6
The dreams came that night.
Our rooms seemed to be a full kilometer from the dining hall, or maybe our 'butler' didn't use any of those spatiotemporal shortcuts Prime had talked about. It turned out that the distance wasn't quite that much; it seemed like a long way, though, what with all the twisting and turning. We saw nothing new en route, just more gizmos and gadgets lying about.
The rooms were something. There were six of them-six main ones, anyway. They were spacious, with alcoves and walk-in closets adjoining each. The major spaces communicated by means of wide L-shaped passageways. There were no doors except those to the six bathrooms. The fixtures in these were strange but usable. What was remarkable was how the place was furnished.
'Look at this bed!' Susan squealed.
It was circular and big enough to park the rig on. Mounds of fancy cushions covered it. Overhead hung a tent-like canopy, and a translucent fabric screen ran around it.
'You could have an orgy in here,' Susan said. 'What do you say, gang?'
'You go first,' Darla told her.
There were other beds, most not as large, but big enough, three to each room, along with smaller daybeds, couches, recliners, and other things you could rack out in. More than enough for everybody. There were tables, chairs, settees, ottomans, and other pieces, everything executed with exquisite craftsmanship. The place was lavish. There were imaginative lamps, painted screens, inlaid tables, tapestries, intricately woven rugs, and shelves of objets d'art. Nothing in any of the rooms was done in a recognizable style. Some things were faintly oriental, others functionally modern. A few looked positively antique. All were tasteful and seemed to complement one another. The shiny black floor and the lucent green glass walls made the place absolutely striking. A showcase.
'Nice,' Lori said after touring the suite.
'I wonder if all this was here,' Liam said, 'or Prime had his lads bring it up from the cellar.'
'Had it manufactured special,' Sean ventured. Then he yawned, scratching his unruly red beard. 'Mother of God! I could sleep for a week. After all that time in the truck…' He lowered himself onto a purple velvet chaise longue and plumped a pillow. He sighed and smiled, then keeled over.
He was right. Those beds looked inviting. Too inviting, maybe. But what else was there to do? We had some time to kill.
'Okay, children,' I said. 'Nap time. I'll stay up, then. Carl? How about you taking second watch?'
'Yeah,' he said through a yawn. 'Sure.'
I caught it, and yawned, too. 'Jeez, everybody stop doing that. I'll never stay up.'
Ten minutes later, after everyone had had a chance to go to the head, they were all conked out and I was left stalking the suite like a ghost. I considered the possibility that the food had been drugged. But I had probably eaten more than anyone, and though I was tired as hell, I wasn't on the verge of passing out. I felt capable of staying up as long as I needed to. As long as I didn't lie down.
There wasn't much to do: Hanging in one of the rooms was a landscape painting, done with watery colors in an impressionistic style. I spent a few minutes examining it. It had been done on a hard oval board with no frame. The scene was of a pleasant, semi-arid planet, stunted trees fringing on a low hill to the right, jagged rocks up on a high ridge on the other side, a rock-strewn dry streambed meandering through the middle. A heavily cratered half- moon, far bigger than most I'd seen, looked over the hill in a hazy, dark-pink sky. I speculated as to where and when this planet existed or had existed. Inhabitants? No signs.
I don't know at what point I realized that this wasn't a painting. The more I looked at it, the more real it became. Edges got gradually sharper, detail came into focus. This was
a photograph of some kind. Perhaps. Something different, maybe.
The scene reminded me of a place I knew, certain areas of a planet called Osiris, I forget the catalogue number. The moon was a little too big, though. But Osiris has a pink sky. I remember eating lunch one day on Osiris. I'd pulled off the Skyway and had opened the hatches, letting in warm, dry air. Pleasant smells, quiet. I'd come by way of an ice world, and the sudden shift in climate was soothing. I've always liked that aspect of the road. Radical contrasts, abrupt changes. Yes, the place did look a lot like Osiris. Those rocks should be a little more on the beige side, though. Yeah, like that. And the trees were a little different. Make them a little taller and color the foliage russet-there we go. Come to think of it, Osiris's moon is pretty big at that, but smoother. Not as many craters-make it look more like a baked potato with acne scars, that's it. And
I jumped when I realized what was happening. There was the surface of Osiris-beige rocks, russet trees, potato moon. I had changed the painting.
I walked away. Or the painting had been reading my mind. Yuck. I don't like things that hang on walls and read my mind. Don't like it at all. Call me stodgy and conventional.
I meandered on. There were other things to look at, other pictures on the wall, but I was spooked a little. I did stop to examine some pottery. The stuff could have come from anywhere. From Earth even. It had a vaguely American Indian feel to it-but I'm no expert, and really couldn't tell for sure.
The gang had all zonked out in one of the big rooms. George and Winnie were rolled up into a ball; Carl and Lori, too. Susan and Darla had stretched out side by side on the circus-tent bed, with long, skinny John prone and perpendicular to them, the three of them forming the Greek letter pi. Roland had curled up on a divan. Yuri and Zoya occupied separate day beds. Those two were not a pair. I wondered how long they'd been married. Must've been sheer hell. But then, their long, desperate journey must- have put a considerable strain on things. Even so, I half regretted having picked them up. Sometimes their bickering got to me.
I checked them all, looking for signs of drugged sleep, and didn't suspect anything. I found out how to douse some of the lamps. Each was different, none seemed to work by electricity. I left one glowing-it was a goose- necked thing with a bright painted-paper shade-and walked out of the room, nearly tripping over Liam's leg sticking out over the edge of a low couch.
There wasn't much else to do. There wasn't any reading matter about, or none that I recognized as such. I hadn't thought to bring a deck of cards.
Somehow I found myself in a room I hadn't seen before, and this one had a terrace and a view.
And what a view.
Here was Microcosmos at sunset spread out magnificently to world-rim, kilometer after kilometer of it in swatches of varying color and texture. The sky was blue ink to the 'east,' an explosion of orange and fleshy red in the 'west,' sun-disk just now slipping below the infinite horizon, moving very quickly. I watched as night fell faster than it could on any other world. It was like a door slamming shut. The sun slid under the flat plane of the world, and bang, it was night. The stars came on like beacons, wheeling in their crystal spheres. The land was dark. No. Here and there a stray light. Inhabitants? Automated lighting? No telling. I watched the heavens turn for a while, thinking.
I yawned. This was going to be rough. I really needed to stretch out and get eight hours.
A night chill began to seep into my joints, and I walked back inside, noticing a slight but abrupt temperature shift as I did so. The room was still warm. Must be some sort of barrier to keep out the cold. There was no apparent way to seal the room from the outside.
Ten minutes later I realized that I was lost, and I couldn't figure out for the life of me how that had happened. I couldn't find our suite. I ran through a series of sparsely and oddly furnished rooms, then came to an area occupied by more artifacts. I called out. No answer. I hadn't gone up or down stairs, I still had to be on the same floor. I ran around, and all I did was get more disoriented.
I found a room with a lone bed in it. It was little more than a spongy mattress raised a few centimeters off the floor. I sat on it and crossed my legs. How had I gotten so lost so quickly? Well, Prime had warned us. What was I going to do?
Prime had said he would call on us in three hours. How much time had passed? He'd be around sooner or later. Maybe.
I was a little worried. But there was nothing to be done. We were at Prime's mercy, if he wished us ill. Remote possibility that Moore and his men were about. But they'd probably be as lost as I was if they were
