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rung of the mounting ladder and shov-
ing the gun barrel under my chin. "I owe you," he rasped.
"I'll pay you back later for sure, and I'll bum 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 ofCoreyWilkes.
"That's right, Jake," he laughed. "And this time it's for good."
(T^W^l
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23
TiffiRE 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 out-
house 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
227
228
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John DeChancie personality traits. A while back it had invaded the rig's on-
board 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 Wilkes 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 com-
puter'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.
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"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, Daria, Oni, and Ragna
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PARADOX ALLEY 229
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,
Sam
no. I didn't die years ago. We simply began to think differ-
ently. Rather, I did. My woridview 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 facil-
ity."
Moore snorted. "You don't say." He tossed them both to the third gunsel, then [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]