He looked up and saw SRT climbing into the car parked next to his own.
Quickly slipping on the earphones that rested on the console beside his seat, THX heard a robot’s tape voice commanding:
“Stop where you are. You have nothing to be afraid of. Cooperate with the authorities.”
THX grabbed the wheel firmly and nudged the throttle forward. The jetcar purred smoothly out onto the thoroughfare. He floored it and the car zoomed away, down the traffic corridor, rushing toward an immense sign that said XWAY AHEAD. The engine exhaust roared and echoed through the cavernous corridor.
He looked in the rearview for SRT. Nowhere. He checked the radar screen on the control panel. SRT wasn’t anywhere around.
Can he drive? THX wondered. I just left him there!
For an agonizing moment, he bit his lip in indecision. Then he slowed the jetcar, swung it around across eight lanes of highway, and headed down the other side of the corridor, back toward the transport station.
It seemed incredible, but less than a minute had passed since they had left the tram. The crowd was still milling confusedly around the platform. The police robots were working their way through the crowd, looking into each person’s face and checking their badges.
And SRT’s blazing red jetcar was still sitting at the end of the platform, in the parking area. THX could see the black man in it, frowning over the controls, pushing buttons. No grin on him now. SRT glanced over his shoulder and THX followed his gaze. Two chrome police robots were approaching the parking area. THX, his car idling in the far lane, thumbed the window control.
He was about to yell for SRT to jump out and run to his own auto, when the red car’s engine roared to life with a puff of sooty exhaust. The big grin came back to the black man’s face. He looked up, recognized THX and waved, then slammed the red car into gear and shot ahead.
Into a concrete pillar. The car was instantly demolished in a thundering explosion.
THX felt the shock wave hit him and rattle the car. He sat there, immobile, unbelieving. A life had been snuffed out in an eyeblink. A friend—his only friend—the first and last friend he had in the world. Dead.
“We have an accident in Module Dispersal Center 21. Stolen vehicle into 3T support. Felon killed instantly. Car totaled.”
“Monetary unit totaclass="underline" 15,500 and rising.”
Now the chrome robots turned toward THX. For a frozen instant he couldn’t move. Then, like the breaking of a spell, he slammed the jetcar’s throttle and felt the blast of acceleration snap his head back against the rest.
The engine thundered and the station, the robots, the wreckage of SRT all disappeared into the distance.
The guidance screen on his control panel showed that he was approaching an express tunnel. THX swerved the car onto the appropriately marked lane as his earphones buzzed:
“I have a vehicle entering a restricted access expressway. Vehicle checks with stolen jetcar, Samos model, registration number 327115.”
“Escaped felon 1138 prefix THX believed operating stolen Samos 327115. Apprehend at once. Proceed with caution.”
“Monetary unit totaclass="underline" 19,000 and rising. Please review all unfunded obligations.”
THX gunned the jetcar onto the expressway, howling down the huge tunnel to… where? Upward. Up to the first level, where the powerplants rumbled and the radioactivity level was high enough to be lethal if you stayed for more than a few hours.
And beyond that?
The traffic monitor grimaced and shook his head as he watched the huge electronic map spread out on the wall display in front of him. One yellow blip—THX’s car—was the center of his attention.
“Expressway 291,” he said into his lip mike. “Clear all traffic. Mercicontrol police request full clearance in apprehension procedure. Divert all traffic to link 4833—cross to web 2.”
THX heard the monitor’s commands. His radar screen chimed. Glancing down at it, he saw two blips far to the rear of him.
“Electrocycles 1048 and 1050 dispatched to apprehend fugitive 1138 prefix THX.”
“Predicted route of flight will be transferred to web 3 at 3:47.”
“Proceed. Execute.”
Electrocycles couldn’t catch a turbine-driven jetcar, THX knew. But as if in answer to his thought, the car began to make strange noises. The engine was thumping, clunking. Indicators on the control panel began flashing red. The engine’s overheating. Automatically, the car slowed down.
THX frantically scanned the panel. There must be some way…
“Radar fix on stolen Samos 327115. Range, five kilometers.”
He tried every knob and switch on the control panel, but the overheat indicator stayed stubbornly red. The engine whined down. The car glided to a stop.
“Subject vehicle appears to have stopped in expressway 291. Subject has ceased flight. Report when fugitive is in custody.”
The two yellow blips on the radar screen were drawing steadily closer. It would only be a matter of minutes before they were on top of him.
There was a switch marked Cool, but whenever THX hit it, freezing air swirled around him and the engine temperature indicator stayed firmly in the danger zone, glaring balefully at him. His hand touched the switch marked Fuel Recirc, and the red lights on the panel suddenly began winking off. The engine growled again, then steadied to a sweet purring. The last red light turned green, and THX hit the throttle. The car leaped forward.
“Subject jetcar Samos 327115 appears to be moving again. Range increasing.”
The radar dots fell behind him again as he zoomed through the express tunnel and up the rampway that led to the first level. A warning sounded in his earphones.
“You are approaching a restricted area. Danger of radioactivity extreme. Turn back at the next interloop.”
THX ignored the warning. He glanced at the radar screen. The electrocycles stayed firmly behind him. Robots didn’t fear radioactivity. Or did they?
Where to? Where to? THX asked himself. There’s nothing left for me in this world. Nothing at all. Can’t stay on Level One. Can’t live in the superstructure. Can’t return below.
“Subject vehicle is entering construction area 36J. Passage through this expressway section is closed. Contact operator at once.”
“Alert construction personnel. Samos 327115 approaching. Evacuate area.”
“Attention Samos 327115. Stop your vehicle. Warning! Warning! Stop your vehicle. You are approaching a work area. Do you read? Respond.”
Is it a trick?
Suddenly there was a barrier up ahead with construction equipment strewn across the roadway behind it. OMM’s voice broke in.
“Everything will be all right. You are in my hands. You have nowhere to go. I am here to protect you. You have nowhere to go. Nowhere…”
The radar bonged emergency, red lights flashed on the control panel, and the car’s collision avoidance system automatically cut the engine and fired the retrobrakes.
The jetcar skidded sideways, bounced off one wall of the tunnel and screeched to a stop against the barrier.
Before THX stopped rattling in his seat harness, the first police cycle hummed around the slight curve of the tunnel, tried to stop, and slid sideways into the wall. The robot went over backwards with the cycle on top of him. The second cycle came an instant later, it the wreckage of the first. The robot went flying through the air and slammed into the side of THX’s car.
Control was absolutely livid.
“Morons!” he spat. “Absolute idiots! To let one frightened man consistently wriggle out of your grasp… the cost of apprehending one man… and it’s still not accomplished…” He became incoherent.