by Джеффри Лорд
Light came dim and murky from the flaring torch over the chasm. He made his way carefully through the glinting diamond images, brushing past them, unseeing and uncaring. Janina was waiting for him.
The beeping in his brain came again. Prepare return to HD at once. . prepare return to HD at once. . prepare to
Blade damned them all and closed off his mind. Never. Never go back. Janina was waiting.
She had turned on her plinth. She watched as he left the assemblage of carbonized kings and queens and approached. She smiled.
«You came, Blade. At last.»
Blade halted. She moved toward him. Her body ceased to glitter. No longer did the torchlight strike color from every facet. It laved a body that was warm and white and pink, that breathed sweetly, that gazed at Blade with love and held out its arms to him.
Blade heard a sound and wondered why he groaned. He had her, he had come to Janina, and she was in his arms. Why did he moan?
He kissed each perfect breast. Her fingers on his face were velvet feathers. She whispered of love, of the things they would do, and he knew that all was well. Yes, oh yes, they would do all those things together.
Her mouth was a well of tenderness which drew his tongue deep into itself. Her breath was perfume, her flesh sheer witchery, and her hands on his body were the kept promises of heaven after the lies of hell. Blade sank to his knees and Janina with him. They lay tight locked in embrace, kissing, and she whispered:
«Now, Blade. Now at last.»
She stroked him gently. He was rigid, blood-engorged, ravening and, at the moment, more phallus than man. Such sweet torture was past bearing.
Janina whispered. «Ah, Blade. At last-at last-I will have you in me. Ah, Blade-a thousand years I have waited and been true. Ah, Blade-now.»
Blade entered the valley of pleasure. Long, narrow, steepsided ravine all pink and convoluted. Everything he had ever known, or wished for, increased a thousandfold. He knew then what death was. This was death. And yet not death, for it was life and beautiful beyond telling and when it was over there would be peace. He understood then, for Janina was both life and death, and they were both one.
Never had his lust been so tender. Never had he extended Paradise so long. Janina enfolded him with her legs and arms and caught all of him to and in her and there were still depths in her to seek. On he plunged, deeper into the red ravine.
Janina cried warning, but it was too late. They rolled over the brink of the abyss, still locked together, still loving, still cleaving one to the other.
She whispered as they fell. The last words he ever heard her speak:
«Fall with me, my love. Die with me. Do not be afraid.»
The pain came then, splitting his brain, ripping him apart, and he screamed and clung to her. He knew. In those last moments he knew. He had lost. The computer had won. They were dragging him back to Home Dimension.
«Janina-Janina-JANINA-«
Silence. Yet she was in his arms. Silent. She did not breathe now, he was sure of it, and terror came and a fierce anger. They had killed her.
She was no longer soft. Her body, pressed to his, was hard and hurting and unresponding.
«Janina?»
Silence.
They fell. Fell. On a ledge was the body of Galligantus. A black vulture crouched over it and tore at a bloody hole. They fell.
There was light now and Blade could see the bottom of the pit. Vast and covered with bones and skulls. Obscene things prowled there.
«Janina! I am afraid. Comfort me.»
Silence. She was heavy in his arms, her flesh gone to stones, her eyes flat and unresponding. Blade clung to her and sobbed because she was all he had.
They fell. A pit gaped in the bottom of the abyss and they fell on. Into fire and steam. Into pain.
The pain vanished. They were no longer falling. He gazed about and began to laugh. He was walking in London, in crowded London, and it was raining. Janina glittered in the rain and it fell from her eyes like tears. She was an image, a statue, and she wore roller skates and he was pulling her along behind him on a leash. People stared.
A policeman came up to Blade and said, «You can’t go about like that, you know. Not ruddy likely you can’t. Not in London Town.»
«What do you mean?»
The bobby took off his helmet and scratched his head. He leered at Janina. «You’ll have to get some clothes on her, you know. And put some on yourself while you’re at it.
Blade looked down. He was naked.
«The time has come,» the bobby said.
Blade stared at him. «What time?»
«To talk of lettuce and queens,» said the policeman. «And submarines and postage stamps. Any ruddy fool knows that.»
«You’re the ruddy fool.» said Blade. «That is not the way it goes at all.»
«Sassinnawficer, are you? Comealongnowgoirg to runuin.»
Blade swung at him and missed. Too late he saw the club coming. Explosion. A little cartoonist sat in his skull and inked in the following: #!****
Chapter 18
Richard Blade remained in the nursing home three weeks. J came every day to see him, after the first week during which he was permitted no visitors, and Lord Leighton came twice. At no time was either man permitted to talk shop-no mention was made of the computer or of Dimension X. The brain specialist in charge of Blade was England’s best, and so famous that he took no guff from his Lordship.
