The Universe Maker (10 page)

It was not exactly surprising—the son had a personality. When he made a contact it held. Business flew their way and soon they lived in a grand house. They had two children, Betty and Jack. And what saddened the parents was that both were highly disturbed individuals. Specially trained nurses were hired, but they did not help as much as the parents hoped.

At twenty-four Betty Lane, having been advised that her instability was not rooted in her own childhood, was directed by her personal psychologist to go to the Inter-Time Society for Psychological Adjustment. She went. An investigation was made and it was decided that the death of Marie Chanette was responsible.

"—and that," said the voice from the air in front of Cargill, "explains why you are here in this therapy room. Tomorrow morning it will be necessary to kill you in order that the effects of Marie Chanette's violent death can be nullified. That is all."

There was silence and it was evident that the speaker had withdrawn.

For an hour Cargill paced the room, his temper steadily gathering strength.-Incredibly the Shadows, despite their vaunted superiority, were going to be destroyed by the schemes of one of their number. It served them right, Cargill told himself in fury. Imagine setting up a situation whereby their victims couldn't even talk to them—the silly, stupid fools!

In renewed rebellion against his fate, he again explored the apartment. First the living room and then—
As
he entered the bedroom, Ann Reece was just getting up from the floor. She saw him and put a finger to her lips. "Ssssshh!" she said.

Cargill blinked at her with eyes that watered with relief. He could have rushed over and hugged her. He had to restrain
himself
from racing over to the elongated tube-like instrument which had brought her, grabbing at it and shouting, "Let's get out of here!" He restrained himself because it was up to her to show if she remembered a previous rescue.

She said, "This time let's not waste a moment. It's bad enough having to come twice."

This time
—
twice!
That was all he wanted to know. Silently, sure of himself again, Cargill grabbed at the tube. He blinked—and it must have happened as quickly as that.

He was standing on a dusty road and it was quite dark. A few feet from him Ann Reece was bent over, making adjustments to the long tube-like transport instrument
She
had evidently recovered more quickly than he.

She looked up and said satirically, "Well, here we are, starting all over again, Mr. Cargill."

Briefly her sarcastic tone blurred the implication of what she had said. And then he thought shakily that somewhere around here, just about this time of day and possibly on this very day, he had run off into the brush. At this very moment, about a mile from here, Lela and her father were settling down beside a lake, and in a few moments she would capture Morton Cargill number one. He had an impulse to escape again and watch that other Morton Cargill's capture. He shook his head, rejecting the desire. A man threatened as he was had no time for side excursions.

Ann Reece lifted the transporter and said to somebody behind Cargill, "All right, Lauer, you take this back to Grannis."

A young man stepped past Cargill. In the darkness it was almost impossible to see him. He said sourly, "I don't see why we want to give it back to him. We haven't got anything like this."

Ann Reece shoved the transporter into his hands, grabbed him by the arm and led him along the road out of hearing. Cargill could see them only vaguely. They were arguing furiously. Presently Lauer must have yielded for he shouldered the instrument and trudged off. Ann came back to
Cargill .

"We wait here," she said, "and this time you'd better not try to run off." She added to somebody in back of him, '"If he makes a break spit him."

Cargill had heard the men behind him but he hadn't looked at them and he didn't intend to. The quarrel between Lauer and Ann interested him. It implied that some Tweeners at least were dissatisfied with Grannis. He wondered idly if he might not be able to lay the groundwork for another revolution.

The minutes trickled by. In the nearby brush a
nightbird
trilled, breaking the intense silence. Far away a coyote howled mournfully. Cargill felt a sudden press of air against him as if a big bird had passed over his head on silent wings. Beside him Ann Reece's flashlight blinked on. She pointed it into the sky, waved it violently,
then
turned to Cargill.

"In a few minutes," she said, "a volor will come down here. Don't say a word, just get in and go to the rear away from the pilots." She added in a low tone, "The air transport men are anxious to get hold of you. They want to question you about the air fighting in the twentieth century. But they can't have you till you've been trained."

