Darla said, 'It's true. We never asked him.'
'Thanks again, honey,' Arthur said.
'How come we don't rate a Bug escort?' Sam wanted to know.
'Nothing with you people has gone according to standard procedure.'
'I believe that,' Sam said. 'If it weren't for bad luck, we wouldn't have any luck at all-'
'Alert,' the computer said offhandedly. 'Incoming ballistic object. Take evasive action.'
I wheeled hard to the left and went into the grass, taking the rig in a wide parabolic arc away from the road. It wasn't wide enough. There was a hollow explosion to the rear, followed by a steady rumbling, scraping sound.
'What's the damage?' I asked as I steered back toward the road.
'Looks like an encore of the last performance. Rear door is sprung, no pressure seal..' He bent forward to peer at a readout. 'Jesus. Looks like the lift is down. Blast must have activated the servo.'
'That's bad,' I said. 'I can feel it. It's dragging and making it difficult to steer.' I looked at the velocity readout. 'Well, it won't hamper us too much.'
'I'll go back and crank it up. Can't have that thing banging around back there.'
'Sit tight a minute, Sam. He may have a missile left.' Darla said, 'Moore wants us dead, even at the price of his own life.' There was a disturbing sense of fatalism in the way she said it.
I was worried. If Moore was doomed to be stranded here, he'd try his damnedest to see that we never made off the planet either. I hadn't helped the matter any by rubbing his nose in it.
The portal was coming up fast. A forest of black towers thrusting at the sky, it looked like the skyline of a city of dark gods. Not exactly the kind of place for a getaway weekend. But I just wanted to pass through, if they'd let me.
Then, suddenly, the main engine died again and our speed dropped precipitously.
Sam slammed the terminal down and frantically jabbed at it. 'The program's looping,' he said grimly. 'My quick fix didn't fix.'
'What a time,' I said, looking downroad and seeing our doom. Two solid white lines began demarcating a lane in the middle of the road. It was the guide lane, the safe corridor, and once we got into it, we were committed. Once committed, straying out of that slot was a very bad idea. But stopping was worse, and there was no time to avoid committing, even if Moore hadn't been back there. I looked at the readouts. Our speed was still dropping, and at this rate, we would soon fall below minimum speed. It was the dragging lift platform. The auxiliary engine wasn't powerful enough to compensate.
'John!' I yelled. 'Do you know where the manual crank on the load lift is?'
'I'm afraid not,' John said as he unstrapped, 'but I'll find it.'
'On the right-hand side at the rear,' I said. 'There's a panel, and there's four toggle bolts.'
'He'll need me,' Darla said.
'No, Darla-' I began, but knew unmechanical John would need help. 'Be careful!'
Even though we had passed the commit point, the portal proper was still some distance away. I hoped that meant that we had a bit of leeway, that speed and direction wouldn't be hypercritical until we neared the edge of the forest of cylinders. But this was a portal unlike any of the Skyway. No telling what it demanded in the way of portal-shooting expertise. I knew that it was not for amateurs.
'Sam, how's it coming?' He didn't answer.
Side roads began shooting off to the left and right with increasing frequency.
I said, 'Computer!'
'Acknowledged,' the A.I. answered.
'Display planned route, show present position.'
'Done.'
'Assist navigation, stand by to take control in the event of emergency.'
'Orders acknowledged.'
Even though its voice was a little too cold-blooded, I was glad that Sam had shut down most of the A.I.'s 'personality.' I, for one, was a little tired of disembodied intelligences, friendly or otherwise, hanging out in my truck.
'Prepare to bear left,' the computer warned as we approached a fork in the road.
I bore left. We were well into the maze of roads now. An array of cylinders stood off to the right, the road I had taken skirting them by an ungenerous margin. The sky was murky now, and it seemed that the sun's light had dimmed. There were no clouds-the darkness was a result of the intense and focused gravitational fields distorting and refracting the space around us.
'Keep left,' the computer instructed.
I chanced a fleeting look at the small monitor that showed the trailer interior, but couldn't see anything. Then I noticed that our speed was still dropping, but not as fast as before. Nevertheless, accelerating or decelerating whilst shooting a portal were not recommended procedures.
'Sam?'
'Almost,' Sam answered.
'Alert,' the computer announced. 'Incoming projectile. Possible missile. Take evasive action. Defensive firing has commenced.'
Which wouldn't do us much good, as Moore's missiles had been too tricky even for Sam. And I couldn't take any evasive action, none at all. Unless the computer got in a very lucky shot, we would have to eat that missile. As soon as the warning came, I was on the intercom to the trailer.
'Darla!' I screamed. 'Take cover! Incoming missile-get to the front of the trailer and get down! Repeat, get-'
A horrendous explosion sent shudders through the rig. The trailer yawed to the left and I did everything I could to keep it from wandering out of the guide lane. I could see smoke streaming from it and pieces dropping off.
I was on the intercom as soon as I regained control. The trailer monitor was showing nothing but noise.
'Darla! John!' I yelled. 'Report!'
No answer. I looked back. Zoya was on her feet. 'I'll go back,' she said.
'No! Strap in!'
She did, and it was all I could do not to countermand my own order. But I didn't want to lose Zoya, too.
'Airborne object tailing,' the computer announced.
'What?' I croaked. 'Another missile?'
'Negative. Unidentified object, possibly hostile.'
I didn't know what it was talking about, and didn't have time to look. The blast may have played hell with the scan ners.
Sam's face was drawn into thin, grim lines, and beads of sweat had sprung to his forehead like a sudden dew. His fingers worked furiously yet efficiently, accurately.
'Prepare for tight turn to right,' the computer droned.
If I slowed for the turn we would drop below the minimun, speed, so I took it with fully juiced rollers, hoping the trailcv wouldn't slide out and end it all for us. It didn't. I checked tha speed readout again. We were holding steady. Maybe the blast had ripped the lift completely off. A bit of luck if it had.
'Darla, answer!' I shouted into the mike. 'Report!' Again no reply. I didn't want to think about it now.
I checked the sweep scanners again. Moore was gaining. I could see nothing that could account for the computer's warning about an airborne bogey. The forest of cylinders grew thick. I drove among them, my heart a ball of ice, the gloom of the distorted spaces around me reflecting my fear, my despair.
The Paradox Machine was working fast; its wheels had sharp, shiny blades that whirled and whirled, and they were coming straight for me.
We were in the heart of the black city now, and light was scattered and dim. The road was lost in the murk, but the white guide lane was still visible. The rig's running lights had come on automatically, but there was almost nothing to see except the guide lane and a fuzzy patch of road. The cylinders were vast walls of blackness in a landscape of gloom and obscurity. And… quite suddenly, a crazy funhouse apparition, a view of the land surrounding the portal, refracted and distorted wildly out of shape as if by a fish-eye lens… then, darkness again. Gone. Nothing
