He switched at once, gazing at me intently. “I must ask, why are you here? Do you have any understanding of what fate awaits you for daring to bring a filthy Horch into a vessel of the Beloved Leaders?”
“They have to catch us first,” I said. It was oddly pleasing to be speaking my own language again, even with this creature.
“But they surely will,” he said reasonably. “Then it will be terrible for you. You have only one chance to avoid the worst of the punishment, and that is to destroy the Horch and his machine with that projectile weapon of yours. At once. And then-“
“Forget it,” I said.
But—
I put it more strongly. “What I mean is, shut up. I’ll talk to you later, but if you don’t keep quiet now, I will turn you over to the filthy Horch.”
That didn’t stop him, either. I turned my back on his arguments and spoke in his own language to Beert: “Do you think you could get your fighter to scare him? Not kill him. Just make him be quiet.”
Beert’s head lifted to gaze at me. “Then you don’t really want him killed?”
“Of course I don’t, Beert. What use is he dead? I want him alive to be interrogated. Do you think I would actually murder an unarmed person?”
He gazed at me in silence for a moment. Then he said, “I was not sure.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
It didn’t take the Doc and the Christmas tree as long as I feared to get some of the systems running, and then the wall over the controls blossomed into a display. A golden dot marked our position. There weren’t any other dots nearby, which I thought was good, and at the top of the picture was an irregular mass which I took to be the coast.
I grunted at him as I tried to figure out what to do. Back in those New Jersey summers with Uncle Cubby, my parents had sometimes taken me out for a fishing trip in Uncle Cubby’s seldom-used cabin cruiser. I wished I had paid more attention to the charts. What I saw looked nothing like any coastline I remembered.
Then I saw one of the problems. I was accustomed to maps in which up was always north. Evidently the Beloved Leaders had no such prejudice. I guessed the land had to be east, and-once I craned my neck to peer at it sidewise and got the Doc to widen the view-it made sense. Island that forked at one end, like an alligator’s opened jaws, narrow body of water behind it and then the mainland-“Long Island,” I announced. “Great! That water over on the left has to be New York Bay. That’s where we want to go! Tell the Doc, Pirraghiz!”
She didn’t move right away. She was looking at me puzzledly again. So was Beert, and I realized I had used the English names for what I saw, since the Horch language didn’t have any. When I explained to them that “New York Bay” was one of the busiest harbors on Earth, and we would have no trouble making contact there, Beert swung his neck around closer to me. “First answer a question for me, Dan. What will you do when you get there?”
“Call the Bureau,” I said promptly. “See if they can get this sub under wraps before the Others can see what we’re doing-“
I stopped there; what I had just said didn’t sound right to me. Before I could figure out what it was, Beert went on. “And then?”
To tell the truth, I hadn’t thought much about that “then.” Especially about what then would mean for him and Pirraghiz. “Why,” I said, “I guess we’ll let the Bureau figure out what to do next.”
“What you mean,” he said meditatively, “is that you will turn this vehicle, and us, over to your human spy organization. Who will question us, and no doubt do their best to copy its technology, both Others and Horch.”
“I guess that’s about the size of it,” I admitted.
He sighed-that shrill Horch whistle of released breath that meant resignation. He didn’t say anything. He just nodded to Pirraghiz, who spoke to Wrahrrgherfoozh.
The Doc touched only a few dots on the board, but I felt the results at once. The submarine was turning and beginning to accelerate. The picture on the wall whirled to a new orientation, and we were beginning to go home.
That felt good. It felt like things were going to work out after all. It even felt as though I were going to get that steak before long, and sleep that night in a real bed ... and maybe even see Pat...
But we weren’t there yet.
The air fresheners had removed a certain amount of the stench from the sub, and things were quieting down. Cowed by the Horch fighting machine looming over him, the Dopey was still muttering-but softly, and to himself. Pirraghiz and the other Doc were in close conversation with each other. It looked as though they had left the navigation to Beert’s Christmas tree. Beert himself was standing by the control board, gazing at the changing display that showed where we were moving. I didn’t think he was seeing it, though. His neck was waving a slow sine, as though he were deep in thought.
When he saw me looking at him he turned his head toward me. “I have reasoned out,” he announced, “that your order to kill the little one was a ruse of some kind, not an actual intention.”
“That’s right, Beert. It was a trick,” I admitted. “We Bureau agents are full of tricks, but listen, Beert, I don’t mean to trick you. When we get to the Bureau they will know how much we all owe to you and Pirraghiz, because I’ll damn sure make sure they understand.”
“I will be grateful for that,” he said sadly.
And made me feel like a rat. Or, more accurately, made me feel that he was feeling the way I had when the Horch machines were working me over. Alone. Depressed. Pretty near hopeless. And all of it my fault.
There wasn’t anything I could do about it, though. I tried to take his mind off it by changing the subject. “Listen, Beert, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What did Kofeeshtetch mean about the nexus thing helping the
