren’t trying to use it when I want to use it.”

  She settled down on the sand, spreading out a piece of white cloth, then opening the insulated hamper. Pulling out a bottle of Trennian Wine-of-Gold, she handed it to Billiard. “Put a fresh chill on this, will you? It should still be cold, but I’ll bet the pool is colder.”

  Billiard slipped the bottle beneath the surface of the pool, setting it carefully in a V formed by two rocks. The water was crystal clear—and, as predicted, icy cold.