Cargill, who had been an Infantry officer, maintained a discreet silence.

"
Sssshh
," said Ann Reece unnecessarily, "here they come."

The machine that settled down toward them over the trees was not a floater. It had swept-back wings and a long metal body. It must have been made of super-strong alloys for it crushed down among the trees that lined the narrow roadside and snapped one bole with a casualness that was all the more impressive by the roar with which the tree fell. There was a rush of wind and then the plane slowed for the landing and poked a bright beam of light at them. A side door opened. Cargill ran forward, aware of the young woman following close behind. The entrance was higher than it had looked from a distance, and he had to scramble to get inside. Slipping past a man in uniform, who was coming forward, he fumbled his way along a dimly lighted aisle, and finally sank into the seat
farthest
to the rear.

He heard Ann Reece say, "Help me up!"

The young man said something Cargill couldn't hear, but it had ancient connotations.

Ann Reece snapped, "Let go of my hand. I can hold it myself, thank you."

The officer laughed,
then
said, "Was that the great man?"

Cargill heard no more. The machine moved, slowly at first, then with a violence that left no doubt as to how different it was from the slow-motion floaters which —as Cargill knew only too well—were practically helpless at night.

It climbed steeply, like a plane rather than an airship. And its speed after less than a minute was something to murmur about. He couldn't remember ever having been in a machine that moved so fast. It gave him pause and made his purpose seem less than possible. People who could build such planes had an advanced mechanical culture, and they would not be easily controlled by a man from the twentieth century. His partial success with the floater folk must have gone to his head. He was setting himself against people who were
actually
 
planning
 
an
 
attack
 
against the
 
mysterious Shadows.

The self-negation did not end until he suddenly remembered that these people thought he was important. He could not fully reject their opinion. The fact that they held it at all would give him contacts normally unavailable to a person coming into a new environment.

He would learn what they thought. Minority groups would take his presence into account. Plans might be altered on the basis of things that he said.

It would be vital for him to become oriented to the entire Tweener situation as quickly as possible, so that he could start to make sensible plans of his own. The possibilities cheered him. He turned his attention back to the flight itself. Somehow, he expected it to end momentarily, but the minutes drifted by, and still the rapid flight continued.

He was aware that Ann Reece had seated herself several seats ahead of him, but he had no impulse to join her. A whole hour went by, by his watch.

The city came suddenly out of the distance. Great bulbs of light floated in the sky and glared down on the buildings below, vividly lighting tip the scene. Ann Reece settled into the adjoining seat, but Cargill scarcely noticed.

It was a city of skyscrapers that sparkled at him from the distance with effervescent, changing lights. Seeming to be made of glass, the buildings' translucent opalescence glowed softly. The first feeling of
alienness
passed. Cargill gazed at the city, excitement quickening his pulse.

Beside him Ann Reece said quietly, "You're the first outsider in twenty years to see the capital."

Cargill looked at her questioningly. "You mean no strangers are allowed in Tweener territory?"

Ann Reece shook her head. "This is our capital city," she said. "It contains all the secrets of our people. We cannot afford to take chances. For twenty years all new Tweeners, all Tweeners who have failed in the Shadow tests, have been sent to other cities. No Shadow, not even Grannis, has been permitted to enter in that time." "How can you stop the Shadows?" Cargill asked. He was remembering the way Grannis had walked unharmed through the fire of the spit gun that he had directed from Lela's and his floater.

"They're not as invulnerable as they would like us to believe," said Ann Reece, a grim note in her voice. "If you concentrate enough fire on them they run as fast as any ordinary mortal. We've discovered that." In the darkness inside the volor, she made a gesture he didn't see. She added: "Anyway we don't permit them to enter our territory. We are very strict about that. No one can enter the areas under our control without permission, and everyone who does enter has to submit to a thorough investigation."

