The Universe Maker Read online

  Ann Reece lifted the transporter and said to somebody behind Cargill, "All right, Lauer, you take this back to Grannis."

  A young man stepped past Cargill. In the darkness it was almost impossible to see him. He said sourly, "I don't see why we want to give it back to him. We haven't got anything like this."

  Ann Reece shoved the transporter into his hands, grabbed him by the arm and led him along the road out of hearing. Cargill could see them only vaguely. They were arguing furiously. Presently Lauer must have yielded for he shouldered the instrument and trudged off. Ann came back to Cargill .

  "We wait here," she said, "and this time you'd better not try to run off." She added to somebody in back of him, '"If he makes a break spit him."

  Cargill had heard the men behind him but he hadn't looked at them and he didn't intend to. The quarrel between Lauer and Ann interested him. It implied that some Tweeners at least were dissatisfied with Grannis. He wondered idly if he might not be able to lay the groundwork for another revolution.

  The minutes trickled by. In the nearby brush a nightbird trilled, breaking the intense silence. Far away a coyote howled mournfully. Cargill felt a sudden press of air against him as if a big bird had passed over his head on silent wings. Beside him Ann Reece's flashlight blinked on. She pointed it into the sky, waved it violently, then turned to Cargill.

  "In a few minutes," she said, "a volor will come down here. Don't say a word, just get in and go to the rear away from the pilots." She added in a low tone, "The air transport men are anxious to get hold of you. They want to question you about the air fighting in the twentieth century. But they can't have you till you've been trained."

  Cargill, who had been an Infantry officer, maintained a discreet silence.

  "Sssshh," said Ann Reece unnecessarily, "here they come."

  The machine that settled down toward them over the trees was not a floater. It had swept-back wings and a long metal body. It must have been made of super-strong alloys for it crushed down among the trees that lined the narrow roadside and snapped one bole with a casualness that was all the more impressive by the roar with which the tree fell. There was a rush of wind and then the plane slowed for the landing and poked a bright beam of light at them. A side door opened. Cargill ran forward, aware of the young woman following close behind. The entrance was higher than it had looked from a distance, and he had to scramble to get inside. Slipping past a man in uniform, who was coming forward, he fumbled his way along a dimly lighted aisle, and finally sank into the seat farthest to the rear.

  He heard Ann Reece say, "Help me up!"

  The young man said something Cargill couldn't hear, but it had ancient connotations.

  Ann Reece snapped, "Let go of my hand. I can hold it myself, thank you."

  The officer laughed, then said, "Was that the great man?"

  Cargill heard no more. The machine moved, slowly at first, then with a violence that left no doubt as to how different it was from the slow-motion floaters which —as Cargill knew only too well—were practically helpless at night.

  It climbed steeply, like a plane rather than an airship. And its speed after less than a minute was something to murmur about. He couldn't remember ever having been in a machine that moved so fast. It gave him pause and made his purpose seem less than possible. People who could build such planes had an advanced mechanical culture, and they would not be easily controlled by a man from the twentieth century. His partial success with the floater folk must have gone to his head. He was setting himself against people who were actually planning an attack against the mysterious Shadows.

  The self-negation did not end until he suddenly remembered that these people thought he was important. He could not fully reject their opinion. The fact that they held it at all would give him contacts normally unavailable to a person coming into a new environment.

  He would learn what they thought. Minority groups would take his presence into account. Plans might be altered on the basis of things that he said.

  It would be vital for him to become oriented to the entire Tweener situation as quickly as possible, so that he could start to make sensible plans of his own. The possibilities cheered him. He turned his attention back to the flight itself. Somehow, he expected it to end momentarily, but the minutes drifted by, and still the rapid flight continued.

  He was aware that Ann Reece had seated herself several seats ahead of him, but he had no impulse to join her. A whole hour went by, by his watch.

  The city came suddenly out of the distance. Great bulbs of light floated in the sky and glared down on the buildings below, vividly lighting tip the scene. Ann Reece settled into the adjoining seat, but Cargill scarcely noticed.

  It was a city of skyscrapers that sparkled at him from the distance with effervescent, changing lights. Seeming to be made of glass, the buildings' translucent opalescence glowed softly. The first feeling of alienness passed. Cargill gazed at the city, excitement quickening his pulse.

  Beside him Ann Reece said quietly, "You're the first outsider in twenty years to see the capital."

  Cargill looked at her questioningly. "You mean no strangers are allowed in Tweener territory?"

  Ann Reece shook her head. "This is our capital city," she said. "It contains all the secrets of our people. We cannot afford to take chances. For twenty years all new Tweeners, all Tweeners who have failed in the Shadow tests, have been sent to other cities. No Shadow, not even Grannis, has been permitted to enter in that time." "How can you stop the Shadows?" Cargill asked. He was remembering the way Grannis had walked unharmed through the fire of the spit gun that he had directed from Lela's and his floater.

