He smiled pleasantly. 'Have we stopped for lunch?'
Chapter 10
Near as I could figure it, the mortar shell had detonated a meter or so in front of the rear door as the door was sliding shut. The blast had buckled it, and it was stuck about two-thirds of the way dawn. The ramp was bent and could not be retracted manually. Minor damage, really, considering what could have happened. The door had absorbed most of the concussion, and Ariadne had been well inside the trailer when it had hit. In fact, Ariadne's brakes were in as good shape as the rest of her?Sean had had trouble stopping, with the result that some of the cargo had been unartfully rearranged. No great damage here either, except far six or seven smashed cases of beer. The astronomical gear in the egg-crate section was untouched, thank God.
Of course damage was the least of our worries. We were marooned on the far side of a hope-to-Jesus hole. You don't get a round-trip ticket when you go through one of those.
But we still had one operable vehicle, Carl's car-well, one and a half, if you — counted the crippled Ariadne. After lengthy debate, we decided to send out a scouting party to find out if this world was inhabited, and by whom. If it turned out that nobody lived here, we'd be faced with the ticklish option of shooting a portal, gambling that it wasn't a one-way shot. We could do that until we found an inhabited planet and help. The Great Debate was really about who should go and who should stay behind.
'But nobody has to stay behind if we use both vehicles,' Sean protested.
'Trouble is,' I countered, 'that auxiliary engine of yours breathes air. What if we hit a non-oxy world'
'Well, yes, it would be a problem. Didn't think of it.'
'But we can't all fit into the Chevy,' John put in. 'Can we? There are ten of us.'
'With a little shoving, we could,' Carl said. 'I think it's the best way to go.'
'It may be the only way to go,' I said. 'I don't want to leave anyone stranded here… including Sam. I'll stay.'
'Jake, you can't,' Darla said.
'Forget it, Jake,' Sam said. 'Just take out my VEM and put it in your pocket. You'll find something to load me into eventually.'
'And leave behind all your programming? To say nothing of the rig? Nothing doing, Sam,' I said. 'You people squeeze in that buggy and take off. Sam and I will be all right.'
'You'd have us leave behind the leader of this expedition?' Roland said mock-indignantly. 'Not likely.'
'I seem to have the knack of leading this expedition into one disaster after another,' I said. 'Besides, if I am the leader, you should follow my orders without question.'
'Every order but that one, I'm afraid,' John said apologetically. 'Sorry, Jake, but I suppose I've finally come 'round to Roland's way of thinking. As far as I can see, everything has den going according to Plan.'
Again, the Teleologist buzz word. Their constant use of it had always bothered me, but now, in the stuffiness of the overcrowded aft-cabin, it was beginning to rankle.
'You know,' l said, 'almost by definition, anything that happens is part of the 'Plan.' Hasn't it ever occurred to you that your reasoning is a little specious, logically speaking?'
'Looking at it from a traditional viewpoint, yes, perhaps it is specious. But Teleological Pantheism is a process whereby one learns to adapt to different viewpoints. From a different perspective, you can view the entire history of logical discourse as leading to but one conclusion-that truth, ultimately and finally, transcends reason.'
'Funny you should use the word 'conclusion.' It implies you have an argument going, which means you're using logic reason. In other words, you're saying that you've used logic to arrive at the conclusion that logic is no good.'
John considered it a moment. 'Perhaps I am saying that. Again, it's a matter of perspective. Let's employ a metaphor. I've used a ladder to ascend to a higher level, at which point I throw the ladder away. It was useful to a point, but isn't any longer.'
'Interesting,' I said. 'But metaphors can be tricky.'
'Do we have time,' Carl said, 'for all this philosophical horseshit?'
'We have all the time in the world,' I said. 'For once, nobody's chasing us. Let's take it slow and think things out. We have plenty of food, loads of power to run the life-support… Matter of fact, Sam, it's getting pretty close in here.' I squirmed in my chair at the breakfast nook. 'Take the temp down a bit. Okay? And the CO2 level, while you're at it.'
'Will do, though ten bodies are putting a strain on the air-conditioning, which is all I'm using. It's high noon, local time, and the temperature out there is thirty-seven-point-five degrees Celsius.'
'Sorry for that remark, Jake,' Carl said. 'It's just?'
'Forget it. We've all been strained to the breaking paint lately, including me. I owe all of you an apology for the way I've been acting. It isn't like me, and I can only plead extenuating circumstances.'
'You're forgiven, Jake,' John said. 'But Carl had a point. We should get back to the issue at hand-which is that it wouldn't be wise to separate.'
'Well, it wouldn't be desirable, that I'll grant you. But it might be necessary. Carl, you say we should shove all ten of us into that buggy of yours?'
'I'm not saying we wouldn't be uncomfortable.'
'How about the strain on the life-support systems?'
'It'd handle it.'
'You sure? We know the technology has its limitations.'
'How so?'
'Well, it didn't get the shell that hit us.'
Carl, who was squatting on the deck by the kitchenette, rubbed the adolescent stubble on his jaw. 'Yeah, I was wondering about that, too. But I'm inclined to believe that any limitations were deliberately built in.'
'What do you mean?' Roland asked.
'Well, the manufacturers wanted the car to attract as little attention as possible, as far as its superior technology is concerned.'
'So they built a 1957 Chevrolet Impala. What did you call the color? 'Candy-apple red'? Very inconspicuous,' I said.
Carl smiled sheepishly. 'The look of the car was my idea. Psychological reasons, mostly. I was homesick.'
We all looked at him, awaiting an explanation.
When it didn't seem to be forthcoming, I said, 'Carl, who built your vehicle? And why?'
The smile turned apologetic. 'I really don't know if I'm ready to tell you my life story. Sorry, but I just can't go into it right now.'
'Well,' I said, 'you're under no obligation. It's your business.'
'Thanks, I appreciate it.' He stood up. 'Think I'll go out to the car and check over the beam weapon controls. You know, it just may be that I didn't have it set up right. Like I said, I don't know all there is to know about that vehicle. It keeps on surprising me.' He stretched. 'Getting cramped in here anyway. Lori, you want to come?'
'Sure.'
After they left, Sean came in from the cab.
'Sean, what do you make of him?' I said.
He fingered his sinuous red worm of a mustache. 'A strange one. Passing strange.'
'We know that,' Roland said.
'You mean his vehicle?' Sean raised his massive shoulders and turned a palm up. 'I'd wager the thing comes from outside the known mazes, but beyond that…' He upended the beer bottle into his mouth, wiped his face with a hairy arm. 'He's an anachronism, that I know.'
'Yes,' John agreed. 'His accent, speech idiosyncrasies.' He turned to me. 'You know, Jake, until I met Carl, I would have said that you have the quintessential American accent. But Carl sounds like a character out of some