"How much of this continent do you control?" Car-gill asked.

"About one quarter."

Cargill nodded. He remembered how many times Lela had turned the floater aside, and said, "That's Tweener territory. We don't go there." He nodded again, half to himself. The floater folk must have discovered through experience that Tweener territory was dangerous.

"And where's Shadow City?" he asked. "Oh, that's in the Rockies. The city is an impregnable fortress, hewn out of the rocks of an almost inaccessible mountain and protected by an energy screen. It's approachable only by air."

They were over the Tweener capital now. Cargill had a glimpse of a series of glittering shopping centers.

Gradually the streets below became more residential in nature. The volor began to slant down. He saw that it headed toward a broad expanse of lawn, which evidently belonged to an estate. In the distance he saw what looked like stone fences. A large house stood well back among the trees.

Ann Reece said, "This is my home."

Cargill looked at her in surprise. Then he looked at the house and whistled softly under his breath. He had taken it for granted that Ann Reece was merely a minor agent, an unimportant cog in this affair.

Alighting from the volor, he looked again at the house. It was spacious and beautiful. It was of stone and its walls rose in ever higher peaks and spires until, like those of some dimly seen dream-castle, they faded from sight in the high shadows. The windows were tall and pointed at the tops, and the door huge and matching the windows hi design. Broad white steps led to the house proper. Truly an estate, he thought with a quick intake of breath. Such a house, he estimated, would have cost three or four hundred thousand dollars in Los Angeles, 1954.

He climbed the steps wonderingly. It was evident that in this environment he would indeed be moving in high Tweener circles. Ann Reece rang the bell. There was a pause and then the door was opened by an elderly man.

The man said, "Welcome home, Miss Reece."

"Thank you, Granger," said Ann. She motioned Cargill to go past her, and they walked silently along a brightly lighted corridor and came presently to a room.

Cargill noted that it was large and well furnished. Directly across from him were a series of French doors that led to a terrace. Without hesitation he strode towards the doors and, trying one of them, was surprised to find it open.

He had intended only to glance out, to gain a
quickview
of his surroundings. What he saw snatched his attention. The city—seen for the first tune from the ground. When Ann Reece and he had arrived at the house, the volor had landed them almost at the door. There had been little chance to observe the great globes of light that floated above the city. Seen from the air, from the tremendously swift volor, the globes had appeared stationary. Now he saw that they were moving steadily like the stars hi their courses. They shed their light like miniature suns on the metropolis below and followed each other in a great circular movement.

Wearily, Cargill turned away. As he walked slowly back into the room, he realized how tired he was. It had been a long waking period, beginning with the normal day with Lela, and then followed by the long tense night while the floater was under siege. There had been periods of sharp fear, and periods of hopelessness, and periods of rage—all of them exhausting. And that was only the beginning. Back in the Shadow prison, he had for a sustained period faced the prolonged anxiety induced by the threat of death for some fantastic therapy. This was followed by more strain. The rescue by Ann Reece had brought relief from one fear, but it had not brought an end to physical activity. And so, for two hours more, there had been a further drain on his strength.

He saw that the girl was studying his face. She said after a moment, matter-of-factly: "I'll have some food prepared for you. And then you can go to bed. I imagine you can use it"

Cargill wasn't hungry, but it occurred to him that he hadn't eaten for twenty-four hours, and maybe he'd better have something. Ann Reece was turning away when Cargill remembered something. "I've been intending to ask you," he said. "What happened to you after I escaped that first time?"

"I reported your escape to Grannis, naturally. About half an hour later there was a time adjustment and I had to do the job again."

"Half—
an—
hour—later?" said Cargill. He stared at her, more startled then he cared to admit. His picture of the process of time manipulation had been vague. Suddenly he saw it as something that was done to one individual. She hadn't lived those months. For her the adjustment had taken place this very first night. Those who controlled the time stream really had potent power over its flow.