"Such as." He was skeptical. "Oh well, it seems you and Sam found a way out of the Expanded Confinement Maze and followed the Skyway all the way out to the end."
It was crazy. You could go only so far on the Skyway before the known routes were exhausted. Of course, you could take a chance and go through one of the many unexplored portals… and end up anywhere in the universe. If the planet on the other side had a double-back portal ― like the one leading from here back to Tau Ceti ― you were in luck. If not, you'd "be stuck with the option of shooting the next aperture, which could lead anywhere. The reason why all of the above is fairly certain is that no one has ever made a convincing case for having come back from a "potluck portal."
I popped a chunk of sour fruit into my mouth. "I can tell you for a fact that we've done no such thing."
"Hell, I know that. But I've also heard that you're going to do it. I've heard the tale both ways."
"Going to?" I mulled that over. "How are we supposed to accomplish this amazing feat?"
I chanced to turn my head. Perez was looking into the room, and our eyes met. He quickly ducked back. A little too quickly.
"With a roadmap."
I turned back to Jerry. "Roadmap?"
"Yeah. A genuine Roadbuilder artifact. How you managed to get hold of one is covered in the next episode, I guess."
What was remarkable to me was how the Skyway breeds these tall tales. The Skyway is half legend, half reality itself. Nevertheless, evidence abounds that the Skyway extends to other regions of the galaxy. Alien vehicles are seen every day on the road, coming from parts unknown, going to ― only the occupants know where. Most don't stop. Every once in a while, one does, and we meet a new race: Zeta Reticulans, Beta Hydrans, Gliese 59ers; races like the Ryxx, the Kwaa'jheen, and the beings who call themselves The People of the Iron Sun, whose home stars can't be found on any Terran catalogues; many, many more. All in all, there are about sixty races whose Confinement Mazes, the routes that lead from their home system to nearby colonizable planets, are known and mapped. Put all these known areas together, and you get one big Confinement Maze, little sections of which are strewn out over a sizable portion of several spiral arms. But there certainly is more to discover. Every once in a while, a new race drops into this neck of the woods and stops to be sociable. More information is then acquired ― but the process is slow.
'Tell me. Where does the Skyway end?" I asked.
"At the beginning of the universe."
I drained the last of my sickly sweet drink. "Is there a good motel there?"
Jerry laughed. "Jake, you know how these whoppers get started. Alien booze in human stomachs. Accidental chemically induced insanity."
We talked for a while longer, about five more minutes. Jerry told me what he knew about the jungle-clearing project. All the while something nagged at me from the back of my mind: the way Perez had eyeballed me.
"Jerry, thanks a lot. Good luck in your new business."
"Okay, Jake. Let me know what it's like at the Big Bang."
"I'll write."
I went out into the lobby.
Perez was behind the desk, smiling at me strangely, and three sleek roadsters were pulling into the lot.
I dashed for the elevator, and while waiting for the accursed sluggish thing, buzzed Sam.
"Sam, old man, condition puce. Get ready to roll."
"Where to, for God's sake?"
"Look for two roads and a yellow wood that we can diverge into. Otherwise, it's all over."
There was a house intercom by the elevator. I punched our cabin number.
"Yes?"
"Darla, pack up. Now. Drop that ladder and get down to Sam. Make it fast, and use Bess on the rope bridge. Bum it!"
"Right!"
Three men, one of Wilkes' gunsels and two unknowns, were approaching the transparent entrance doors. I looked around and saw double doors that probably led to a kitchen.
I was right, and three cooks, one of them alien, a Thoth, looked up from their dirty work. I didn't stop, and banged out a rear door. It opened onto a hallway that led into the restaurant. A separate entrance provided access from the parking lot. The room was dark and empty. From behind a partition by the waiters' station came the clattering of dishes. I crossed the floor quietly, crouched against the front wall, and looked out a window.
Five more men were running toward the restaurant door. I dived under the nearest table and froze just in time to hear the door thump open and feet pound across the floor. The heavy tablecloth prevented me from seeing. I waited until they left, then got up and risked another look. Three more men waited in the lot, standing by the side of one vehicle, hands thrust under their tropical shirts.
Trapped like a rodentoid.
I needed to get out the door and to the right, toward the end of the parking lot where the footpath came out of the woods; but as I watched, two men came out of the front entrance and ran past my vantage point, no doubt going to cover that very route. The alternative now was to somehow make it across the lot in the other direction and duck into the woods using Sam's swath as an entry point. The three lookouts were still there.
Something was moving in the lot; by the sound, a rig. Then I saw it as it backed up between me and the gunsels. It was Jerry, clearing out in a hurry. Wherever I was, he didn't care to be.
When the gunsels' view of the side door was completely blocked, I sprinted out, mounted the rig's running board, and knocked on the side port about three inches from Jerry's head. He jumped.
He slid back the port. "Hey, Jake. Don't do that!"
"Sorry, Jerry. Hello, Andromeda. Can you give me a lift to the far end of the lot?"
"Jake, those guys there… Never mind."
Resigned, Jerry eased the rig forward. I watched as we passed the main entrance. Nobody showed.
"Far enough?" Jerry hoped.
"Yeah. Stay here until I can get into the woods, okay?"
"Sure."
Sam was right. The undergrowth had rebounded to the point where I could barely distinguish Sam's trail. It was horrendous going. Bent grasses snared my feet, thorny tendrils leeched at my clothing. I stumbled into hidden holes, tripped over submerged rocks, doing it for about two minutes and getting nowhere.
It got worse. I wasn't sure if I had lost the trace. It appeared as if I had.
"Sam! Come in!"
"Where the hell are you?"
"I don't know. Somewhere behind you. Is Darla ―?"
"Fine mess. Yes, she's here. I'm going to start the engine. Follow the sound."
"Fine. No, wait!" I smelled smoke ― the rope bridge. Now, if I could only follow my nose. But I couldn't see a damn thing. "Forget it. Start up."
Sam did so, and the muffled whine came from my right. I thrashed my way toward it.
"Can you come back toward the lot?"
"Trying to. For some reason, it's harder getting out than getting in."
"Yeah, well see if you can―" Something was on my leg, something warm, wet, and rubbery. I looked down.
A hairless, many-legged beastie with a central body about as big as a grapefruit was hugging my calf. I let out a yell, smashed the thing with a fist, grabbed it with both hands, and pulled. A sharp pain lanced through my leg. I yanked, managed to pull one slippery leg free, and it coiled about my hand, throbbing. I pulled. The tentacle stretched like taffy, then grew resilient and tugged back. I fell, tumbled in the springy brush, writhing, while the pain crescendoed. I beat and tore and cursed at the thing, but it wouldn't give me up. Great scarlet waves of pain coursed up my leg, pulsed in my side. For a frozen eternity there was only the pain and a separate universe to kick and scream in, little else.