Trouble was, the orchard landscape was back, and there was nowhere to go-if I didn't want to go crashing through the trees-which would slow us down, and needless to say, leave any easy trail to follow. I looked out at the neatly spaced rows of trees. Some were gnarled little things, but most were six meters high at least. On the whole, they didn't look crashthrough-able. There was maybe enough space between them to squeeze by… hard to tell, though. I thought back. The intersection was coming up. If I could get there and make a turn before they saw us, they'd have-to split up, and since there were only two vehicles chasing us and three ways I could go, we might lose them completely.
But no such luck.
'Jake, I have visually acquired our pursuers.'
'Damn.'
'Missile alert! Incoming! Take evasive action!'
I'd already taken it, panic-braking. The orchard had given way to a sort of wide esplanade lined with dark monuments leading diagonally off to the right. I barely managed the turn, scraping the side of the trailer against one of the huge metallic blocks. With any luck
There was a flash and an accompanying crump as the missile hit one of the monoliths. I was momentarily relieved for more than one reason-they hadn't unleashed a barrage of missiles. They were probably low, trying to make each shot count, but they probably had at least one more to chuck at us.
I raced down the stone-paved esplanade. It flared into a circus, in the center of which stood a free-form sculpture done in twisted metal. I skirted that, roaring off the pavement and onto turf. Ahead was an obstacle course of monuments and other odd bric-a-brac, and on the other side lay a grouping of turquoise domes.
I dodged and weaved through the field of monuments-it was like a driver training course. Stray exciter bolts sizzled around us, but no missiles came our way. I made a lurching turn around the domes, coming to the foot of a low hill dotted with more orchard trees. There was nowhere to go but up, so I went, flooring the pedal and hitting the first tree dead on. Not much to these trees-it snapped, fell, and we steamed right over it. I wanted to leave as much debris behind as I could, so I started sideswiping them, getting them to fall and block our pursuers' path. Branches scraped against the ports and crunched beneath the rear rollers. I tore the hell out of that goddamn hill. It would have been fun under other circumstances.
It wasn't a big hill, and we were over the top quickly. Apparently the gun buggies were having a hard time getting up the slope. They hadn't fired at us. There were no trees here on the other side, nothing but a gradual grade down to a flat meadow with no cover other than tall weedlike plants. It was a good hundred meters across to the edge of a thick forest. I hurried. We shot down the hill and bumped across level ground. I floored the pedal and cut a swath through the tall grass, scanning ahead to judge how thick the forest was and whether we could go crashing through or whether we had to turn and fight. I decided to risk more damage to the ecology and plunged the rig into the trees. This stuff was thicker. The cab shook with the impact. I heard a horrendous cracking, looked out and saw the right stabilizer foil fall away. But we didn't stop. Trees fell in our path, branches slammed against the view ports. It was rough going. I got hung up a few times, but managed to get free and keep rolling. Momentum was on our side; also a 600 megadyne nuclear-fusion engine. We crashed out into a small clearing, and I paused to look about for a trail or a road. There was a tiny break in the tree line off to the right, so I headed for it, and it turned out to be the start of little more than a deer path. But it helped.
'Hope Smokey the Bear isn't around,' Carl managed to say over the snapping, thumping, and banging.
'Who the hell is that?' I shouted.
'Forget it.'
The vegetation was not quite Earthlike, but not very exotic either, just more of thousands of variations I had seen on the basic theme of 'tree.' These had drooping branches bright with feathery red and yellow leaves. There didn't seem to be any wildlife about-nothing squawked or hooted disapproval at our intrusion, nothing bolted from cover to run for its life. I wondered if the whole planet were lifeless except for vegetation, Prime, we humans, and the White Lady.
We crashed out into the clear, and I stopped, slid back the port, and listened. No noise behind, nothing like two vehicles trying to follow our trace. They'd haye a rough time getting around the tree stumps and other debris I'd left. Good. Better and better.
'We have sustained some damage, Jake,' Bruce informed me.
'I know. Anything critical?'
'All main systems seem to be functional. However, we have a hull breach in the trailer, and the right stabilizer foil has detached itself.'
'Yeah. So much for stability. Well, it could have been worse.'
'I must compliment you on your creative driving, Jake,' Bruce said.
'Thank you. I was inspired.'
I got moving, crossing a grassy field to the slope of a low rise. At the crest, I stopped. There was an abrupt transition in terrain beginning a few meters away. The grass petered out, giving way to dust and gravel. A few wiry bushes with brilliant pink blossoms dotted a parched landscape. An eroded butte ringed by mounds of talus lay about half a kilometer ahead. Near it sat a complex of buildings that looked like some sort of industrial facility.
'Interesting,' I said.
'There's a road down by those buildings,' Carl said.
'Yeah. Good as any, I guess.'
I drifted down the hill and rolled out into the desert.
Carl gave a look out the port, checking the rearview parabolic mirror. 'You think we lost 'em?'
'I hope. Not much cover out here.'
It was pretty, though. The dust was red, the rocks coffeebeige, and the vegetation was in colorful bloom. The sky had turned a deeper shade of violet as the 'sun' declined to our right, coaxing long shadows from outcroppings of rock and stunted, rough-barked trees.
'We should look for someplace to spend the night, a hideout of some sort,' I said.
'What about that place there?' Lori asked.
'I'd like to get some more distance between us and those gun buggies first,' I answered.
I hurried toward the thin green line of the road, bumping over rocks and fallen tree trunks, following the edge of a sinuous depression to our right that looked like a dry wash. Darla began, 'Maybe we should='
'Alert!' Bruce interrupted. 'Bandits at six o'clock!'
The rearview screen showed two camouflage-painted buggies rushing down the hill.
'Fire rear exciters at will!' I shouted, mashing the power pedal.
'Affirmative. Have commenced firing.'
I weaved the rig back and forth, eyeing the terrain ahead for cover. There wasn't much to eye. A few rock formations,
low mounds, nothing elevated enough to completely hide the rig. Best we could do was to swing around and bring our forward guns to bear, hunkering down behind the crest of a ridge to present a low profile. Basic tank warfare in open country.
But they still had missiles, and one was coming our way. 'Tracking multiple missiles,' Bruce said imperturbably. 'Jake, you had better take cover. I can't seem to knock any of them out.'
I had already steered sharply to the right, heading for the dry wash. If I could get down in there without wrecking us, and if the wash were deep enough, and if we could get back out of there, and if- We practically fell into the wash. The cab dropped, crashing to the stream bed, pulping our bones and teeth. I recovered quickly enough to floor the pedal and pull the cab away before the trailer flipped over. The accordion joints along the trailer groaned, bent to the failure point.
There was a crunching thud-the trailer falling in behind as I wheeled out into the dry wash, rollers jouncing over ruts and boulders. I heard a whoosh. A missile impacted about twenty meters downstream, throwing up a geyser of dust and rubble.
'Only one actual blip, Jake,' Bruce informed. 'The others were electronically generated decoys. I'm very sorry to report that our defensive systems are not quite up to par.'
'They never were,' I said. 'Can't afford it.'
Now what? We were sitting ducks in this hole. I raced downstream, feeling the undercarriage whack against protruding boulders. I winced, hoping the rig would hold together. One hole or tear in a vital component and it
