“Yeah, I think it’ll be okay. We can work around it. You have that chalk?”
Linda watched the King draw a precise mathematical figure on the wooden surface of the platform. As it took shape, she marveled at its complexity and at Incarnadine’s draftsmanship. This was no hastily scrawled pentagram or other hocus-pocus.
“How do you keep the lines so true, so straight?” she asked him.
“Practice, honey practice.”
“It looks like you used drafting tools. But you did it all freehand.”
“It’s a bother. But the spells demand freehand. Two-dimensional patterns are nothing, though. It’s the 3-D ones that give me migraines.”
Linda shook her head. “There’s more to this kind of magic than there is to science back home.”
“And it’s a hell of a lot more dangerous.”
Around them, the laboratory buzzed and sang. Brilliant discharges crackled between suspended metal spheres. Spinning wheels threw sparks, and retorts bubbled.
Incarnadine walked over to Jeremy.
“Ready, Igor?”
Jeremy sat back and ran a sleeve across his brow. “You got it, Boris.”
“How are those two getting along?” Incarnadine motioned toward the laptop.
Jeremy punched a few keys and the readout changed.
— READY FOR THIS NEXT SUBROUTINE, SWEETHEART?
ANYTIME, DARLING. IT’S BEEN WONDERFUL WORKING WITH YOU. I’M SO GLAD WE MET.
YOU DON’T KNOW HOW LONELY I’VE BEEN IF I TOLD YOU HOW LONG I’VE BEEN SITTING HERE WITH NO ONE TO TALK TO …
DON’T, I’ll CRY.
“Ick!” Jeremy said. “These two are getting it on.”
“Well, considering how fundamentally different they are in design and architecture, you
“It’s still pretty strange.”
“It’s a strange universe, son.”
Incarnadine looked about the lab, sensing, testing.
“I think it’s time. Let’s run that sucker.”
Thirty-three
Museum
One step at a time, Gene thought as he crawled along the metal tube, Vaya following.
Don’t think about what you do when you finally get to this contraption. Forget questions like: How do you know it’s operational? How do you fix it if it isn’t? If it is in working order, how will you learn to operate it? Who’s going to help you?
The answer to the last question was, of course, Dis. The underworld machine had mapped out this safe route to the museum. Dis had also manufactured a beam weapon and had trained Gene and Vaya how to use it. Vaya carried it now. But Dis could only do so much. Dis really had no idea whether the interdimensional traveler still existed, nor whether it had ever worked or indeed had ever been tested.
But don’t think of any of that yet. One step at a time. One stupid, ill-advised, improbable step at a time.
The end of the tube was in sight, and there was no grate over it. Gene poked his head out. The terminus of the ventilation shaft let out low in the wall of an empty corridor. Gene watched and waited for a good minute before exiting the shaft. Vaya passed the weapon to him, then crawled out.
Gene looked the weapon over. It was a bazookalike affair with a telescopic sight, a trigger grip, and a few controls. Simple and deadly. It threw out a blinding beam of focused energy, and Dis had assured him it could take out one of the sentry robots. Anything bigger was iffy.
He handed it back to Vaya.
“We go left here,” he said. “Right?”
“Left is correct.” The voice of Dis was a whisper in his ear.
“Okay.” He wished now for a weapon for himself, but somebody had to stay in communication with Dis. Also, Gene would have his hands full with the machine, when and if they finally got to it. Besides, one weapon was Dis’ limit. Whether that limit had been imposed by physical capacity or ancient Umoi programming, Gene did not know.
They advanced slowly down the corridor, pausing to check out each shadow before moving on.
“Left turn at the end of the passage,” Dis reminded Gene.
“Check.”
The crossing corridor was dark and empty. Gene scouted both directions. Then Vaya eased around the corner, beam weapon raised and ready.
Nothing challenged her. They stepped quietly down the passageway and came to another crossing. Still nothing. A series of lefts and rights brought them to a pair of doors, one a typical Umoi portal: low, almost square, with a lever handle like a refrigerator’s. The other was garage-door size.
“My sensors show the smaller door unlocked,” Dis said.
Vaya knew what to do. Crouching in the shadows, she aimed the weapon at the door. Gene grasped the handle, nodded to Vaya, and threw the door open, ducking out of the way.
Nothing on the other side but darkness. Gene got out his Dis-manufactured torch — more or less a flashlight — and shined it into the room beyond. It was a large chamber filled with curious and unidentifiable machinery.
“This must be it,” Gene said.
“Yes,” Dis said. “This is a service entrance to the Hall of Advanced Technology. There are many exhibits here, but the machine you seek should be on display — if at all — in the experimental section. This area lies to your right as you go in.”
They entered and closed the door. Light came from a far corner of the chamber, and as they neared it, Gene doused the torch.
They saw a bell shaped contrivance standing in a pool of blue light cast by an overhead spot. A circular access port stood open in the side of the machine.
“Dis, is that it?” Gene asked.
“Difficult to be sure. We made what we hoped was an intelligent guess. As you are carrying a transponder on your person which amplifies our signal, you must get closer to the device in order to ascertain whether it is indeed the interdimensional traveler.”
“It fits your description of it,” Gene said.
“There were approximately four hundred other Umoi vehicles that answered to that description, fifty of which were exotic or experimental in nature.”
“One in fifty? Those are the best odds I’ve had so far. Let’s go, Vaya.”
The torch fell out of Gene’s belt and clattered to the floor. He stopped to pick it up.
An energy bolt sizzled over his head. Vaya returned fire as they ran for cover. They took refuge behind a huge contraption, a cross between a cement mixer and a jukebox.
“What now?” Gene said.
“I’m sorry,” Dis said, “but our invasion of the ambient circuitry has alerted the irrational units of your presence. We had hoped, by using low-level current, to preclude this eventuality. Obviously we have failed.”
“Forget it,” Gene said. “Topside knew exactly what we were looking for, and all they had to do was wait. I figured as much, but didn’t really have a choice. The traveler’s my only hope of getting home.”
“You will have to tell us about your home sometime,” Dis said. “This interests us greatly.”
“I’ll be sure to write. If you’ll excuse us now, we have to battle our way to freedom.”
“Certainly,” Dis replied. “We wish you the best of luck in all your future endeavors. It has been a pleasure serving you.”
