'Um… Jake?' It was Arthur.
'Yeah?'
'Is there-' The intercom went dead.
I tested the intercom switch, found nothing wrong with it. 'Bruce, do we have problems here?'
'Yes, Jake, a short in the circuit. It will take a few minutes to locate it.'
'Not important. Just get me to the showroom.'
A huge sliding door was opening to our right. 'That way,' Bruce said.
A few more turns and we were back where Carl and I had first seen our respective dreams made real. Still no plant foreman, though.
'Bruce, what's going on?'
'Sorry, Jake. We seem to have sustained some damage to our communications hardware.'
'You should have reported it before this,' Sam said, his eyes suspicious.
'First opportunity,' I ventured. 'Right, Bruce?'
'Don't make excuses for him,' Sam snapped. 'He doesn't need them, anyway. He can't-'
'Sam, hold it,' I said, cocking my ears. A sound was conducting through the bulkhead, faintly.
'I guess that's the foreman,' I said. 'Jesus, Bruce, are the outside mikes dead, too?'
'I'm afraid so, Jake.'
'Damn it, anyway.' I groused, popping the hatch.
'Jake, wait a minute!' Sam shouted, too late, as the hatch hissed upward.
'Don't twitch a muscle,' said the man who was pointing the gun at my face. I recognized him as Geof Brandon, one of Zack Moore's gunsels. 'Not one move, mate,' he growled, climbing up one more rung of the mounting ladder and shoving the gun barrel under my chin. 'I owe you,' he rasped. 'I'll pay you back later for sure, and I'll burn your fucking face off right now if you blink a bloody fucking eye.'
Zack Moore himself walked into my field of vision. He smiled. 'Hello, Mr. McGraw. I do believe we have you.' And from the computer's vocal synthesizer came the voice of Corey Wilkes.
'That's right, Jake,' he laughed. 'And this time it's for good.'
23
There were four left out the original band of nine men. Krause had told me about the two who had succumbed to the hardships of the grueling trip to Microcosmos, and Moore now informed me that three, including Krause, had perished in the road battle. Of the survivors, I knew Brandon, of course; him I had shoved through the access port of an outhouse back on Talltree. Apparently he was still rather miffed about that. The other two I recognized from the little tussle we had had on the Roadbug Garage Planet. Zack Moore was the leader. He was a big man, large-boned and tall, thick-limbed and unyielding, like the massive trees of his home planet. His roots went deep; they were like braided iron cable, and they were tough, and mean. He looked as though he'd lost some weight. His face was thinner, paler. It made his eyes more intense, two motes of fire in a pale cinder of a face.
Arthur was outside-Moore had asked him to leave, and Arthur was only too willing to oblige, with the proviso that he be allowed to take the collapsed spacetime ship with him. After examining it, Moore scratched his head and reluctantly agreed.
Arthur was apologetic. 'This is a strictly human affair, Jake. It's not my place to interfere.'
'I understand,' I told him.
'No, you don't, but I don't blame you.'
Sadly, Arthur left through the rear door. It closed behind him.
This was a reunion of sorts. Everybody who wanted a piece of my carcass was there, including the late Corey Wilkes. He attended by proxy, of course-that being a rogue Artificial Intelligence program imbued with his memories and personality traits. A while back it had invaded. the rig's onboard computer, at one point managing to wrest control from Sam himself. Sam had fought back and eventually prevailed, but apparently with Sam out of the picture there had been nothing to prevent the Willces program from breaking out of its restraints and regaining control, this time disguising itself as the A.I. operating system that had come with the computer's software package. 'Bruce' had played his role well, biding his time, fooling the hell out of me.
Joining in on the fun was another nonhuman being who wanted a pound of my flesh, Twrrrll the Reticulan, former leader and sole surviving member of his Snatchgang. A tall, gaunt nightmare in pale green chitin, he stood in a far corner of the trailer, his zoom-lens eyes focused on me. After all this time, he was still hot on my trail, and wouldn't give up the chase until either or both of us were dead.
A cozy bunch. We'd been through a lot together. Old friends.
Moore whirled and hit me across the mouth hard with the back of his hand. 'That's just to start,' he said.
Tasting blood, I tugged at the cuffs binding my hands at my back. I hadn't gone down, and could have kicked at Moore's crotch, but I didn't, for fear he might have killed me right then and there.
'You can have the cube,' I said.
'Decent of you to offer,' Moore said. 'We accept.' A dull, hollow thud came from inside the cab. 'That'd be Murray blowing the safe,' Moore said.
'I would have given you the code,' I said.
'And have us set off a booby trap? Not likely. Besides, you'll have no further need for the safe. Or this lorry. In fact, you won't have much need for anything at all, by and by.'
'I don't understand you, Moore,' I said.
'How so?'
'All this trouble, all this effort. All for a dead Corey Wilkes-or is it George Pendergast who's calling the shots here?'
'I'm not quite dead,' the voice of Corey Wilkes said through the trailer speakers.
'Corey, you died years ago,' Sam said, shifting his weight. He and the others-John, Zoya, Darla, Oni, and Ragna were sitting cross-legged in a circle at the front of the trailer.
The voice giggled. 'Sam, I'm still not used to addressing you in the flesh. I assume that is flesh, or some reasonable facsimile. When I first saw you like that, I nearly blew my cover. Quite a shock. But to answer your accusation, Samno. I didn't die years ago. We simply began to think differently. Rather, I did. My worldview diverged radically from yours. And, of course-'
'We don't have time for this,' Moore barked.
'I think we do,' Wilkes said evenly.
'Guv!' Murray came crawling through the connecting tube. 'Guv, there're two of the buggering things!'
Zack eyed me; then looked at Murray. 'What are you blathering about?'
'There were two cubes inside the safe. Here!'
He threw one out, and Moore caught it. Then he threw an identical cube. Moore caught the second, dropped the first, picked it up, and stood staring at both.
'I'm buggered and damned,' he said.
I laughed. It hurt, so I quit.
'What's the meaning of this?' Moore demanded.
'Two cubes,' I said, my fattened lip moving painfully. 'One I came with, one I created here, in this industrial facility.'
Moore snorted. 'You don't say.' He tossed them both to the third gunsel, then sidled between two crates and walked over to where the Chevy, in one of its many incarnations, was parked. He grabbed one of the door handles and yanked. The door didn't give. He thumbed the little cylinder on the lock, pushing it in and out.
'Now, this thing,' he said. 'You will be kind enough to give us the key.'
'Don't have it,' I said.
For that I got a whack on the head with something hard but not too damaging. I turned to see Geof Brandon brandishing a length of thin, hollow titanium pipe-a tent pole, probably. It had stung.
Moore smiled pleasantly. 'Want to amend that answer?'