  "They're not as invulnerable as they would like us to believe," said Ann Reece, a grim note in her voice. "If you concentrate enough fire on them they run as fast as any ordinary mortal. We've discovered that." In the darkness inside the volor, she made a gesture he didn't see. She added: "Anyway we don't permit them to enter our territory. We are very strict about that. No one can enter the areas under our control without permission, and everyone who does enter has to submit to a thorough investigation."

  "How much of this continent do you control?" Car-gill asked.

  "About one quarter."

  Cargill nodded. He remembered how many times Lela had turned the floater aside, and said, "That's Tweener territory. We don't go there." He nodded again, half to himself. The floater folk must have discovered through experience that Tweener territory was dangerous.

  "And where's Shadow City?" he asked. "Oh, that's in the Rockies. The city is an impregnable fortress, hewn out of the rocks of an almost inaccessible mountain and protected by an energy screen. It's approachable only by air."

  They were over the Tweener capital now. Cargill had a glimpse of a series of glittering shopping centers.

  Gradually the streets below became more residential in nature. The volor began to slant down. He saw that it headed toward a broad expanse of lawn, which evidently belonged to an estate. In the distance he saw what looked like stone fences. A large house stood well back among the trees.

  Ann Reece said, "This is my home."

  Cargill looked at her in surprise. Then he looked at the house and whistled softly under his breath. He had taken it for granted that Ann Reece was merely a minor agent, an unimportant cog in this affair.

  Alighting from the volor, he looked again at the house. It was spacious and beautiful. It was of stone and its walls rose in ever higher peaks and spires until, like those of some dimly seen dream-castle, they faded from sight in the high shadows. The windows were tall and pointed at the tops, and the door huge and matching the windows hi design. Broad white steps led to the house proper. Truly an estate, he thought with a quick intake of breath. Such a house, he estimated, would have cost three or four hundred thousand dollars in Los Angeles, 1954.

  He climbed the steps wonderingly. It was evident that in this environment he would indeed be moving in high Tweener circles. Ann Reece rang the bell. There
was a pause and then the door was opened by an elderly man.

  The man said, "Welcome home, Miss Reece."

  "Thank you, Granger," said Ann. She motioned Cargill to go past her, and they walked silently along a brightly lighted corridor and came presently to a room.

  Cargill noted that it was large and well furnished. Directly across from him were a series of French doors that led to a terrace. Without hesitation he strode towards the doors and, trying one of them, was surprised to find it open.

  He had intended only to glance out, to gain a quickview of his surroundings. What he saw snatched his attention. The city—seen for the first tune from the ground. When Ann Reece and he had arrived at the house, the volor had landed them almost at the door. There had been little chance to observe the great globes of light that floated above the city. Seen from the air, from the tremendously swift volor, the globes had appeared stationary. Now he saw that they were moving steadily like the stars hi their courses. They shed their light like miniature suns on the metropolis below and followed each other in a great circular movement.

  Wearily, Cargill turned away. As he walked slowly back into the room, he realized how tired he was. It had been a long waking period, beginning with the normal day with Lela, and then followed by the long tense night while the floater was under siege. There had been periods of sharp fear, and periods of hopelessness, and periods of rage—all of them exhausting. And that was only the beginning. Back in the Shadow prison, he had for a sustained period faced the prolonged anxiety induced by the threat of death for some fantastic therapy. This was followed by more strain. The rescue by Ann Reece had brought relief from one fear, but it had not brought an end to physical activity. And so, for two hours more, there had been a further drain on his strength.

  He saw that the girl was studying his face. She said after a moment, matter-of-factly: "I'll have some food prepared for you. And then you can go to bed. I imagine you can use it"

  Cargill wasn't hungry, but it occurred to him that he hadn't eaten for twenty-four hours, and maybe he'd better have something. Ann Reece was turning away when Cargill remembered something. "I've been intending to ask you," he said. "What happened to you after I escaped that first time?"

  "I reported your escape to Grannis, naturally. About half an hour later there was a time adjustment and I had to do the job again."

  "Half—an—hour—later?" said Cargill. He stared at her, more startled then he cared to admit. His picture of the process of time manipulation had been vague. Suddenly he saw it as something that was done to one individual. She hadn't lived those months. For her the adjustment had taken place this very first night. Those who controlled the time stream really had potent power over its flow.

  It didn't seem to occur to Ann Reece to ask what had happened to him. She moved to a door and disappeared.

  Cargill was served a thick steak, medium rare, a baked potato and for dessert a baked apple. He ate with a concentration and purpose that reminded him of his first meal aboard the Bouvy floater. Thought of Lela made him feel tense. And so, when he suddenly looked up and saw that Ann was sitting back, watching him with amusement, it irritated him. She had changed her dress while the meal was being prepared. The short skirt was gone and she wore a long blue gown that matched the color of her eyes. It also made her look much younger. She had a pert face on which she wore a faintly calculating expression. Her lips were firm and well-shaped, and she carried herself with an air of great assurance.

  "What's all this about?" Cargill said. "What are you going to train me for?"

  Her expression changed. A set look came into her eyes and her lips tightened. But her voice retained some of the humor of her earlier amusement. She said, "You're the key figure. Without you there's no war."