The first week in hospital was vague to Blade. By the beginning of the second week he had recovered sufficiently for the specialist to clap him on the back and say, «We’ll have you out of here soon. You’re hard as carbon steel and twice as strong. I don’t know what brought you here-though I do have some pretty weird things on my tapes-and I judge that I am not going to be told. So be it. But whatever it was, Mr. Blade, you would be wise to stay away from it for a time.»
When he left the nursing home J was waiting in a taxi. «How do you feel, dear boy? You look marvelous.»
It was true. Blade did look marvelous. His hair had grown out thick and healthy, he was down to his best weight, and he ignored J to a point of rudeness to watch a pretty girl wriggle past. His eyes followed the tidy little rump under the mini.
«Richard?»
«Sorry, sir.»
J laughed and sucked on his pipe. He went so far as to pat Blade’s shoulder, and J was not a toucher.
«Don’t be sorry. It’s a good sign. I gather that Sir Rathburne was right. He tells me that you have made a complete recovery and now all that is required is rest and relaxation.»
Another pretty girl passed and smiled at Blade.
«I’ll get the relaxation,» he told J. «I am not so sure about the rest.»
As they moved into traffic J said, «I told the driver to go to the Tower. That all right? Lord L would like a word with you-and I did think that you might like to see the statue. You were the one who brought it back.»
«Sure, sir. No sweat.»
J nearly dropped his pipe. Blade grinned. «Just another of my Americanisms, sir. Expressive, though. I’m in the pink and ready for-«
J said «Bear? I believe that is the expression.»
«Wrong. Girls.»
J positively beamed. «Good. Fine. I prescribe it, even though you do tend to overdo.»
They rode for a block or so in silence. J said, «Do you feel any different, Richard? Now that the crystal has been removed?»
«No, sir. I didn’t even know they had taken it out until Sir Rathburne told me. I don’t remember much of anything about my first week in hospital. But I feel fine now.»
«It was Lord L’s idea that the crystal come out,» said J. «Mine too, of course, but he mentioned it first. He feels badly, Richard. Really shaken. He blames himself because we came so near to losing you.»
Blade nodded. «It was a pretty bad trip, sir.»
«I know. But at least the pressure is off now. For a time, at least. The statue you brought back is worth billions of
pounds. And, of course, there are new problems.»
Blade listened politely and with half an ear. He did not really care about the diamond statue or DX at the moment. He had an enormous yen for food and wine and, to quote the Yanks again, dames.
He knew there would be future incursions into Dimension X. No use kidding himself. Someone would go again through the computer. Blade? He did not know at the moment. Time and fading memories changed things. If he must, if his country really needed him and no one else could do the job, he would go. Leave it at that.
They reached the Tower and went through the complex security checks. Lord L, in a soiled white smock and as fragile as ever, greeted Blade and J and bade them come with him. They followed him to his quarters.
«I cleared out a closet and put her in it,» he explained. «As good as the Bank of England. Better. We can’t let them see her yet. There are problems, my boy, problems.»
Blade said that J had so informed him.
Lord J grunted. «Yes. Many problems. But they will be solved in time. She will be broken up and sold off in a way that will not ruin the market. Billions, Richard. Billions! She is going to pay for all our experiments. All of them. As of this moment Project DX is in the black. The Prime Minister is very happy with us.»
They entered His Lordship’s suite and went straight to his bedroom. He pointed to a large closet. «I keep her in there. Sometimes at night when I can’t sleep I open the door and put a light on her and just look. I have a very odd sensation at times-as though she were real, flesh and blood, and I in love with her. Did you experience any of those sensations, Richard?»
«I don’t remember, sir.»
It might return in time, as his memories of other ventures into Dimension X did, but at the moment she was just a life-size statue of diamond. She glittered and threw back the light and extended her arms. Her naked body was without flaw or blemish.
«She is absolutely lovely,» said J. «It is a pity we must break her up.»
Lord L rubbed his hump and scowled. «Don’t be a fool, J. England needs the money. We need the money. In a few days I would like to get together and have a talk. I have some ideas that will astound you.»
«I would rather not hear them at the moment,» J said tartly.
Blade left them mildly squabbling and approached the diamond statue. Regal and incredibly beautiful, she transformed the closet into a palace.
Palace?
Something stirred in his brain, moved and stirred and slithered to the threshold of consciousness and stopped dead. Blade took a last look at her and turned away. There for a moment he had known her name, for she had had a name and he had known it. He had known her and she had not been a statue. Or had she?
Her name? His lips moved and nearly formed a word. It would not come.
Perhaps later, when his brain had rested and some of the stress had gone, when the subconscious could do its work. This time out in Dimension X he had been insane, and now he was sane again in Home Dimension. He did not know just how that would work out, how it would affect his eventual memory.
Someday he might remember. Or never.
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