"Who did? I'm confused."
"That makes three of us. I'm twice as confused as you. I think it was the Reticulans."
"Oh, well, that explains everything."
"Clear as shit, isn't it?" Something occurred to me. "The thing that really puzzles me is how the Rikkis traced us to the Teelies' farm. The Militia did it by making inquiries in town, but the Rikkis couldn't have done that. And Petrovsky told me that he was following them." I realized that Sam was in the dark about all of that. "Sorry, Sam. I'll fill you in when we have time."
"Oh no, go ahead. I'm writing this all down. What about Wilkes?"
"No idea. As far as I know, he's out of this whole mess." "Well, that's one less fly on the pile." A pause. "Jake, you'd better see about what guns you can bring to bear on the cop."
"It'll be hard, on the run like this, but as I said, you wouldn't believe what this buggy's capable of."
The tumoff for the T-Maze portal came up. The Skyway split into one branch that curved gradually to the left and one that continued straight. Most of the traffic veered left, but I kept our bow pointed dead ahead. "Okay, there goes one option. Now it's either Ryxx country or oblivion."
"Are you sure the Ryxx are in on this snipe hunt?" "I have it on good authority that they are." "Uh-huh. Beats me what you should do, then. Maybe you should've taken that turnoff."
"Damned if I do, damned if I don't. If I head on through to Theron, it means another high-speed chase and few places to duck off-road, because of the bogs. Next up is Straightaway, which is all salt flats and no place to hide, then Doron, where there's another Militia base. If you remember, we were guests there once."
"Oh, yes. I remember. Hm."
"So, I'd rather take my chances with the Ryxx. Besides. you used to have friends there. Maybe Krk-(whistle/click) knows something about this. Wasn't that his name?"
"Approximately. Of course, it's 'she' now. They all turn diploid in later life. But her nest is ten thousand klicks into the Maze. And that was a hell of a long time ago."
Options were indeed dwindling. I half-entertained going off-road over the ice to find the T-Maze road ― but I had five innocent lives to consider. I hadn't begun to decide what to do with the Teelies. Maybe turning myself in would be the best thing after all. Finally clear up this mess. Except…
Except for the small matter of the Delphi series. But then, maybe it wouldn't be all that bad. Hell. So what if it meant a stint in a psych motel, drooling and finger-painting the walls with my own feces? Couple of months learning all over again to go potty, wave bye-bye. Could do that standing on my head. I'd come out of there a new man. Um.. no thanks.
The traffic thinned. The terrain flattened even more, low ridges becoming more scarce. The car became a mite scurrying across a giant billiard ball. Above, the stars were crisp and clear, like clean little holes drilled through black velvet. Around us, in the biggest hockey rink ever, ice glistened in the interstellar night.
A warning tone sounded once again, this time a gonging bell that said, "Battle stations!" The instrument panel underwent still another transformation, while the scanner screen tracked a fast-moving blip. Looked like a floater missile.
"Roland, see what you can do with this fire-control board."
Roland scrutinized the panel, tentatively fingered a few controls. "Hard to say what's going on here," he said. "All these systems have funny designations. What's 'Snatch Field Damp' supposed to mean?"
"I can guess," I said, amazed.
"It's closing pretty fast. What's your speed?"
"Point three."
"Well, I'd advise accelerating."
I already was. The car surged f6rward, pressing us into our seats.
"I think it's at two kilometers, still closing."
"Point three five."
"Still closing."
"Coming up on point four."
"Still closing, but slower." Roland tested a switch or two. "This says 'Arm' but I don't know what it's arming. Some very strange things here."
"Point four."
"Still closing."
I floored the pedal. The engine sent furious vibrations through the wheel and into my hands and arms. A high whine, barely audible, was all that conducted through the hotwall. "Point four five."
"Still closing, I'm afraid. Must have variable thrust. Emergency boosters. Oh, damn. Wait a minute, this must be it. 'Antimissile Zap.' God, this is crazy."
"Point five."
"Closing. Has to run out of fuel sooner or later."
"Don't count on it," I said. "Point five five."
"Still closing. About a kilometer." Roland grunted. "G-force makes it hard to bend forward." He strained to read the panel.
"This must be an automatic system. All right, I've armed it.
Now what?"
It struck me that Roland should be having a little more trouble in bending forward. Our acceleration was rapid, should have been something around three Gs. But it didn't feel like that much. "Point six."
"Closing, but slowly."
Another moment. The acceleration seemed to be picking up even more. "Point six five."
"Closing."
"Point seven! God help us."
"Closing. Half a klick."
"Point seven five!"
"Closing! But barely."
Everything was a blur outside. The car swerved murderously with every random movement of my tensed arms. "I don't know how long I can keep this up," I said.
"I'm working on the problem," Roland said calmly. "All right, now, everything seems to be set, but what activates the whole system?"
"Point eight!"
"Um… wait a moment. No, that isn't it. 'Antimissle Zap.' Remarkable way of putting it. What's this? I can't understand… 'Eyeball' and 'Let George Do It.'" Roland looked at me, baffled. "What could that possibly mean?"
"For Christ's sake, Roland! LET GEORGE DO IT!"
"Huh? Oh, okay." He pressed a glowing tab and something left the rear of the car in a green flash. A few seconds later a brighter flash lit up the road behind us in a soundless concussion.
Roland studied the scanners. "No more missile," he said with satisfaction. He turned to me and grinned. "That was easy." He looked back, then said with concern, "But a bigger blip is gaining on us. The interceptor, I guess. Looks like he's
on afterburners."
"I believe," John broke in with a solemn voice, "that we just passed the turnoff to the Ryxx Maze portal."
10
Nobody spoke for a while as it sank in. We were heading straight for never-never land with exactly two alternatives: to double back on the road and confront our pursuer, or to swing out over methane-water ice and take our chances with hidden crevices, geothermal sinkholes, and occasional impact craters. I braked automatically, then wondered what I was doing, where I was going. Turn back? Give up? I saw no controls for roller supertraction and doubted that the car could negotiate a surface of metallic methane ― pure water ice, maybe, but not water caged in frozen gas. Then again, I had no justification to put limitations on this buggy.
John broke the silence. "Jake? What do we do?" All eyes were on me ― Teelie eyes, that is. Darla and Winnie were talking in hushed tones. I checked the scanner. Petrovsky was gaining on us very quickly now that I had decelerated. I goosed it a little to give me more time. The road was still perfectly straight, the terrain relentlessly flat. I kept my eyes glued ahead. Sudden obstacles would be death at these speeds.
"Jake?" John reminded me softly.
"Yeah." I exhaled, my mind made up. "John, I'm not going to stop. Don't ask me to justify the morality of it. I can't, except to say that I can't possibly give myself up. I'm going to shoot the potluck portal."