TURN OFF SKYWAY I KM
FOLLOW RT. 22 EAST
'Oh, God, a bed,' Susan said dreamily.
'The sign's in English,' John said. 'Oh, here's the Intersystem one. Odd, it's not as friendly in 'System.'
'Frumious Bandersnatch,' Roland muttered.
'Route 22' (I nearly missed it, even going at a crawl) was a dirt trail which intersected the Skyway, then meandered off into the forest. I turned off and followed it, bumping over mound and rut, stone and fallen log, for what seemed like 20km with no bandersnatchi evident. Nothing was evident but a kind of hokey enchanted forest scene, as in the animated epics you see in museum mopix programs. Except of course there was nothing ersatz about it; this was the real, otherworldly thing. Out there was the demesne of elves, dryads, unicorns, and nymphs- or their funny-looking alien counterparts, and they'd be doubly eldritch for that.
We came upon it suddenly. It was a big, rambling three-story building slapped together out of immense logs and raw board lumber, roofed over with half a dozen gables, a spacious canopied porch going all the way around, lots of small windows on the upper floors, all of it anchored by four or five huge stone chimneys coughing thin black smoke. There was a big parking lot hacked out of the forest on three sides, crammed with unusual off-road vehicles.
All in all, it had a great deal of charm. Right then, though, a holey tent with no ground cloth would've looked like home. Smells of grilled food were in the air?I had been about to check instruments for air content and quality when I saw two husky fellows reel bare-headed out the front door and stagger to their funny-looking land jumper. I let down the port and sniffed. Pleasant odors, some nameless, some familiar. I rather liked this place already.
'Anyone hungry?' I said.
'Hold out your arm,' Susan answered, unstrapping hurriedly, 'and don't bother with the salt.'
I was pretty tired of hotpak dinners and moldy stuff from the cooler, too.
We were all packed up and out of the rig in nothing flat.
The bad roller looked pretty grim, afflicted with leprous white patches of crystallization. From here on in, every meter it rolled would be a risk. No matter; I was fairly sure there'd be a garage nearby. We'd put on the spare, and not give too much thought to how bad it was.
I stood at the edge of the parking lot, checking out escape routes. Habit. A second highway intersected Route 22 here, another logging road, or rabbit trail, I couldn't tell which. Sam had a clear path to leave on short notice, if necessary, unless someone parked next to him blocking the road. From the looks of these vehicles, though, he'd have no trouble nudging them aside if he had to. You'd have to see Sam up alongside your average four-roller buggy to appreciate how big he is.
I opened a channel on Sam's key, an oblong orange plastic box that was a radio, among other things. 'Okay, Sam, I guess we're staying here overnight. You be all right?'
'Sure, have fun. And call me every so often. Leave the beeper on.'
'Right. I'll patch you through when we go in to eat and lift a few cold ones. We'll have a lot to talk over.'
'Good.'
I closed the key. Susan was beside me, clucking and shaking her head.
'Poor Sam,' she said.
'He always has to stay behind, doesn't he? It's sad.'
I reopened the key. 'Hear that, Sam? Suzie thinks you've got nothing to do all by your lonesome. She's all worried.'
'Hm? Oh, hell, don't worry about me.'
Susan reddened. 'I didn't… I meant?'
'I got a stack of crotch magazines I haven't looked at yet, and let's see, there's that model ship I'm putting together… have to write thank-you notes for the shower gifts… should wash my hair… and I can always wank off.'
Susan scrunched up her face in pain. 'Oh, you two are terrible!' She ran off, laughing.
'Welcome to Talltree!'
'Thanks,' I told the big-boned, flannel-skirted man at the desk. 'Good name.'
His eyes twinkled. 'We stayed up all night to think of it.'
I looked around the lobby. It was big, fully two stories high with an open-beam ceiling. The rugs were sewn animal hides; the furniture looked handmade. The appointments were rustic yet tasteful. 'Quite a place you have here,' I said.
He swelled visibly, and his grin was broad. 'Thank you! It's my pride and joy. Built most of it with my bare hands.' He winked. 'And a little help.'
'Well, you did a good job. I was expecting something more primitive on a planet like this.'
'This is one of the most sophisticated log structures on Talltree,' he informed me. He pointed upward. 'I designed those cantilever trusses myself. You can do a lot with the local wood, though. Strong as iron?high tensile strength.'
'Interesting.'
The lobby was filled with people, young men mostly, joking, hooting, jostling each other. They drank from pewter mugs, sloshing beer onto the floorboards. The crowd appeared to be the overflow from the bar, called the Vorpal Blade.
'I hear a lot of English being spoken,' I said.
'Mostly English speakers here,' he said. 'English, Canadian, Aussie, lots of Irish, a few other breeds. You American stock?'
'Yes, but it's been a long time since I thought of myself as American.'
He nodded. 'Time marches on. One day we'll all be sabra.' He turned the registration book around. 'Anyway, I do hope you enjoy your stay here at the Bandersnatch?if you'll sign right here. You all together?'
I signed. 'Yes. What's the local industry around here?'
His eyes twinkled again. 'Would it surprise you if I said logging?'
'Not a bit.' I looked back at the crowd of burly young men. Everyone seemed cast to type.
He gave me our room keys. They were made of hand-wrought iron. Only two; Winnie and the women in one room, the men in the other. It was my idea. Talltree was part of the Outworlds, and my leftover Consolidation Gold Certificates were still good, but I wanted to economize. I had only a limited amount of gold to trade. The nightly room rates were fairly cheap, though.
'Any way of getting a bite to eat?' I asked.
'It's a little early for the dining room, sir. Our cook's building a flume this week. But the Blade has a separate kitchen and plenty of food. Most of the guests take breakfast and lunch in there. However, you might find it a bit crowded now.'
'What's this?' I asked above the noise. 'A luncheon party?'
'No, today's a holiday. Feast of St. Charles Dodgson.' He gave me a knowing wink. 'The celebration got started early. Like three days ago.'
'Feast of St. Charles…' John began, then broke out laughing. We all did. On the multiple nationality-ethnic- religious worlds of the Skyway, nobody could agree on what holidays to celebrate. Back in Terran Maze, those officially proclaimed by the Colonial Authority were scoffingly ignored, except by bureaucrats, who took off work. A tradition had arisen to celebrate spurious ones, silly ones, just for fun. People need excuses to goof off, though the thinnest will serve.
'Soon as you freshen up,' the clerk continued, 'you can join the festivities, if you
I was looking at the merrymakers, then turned back to the clerk. He was staring at the registry book, into which I had just signed my name.
He looked up at me. 'Is that really your name?'
'The alias I use most.' When he didn't laugh, I said, 'Just kidding. Sure, it's my name.'
'You're Jake McGraw? The Jake McGraw?'
Again, my inexplicable fame had checked in before I had. 'I'm the only one I know of.'
'You have an onboard computer named Sam?'
