Problem was, it went through Reticulan Maze, where few humans, or any rational human who wanted to keep his skin intact, dared to go. But it was a fair possibility that a bold or foolish few had braved the trip back and had lived to tell of what was on the other side of the potluck portal on Seven Suns Interchange, though that might be only one of several portals leading into the Outworlds.
The upshot: if the Laputa had made it, the problem of what to do with Lori would evaporate, but I just might, too.
Problems, problems.
What would the Teleologists?John, Susan, and Roland?do now? That would take priority on the agenda, after we had eaten.
The food was great?ribs spicy and done just right, the game hen crispy-skinned and juicy inside. The bread was golden brown with a thick crust, flaky and tender. And the vegetables were there to pass the time between bouts of wolfing down the entrees, with draft after draft of beer to sluice it all down the pipes. If this was bar food, I wondered what delights the dining room offered. The waitress kept bringing side dishes, compliments of the house, she said. Along with free rounds of beer came bowls of sliced pickled beets, onions, pickled eggs and cucumbers, multi-bean salad, assorted condiments, and piles of bread and butter.
On the down side, we were getting stared at: It wasn't our table manners; in that regard we fit right in. Word had spread, I thought, as to who I was?which immediately brought to mind the question of just who the hell I was. Jake McGraw, Olympian god-type, who came back through time to bring the secret of the Roadbuilders to mankind? Just a man around whom a cloud of wild rumors had settled? Or was I being confused with someone else?
No, the latter two possibilities were out; the Black Cube, the paradox of Darla, and other realities spoke volumes about the rumors being true. Some of them, anyway. That left the Olympian hero. Anybody got a fig leaf?
Finally the singing stopped, and all the food was gone. I was stuffed, and halfway drunk. I don't like doing things halfway. We ordered more beer.
'My God,' John breathed, sitting back and massaging his stomach, 'I can't remember ever eating so much at one time. Hope I won't?' He burped liquidly. 'Ohhh. Excuse me.'
'Bring it up again and we'll vote on it,' Lori said, returning with Winnie
'I can't believe you found food,' Darla said.
Winnie smiled and waved a handful of plum-sized pink fruit with blue speckles all over them. Lori dumped a pile of leaves and stems down on the table, and sat down.
'Eat up, folks!'
Everyone groaned. 'Here, honey, I saved you some chicken,' Susan said, sliding a plate toward her.
'Kinda small for chicken, but thanks.'
'It's game fowl, Susan,' Roland corrected. 'Raised domestically.'
'Whatever.'
'How did Winnie know…?' John motioned vaguely at the pile of vegetation.
'How does Winnie know everything,' Roland countered, 'including accurate descriptions of planets she's never visited?'
'I'll have to talk it over with her,' Darla said thoughtfully. 'Apparently there's more information in that poem hers than I've been able to get out.'
'Maybe the poem and the map and this kind of information,' John offered, 'what to eat along the way and that sort of thing?maybe you could consider it all a… well, what would you call it? A tourist guide kit?'
'Very good, John,' Roland said. 'Very good.'
'Boy, those woods out there are spooky,' Lori said through a mouthful of game hen. 'Kept getting. funny… I dunno, feelings.'
'Did, you see any white rabbits?' Roland asked.
'Nah, didn't actually see anything. Hey, this is good.'
'You should eat, honey,' Susan said motheringly. 'You haven't taken a bite all day.'
'I'm eating, I'm eating!'
'Sorry, Lori. I didn't mean?!'
'Oh, it's okay. I'm sorry.'
We watch Winnie tale a tentative bite of fruit and roll it around her tongue. Not bad. She chewed it briskly and popped the rest into her mouth.
We all looked at one another and shrugged.
John leaned back. 'Well,' he said as if to start something off.
'Yes; well,' Roland seconded.
'What are you folks going to do now?' I asked.
'I've been thinking,' John began.
'Thought I smelled something burning,' Lori mumbled. I think she had John pegged as somewhat of a stuffed shirt, which he was.
Susan tittered, and Roland smiled before he said seriously, 'I'm for keeping with Jake. I think if you examine all our options, it's the best one.'
'Hold off, now,' John cautioned, raising hand. 'Why don't we examine then all and see?'
'The linkages are there,' Roland asserted. 'Everything seems to have gone according to Plan.'
'I'm not so sure of that.'
'It's fairly obvious.''
'Not to me, I'm afraid,' John said gently. 'Forgive me, Roland.'
Roland sighed. 'I suppose my task is to make you see the overall design.'
'I want to learn from you, Roland. I really, do. But… please, let's make it an exchange. Agreed?'
Roland nodded. 'You're right. I have been doing a lot of pontificating lately.' He gave John a conciliatory grin. 'Let's go over our options.'
'Well, for one…' John slapped the table. 'We can try to find, the planet where the Ryxx launch those ships. We may be able to get back to Terran Maze that way.'
The second way to get back from a supposedly one-way portal: go through normal space. Back in Terran Maze, nobody knew of this, and the Ryxx must have taken great pains not to let on, probably in order to protect their monopoly on trade with the Outworlds, though they could have had other reasons. I knew of no other race who bothered to build starships; the Skyway made them superfluous. The Ryxx would probably hold their monopoly even if everyone knew they were doing it.
'That may be worth exploring,' I put in, 'just to satisfy your curiosity and cover all bets, but I wouldn't hold out any great hopes for it. How much money have you got?'
John gave me a dour look. 'Jake.'
'Sorry. Just trying to point out that passage on a sublightspeed starship has to run high. Even if they do take passengers, which I somehow doubt, there could be a long waiting list. From the little I know of starship design, weight and space would be critical.'
'Didn't Wilkes say he was going?' John asked.
'I wouldn't take anything Wilkes said without a truckload of salt; He may have been lying, maybe not. Keep this in mind. He was; or is still, for all I know, a very well-connected man. He may have cut a special deal.'
'Maybe…' John drummed the table with spidery fingers. 'Well, I don't know, maybe we could get jobs, work up our passage money, approach the Ryxx and make a deal ourselves. Plead our case.'
The corner of Susan's lips curled sourly. 'We have a great sob story.'
'I'm simply outlining the alternatives, Susan.'
'Oh, go ahead, John. Don't mind me.'
'Bear with me, please. Now, back on Splash?'
'I wouldn't go back there,' I said.
'Maybe not Splash. Some other place. Here, for instance. There's always the option of settling here, or on some world where we can get a community going.'
'The three of us?' Roland said skeptically.
'Three, or two, or even one, Roland. Isn't that what Teleological Pantheism is all about?'
