I hoped he was right.
The door took us to a wide plain somewhere near the middle of what I had to assume was a different segment. Rising up in front of us was another white hoopstuff plateau, the top about three hundred feet up and accessible by a long switchback path. The hilltop looked to be even wider than the one where High Vista stood. The light was low in the segment, down to the level of a clear night with a full moon.
The lower light made it easy to see that something at the top of the plateau was glowing, shining brightly enough for light to reflect off the ceiling far above it.
All eyes were on the plateau and the promising radiance. I saw awe in the faces of some of the men, greed in others. Cyrus’s eyes were narrowed in calculation. Geek looked confused and woebegone, like a kid whose Christmas stocking contained only Santa’s rap sheet for molestation.
This moment, rife with wild surmise, ended abruptly when a person appeared at the edge of the plateau, staring down and back at us.
Cyrus rounded on me, face gone red with fury. “I thought you said nobody had taken this well!”
“Nobody had, last time I saw it.”
“I put a door up there,” Trub said with a mocking laugh. “I’d rather see someone else get it than you assholes.”
“You sneaky bitch,” he hissed, raising his hand to backhand her in the face.
“She must’ve just opened that door,” I put in hastily. “There can’t be that many people up there. Yet, anyway.”
Already several of the High Vista exiles had begun edging toward the path leading up the side of the plateau, the urge to get up there and check out their prize stronger than what passed for discipline. Others were muttering that they had better get moving and take what was theirs.
Cyrus lowered his hand, jaw working. He wanted to hurt Trub, but fear of losing his prize was just too strong. He raised his spear, let out a yell. “Men! Take that hill!”
It was the Alpo version of the dogs of war unleashed. They began stampeding toward the path, shouting and brandishing their weapons. The last one to go was Geek, who shot Trub and me a look like we’d stolen his pocket protector and mocked Spock before taking off after the others.
Once they were a safe distance away I let go of Trub and stepped back, watching closely to see what she would do. At best she might chew me out for interfering, at worst kick my ass up around my ears. I really wasn’t expecting an attaboy.
Her face gave nothing away as she said, “Transport.”
A door appeared. I was relieved when she beckoned me to follow her. At least she wasn’t going to leave me there to deal with the mongrel horde.
We came out atop the plateau. Before us was what looked like a huge blue-lit swimming pool, obviously the source of the glow seen from below. There was nothing else up there other than a wishing well about the size of a kitchen trashcan, and a PortaPotti-sized column that was just that: an alien outhouse.
“So what is that?” I asked.
“Mineral pool.” She gave me a sidelong look with her one good eye. “This was my favorite place to come for a quiet soak or swim. I’m sure going to miss it.”
“Sorry,” I said.
She shrugged. “I’ll find another, or get them to make one.”
I took another look around. “There isn’t anyone here.”
“Nope. I just had someone step through to be seen. They’re already gone.”
“A decoy.”
A nod. “Or bait.”
I followed her to the edge. We peered down the path. Cyrus and his gang were halfway up the hillside, letting out fewer shouts and war cries as they got winded from the climb.
“They sure are going to be disappointed,” I said.
Trub nodded. “And pissed off.”
“Can they get back? To the area around High Vista?”
“No, they’re going to stay in this segment for a while. The doors won’t let them go anywhere other than Earth for a year, and even after that no door will ever take them to High Vista’s segment.”
“You can do that? Set rules for the doors?”
“I sure can.” She turned back to gaze wistfully at the pool, as if saying good-bye to it, then looked my way. “Ready to move on? There’s more work to be done.”
“Sure. After I do one last thing.”
“What’s that?”
I let out an ear-splitting whistle. Cyrus and his men looked up. Saw us standing above them.
I gave them the finger.
They started moving faster, wanting to come get me, but by the time they arrived Trub had called another door, and we were long gone.
Trub took us back to the catapult.
“Now what?” I asked. I spotted my Rollox on the ground, lost in the confusion. I grabbed it, rolled it back up, and stuffed it in my pocket.
“We clean up some loose ends. Here, give me a hand.”
The catapult had wheels in front and a skid in back, like an old moveable cannon or artillery piece. Trub had us shove on the back part, turning the weapon so it was no longer pointed at High Vista. Once we’d repositioned it to her satisfaction, she gave me a small smile. “You want to do the honors?”
I stared at her in surprise. “You mean fire it?”
“Sure. We wouldn’t want to leave a loaded weapon laying around, would we?”
“I guess not.” The firing mechanism was simple enough, almost elegantly so. Poor Geek. He’d built a pretty gnarly weapon and never gotten to see it put to use. I pulled the safety pin, then put my hand on the trip lever. “Say when.”
“Fire when ready, Mister Glyph.”
“Bombs away.” With a sound like a monster bass string being plucked, and a groan and a whump from tension being released, the catapult fired its load high up and far into the distance. From up on the plateau came the sound of cheering.
“Wow,” I said. “I’m impressed. They could have hit High Vista for sure. Done some damage, too.”
“Major damage.” She studied the weapon. Nodded to herself. “You know, I’ve changed my mind.”
“About what?”
“I want it cocked and loaded.”
That didn’t make any sense. “Why?”
“Just because. Come on, give me a hand.”
There was a windlass to put tension on the part I guess you’d have to call a flinger bar. We started winding the tensioning rope up. It was easy at first, but got harder as the flinger bar was bent further and further down. I was finding it harder work than Trub, who did over half the work with none of the grunting and groaning that was coming from me.
Once the catapult was cocked, we loaded the basket with more of the hoopstuff ammo. Trub told me what she wanted in the basket, pointing out particular missiles. As we worked I decided it was time to ask straight out if I was in trouble or not.
“So,” I said, “You’re not mad at me for tricking those clowns into going away?”
She dropped a sphere the size of a melon into the basket. “I can live with it.” A glance my way. “Why did you get involved?”
I shrugged. “You weren’t back yet, and I was afraid they’d attack before you could get back and stop them.”
“Why did you decide to scam them? You had to have faked that picture before you went down the hill.”
“It was pure run what you brung. I couldn’t beat them up or scare them off. I figured by only option was to use their own dumbshit mentality against them. You know, social engineering and a bit of situational judo.”
She put in another sphere the size of a bowling ball. “How did you know I’d cooperate when you grabbed me?”
“I didn’t. But I sure hoped you would.”
“I guess you got lucky.”
“I guess I did. Thanks.”
She dusted her hands on her shorts, then touched the disc at her throat. When she took her hand away there was a small white ring in her fingers. “Here,” she said, holding it out. “Put this on. Doesn’t matter which finger.”