  "I'm sure I'm thrilled," said Cargill acridly. "Does that make me a general?"

  "Not exactly." She broke off, snapped: "We're sick of the horrible world the Shadows have created for us." Her voice had lost its lightness. It was hard with anger. She flared: "Imagine changing the past, so that people will gradually become more civilized, get over their neuroses, and all that nonsense. It's against reason, against—religion."

  "Religion?" said Cargill, remembering his own speculations. "Do you believe in the soul?"

  "God is within everyone," she said.

  Cargill had heard that one before. "People keep saying that," he said, "but then they act as if they don't mean it. Let's just assume for a moment that it's true."

  "Of course it's true." She was impatient. "What do you mean, assume?"

  "I mean," said Cargill, "let's assume it as a scientific fact."

  She was silent. A wary expression came into her face. Cargill knew that look. He had seen it in the eyes of the chaplain of his company, and in the faces of other people whenever the subject of their belief was pressed too hard.

  "Scientific?" she said, and she made it a term of opprobrium.

  Cargill laughed. He couldn't help it. Her house was filled with "scientific" equipment. She had rescued him by the use of scientifically developed mechanisms that impressed even him, who came from a scientifically oriented world. But now he had applied the term to a forbidden area of thought.

  He ceased his laughter with an effort, and said soberly: "I'm honestly beginning to believe that I'm the only person who really thinks the soul might exist. My picture of it is perhaps a little more wonderful than that of even those who give lip service to the word and to the idea behind it. At first, I thought it might be an energy field in space-time, but that doesn't quite take into account the vast age of the material universe. The way I've been moved around makes time curiously unimportant as a factor. It would be easy, on the basis of the-estimated age of the universe, to make all religions look ridiculous, but that isn't what I want to do. I'm guessing that all this smoke has a hot fire under it somewhere, but the understanding we've had so far is just a superficial glimpse at the underlying reality. What do you think of that?"

  "I really don't care to discuss the matter, Mr. Cargill." She was cold. "Your childish speculations are not exactly an insult, since you do seem sincere; but they ignore a thousand years of religious thought."

  "You mean," said Cargill, "ten thousand years of making the effort not to know, of belief enforced by just such an attitude—and never a good look at what might actually be there. Well, I'll take the look myself and I'll keep you in touch."

  Ann Reece smiled grimly. "You won't have much time for private speculations. You'll be too busy helping us change our world."

  Cargill studied her from under narrowed eyelids. The reminder that he was to be used in their plans abruptly enraged him. "This world of yours," he said, "does it include justice for individuals?"

  Her lips were clenched into a thin line. "There's only one way to change the world," she said slowly. "We've got to get rid of the Shadows, and force the Planiacs out of the sky to a life of usefulness. Once that happens, it won't be long before this planet is humming again with industry and all that makes life worth living. Henceforth, justice will always include hard work."

  Cargill glanced deliberately around the luxuriously furnished room. "For you, also?" he asked, softly.

  She must have caught the implication, for she flushed.

  She said, "Your idea that people who manage estates don't work at it is just not so."

  It was true, of course, in an important sense. But he felt too basically hostile to her to be impressed by her vision. He said, "But where do I fit into this? What is the training that I'm to be given?"

  12

  Ann Reece relaxed. The amused look came back to her face. She said with heavy irony, "One times one times one times one times zero equals a million. That's the mathematics involved in your training. Anything else you want to know?"

  "Damn you!" said Cargill. He was on his feet, leaning over the table toward her. "If you people expect any cooperation from me you'd better start telling me the facts. Whose idea was it to use me in whatever you pl
an to use me for in this Shadow City attack?"

  "Grannis'."

  That held him briefly. "How come," said Cargill finally, "that you're all playing the game of a Shadow traitor?"

  Ann Reece was cool. "We're not playing his game. He's playing ours. He agrees with us. He thinks we have the answer to the problems of this age."

  "You fools!" Cargill was scathing. "Why, you're just a bunch of babes in the wood—"

  He stopped himself in alarm. Careful, he thought. This was no time to reveal his knowledge that Grannis was playing on several sides. Slowly he settled back into his chair. He stared at her unsmilingly. She said, "As soon as you've finished eating I'll show you to your bedroom. You sound tired." There was no doubt of the sarcasm in her voice.

  After she had left him Cargill explored his bedroom. The walls were done in shades of green, contrasting very effectively with a vividly white bed and white furniture.

  He was surprised when he looked out of the window, to see that the room was on the second floor. Since he had climbed no stairs he guessed that the house was built on the side of a hill. He mentally measured the distance to the ground below, then frowned with irritation. Twenty feet was a considerable drop even for a strong active man. Not that it mattered. He doubted that he'd get far if he tried to escape through the window. He realized his method of handling this situation must be on a much higher level of action.

  He turned back into the room and started to undress. He was tired and he fell asleep almost immediately.

  Even as he slept he became aware of a voice talking to him, urging him to action. It said something about Shadow City and the necessity of breaking down the Shadow pyramid. "Throw the switch," the voice commanded. "And the signal for you to act is—is—"