“I’ve seen the same thing,” Dzok agreed. “No matter what path you choose to follow across the alternate world-lines, the changes are progressive, developmental. A puddle becomes a pond, then a lake, then a reservoir, then a swimming pool, then a swamp filled with dead trees and twenty-foot snakes; trees stretch, or shrink, grow new branches, new fruits, slide away through the soil to new positions; but always gradually. There are no discontinuities in the entropic grid—excepting, of course, such man-caused anomalies as the Desolation.”
“Do you know where we are?” The grey ape on the cliff top watched me suspiciously.
“Give me a moment to gather my forces,” Dzok closed his eyes, took deep breaths. “I’ll have to drop back on self-hypnotic mnemonic conditioning. I have no conscious recollection of this region.”
I waited. His breathing resumed its normal rapid, shallow pattern. His eyes popped open.
“Right,” he said briskly. “Not ,too bad, at all. We’re about six hours’ run from Authority Central at Zaj, I’d guess.” He sat up, got shakily to his feet. “May as well get moving. I’ll have a bit of work to do calibrating the instruments; bit awkward navigating with dead screens.” He was looking at me thoughtfully. “Which brings me to wonder, Bayard, ah… just how did you manage to control the shuttle?”
I could feel my forehead wrinkling. I couldn’t tell yet whether I was going to frown or grin.
“I may as well confide in you, Dzok,” I said. “I know a little something about shuttles myself.”
He waited, looking alert and interested.
“Your Authority isn’t the only power claiming control of the Net. I represent the Paramount Government of the Imperium.”
Dzok nodded kindly. “Glad you decided to tell me. Makes things cosier all around. Lends an air of mutual confidence, all that sort of thing.”
“You already knew?”
“I must confess I used a simple hypnotic technique on you while you were resting, back in our digs. Dug out some fascinating data. Took the opportunity to plant a number of suggestions, too. Nothing harmful, of course. Just a little dampening of your anxiety syndrome, plus, of course, a command to obey my instructions to the letter.”
I looked at him, gazing airily at me. My expression settled into a wide and rather sardonic grin.
“I’m very relieved to hear it. Now I don’t feel like such a stinker for working on you while you were out.”
For a moment he looked startled, then his complacent expression returned.
“Sorry to disappoint you, old chap, but of course I’m well protected against that sort of thing—” he broke off, looking just a little worried, as though a thought had just struck him.
I nodded. “Me too.”
Suddenly he laughed. His cannonball head seemed to split in a grin that showed at least thirty-six teeth. He leaned and slapped his knee with his good hand, doubled over in a paroxysm of hilarity, staggered toward me, still roaring. I took a step back, tensed my wrist.
“You have an infectious laugh, Dzok,” I said. “But not infectious enough to let you get me in range of that pile driver arm of yours.”
He straightened, grinning rather ruefully now. “Seems to be a bit of an impasse,” he conceded.
“I’m sure we can work it out,” I said. “Just don’t keep trying those beginners’ tricks. I’ve had to learn all about them.”
He pursed his wide, thin lips. “I’m wondering why you stopped here. Why didn’t you press on, reattain the safety of your own base while I was unconscious?”
“I told you. I don’t know where I am. This is unfamiliar territory to me—and there are no maps aboard that tub.”
“Ah-hah. And now you expect me to guide you home—and myself into an untenable position?”
“Just rig up the board and calibrate it. I’ll do my own steering.”
He shook his head. “I’m still considerably stronger than you, old fellow—in spite of my indisposition.” He twitched his broken arm. “I fail to see how you can coerce me.”
“I still have the gun we sapiens are so clever about making.”
“Quite. But shooting me would hardly be to your advantage.” He was grinning again. I had the feeling he was enjoying it all. “Better let me run us in to Xonijeel. I’ll see to it you’re given all possible aid.”
“I’ve had a sample of hairy hospitality,” I said. “I’m not yearning for more.”
He looked pained. “I hope you don’t lump us australopithecines in with the Hagroon, of all people, just on the basis of a little handsome body hair.”
“Are you promising me you’ll give me a shuttle and turn me loose?”
“Well…” he spread his wide, deeply-grooved hands. “After all, I’m hardly in a position…”
“Think of the position you’d be in if I left you here.”
“I’d have to actively resist any such effort, I’m afraid.”
“You’d lose.”
“Hmmm. Probably. On the other hand, I’d be much too valuable a prisoner in this Imperium of yours, so it’s just as well to die fighting.” He tensed as though ready to go into action. I didn’t want that.
“I’ll make another proposal,” I said quickly. “You give me your word as an officer of the Authority that I’ll be given an opportunity to confer with the appropriate high officials at Zaj—and I’ll agree to accompany you there first.”
He nodded promptly. “I can assure you of that much. And I’ll take it upon myself to personally guarantee you’ll receive honorable treatment.”
“That’s a deal.” I stepped forward, put out my hand, trying not to look as worried as I felt. Dzok looked blank, then reached out gingerly, took my hand. His palm felt hot and dry and coarse-skinned, like a dog’s paw.
“Empty hand; no weapon,” he murmured. “Marvelous symbolism.” He grinned widely again. “Glad we worked it out. You seem like a decent sort, Bayard, in spite—” The smile faded slightly. “I have a curious feeling you’ve done me, in some obscure way…”
“I was wondering how I’d talk you into taking me to Zaj,” I said, grinning back at him now. “Thanks for making it easy.”
“Ummm. Trouble at home, eh?”
“That’s a slight understatement.”
He frowned at me. “I’ll get to work on the instruments, while you tell me the details.”
One hour, two skinned knuckles, and one slight electric shock later, the shuttle was on its way, Dzok in the operator’s seat crouched over the jury-rigged panel.
“This curious light you mentioned,” he was saying. “You say it seemed to pervade even enclosed spaces, cut off from any normal light source?”
“That’s right. A sort of ghostly, bluish glow.”
“There are a number of things in your account that I can’t explain,” Dzok said. “But as for the light effect, it’s plain you’d been transposed spontaneously into a null-time level. The Hagroon are fond of operating there. The apparent light is due to certain emanations arising from the oscillation of elementary particles at a vastly reduced level of energy; a portion of this activity elicits a response from the optic nerve. Did you notice that it arose particularly from metal surfaces?”
“Not especially.”
Dzok shook his head, frowning. “A fantastic energy input is required to transfer mass across the entropic threshold. Far more than is needed to set up the drift across the A-lines, for example. And you say you found yourself there, without mechanical aid?”
I nodded. “What is this null time?”
“Ah, a very difficult concept.” Dzok was busily noting instrument readings, twiddling things, taking more readings. As a shuttle technician, he was way ahead of me. “In normal entropy, of course, we move in a direction which we can conveniently think of as forward; with Web travel, we move perpendicular to this vector—sideways, one might say. Null time… well, consider it as offset at right angles to both: a stunted, lifeless continuum, in which energies flow in strange ways.”