“That’s too bad,” Brazil replied. “I would very much like to know our mysterious helper, and how he gets his information.”
“Well, he seems to be on our side,” Bat said optimistically.
“Nobody’s on any side but his own,” Brazil snapped back. “Not you, not me, not anybody. We’re going to have a tough enough time just dealing with the Skander party. I don’t want to reach the goal of this chase and have our helpful third party finish off the survivors.”
“Then you propose to give chase?” the Czillian asked stupidly.
“Of course! That’s what all this is about. One last question—can you tell me the last major problem Skander fed to the computer?”
“Why, yes, I think so,” the Czillian replied nervously. She rummaged through some papers, coming up with two. “He asked two, in fact. One was the number of Entries into hexes bordering the Equatorial Zone, both sides.”
“And the answer?”
“Why, none on record. Most curious. They’re not true hexes anyway, you know. Since the Equatorial Barrier splits them neatly in half, they are two adjoining half-hexes, each side—therefore, twice as wide as a normal hex and half the distance north and south, with flat equatorial borders.”
“What was the second question?” Brazil asked impatiently.
“Oh, ah, whether the number six had any special relation to the Equatorial Zone hexes in geography, biology, or the like.”
“And the answer?”
“Still in the computer when the unfortunate, ah, incident occurred. We did, of course, get the answer, even though it was on a printout which the kidnappers apparently took with them. The material was still in storage, and so we got another copy.”
“What did it say?” Brazil asked in an irritated tone.
“Oh, ah, that six of the double half-hexes, so to speak, were split by a very deep inlet all the way up to the zone barrier, evenly spaced around the planet so that, if you drew a line from zone to zone through each of the inlets, you’d split the planet into absolutely equal sixths.”
“Son of a bitch!” Brazil swore. “He’s got the whole answer! Nothing will ever surprise me again!”
At that moment another Czillian entered the room and looked at the bat and the stag confusedly. Finally she picked the bat and said, shyly, “Captain Brazil?”
“Not me,” Bat replied casually, and pointed a bony wing at the stag. “Him.”
She turned and looked at the creature that was so obviously an animal. “I don’t believe it!” she said the way everyone did. Finally she decided she might believe it and went over to the great Murithel antelope, and repeated, “Captain Brazil?”
“Yes?” he answered pleasantly, curious in the extreme. Captain Brazil?
“Oh,” she responded softly, “I—I realize I’ve changed a great deal, but nothing like you. Wow!”
“Well, who are—um, that is, who were you?” he asked, intrigued.
“Why, I’m Vardia, Captain,” she replied.
“But Vardia was kidnapped by the bugs!” Bat exclaimed.
“I know,” she replied. “That’s what’s really upset me.”
A ROAD IN THE NATION
“Quarantine, hell!” Skander grumbled, strapped in again atop Hain’s back, irritated by the yellowish atmosphere and the discomfort of the breathing apparatus. Her voice was so muffled by the mask that none could understand a word.
“Stop grumbling, Skander,” the Rel responded. “You waste air and can’t be understood by anybody but me anyway. You are quite right, though—we’ve been stalled.”
Vardia, whose head and vocal mechanism were not related in any way to her respiratory system, asked, “Who could be responsible? Who knew we were here, would be staying at that particular hotel? Perhaps our people have tracked you down.” There was hope in her voice.
“Don’t get yourself that excited, Czillian,” The Rel replied. “As you can see, the delaying action slowed us but did not stop or deter us—nor did it liberate you. No, this smells of darker stuff. Of the one who planted the hidden listening device in the baron’s office at Zone and prevented our escapade weeks earlier.”
This was the first Vardia had heard of that incident, and it made her think back to the many things that had happened to her. That distress signal where one could not have been operating. The vanishing of the two shuttlecraft on Dalgonia, and the disappearance of their lifeboat. The opening of the Well Gate only after they were all securely in it. Captain Brazil’s firm belief that he was being suckered by someone.
That strange snakeman, Ortega. Over seven hundred chances, and Brazil is met by the only person at Zone who knew him. Coincidence?
She suddenly felt furious, thinking of all of it in detail. Someone was using her—using all of them—moving them like pieces in a game.
What about the hex assignments? Skander to a place where she had all the tools at her disposal, corrupting a peaceful people in the process. She to the hex next door, assigned—actually assigned!— to work with Skander and kidnapped with her. By whom? Someone working for that bastard Datham Hain!
And Captain Brazil! She had gotten the word when Brazil had entered Zone, looking exactly the same as he had before. Why didn’t the Gate change him? And that pathetic little addict—dumped into a hex almost perfect for getting back to being human without pressures. Brazil had been hung up on her, she recalled. Probably they were together now.
Why? she wondered. Sex? That was something the animals did, she told herself. She had never understood it, or why people liked it; and if her own twinning was any indication, it was a most unpleasant experience. Why was a distinguished, high-ranking person of such a responsible position as Captain Brazil willing to jeopardize his career and his life for the sake of some wasted girl he never knew—didn’t know, in fact, even through Zone? Even if he had saved her, she wouldn’t have contributed anything. She was practically an animal then. More sense to get her to a Death Factory where her remains would help fertilize a field.
Perhaps this was why the Com philosophy was developing and spreading, she thought. It was rational, planned. Like being a plant, or one of these robots. Even Hain’s dirty crew couldn’t stop the march of such perfection of order, she felt sure. The sane hexes here proved it.
“We will have better service, and a shorter stay, at other hotels,” The Rel informed them, breaking Vardia’s reverie. “I think we will be out of this place where we are so unpopular in two days. Slelcron will be no faster but easier. No one communicates with the Slelcron. We will be ignored but unimpeded. As for Ekh’l—well, I have no information there, but I feel confident that, no matter what happens, we will not be beaten.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” Vardia commented. “More prophecy from The Diviner?”
“Logic,” The Rel replied. “We were impeded for someone’s purpose. Why? To what end? So they can beat us to the equator? I doubt it. It would be easier to kill us than detain us so. No, they will have to come out to us at the equator. They want to be there when we arrive because they know who and where we are, but not what Dr. Skander knows—how to get to the Well. They want in with us—indeed, they may be allies, since they will assuredly take steps to see that no one else beats us to the goal. And make no mistake about it, there is another expedition. The Diviner has said that we will not enter until all the recent Entries combine. That is fine—as long as we are in charge.”