Marooned in Realtime

'Willing hands? Like the ash shoveling we've had to do?' He didn't mean the question to sound nasty, but it came out that way.

She touched his arm again. 'No, Wil. That was dumb of us. Arrogant.' She paused, her eyes searching his.

'Have you ever been ramjetting, Wil?'

'Huh? Uh, no.' In general, Wil didn't go looking for trouble.

'But it was a big sport in your time, wasn't it? Sort of like hang gliding, but a lot more exciting-especially for the purists who didn't carry bobblers. Our situation reminds me of a typical ramjet catastrophe: You're twenty thousand meters up, ramming along. All of a sudden your jet flames out. It's au interesting problem. Those little rigs didn't mass more than a few hundred kilos; they didn't carry turbines. So all you can do is dive hell down. If you can get your airspeed above Mach one, you can usually relight the ram; if not, you make a nice crater.

'Well, we're sitting pretty right now. But the underlying civilization has flamed out. We have a long way to fall. Counting the Peacers, there will be almost three hundred low-techs. With your help we ought to be able to relight at some decent level of technology-say twentieth or twenty-first century. If we can, we'll quickly climb back. If we can't, if we fall to a pre-machine age when our autons fail... we'll be just too primitive and too few to survive. So. The ash shoveling was unnecessary. But I can't disguise the fact that there will be hard times, terribly hard work.'

She looked down. 'I know you've heard most of this before, Wil. It's a hard package to sell, isn't it? But I thought I would have more time. I thought I could convince most of you of our goodwill.... I never counted on Don Robinson and his slick promises and good-fellowship.'

Marta looked so forlorn. He reached out to pat her shoulder. o doubt Robinson had plans similar to the Korolevs', plans that would remain secret until the low-techs were safely suckered into his family's journey. 'I think that most of us low-techs will see through Robinson. If you make it clear where his promises must be lies. If you can come down from the castle. Concentrate on Fraley; if Robinson convinces him, you might lose the New Mexicans. Fraley isn't dumb, but he is rigid and he lets his anger run away with him. He really does hate the Peacers.' Almost as much as he hates me.

Half a minute passed. Marta gave a short, bitter laugh. 'So many enemies. The Korolevs hate the Robinsons, the NMs hate the Peacers, almost everybody hates the Korolevs.'

'And Monica Raines hates all mankind.'

This time her laugh was lighter. 'Yes. Poor Monica.' Mama leaned toward him and this time really did rest her head against leis shoulder. Wil's arm slipped automatically across her back. She sighed. 'We're two hundred people, just about all that's left. And I swear we have more jealousy and scheming than twentieth-century Asia.'

They sat in silence, her head against him, his hand resting lightly against her back. He felt the tension slowly leave her body. For Wil it was different. Oh, Virginia, what to do? Marta felt so good. It would be so easy to caress that back, to slide his hand down to her waist. Most likely there'd be a moment of embarrassed backing away. But if she responded... If she responded, they'd be adding one more set of jealousies to the brew.

So Wil's hand did not move. In later times, he often wondered if things might have gone differently had he not chosen the path of sanity and caution.

He thought wildly for a moment, finally discovered a topic that was sure to break the mood. 'You know I'm one of the shanghaied ones, Manta.'

'Mm-hmm.'

'The crime is a strange one, bobbling someone into the far future. It may be murder, but the court can't know for sure. In my time, most jurisdictions had a special punishment for it.'

Silence.

'They'd bobble survival equipment and the trial record next to the victim. Then they'd take the bastard who created the problem and bobble him too-so he'd come out of stasis just after the victim....'

The spell was broken. Manta pulled slowly back. She could tell what was coming. 'Sometimes the courts couldn't know the duration.'

Wil nodded. 'In my case, I'll bet the duration was known. And I'll bet even more that there was a conviction. There were only three suspects; I was closing in on that damn embezzler. That's why he panicked.'

He paused. 'Did you rescue him, Manta? Did you rescue the... person... who did this to me?'

She shook her head. Her openness deserted her when she had to lie.

'You've got to tell me, Marta. I don't need revenge'- perhaps a small lie there —'but I do need to know.'

She shook her head again but this time replied. 'We can't, Wil. We need everyone. Can't you see that all such crimes arc meaningless now?'

'For my own protection —'

She got up, and after a second Wil did, too.

'No. We've given him a new face and a new name. He has no motive for harming you now, and we've warned him what we'll do if he tries.'