The Voyager was back. It had materialized at a good clip and smashed through some old lab equipment, finally hitting the far stone wall. The hull was intact, though the front end was crinkled a bit.
By the time Osmirik reached it the hatch had opened and a strange towheaded man in a battered baseball cap had his head poked out. He was grinning.
“Is this here another planet?” he asked.
“You are in Castle Perilous,” a surprised Osmirik responded.
The man looked around. “Shore is somethin’.” He climbed out, and was followed by an even stranger man.
“This here’s Dolbert, and ah’m Luster.”
“Osmirik,” the librarian said, bowing.
“We got it, Ozzie!” Jeremy poked his head out. “We got the data!”
“I am pleased,” Osmirik said.
Jeremy waved a mini-disk. “It’s all here.”
“Are you harmed?”
“Oh, we got shaken up a bit, but we all had seat belts on.”
Jeremy got out, followed by Isis, who threw her arms around him. They embraced.
“No time now,” Jeremy said, breaking away. “Got to get this into the program!” He started running across the floor.
“Jeremy, look out!”
Something huge and green flashed by Jeremy, barely missing him. There was a roar and a tremendous crash.
Everybody looked toward the adjacent wall. Out of nowhere had come this huge gaudy automobile. Now it was crumpled against the wall with its hood sprung and most of its windows shattered. Fenders fell away and white smoke issued from the engine.
They all rushed to it.
“Lord Incarnadine!” Jeremy tried to open the deformed door; it wouldn’t budge.
“I’m okay,” Incarnadine said, crawling through the window. Luster and Jeremy helped. “Get the old man out. Careful, he may be injured.”
“Injured, schminjured,” Mordecai said, his head popping above the roof. “You hit the button in time, we’re okay. Okay?”
Isis and Dolbert helped Mordecai out of the wreck, then were surprised to discover Jonath. Jonath wasn’t surprised in the least. More gods. Fine.
“Where did you come from?” Jeremy asked in astonishment.
“Florida,” Incarnadine said. “Never mind, explain later. Now, about that data from the interuniversal medium —”
“We got it.”
“You got it?” Incarnadine caught sight of the Voyager. “I see. Well, good work. Let’s go take a look at that cosmos-fixing program.”
As they walked to the workstation the lab door opened and at least a dozen Incarnadines filed in. The first one said, “There you are! Nice operation you have here. Can we take a look at it?”
“We’re busy,” Incarnadine said. “Look around but don’t get in the way.”
“Well, excuse us for existing.”
“I’ll deal with that later,” Incarnadine said.
Thirty-four
World
He crouched in the tall grass between two fiberglass buildings. Two soldiers walked by on the company street between the tents and the buildings. He waited till they passed, then stood up and began running his fingers over the outline of a window on the side of the building.
He knew Alice was inside. Clairvoyance? Call it “knowing the location of things and people that matter.” This was his magic; he had discovered it, so far as he knew. He could invent the nomenclature.
The window fell out, its screws and washers loose and falling free. He caught it and put it carefully and quietly down.
“Alice?” he called softly.
She came to the window. Inside was a storage space converted to a cell. She came through the window headfirst and he eased her to the ground.
They crouched in the weeds. More soldiers passed on either side of them. Voices. There didn’t seem to be any way to get out of the compound without being seen.
He suddenly had a wild idea. Why not?
“Alice, listen. We’re going to get up and walk out of this camp. No one will see us. They won’t be able to see us. Understand?”
She nodded.
He took her hand and they stood. He led her out of the weeds and onto the street. Two soldiers were coming toward them. He steered a path past them, not hurrying, trying to be nonchalant, confident, cool.
The soldier on the right looked at them, slowed, and frowned. He stopped and narrowed his eyes. He shook his head. Then he looked away and caught up with his companion.
They kept walking. Three more soldiers passed them; there was no reaction at all.
They walked right out of the camp, heading toward the VTOL field. He had another wild idea.
The cockpit of the VTOL was carpeted with dials and gauges, all incomprehensible to him. It didn’t matter. He sat in the pilot seat and grabbed the controls. Alice sat beside him. He reached for the hatch and locked the compartment.
He closed his eyes and thought about gremlins. Little gremlins who knew every rivet and bolt in the craft, who knew its every function and capacity. He was in command of those gremlins, those little imps. He would tell them what to do and when to do it. They nattered and mumbled, crawling all over the craft, climbing on the wings, getting into the engines, squirming through the wiring. They were everywhere, and he commanded them.
He set them to work.
Start the engine.
The starter motor cranked, turbine blades began to whir, then picked up speed. Fuel pumps pumped, and kerosene ignited with a roar.
Take her up.
Slowly the craft began to lift, its directional engine nozzles funneling the exhaust toward the ground. The vectored blast provided stability and safety, creating a magic carpet of force that defied gravity, working its own kind of magic.
He put his hand on the thrust lever and the other on the stick. He slid his feet onto the pedals. He didn’t know how they worked, but it didn’t matter, either.
Guide me.
He turned the craft east and vectored forward. The craft gained altitude and speed. He pushed forward on the throttle, and the nozzles automatically rotated toward the horizontal as the airspeed increased, their attitude computer-controlled.
The craft rose over the trees and headed for the darkening sky. He looked at Alice. She was smiling, confident as ever. He smiled back, then glued his eyes to the instruments he didn’t understand.
He found the altimeter. It already showed five hundred something — feet, meters? The airspeed indicator was marked out in tens, and the needle pointed to one hundred. He pushed the throttle forward, keeping the foot pedals even. The craft jumped forward into full aerodynamic flight. Now the craft was a jet airplane. He didn’t know how to fly a glider, let alone a jet airplane.
But for a master magician everything is easy. Let your familiars do the work. Anything goes. Pumpkin, become a carriage. In you go, Cinderella, honey. You’re late for the ball.
They streaked east, deserted farmland rolling beneath them. It wasn’t long before pursuit craft came up behind, faster than he had thought of going. He pushed both the throttle and the stick forward, and the craft dove and picked up speed.
His pursuit mimicked him. The lead craft fired a preliminary burst, nothing serious, just letting him know that they were around. They probably didn’t want to lose an expensive VTOL. After all, where could he go? They’d just follow until he either gave up or was forced to land.
But he wasn’t worried. The more he did and the longer he did it, the more powerful he felt, and the more things he felt himself capable of doing. He thought he’d try some more experiments. This aircraft had a certain operational speed capacity — or “capability,” as engineers insisted on saying. Nothing could push it over that limit. But what would happen, say, if from out of nowhere, extra fuel materialized in the combustion chamber and added to the mixture? Just that. A little extra fuel. Like an afterburner. Whoosh.