WHEN Ngat appeared for the next interrogation, Butland was twirling the pistol on his forefinger. He asked if Rex Piper might go along. Ngat said certainly, Piper was an honored guest of the Senator, who was sorry to have had to lodge him in the old jail while a new room was being blown—"
"This is the jail?" burst out Kitty Blake.
"Why yes; or it was before we got rid of crime."
"Most comfortable jail I was ever in," said Piper.
"Is that so?" said Ngat."Strange; an Alan would find it horribly uncomfortable. Of course non-Alans are different. Let us proceed to the interrogation. By the way, Mr. Butland, what is that black object you are carrying?"
"A perfume sprayer," said Will Butland. It was the first deliberate lie he had told in fifteen years.
"Ah, I understand. Now let us resume our questioning. This should be the last day thereof."
"But," cried Kitty Blake, "there's lots of things about the earth that we haven't told you yet!"
"True, but those things either are not important or can be inferred from what you have told us. Let us—"
Butland interrupted: "What's going to happen to us starting tomorrow?"
"You will be turned over to another examiner, who will undertake the study of your somatic characteristics. But do not be afraid; everything will be done to make your last hours painless. Now let us proceed—"
Butland shouted: "You can't do that! I'm a servant of the Lord, not of your imaginary Ng either, and if you kill me you'll roast forever in Hell—"
"I insist, Mr. Butland, that you contain yourself. Otherwise I shall send you to the museum again."
"—with devils dancing around and poking you with red-hot pitchforks, along with the other unrepentant sinners—"
Chapter VI. Escape
AGAIN that push, that fall through the wall of the sphere, and that landing on the floor of one of the stories of the museum sphere. Butland, as he picked himself up, remembered vaguely speculative talk from Rex Piper about multidimensional space-manifolds and other scientific fantasies—Butland had had no great faith in science, since it so often disagreed with Holy Writ. The Alan city must involve a multi-dimensional manifold or something. Otherwise how was it that one passed from one sphere instantly to another without experiencing any intermediate stages?
The curator, or whatever he was, was there again. He said cheerfully: "Back again, I see. We shall take up where we left off last time."
"Oh no we shan't" said Butland, pointing his pistol."You remember those old-fashioned projectile weapons you showed me? Well, this is a thing of that sort. If you don't want to have a small blob of metal penetrate your body at high speed, raise your hands."
Instead of complying, the Alan argued: "That device does not look like one of ours. How do I know that you are telling the truth, not being an Alan and therefore incapable of lying?"
Butland fired at one of the cases. As the echoes of the shot died down, he pointed out the two holes the bullet had drilled in the case.
Another Alan appeared, and made noises that evidently constituted a question as to what was going on. Butland moved to cover both the creatures, and said to his acquaintance: "Explain it to him, and tell him that if he doesn't put his hands up too he'll be—ah—plugged, I think the slang term is."
The curator, whose name was Zvelk, did so, meanwhile raising his own hands. His colleague started to obey, then bolted for and dove through the wall of the sphere.
Butland fired, but too late; the wall had resolidified.
BUTLAND grabbed the skinny fore-arm of his remaining Alan. He felt a tremor of the terror that Alans could instill by some unknown means."Turn it off!" he grated, digging the pistol into what would have been the Alan's ribs if he had had ribs. The Alan complied. Butland continued: "You're not going to get away like that! What was that you said about Alans being unable to lie?"
"It is t-t-true," yammered the Alan, who was dithering with fright and indecision."Our chromosomes were treated many generations back, when we abolished crime, to make lying impossible."
"That's just fine. Now, answer some questions. Where did your friend go?"
"To get help."
"How long should it take him?"
"He should be back any time now."
"Can you take me to a place where he won't find us?"
"Y-yes."
"All right, do so. I'm hanging on to you, so don't try anything unrighteous."
The Alan led Butland through the wall to a small dwelling-sphere, which he explained was his own quarters—or rather, those of him and his two spouses, the terms "wife" and "husband" having no exact equivalent in the triangular Alan marital relationship. The spouses would be out for some time.
"All right," said Butland, "explain about that portal."
"I do not know the details—"
"Then explain what you do know." Butland poked his prisoner with the pistol.
"Are you familiar with the universal series?"
"Mmm—yes and no; I've heard about it but I don't understand it."
"It is an equation that defines the relationship of the parallel universes, each universe corresponding to one term of an infinite series. The portals between them correspond to the operative signs—"
"What?"
"You know, the things like plus and times, though in intra-universal mathematics you do not add or multiply. You use operatives meaning, as nearly as I can translate, before-inside-perpendicular, or after-among-rotated-with. As I was saying, the portals correspond to the operatives of the equation; you pass through them from one universe to another."
"Any other?"
"Any other on your pseudoplane. To get to another pseudoplane one must pass to the metacenter of hyper-rotation of one's own pseudoplane, and thence—"
"Here, here, stop the math. Get back to how you use the portal."
"One picks a universe where the corresponding portal is just above the ground-level; if the other side of the portal is below ground, it is choked with rock and cannot be opened. Then one gravitizes one's not-inertia—"
"One's what?"
"One's not-inertia; you have no exact word—"
"Never mind, I think I have what I want. Take us to Ngat's office."
NGAT was interrogating Kitty Blake when Zvelk and Butland popped through the wall. The latter explained to the startled scientist about the damage that could be wrought by bits of metal traveling at high velocity. Ngat took the hint and raised his hands.
Rex Piper burst out: "You crazy fool, the President was right. I should have bumped you off without warning."
"Too late for that. Put your hands up too. No, first grab all those little round cases. They're textbooks, aren't they? Kitty, you catch hold of Ngat, so he can't duck through one of these heathen walls." He told Zvelk: "The minute your colleague shows up with the help he went for, you take us all through the nearest wall."
His instructions were none too soon. Six Alans burst in through the wall of Ngat's sphere. Butland fired a shot over their heads. They jumped back through the wall; then cautiously stuck the muzzles of their weapons through.
"Come on!" said Butland. He got all his gang through the opposite side of the sphere. They burst in on a trio of Alans of assorted sexes who were making love in the curious Alan fashion.
"Excuse us," said Butland hastily, "Zvelk, take us to your sphere." Zvelk did so. Butland said: "We're going to the portal next."
"Suppose it is open to a world other than yours?"
"Then you'll change the opening," said Butland firmly."And when we pass through to the earth, you and Ngat stay behind. As soon as we're in Antonio's we're going to start shooting at any Alans in sight. Hey, Rex, have you got any more cartridges?"
Piper handed them over, and the five individuals marched through the wall into the room containing the portal.