head through the hatch, Fiona spasmed again and the rig jerked forward. The edge of the hatchway caught Lori smartly against the side of the head. Roland reached and caught her before she fell out. He hauled her in and the hatch slammed shut by itself. The tube twitched and jittered all around us, the floor dropping out from under again, and we slid along the pyloric tube like the undigested bit of food that we were. This time we didn't stop. I didn't want to reverse the transmission, thinking that the rasp of the rollers would only irritate Fiona more. The walls continued their inexorable urging, closing over the rig like wet folds of cloth, leaving smears of fluid across the ports.

'Hang on, everybody! Get strapped in as best you can. Get Lori strapped into the bunk.'

A temporary lull allowed them to get Lori bedded down and secured, then the spasming began again. Roland got thrown forward and whumped up against my seat.

'Hang on to something!' I barked. 'I don't want any more casualties.' Then I laughed to myself. To be Fiona-merte was our destiny right then, and I couldn't see a way out of it.

It was an endless fateful journey. We got bounced, buffeted, and thrown around. The organ walls bore down relentlessly, slobbering over the hull of the rig. We rolled counterclockwise, went over forty-five degrees, then came back to vertical and keeled over the other way all the way to ninety and stayed there.

'Sam!' I yelled. 'Anything we can do?'

'I was just thinking that this is probably the most ridiculous situation you've ever gotten yourself into.'

'What?'

'I said, I was just thinking to myself?'

'I heard, I heard! You're a godsend, did you know that?'

'What?'

We passed through a valve, and I totally lost my bearings. We could have been upside down for all I knew. Somebody's leg flopped over my shoulder and I chinned it away. Somebody screamed. Visibility was zero, the headbeams reflecting off greenish-white tissue and half-blinding me. I wanted to turn them off but was afraid to take my hands from the control bars, useless as they were. Powerful contractions began, forcing us ahead in a kind of hellish birth process. The pitching and swaying lessened as Fiona settled down to the task of pushing us on to our destiny within the world of her bowels. After a few minutes ? it seemed longer ? we squirted through another valve and suddenly, mercifully, it was over. We hit water and were totally submerged. The rig bottomed on something soft, cab-first, then the trailer. I heard the antijackknifing servos groan, straightening the trailer out. Then we started moving forward again, more gently this time, carried by an inexorable flow of water.

My passengers sorted themselves out and came up for air. Everyone was okay. John came forward to the shotgun seat and strapped himself in. I tried to keep the rig trimmed out straight, but the current was carrying the trailer around into a jackknife that the servos couldn't handle. Countersteering did no good, so I said to hell with it and hit the antifishtail jets. Through the sideview I could dimly see the gas bubbling away into the water. We were inside another tube, this one bigger, with walls that looked more rigid.

'Where the hell are we?' Sam said.

'Don't know, but it's a good guess we're out of the digestive system,' I said.

'How'd we manage that?'

'Fiona must have a way of sorting the stuff she does and doesn't want to digest. We don't rate as food, I guess.'

'Not worth merte, are we?'

The current grew stronger. We floated from time to time, bounding along, washed forward like flotsam in a rain sewer. I settled back and kept the rig trimmed as best I could, not wanting to broach to and start tumbling. It wasn't easy, but I managed. We went along like that for a bit until the passage narrowed and the water pressure increased. I lost all control then, but the rig kept itself straight by rebounding off the sides of the tube. The tissue- material was darker here, and tougher-looking. The back end slammed against it, then me cab.

Soon, a rushing, rumbling sound grew, along with a low throbbing pulse-sound, and the water churned and grew bubbly. The turbulence shook us, but compared to the gastric action, it was nothing. The rushing sound increased gradually to a dull roar.

'Hull temperature's been increasing steadily,' Sam informed me.

'Yeah? Well, now I think I know how Fiona propels herself. She must have a gill system that circulates water through her and shoots it out the back end. The system must carry off waste heat too.' I looked out and saw a dark opening ahead.

'Sounds reasonable,' Sam said. 'Trouble is, this rig is no submarine.'

After a final surge and a burst of thunderous sound we left Fiona for calmer waters. The water outside was a blizzard of bubbles, gradually dissipating as we sank nose-first into the depths. I told Sam to keep up readings on the outside pressure, but it proved unnecessary. In the headbeams I could see a muddy sea bottom coming up fast. I groped around frantically for something to do to keep the nose up, but couldn't find anything. Fortunately the floor sloped downward and away, and the front rollers hit neatly. The cab slid forward and let the trailer fall in gently behind. We came to a stop.

'How far down are we, Sam?'

'About eighty meters.'

'Well, that's not too bad.'

'Sure, we'll just swim.'

'Let's see if we can't do a little better than that.'

I nursed the engine until the drive rollers were spinning slowly, then twisted the traction-control handles on the bars to maximum grab, and the rollers caught. We moved forward through a lake of sludge. The slope bottomed out into a trough and then the sea floor began to rise again, only to dip once more, continuing into a series of rolling hills.

'How's Lori?' I called back. A moment later Darla came forward.

'She's still out. Definitely a concussion, but her pupils are responding to light. But you can never?' Lori's scream interrupted her, and she rushed back.

'Sam, how did Winnie wind up with you?' I asked.

'I was going to ask the same question. There were a whole bunch of sailors snooping around me, and she must've sneaked through them somehow. I kept hearing a faint knock and I couldn't figure out what it was, and I couldn't locate anything on any of the monitors. So I took a chance and cracked a hatch open. And Winnie crawled through.'

'Amazing.' I said. Addressing the Teelies I said, 'By the way, people, you all did fine ? many thanks. But how the hell did you know where to find me?'

'We didn't,' John said. 'But Darla told us about Wilkes and your predicament. She didn't tell us much, something about a dispute between your truckdriver guild and the other one. Anyway, when Darla vanished on us, we overtipped a few stewards and some of the other help to get some information. We didn't get much, but we did find out Wilkes' cabin number. We assumed the worst.'

'Again, many thanks.'

'Nothing, really. I only had a mild heart attack.'

'Jake, unless I'm badly mistaken,' Sam said, 'we're going up.'

The rolling hills continued for a while, then the sea bottom began to rise, turning from sludge to mud, then to packed sand. We were in a tidal area; no vegetation to speak of.

Lori stopped screaming and began crying. She had remembered the Rikkis. Darla and Susan comforted her.

It was another half hour before we made the beach. I drove through the breakers and up onto dry sand, pulled behind a dune, and parked. I had doused the lights as soon as we had broken water. Then I got out.

About ten kilometers offshore, the Laputa was burning, a smeared orange glow on the dark horizon. I sat in the sand and watched it bum.

Presently, a face took shape in my mind, the one that was a blank in my memory of someone bending over me in my cell at the Militia station. It was my face.

Me.

Вы читаете Starrigger
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату